Hernia, bat-o vina..

De cativa ani de zile ma chinuie durerile de spate. Am tot evitat sa ma duc la doctor dar in ultimele luni s-au inmultit momentele de criza in care raman la pat cu spatele blocat si cu dureri ingrozitoare. Un lucru simplu, cum ar fi mersul la baie, devine o sarcina infernala. Cu greu reusesc sa ma cobor din pat si sa ajung la wc. Imi vine sa plang de durere. Ultima oara am stat la pat 5 zile pan am reusit cat de cat sa functionez relativ normal si am putut sa merg din nou la serviciu. Am hotarat intr-un final ca e cazul sa merg la doctor. Me dicul de familie m-a trimis sa fac un RMN, cu suspiciune de hernie de disc. Ca sa il fac far aplata, de fapt redus, nu far aplata, trebuia sa mai astept inca cel putin 4 saptamani. Asa e la noi, platesti asigurari de sanatate pentru nimi sau pentru niste servicii care de multe ori sunt de calitate proasta, iar conditiile de prin spitale sunt mizerabile. La toate astea adaugam si spaga fara de care nu se uita nimeni la tine, nici daca te zvarcolesti in chinuri. In fine, am hotarat sa fac RMN-ul la privat. Daca tot ma urnisem nu am mai stat inca 4 saptamani. Suspiciunea s-a confirmat : hernie de disc. Una destul de urata, cu recomandare de interventie chirurgicala. M-am intors din nou la problema conditiilor mizere de prin spitale si la sila mea de a intra in orice fel de contact cu sistemul medical din Romania. 

Dupa ce am studiat problema si m-am documentat vreo 2 saptamani, m-am hotarat sa ma operez in Ungaria. Tinand cont de banii pe care trebuia sa ii dau pe la noi prin spitale la chirurgi, la anestezist, la asistente etc am ajuns la concluzia ca nu este mult mai scump sa ma operez in Ungaria dar in niste conditii mult mai bune. Singura problema era cu drumul pana acolo. Mai ales la intoarcere cand o sa fiu operat. Am luat legatura cu clinica din afara, unde mi s-au solicitat documentele medicale in limba engleza sau maghiara. Pentru traduceri acte medicale am gasit dupa indelungi cautari un birou langa liceul Hasdeu, destul de aproape de locuinta mea. E un domeniu greu la care se pare ca nu se incumeta prea multi traducatori. Am tradus in engleza interpretarea RMN-ului, recomandarea chirurgului din Romania precum si un set de analize de sange pe care mi le solicitasera cei de la clinica. Totul a fost ok si acum astept programarea pentru operatie. 

Mermaid

Supple and slippery above and below,
Sliding wide-eyed under my hands
With a smile like daybreak,

You swim into my life only at night,
Bringing the shush of waves and shingle,
The smell of salt and distance,
The gull cries, the moan of seamarks,
And the broken sweep of light
From shrouded promontories.

You ride the storms and calms,
You plunge and surf,
Cruise the depths with sharks and stingrays,
And flicker through the feet of children
Paddling in the shallows,

To end up here in the dark between the sheets,
In the gap between dreaming and waking,
Coming ashore with your smile,
Your sea scent and thrashing tail,
Still slippery from the creation.

--- A. Alvarez

How We Live

From India Today's cover story 'How We Live' (registration required), based on information from the latest Indian Census:

... There are 179 million residential houses in India-that is about six people to each house. About 40 per cent of Indian families live in one-room houses. ... There are more places of worship in the country (2.4 million) than schools, colleges and hospitals combined. ...

People in India don't seem to buy as many cars, TVs and refrigerators as was once anticipated. That is despite income levels having risen much faster in the 1990s than ever before. Here's one explanation: Only 52 per cent people in the country live in houses with permanent walls and roof. Only 56 per cent have electricity at home, just 38 per cent have water. When incomes of these families grow they may like to add these amenities rather than buy a consumer product. ...

Relative to their incomes, Indians enjoy fewer basic amenities-drinking water, power, cooking fuel-than they own consumer products. Sixty-two per cent of families (that is 118 million households) do not get drinking water at home. About five million families-mostly rural-still fetch drinking water from ponds, tanks, rivers and springs. Urban India does better though with 65 per cent of all families living in cities having access to drinking water at home. But the Census tracks only the access, not the duration or the quality of water supplied. ...

Against 88 per cent households in urban areas, only 44 per cent rural families have access to electricity. ...

India was a country of 1,027 million people in 2001. Nearly 40 per cent of Indians (402 million) are in the working age and 15 per cent in the age group of 0-6 years. ...

firewood is still the most widely used fuel with over 52.5 per cent Indians depending on it. Surprisingly even 23 per cent urban families use firewood for cooking. LPG, whose price swings are a headache for any government, is used by only around 18 per cent families (48 per cent urban households). The use of crop residue as fuel by more than 10 per cent rural households is an instance of recycling. ...

Homes without kitchen or toilets have TVs and two-wheelers. Manufacturers say that inadequacy of electricity-and not insufficiency of income-is a bigger restraint on the demand for their products. ...


Want to see the website of a Tamil film? Try Vaanam Vasappadum (The Sky Can be Controlled) (via scribbles of a lazy geek). The director is P. C. Sreeram, who started out as a cinematographer. He worked on a number of films, including several by my favourite director, Mani Ratnam before making films of his own. Take a look.

Paanwala

Someone I know went to Bombay for a visit, and reported back:

Everyone in Bombay goes out for dinner. Then they go to Muchhad (pron. MOOCH-ard) Paanwala and eat paan, he has his own website, he sits all day in dhoti with a so-big moustache. Then the whole city goes bowling, or they play billiards. They’re all talking on their cell phones, from the age of eleven onward. Then they go to bed. Bombay is like that.


Yesterday I found the website of Muchhad Paanwala, which means Mustachioed Paan-maker. He is framed in this picture by a paan leaf. And he does indeed have a so-big moustache:


His father Shyam Charan Tiwari established the shop thirty years ago. The shop was named Muchhad because his father Shyam Charan Tiwari had mustache so big and long that it touched his ears. And now it's become a family tradition, all the four brothers have long mustache...

They believe and treat their customers like God. They keep personal and family like relations with their customers and believe in giving the best service to them. And all the ingredients that they use are very pure and genuine without any mixing...


Paan is a small packet made of a special leaf, wrapped around various ingredients – according to your taste -- and chewed. It is supposed to be good for digestion. The smell of gulkand, a rose jam which is an ingredient in sweet paan, is one of the most characteristic smells of India for me. The marks of paan-reddened spit on walls and footpaths are a common sight in the North.


The thirteenth century manual for dancers, Abhinayadarpanam, “Mirror of Gesture,” includes a graceful gesture for folding a paan leaf and offering it.

The accessories of paan can be beautiful: betel nut cutters,


and paandaans – the compartmented boxes in which paan is kept:


The amazing book Lucknow: The Last Phase of an Oriental Culture describes the ornate decadence of Lucknow just before its overthrow as a result of the 1857 Indian Mutiny. There are sections on Lucknow's diversions: poetry, story-telling, bird- and animal-fighting, pigeon-flying, kite-flying, music, dance, food, forms of headwear... and the eating of paan.

About the paandaan the author writes:

... In the boxes are two metal cups to contain kathha and lime, and three smaller, equal-sized receptacles for cut nuts of various kinds. All of these are arranged in a circle, in the middle of which is another small container to hold cardamoms or cloves... There are tiny spoons for the kathha and lime... Placed over all these containers is a large tray... in which raw betel leaves are placed, wrapped in a damp cloth....

The size [of the paandaan] began to increase until it came to weigh as much as twenty to forty pounds. At the same time it became necessary for ladies to take it with them wherever they went. Just as ‘the larger the turban, the greater the learning,’ so the larger the betel box, the greater was the status and grandeur of the lady. Eventually the betel box took up all the space in the palanquin and there was no room for the lady...


When we buy paan nowadays, we either take it from the hands of the paanwala directly, or have it wrapped in leaves or aluminum foil. That way, there's still plenty of room in the palanquin.