Is speaking the truth so very difficult??

Read the article When I decided to speak the truth... 

(A reply to today's article!)

From the article on today’s open page, The Hindu “When I decided to speak the truth…”, I understand that the author is just being satirical and not serious.

However I would like to point out something quite important. Speaking the truth is not as difficult as is portrayed by the article.

It is the way in which a TRUTH is conveyed that creates the side-effects.

For example:

His reply to his wife could have been, “This dish does require some modifications, but I can barely wait to savour your modified dish!”

Reply to his boss could have been, “Sir, I am more concerned about your health than your looks. You look a bit fat and it’s high time you start on changing your lifestyle and you could improve your health a lot better.”

I remember a story I’d heard during my childhood days. 

A certain king enquired an astrologer about his family’s fortune. One version of the story records that the astrologer speaks the blatant truth as shown by his cards. He declares that the king’s brother would die earlier only to find himself being punished by the king! The other version portrays the astrologer as a wise man. He tells that the king would live longer than his siblings and gets amply rewarded.

Speaking the truth is different from voicing your opinions!

Most of the examples quoted in the article were his opinions rather than truth! For example, he felt that his wife’s recipe was not tasty and it was totally his personal preference.  His son might have liked it, maybe!

Truths are those which don’t change versions between persons!

If I were to ask him “Did you write an article for The Hindu today?” He would say yes. His wife and children would also declare it affirmative.

But if I were to ask him “How was the article you wrote for The Hindu?” he might say it was the best of the articles today and his friend might say it was totally nonsense etc…

So assuming that the article was just trying to be humorous, I humbly suggest that it also subtly sends a false message that speaking the truth is extremely difficult and one can’t live that way.

Just think about it. Pls don’t consider me as being abusive or anything of that sort.

A new beginning!

Little things matter most!

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Healthy Morning Habits

Struck By Stroke

I was moving towards bed no. 8.

Half of his body was motionless, while the other half showed futile movements. With one eye open and the other eye partly closed, saliva drooling from his mouth, he lay there. Clung to the railing on the bed was a lady of similar age. Her hair was totally unkempt and her face showed trails of the dried tears. One look at this scene and I already knew the probable diagnosis and the prognosis. 

He had no bigger aim in life. He spent his day working hard and making little money. Evenings, he would spend most of it on liquor and smoke. He always went home drunk. Every day he would curse his wife and inflicted physical torture on her. But she loved him very much. She always remembered how in the early days of their marriage, he was full of love for her. Slowly he had drifted into the slavery of alcoholism and his characters had changed. But she still had hope. She hoped that her strong love would win him back.

On that tragic day, the news was told to her that her husband fell unconscious in his work place and was taken to the nearby govt. hospital. She rushed to hospital as fast as she could. She wasted no time in reaching there only to be stopped by the security men who stood by the gate. She was refused entry. She stood there and cried almost half an hour to win the gate keeper’s mercy. Finally she entered the hospital and found her husband unattended to. She fell on his feet and cried. She went around, begging the doctors there to help. She was just told that nothing much could be done for her husband and they would admit him for a week and then discharge him after a few tests. Further enquiries from her were not welcome.

He was shifted to the ward from the emergency department. 

I could see hidden emotions on his motionless figure. He wanted to embrace his wife but his hands wouldn't obey. He wanted to wipe away her tears but was helpless. He wanted to tell her that he loved her so much, but at every attempt, only strange gibberish came out of his mouth. All that he could do was to cry and that he did silently. As I moved closer to him to send his samples, she came and held my hands and cried. She was asking me a few questions but I was not listening to her. My eyes were already reading the expressions in his ‘mask like facies’. My eyes were fixed on his eyes. I was seeing more than that shine on his eyes, caused by continual flow of tears.

I stood there. One half of me was instructing me to just do my work and move on. You are a doctor and you can’t empathize with every patient of yours, it said within me. However, the other half paralyzed me and pleaded with me to help them in some way possible. Soon realizing that nothing much could be done by me, this half of me had already started pleading with God in humble prayer. I stood there and two drops of tears had already left my eyes. I stood there motionless. 

I stood there, STRUCK BY STROKE.