Many happy returns, we say. At least once a year. What should we say when that wish is no longer a blessing but a curse?
You never see him at rest. If you hear the gate opening when the birds announce the rising sun, it is him with a vessel full of frothing milk, that he has just drawn from the cow.
Are you willing to forgo your afternoon nap and walk a few meters to the coconut plantation that kisses the edge of the backwaters? You will see him there at work. He will not stop working but if you can walk along and pay attention, he will readily share his wisdom in gentle words. If you are not distracted by the water birds following the tractor, he will explain the mechanics and commercials of cultivating paddy. He may even offer you a tender coconut to savor.
During the day, you will find him zipping about on his motorcycle. Errands never end. There are at least five homes of the extended family that count on his visits so that things get done. Then there are visits to the bank, to the panchayat office. He barely has time. If he spots you walking by, he will stop, park the bike and talk as if he has all the time for you.
You will not want to get too close to the cows when he is tending to them in the shed next to the house. They do not look very friendly and are given to shaking their heads, making their horns bang noisily against the wooden railings. He remonstrates with one for not eating properly. There comes a prancing calf that gets a hug and a kiss. He has simply become one of them. You watch and wonder.
The pages of the calendar keep flipping, bringing along the special day. He makes a special visit to the temple and there is a special sweet dish cooking at home. Looking at his hearty smile you sincerely wish the day would return many happy times. He is special. He deserves it.
When that day came the last time, you did not want to wish him that. He was laid low by cancer. You flinched at the sight of the helpless figure on the bed, all bones and bedsores. You saw an apology on his face for not being able to get up and talk to you and share tea with you.
He is gone. At last.
All of us must. But not the lingering way he did.
What do you say when, to wish for even one more return of the day, would be so insensitive, so cruel? Keeping in mind the only gift that matters and the inevitability of the end, perhaps it is time we learned to say, “Live full, die well.” 

I was chosen to contribute to the Covid-19 mission and asked to supervise infection control in the screening area,  potentially the most infectious area. My job started immediately after the nationwide lockdown, on March 22, 2020.
When we started, we did not have adequate number of personal protective equipment (PPE). The team started working with whatever was provided. 

On April 1, I noticed that one of the persons who had come for screening had red eyes. As he waited in the queue, his body language appeared to convey that he was sick. His wife was in tears. As a palliative care physician, I considered it my duty to talk to her, comfort her and find out what was going on. So, I went to her. 
Of course, I was maintaining a safe distance. I had put on one N-95 and two triple-layered surgical masks. I was wearing my apron, a disposable surgical gown and three layers of gloves. The wife told me that her husband had a history of asthma going back 12 years. He was on and off medications. Recently he had had fever and an attack of asthma. Their family physician had prescribed some medications. As those didn’t work, the doctor had advised a CT scan of the Chest. The scan revealed pneumonitis, which had prompted their doctor to send him for Covid screening. 
On probing further, I also came to know that he had travelled to Delhi and returned around February 29, 2020. 
Meanwhile, her husband was called in by the doctor. That being a screening area, the doctor was supposed to ask questions from a distance of at least two metres. The doctor had two layers of masks and the patient also had to have a mask. To me, it was the perfect situation for a possible miscommunication. Maybe the patient would say “I have fever” and by the time it reached the doctor, he would possibly hear it as “I don’t have fever.” 
It was important that the doctor filled up the registration form correctly. Because the doctor decided if there was a need to take samples, based on the history as he understood and recorded. The next stop for the form (and the patient) was the laboratory technician who would take samples (if the doctor called for it). I was trying to do what I could to reduce the communication gap so that the doctor was able to record the history correctly. 
I was trying to talk to everyone who was there for screening to try and avoid any miscommunication. As a protocol I had to recheck the filled-up standard form of sample collection, and hence a second conversation was necessary. 
I definitely did not want any miscommunication with this particular patient I was observing. Both husband and wife told me they felt really good after they spoke to me. They were advised medications and home quarantine. I told them that if the tests yielded a positive result, the superintendent’s office would contact them. They would be instructed about the standard procedure to follow thereafter. They appeared happy that they had the complete picture. The couple thanked me and went home.  

Two days later, I came to know that the man was Covid-positive. The moment I heard that, a fear gripped me. I did not regret that I had helped the couple when they were undergoing emotional trauma. But my fear was what would happen to me. 
I went to the authorities and reported that this positive patient had been screened during my duty hours. I was advised to watch out for symptoms over the next seven days. After that they would do a test and that was that. 
Nothing happened for seven days and I was relieved. However, on the eighth day  I developed slight fever and I was on the verge of panic. Why fever? Why now?  I tried to look for reasons. 
Every morning I would take my bath before leaving home for duty. Once I finished my Covid duty, I was sprayed head to toe with D-125, a disinfectant. That would really drench me, clothes and shoes and all. Then I would reach home and take another warm bath. All that drenching must have caused the fever, I tried to justify. But there was still a 0.001 probability of infection and that was frightening. 

I went to the doctor on duty and told him I needed to get tested. He rolled his eyes and asked me why I had not told him before. But the seven days had gone off well, without any problem. How could I have told him before? 
“You may develop symptoms after 7 days or 14 days or even after 28 days. This virus is so tricky, the symptoms can come at any time. You must not take any chances,” the doctor explained. He called for the Medical Officer, who was in charge. My samples were taken. 
The Medical Officer spoke to me for about 45 minutes asking me the same questions over and over again, maybe just to check if I was consistent. By then, I was really very scared. Then he pronounced the verdict. He immediately sent me to the isolation ward for 24 hours. If the tests turned out negative, I would be quarantined for 14 days. “If the results come back positive, you know where we would send you,” he said ominously. All positive patients were being sent to a Covid facility in a different area, that had  facilities for isolation and treatment. 
My throat was dry, my mind empty, and I had no idea what to do. After some time, I called up my husband and briefed him. Fortunately, I had sent my husband, my son and everyone else in my house to my father’s place, that was close to my house. When I did that, I was simply being very cautious as we were in a vulnerable location and I was dealing with Covid patients. 
I landed in the isolation ward. Yes, it was secluded. It was on the third floor of what we called the Covid building. It was scary to be all alone. The whole ward was silent. There was no conversation. Those who were on duty looked like robots, dressed up as they were in their protective suits. They never talked. They would come and do their job and then they would thoroughly wash their hands and go away. The silence was absolutely fearful. 

I had simply not anticipated what lay ahead. There were so many messages and calls on my mobile, but I did not feel like responding. I had become very emotional and wanted to stay aloof from the world. I even switched off my phone; something I never do. 
Many fearful scenarios passed through my mind. I will never see my husband and son again. I will be moved to another isolation ward. If my immune system is not strong enough, the symptoms will start.
Breathlessness would be the first. 
It is very difficult to even see someone else experiencing breathlessness. Because there is nothing you can do to help. It is so frustrating. 
I imagine myself struggling for breath with a ventilator pipe inside me. With all my knowledge and experience, I can’t bear to think of anybody trying to give me false hopes, telling me everything is okay, and I will be fine soon.  I can’t see expressions of the medical staff around me. They are all wearing masks. Are they smiling at me? Are they frustrated? Are they angry?  I can't see them.  But they can see me. And that is so difficult to accept as a patient. 
Then sanity kicked in. Why am I shutting myself away? I am a professional, a healthcare worker, and this was to be expected. My friends are genuinely worried. Why am I pushing them away? I started replying to messages and returning calls.

​After almost 36 hours in isolation, my test results came back negative. And I am writing you this from home, where I have begun a 14-day quarantine. I am now so relieved. I am so grateful to all for their love. I just want to share my thoughts that would hopefully help someone somewhere somehow as we all go through this difficult phase. 
Those 36 hours spooked me, and I am supposed to be a doctor. Imagine people having to live through this for days together! 
It is so easy for us to point fingers at someone who is infected. But why not focus on what we can do to help? 
Can we spare some time and compassion to counsel a patient who has been sentenced to isolation? 
If someone in isolation is not eating (I did not) and not accepting calls, can we reach out and ensure that he or she has not slipped into depression?
We may have to maintain distance physically. But should that stop us from getting close emotionally? This is when, more than medicine, you need comfort and care from a fellow human being. 
Now I am clear that I do not want sympathy. Neither did I do anything extraordinary. You may attribute it to my palliative care training, but I think a Covid-19 patient (proven or potential) deserves the same compassion and care that you would not hesitate to offer someone who is terminally ill. 
Today, I feel more charged up to carry on with what I am best at—providing palliative care. I have more than one reason to justify why it must be an important part of a humanitarian crisis. I wish to improve my skills, especially in the area of communication so that I can convince authorities to adopt a palliative care approach in every setting. And of course, the biggest challenge will be to demonstrate a visible change in the patient as well as the whole scenario of caregiving. I do hope that the science of palliative medicine will be allowed to play the key role it can, when we are trying to copy with such a calamity. We have the ability; we can reinforce the confidence. 
Will I go back to the screening area? Absolutely! I will go there and continue talking to people. I have seen the positive effect of a simple conversation. 
Yes, I cannot interfere in the isolation area. However, I have realized that there may be unknown fears in the minds of those working in the isolation ward. Perhaps, that explained their behaviour? I would like to tell those workers that they can talk to me, tell me about their fears. I am sure that would bring about a positive change in their approach, and ultimately benefit the patients. 
Personally, in the last few days, I have learnt the skill of detachment from worldly pleasures. They don’t mean anything unless you put a price tag to each. 
We do not know what tomorrow holds for any of us. At least today, when we still can, let us care for one another. That can be priceless.

They had major differences. Age and culture were just two. After prolonged therapy, they had decided to go on a holiday. For the first time in three years, they spent a few days together without arguing and fighting. When they came back home, it was back to the boxing ring. Until the lockdown happened. Soon they realized they were stuck together. First the husband learnt to say, “we’ll stop now” and walk away whenever an argument threatened to get out of hand. Then, she, the more abrasive of the two, learnt it too. They learnt to adjust. They are managing well now. Who knows, they may even go on another holiday, whenever they can.

They are into their 50s. They had a good, healthy arrangement of living in the same house efficiently for decades. Then the children left home. Suddenly, they were all by themselves day and night. No servants, either. So, they decided to do some spring cleaning. In the process, they came across a bunch of letters they had written to each other after their engagement. “We rediscovered our romance,” she said. “We continue to do things together like cleaning and gardening. Nowadays, we also watch a lot of TV together. Will things change after? I don’t know. For now, we are enjoying our time together. We are happy all by ourselves. That’s all that matters.”

Imagine a father and son duo,  both victims of bipolar disorder. Imagine the plight of the wife and mother caught between the two. So, when she called up the counsellor after more than a year, the counsellor feared the worst. “I called up to thank you. My husband is so lost in the board game you gifted us so long ago. No violence. No abuse. There is so much peace at home now and all of us are together. He wanted to know from where we got the game. So, I thought of speaking to you.” Ironically, it was The Game of Life that had brought about the transformation.

The TV has been pushed away in many homes. Limited viewing. Definitely no news. Only a few serials that the whole family can watch together. Board games and home-made games are the new favorite. No more adults doing their adult things leaving the children to do theirs. Now the family does family things together. Like the activity-laden custom-made snake and ladder. Or word dominoes (some would call it word antakshari).

Grandma’s version of the musical chair for her two grandchildren requires just one chair. She uses a spoon and plate to create the music. Ever played lagori (seven tiles) in the house? You just need some paper cups and a small ball. You will soon discover that the size of the house has nothing to do with the fun you can have. What matters is that all are in it together. Everyone knows surya namaskar is good for health. It works even better when you have three generations prostrating before the sun at one time, keeping a healthy distance from one another of course.

It was difficult for the teacher, a single parent, to accept that her son was suffering from clinical depression. The counsellor gave her a list of things to observe. The mother always went alone to the counselling sessions. It was as if she wanted to shield the son. Then one day she agreed to visit a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist confirmed the counsellor’s diagnosis. The mother was reluctant to give him the medicines. The counsellor suggested: “Don’t keep telling your son what to do. Don’t ask him questions. You do the talking. Just share what you feel. Accept your emotions. Be honest with him. There is nothing either of you can do about it. But you are happy that you have him.” Many days of conversations followed and continued through the lockdown. A few days after being homebound, the mother saw something the son had written: “My mother is a good person. It’s okay if my father is not there with us.”

As a counsellor, I am amazed when my young friends, 18 to 22 age range, call up at random just to talk. I know some of them were almost lost to the world, caught in drugs, drinking and what not. But now, after days at home they want to talk about spirituality. They want to analyze. They want to introspect. They want to make others happy. And for that they accept that they have to be happy first. They have had enough of TV and the social media. They are bored. For the first time, I realize that boredom is healthy, if it makes you think and look inward.

It is strange to see parents without mobile phones in their hands. Instead, they have the handlebar or the seat of the bicycle their son or daughter is learning to ride. Or a badminton racket. They are scrupulously maintaining the rules of distancing. They are distant from their neighbors, their normal partners. They are now with their new playmates, their children.

In all the years she has been working from home, her husband was a presence she took care of in the mornings and the evenings. Now, I am surprised to see what a hands-on househusband he has become. She is so relaxed. That’s not all. They are at times in the same room with her in-laws. They talk. Believe it or not, they all laugh so much. Together.

At 53, he was the epitome of brand consciousness. Super rich. He bought what he fancied, and that meant only the big names. His cupboards were overflowing with the best he could buy from all over the world. Until the lockdown, the closed shops and the panic buying. “For the first time, I realize that it matters more to have milk at home than all these silly things. I have been such a fool, a hoarder of the worthless.” I laughed. Told him he would go back to who he was as soon the virus allowed. “No, I don’t think so. This is a life lesson. My only regret is I took so long to learn this. And a virus had to teach me.”

Reading a story to your little one? Many are also recording it. So that other parents and children can enjoy it too. There can be no better time for story-swapping! Your child can speak your mother tongue, but can an English-medium student also learn to read and write it? Just ask you resourceful neighborhood parent for flash cards. Earlier, junior could not boil water. Now he has a video that will teach you how to microwave a delicious cake in a jiffy. An IT father developed digital worksheets and shared it with the school principal. Now they have a whole range for different grades. There is a surge in creativity and the wonderful urge to share. Our social intimacy appears to be peaking (and not just to show off) at a time when we are expected to maintain personal distance.

This lockdown has finally made me realize that the radical decision I took about two years ago was so right. After he cleared his eighth grade, we decided to homeschool our son. He was afraid of mathematics to the extent that it was damaging his self-esteem. He also wanted more time to pursue his passion: music.He was taking lessons in tabla, drums and guitar even while in school. So, after he left school, we enrolled him at a music academy for a good four hours in the evening. He now had his open school subjects keeping him busy during the morning and the music in the evening. Then my guilt, my working woman’s guilt, kicked in. I was only getting time with my son when I was ferrying him to and fro the music school. He would be asleep when I left for work. At night after dinner I would be too tired to talk or spend time with him. Even on Sundays, we would just get time together in the evening as he had classes right through the morning. Except when he went off to be with his cousins. Then came the lockdown and now we are so happy. I am getting to spend the entire day with him. There are so many things we do together like cleaning the house, gardening, cooking, watching and discussing news, enjoying movies, and reading books. Above all, I am with him during his music practice sessions. I am so grateful for these days.

He has not walked or talked for years. He is always on the bed. The only movement you notice is in one eye. Just barely. He breathes, so he is alive.
Then one day, the inevitable. A bed sore. It was deep and infected.
The world was locked down on account of the corona pandemic. But he had to be taken to the hospital. The wound required cleaning and dressing. The doctor hoped to discharge him after a week.
The hospital was under pressure. His condition was stable enough. The wound was healing, but slowly. One of the nurses agreed to come home every day for the dressing. For 15 days. So, he was discharged on the third day.
The nurse arrived in the afternoon the next day. She did a good job. Patiently. With great care.
As she was about to leave, I asked her about her fees. That was when I noticed the tears in her eyes.
“Years ago, we used to meet almost every evening. He would be on his walk and I would be returning from the hospital. One day he stopped to talk. He was amazed that I was walking a long distance back from the hospital. Maybe I should try a scooter, he had suggested. That became a routine. We would pause for a chat. He would always say something funny. Thanks to that I would reach home smiling, the day’s tension forgotten. I wish I could return the favor now. But he does not know me, cannot hear me.”
She wiped her tears and opened the gate. She paused. “No, you don’t have to pay me anything. He already paid, a long time ago.”
(Based on a true incident.)

When the Prime Minister made an appeal for a 14-hour Janata Curfew, the word brought back memories of darkened windows, restricted movements and several happily made sacrifices. That curfew was necessary because we were at war and we were determined to do whatever it took to ensure our nation won.
This time too, we are at war. The enemy is invisible, and it has engaged the whole world. Once again it is up to us to save ourselves, the people of our country, our nation, our world.
Going by the opinions of experts, we may need to impose longer curfews on ourselves. Apparently, covid-19 thrives on transmission and when we isolate ourselves, stay at home and take all the precautions all of us are now well aware of, we starve the virus to death. As the Prime Minister said, it will test our resolve, our restraint and our composure. 

​I think the enormous response to my previous post shows how much we thirst for some honest positivity, when there is so much uncertainty and negativity around us. We cannot wish the virus away. Yet, you and I need that reassurance that at least for now all is well as can be, even if we do not know how it will end.
After three days at SevenHills Hospital, the tests did not show up anything and we were sent home late on Tuesday, March 17, to continue our quarantine. That’s where Geeta and I am now. Keeping our distance, taking all precautions, and happy to be home.
For us it has been an opportunity to pause, reflect and catch up on what really matters. When there is no alternative, we might as well make the experience positive.
This is a new experience for the whole world. When was the last time someone had a quarantine stamp on their hand? When was the last time someone, who arrogantly dodged quarantine, was hauled up as a suicidal maniac responsible for the potential murder of thousands?
That we could or were allowed to, is no longer an excuse to get away with irresponsible behavior. The time to wait for the authorities to come and enforce what is right is gone. We have to do it ourselves.

Our ancient scriptures equated guest to God (atithi devo bhava). However, in corona times we would rather have no guests at home as we are forced to play to host to ourselves—all of the family at home, at once. For many of us, it is a rather strange experience.
You do not need a visit to the mall, the movies or even a location across the seas to spend “quality time” with the significant ones in your life. You can all be at home, engrossed in the strange device of being together. It is a virus-sent opportunity to revisit a healthy, old ritual—eating together as a family. How about dusting some books that have been waiting for your attention? And ensuring that everyone handles a fair share of the household chores, without hiding behind the laptop?
By now you must have realized that your maid is as human as you are. That there are things you always knew how to do (but never did) to keep the house running. Just the way she needs to keep her home going. Would you consider giving her (or your driver) a few days off without deducting their salary? She/he needs that salary to survive, which is definitely more important in the humane scale than a drop in your comforts.
However, we will need to figure out how to fill another important gap. Going to school offered a great opportunity to interact with fellow human beings. Yes, we were always worried about the children becoming slaves to the screens. Now, another screen has replaced the teacher, the whiteboard and, more importantly, the school ground. Until “normalcy” returns, should we consider more board games at home? Maybe hide-and-seek within the confines of the apartment? Anyone has a better suggestion?

The President of India expressed it well, when he said, “We are as safe as the care we take of others’ safety, not only of human beings but also of plants and animals.” He added, “Nature is reminding us to acknowledge, with humility, our quintessential equality and interdependency.”
Before the virus (actually even now) only negativity stood a chance to go viral. Eventually, when the virus decides to step aside, let us forget viral, and make positivity, self-discipline, responsibility and compassion vital, online and offline.

​Right now, I am in Mumbai’s SevenHills Hospital. My wife and I are among the first travelers to be quarantined in this facility that is being brought back to life to cope with the challenge posed by the coronavirus. I was last here when my grandson was born, and it used to be a thriving hospital then.
Now 8 years old, he was his usual happy and chatty self when the family gathered for lunch at a restaurant in Barcelona, Spain, on March 7, 2020. We were visiting our daughter’s family and we had happily extended our planned stay of one month by another 17 days.
After we reached home, a friend who was planning a visit to Spain on March 19 called up. I reassured him that there was no panic in Spain. There was no reduction in the number of tourists, and I had not seen anyone wearing a mask. Still 10 days to go, so let’s plan another lunch, I told my family.

​Then the viral panic caught up with us. The numbers started mounting. Both India and the US virtually shut their borders. Suddenly, we were in a dilemma.
We had insurance and sufficient stock of personal medicines. So, should we stay where we were in comfort or take the next flight out?
As the news got worse by the day, someone in the Indian embassy suggested we were better off leaving Spain as soon as we could. There was perhaps no escaping quarantine. At least we could avoid overstaying our visa.
We decided to leave. It was a painful task to console my grandson, who was heartbroken that we were going away when there were “still so many days left”.
We rescheduled our departure to Saturday, March 14. Around 10 the previous night came reports of flights being cancelled and turned back midair. We spent a sleepless night, not sure what lay in store, thinking of very many if-only scenarios.
Long queues greeted us at the airport. People were grabbing what everyone understood to be the last opportunity to fly home—Beijing, New York and, in our case, Mumbai.
Our Barcelona-Abu Dhabi-Mumbai flight was full all the way. Conversations were muted, movements circumspect.

We had been fully briefed about what to expect once we landed in Mumbai. I was confident that as my wife and I were free of symptoms, we would be asked to quarantine ourselves at home. Then came the instruction that we had to write our age prominently on top of the form we were filling in. We found ourselves in a separate queue for those above the age of 60.
Some people from Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) took charge of us. They took our bags and escorted us through various checks. A doctor told us that we would be taken to SevenHills Hospital, to be quarantined for 14 days. Just as a precaution, he assured us. Outside we were ushered into an air-conditioned bus.
We are now in a two-room facility at SevenHills. The building that had been closed for more than a year is being made functional floor by floor. People are at work round-the-clock.
They have been quick to set up Wi-Fi and a TV is being commissioned. All electrical and plumbing systems have been double checked.
“How many patients are there? And how much do we have to pay?” I was curious. “You are not a patient, sir!” came the reply. “You are a traveler and now you are our guest.” His smile would have felt at home in any five-star hotel.

​Every piece of information about the virus is out there. Every fresh case is being tracked. There is no shortage of posturing and blaming  across all sorts of divides: political, geographical and religious. There is fear, anger and frustration. There is naked display of self-interest as people dodge quarantine as if the virus is yet another system they can game.
I want to share this because there is also genuine courtesy, care and concern. The kind we are experiencing now.
I am grateful. To these people of those very government institutions we like to blame whenever anything goes wrong. Let us thank them for stepping up. And let us do our bit to help them.
When it is safe to do so again, I would like to shake more hands (if that gesture is still in vogue) and smile at more strangers. Complain less and think more of what I can do for the sake of all of us.
Personally, I hope we will emerge stronger from this quarantine. It has already shown me what we humans can be, if we just try. Why wait for a calamity?

they are all here
to make music together
the violinist
the organist
the guitarist
the percussionist
none knows the singer
nor the song
they are from different countries
the drummer’s country just attacked the singer’s
the violinist’s nation’s tussle with the guitarist’s
threatens to turn nuclear
but they are brought here
by the spontaneous harmony
of the heart, the pull of love
across borders, divisions and tongues
each lifetime is a bare flicker
in the grand scheme of things
in that fraction
we can choose
to hate, fight, destroy
or make music

[Reshma (Sri Lanka), 9:16 PM, 12/17/2019] Snake bite... What's the first aid pls help urgent...it's for me.
I saw the snake brown
[Shalini (Bengaluru)] Pls rush to a hospital .. there is no first aid .. let the doctor examine you ..
[Reshma] Ok doing that on the way
[Hasmukh (Sapna Ranch, Terdi Village, Sade, Maharashtra)] Are you able to judge of the snake is poisonous? Have you been able to catch the snake? Call Shalini right away. She is a member of this group and she lives in Bangalore. I'm assuming you are in Bangalore.
[Shalini] Stay calm and get to the nearest possible hospital quickly .. get some one to go with you
[Reshma] I am in Srilanka. ...brown thin snake
Donno if it's poisonous...
I know it's remote...
Didn't know what to do.. hence msged
[Hasmukh] Is its head bigger than its body?
[Shalini] Anti venom is the only solution.. only doctors can administer it based on the symptoms your body shows ..
[Nirav, (Mumbai)] Tie a tight tourniquet between the bite and heart avoid blood circulation
[Reshma] Ok
It bit me in my leg ankle
[Shalini] Anti venom needs to be administered based on your description of the snake bite ..
[Reshma] Putting a rubber band
[Nirav] Don't panic is anyone near you
[Reshma] Don't think so but not sure
[Nirav] No a dupatta tightly
[Shalini] Pls don't do that.. it can lead to non supply of blood causing gangrene and heavy tissue damage
[Reshma] Yes the hostel ppl r taking me to the hospital
[Shalini] Pls don't take any advice from non medical staff ..
[Reshma] Ok

[Shalini] I'm trained in snake bite and conflict management at Madras croc bank by snake experts .. pls just get to a hospital very quickly .. the earlier the better .. stay calm .. don't panic .. breathe normal .. hyper ventilation can lead to fast blood circulation and that would help the venom to spread faster in the body
[Reshma] Ok trying my best
[Hasmukh] Make sure the hospital you go to had Anti Snake Venom. ASV has a limited shelf life. Hence in India only government hospitals keep ASV.
[Shalini] Each country has different species of snakes .. once you get to hospital describe the details
- Area of bite - time of bite - signs and symptoms you are experiencing
- don't consume anything .. no water or liquid or any other thing ..
In most cases snake give dry bites causing irritation and pain .. this can be treated by professional medical practitioner and recovery is faster ..
You will be kept under observation too for next 24-48 hours .. just follow medical advice.. doctors know best to treat this ..
[Reshma] Ok
[Nirav] Is the snake bite area turning dark or any swelling
[Shalini] Dry bites are superficial bites.. nothing to worry much.. there may not be venom injected in these cases ..
Reshma, pls let me know your location and hospital you are visiting .. if any help is needed i will connect you to the correct people who work with anti - venom production folks and researchers ..
[Nirav] Just spoke to her should have reached or reaching in a minute or two
[Reshma] Not dark but a lill swelling is there
On the way...still some minutes I think
Going to the dambulla hospital
[Shalini] Great, just stay relaxed all the way .. you are doing great.. meet the doctor and explain your case .. keep us in the loop
[Reshma] My charge in the battery running out too.. fyi
Sure will do, thanks
[Shalini] Nearest Location .. where in srilanka is this ?
Any other contact number to reach you in the next hour or so ??
[Reshma] Dambulla is a bigger city
[Hasmukh] Give us the contact numbers of the people with you - with area code
[Nirav] Kandy it's a army base hospital so it seems she will get proper treatment
[Reshma, 9:41 PM] In the hospital
[Nirav] Spoke she is ok
Treatment has started
[Shalini] Ok .. thank you
[Hasmukh] 👍🏼Thanks everyone for the prompt action and coordination. @Reshma you are in good safe hands now. Post progress on the group when you can.
[Reshma, 8:06 AM, 12/18/2019] Hi All, I am doing better...there is inflammation of the foot...doctor confirmed that it's not a poisonous snake...checked if the blood is clotting or not..it is clotting hence it's good.

[Reshma, 8:52 PM, 12/29/2019] First and foremost I would like to thank all of you for being such a lovely and responding community...I am overwhelmed with the love and affection I have been receiving...Thank you one and everyone.
The Sapna Ranch group helped me so much in connecting and feeling like I was surrounded with so many loving people virtually, always humbled and feeling blessed.
[Shalini, 9:09 PM, 12/29/2019] Reshma, glad you are fine and all things worked in your favour.  Thank you for sharing the details.
Hump-nosed viper (HNV) is one of the six major snake species in Sri Lanka that cause envenomation. In its natural habitat of the low land wet zone, it is the main snake species that is responsible for envenomating bites.
Note : there is no other treatment for snake bites other than reaching a medical help asap for medical intervention by doctors.  There are lots of hear - say methods but pls find a hospital, meet a doctor for treatment plans. Do not take shortcuts for snake bite ever.. 

​The customer, David Ogilvy warned in 1955, is not a moron, but your wife. Today, the harem is packed with millions and technology has provided a zillion contact points, but do some companies hold on to a moronic mindset?

The bank emailed me that my credit card was eligible for a “premium” upgrade. All I had to do was go to netbanking and “confirm” the upgrade. I started doing that and then aborted when the annual fee field of my “lifetime free” card automatically filled with an amount.
When I got yet another reminder about the “upgrade”, I emailed them for a confirmation that my credit card would remain “free” even after the upgrade. Sifting through the chaff in the reply I received after a couple of days, I found one sentence relevant to me. The upgrade was “subject to” my signing up for a service. And I was asked to call up “phonebanking”.

I wrote back requesting a specific answer—was the upgrade free or not? Received a longer response restating the “subject to” and yet another helpful link to locate my phonebanking number.
I did not ask for the upgrade. You offered it. And are all your bankers too busy or too shy to call me and tell me about the upgrade condition upfront?
Definitely not a wife, I must be a moron to my bank.

Day after day, the range was too poor to make or receive a call. So, I called up customer service. “How many bars can you see?” Huh? Oh, that! I just see a triangle with an exclamation mark. “Where do you face this problem?” At home. “Please give me your address.”
“We are upgrading our towers in your area. Your problem will be resolved by (specific date). Please rate my response.” An email followed that reiterated the same assurance.

When you can anticipate a problem, why wait for the customer to complain? Why not email those who are most likely to be affected? Or at least publish an announcement?
​A few days later, I receive an SMS and an email. “We tried to contact you three times. You were not reachable. The issue is now closed.”
​Doesn’t your inability to reach me validate my persisting problem? Or is it just a good excuse to silence another moron?
The youngster at home advised: “Go to settings and  switch from 4G to 3G.” It worked and still does. The resolution the company promised is yet to materialize.
Huddled in an invisible corner of the harem, I imagine an email: “While we are working to upgrade your 4G service, we request you to switch to 3G so that you can continue to enjoy our uninterrupted service. This is how you can do it ….” That dream helps me hold on to the notion that my husband cares for me.

Sorry, David! They don’t much care for wives now. Could you please advise them to appoint a custodian to mother all customer communications? Even morons respond to sense and sensitivity. All we need is to find a system to fit a mother into the process.

​I drive this cab mostly at night.
That night I picked up this two women from a posh locality in Pune. They looked short on dress and high on alcohol. I would later learn that they were college students.
One sat next to me in front while the other settled at the back. I wonder if it was the AC or the movement of the car that triggered it. Suddenly, the one in front threw up in the car. Almost at the same time, the other one also threw up. Then they were both out. The stink was very bad. And I didn’t want them lolling about.
So, I stopped the car. Used the seat belt to ensure the front one was securely packed. Did the same to the one at the back.
It must have been after midnight when we reached their destination, a hostel. The security guy took one look and refused to let the car enter.
“Show their IDs.”
“It is too late for inmates to be allowed back in.”
I didn’t like the way things were shaping up. Fortunately, there was a police station nearby. I took the car there and explained the situation. In a jiffy, the cops turned the story around. Suddenly, I became the prime suspect. Where did I pick them up from? What did I do to them? After a lot of pleading, they let me go. The women are your responsibility. In case we hear of any rape, we know whom to book.
So, I drove some distance away and stopped the car. There was half a bottle of vodka and pack of Marlboro lying next to one of the girls. I picked up both and locked up the car. Whenever they woke up and tried to open the door, I would know.
I called up my service provider. Explained the situation. Two executives turned up—a woman and a man. When they looked inside, I could see the woman executive trying not to puke. They requested me to stay with the car and the women. They would ensure that I would not land in any trouble. Plus, they promised compensation. Then they left.
I sat a little a distance away, by the road. Finished the vodka and the cigarettes. I thought I deserved that for all the trouble I was in. After some time, the car alarm went off. They were up.
“Are we safe? Where are we?” They were not out of it yet but at least they were conscious. I explained the situation to them and assured them that they were safe. They were very apologetic. Then they asked me to take them to a resort a little distance away.
It was almost morning when they got out of the resort. When they did, they were clutching two bottles of alcohol. Both were drinking all the way back to the hostel.
They got out and again apologized profusely. I said I had suffered a huge loss thanks to them. One of them asked me “how much”. The fare itself was nearly 3,000. Plus, lost business while I was babysitting them. Plus, more potential lost business while the car remained at the garage getting a thorough cleaning. “Maybe about 9 or 10,000,” I suggested. She went to the ATM. Came back and gave me 14,000.
I pleaded with them not to drink so much. They were lucky they were in Pune and not in Delhi. They promised they would take care.
I never met them after that.