Muka Buku

 

 

 

I don’t have Friendster/Facebook/MySpace accounts. And I intend to keep it that way, insyaAllah.

 

A question constantly asked by my friends is, why?

 

Because I don’t need one. It doesn’t serve me any purpose. I’m not interested in other people’s lives. Or browsing through their pictures. Or commenting on their walls. Or playing FB games. Or knowing the current state of their moods.

 

Those do not tell me what I need to know about people.

 

 

“Buat lah FB. Boleh keep in touch!”

 

A sentence which, please forgive me, annoys me the most. So what did people use to keep in touch before FB existed? Asap? Ketuk drum? Kertas cawan?

FB is the easiest way to update ourselves on people’s lives. It is not the only way to keep in touch.

 

In my opinion, those who say it are the ones who could not be bothered. Of course. Why go through all the troubles when it’s just one click away?

Buta technology sungguh.

 

Because I appreciate friends who remember my birthday not by knowing it through FB, but because they care. I appreciate an email on their lives more than a short comment on the wall. And most importantly, I’m able to recognise friends apart  from those who are not. There are people, “friends”, which frankly, I don’t care about.

 

All these, I will only discover by not having a FB account. I do not care for those who do not deserve it.

 

I blog. I read your blog. I’m not totally absent from this virtual world.

 

I’m here, only if you care.

Winter Hols

Clinical theory today was on surgery by Dr. Pandit, as always.

 

“I have one good news and one bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Bad newssssss.”

“Your winter holiday is cancelled. The good news is you will be starting your clinical posting at Jain Hospital on the 1st of December.”

 

Silence.

 

…

Digesting…

…

Digesting…

…

Digesting…

 

 

And then the whole class turned into an uproar.

 

Ah! Wat iz zat?? No hols in December!!

 

Since we started later than the others, we have to compensate by undergoing clinical postings during the 2 weeks of hols. So while the others go on vacations, we’ll be spending our holidays at Mahaveer Jain hospital.

 

Smooth. Real smooth.

 

Like the rest, I was outraged. Couldn’t they tell us sooner? Before we bought the plane tickets. Before we started planning on how to spend our hols. That couldn’t be too much to ask right?

 

Ah. It’s hard not to feel disappointed. Unlike most of my classmates though, I didn’t plan on going anywhere during the hols. Not to Agra, not to Goa, not to Malaysia. I’ll be staying right here in Bangalore. I’m cool – except for one tiny flaw:

 

 

MY FAMILY IS COMING FOR A VISIT. FOR THE WHOLE 2 WEEKS.

 

 

Now. How am I going to show them around and go for clinical postings everyday (except Sunday) at the same time?

 

This is bad since my family is planning on touring other parts of India as well. Of course I can’t miss that. Parents bayar ok Precious time spend with family.

 

Tapi itulah. Women are so emotional. Suka risau tak tentu pasal.

 

 

I could worry all month, I could throw tantrums all day but let’s face it; nothing’s gonna change. I still have to go for clinical postings and my family is still coming for a visit. When it comes to dealing with stuff like this, I turn to this saying- life is all about going with its flow. So… come what may Things will settle on their own. They always do.

 

And I need the clinical postings. Mengamuk lah macam mana pun, I need them. It’s a good thing, what the uni did. I mean, if we were to catch up all those by ourselves, well, do you think you would? Sah-sah malas nak study sendiri. And the real purpose of being here is to study anyway.

 

I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason because Allah wants it that way.

 

Only I told my parents not to nag if I skipped class *coughs*

 

 

And I quote Dr. Pandit,

 

We’re preparing you for the future when you’ve become doctors. You think you’ll get holidays all the time? You have to get use to this. Start now.

 

 

Oh well. Life is full of surprises. That’s what I like about it ^_^

The park bench

 

I love the imperfection of it all.

 

To live life is to go with its flow, without much synchronisation.

The wasted time, the said words, the did things. They give me satisfaction.

 

But only so much.

 

For when I balanced myself on the bench, it is to feel the excitement without falling. To stand up straight, feet on the ground but floating.

Breathing in the scent of grass and sky at the same time.

 

Those are what I feel, create life.

 

Until I fall.

Face flat on the ground, scraped hands and knees. One gulp, to swallow the blood and pain.

 

And then I realised. Life too, needs boundaries. It comes with rules.

Each foot moves in rhythm. Arms wide apart. Head up straight.

Life is a dance to be practised.

 

This head is my heart. This soul is my body.

Those are my rules.

Yes. I. Don’t. Cook.

My lazy mode kicked in this morning and lingers till now. Hueh. Been trying to read patho but.. if I succeeded in doing that I wouldn’t be typing this now would I?

 

 

That’s what happened when I have three days of weekend instead of two. I become lazy see. Our classes ended at 2.30 pm everyday seeing as we haven’t started our clinical postings yet and have to compensate by having clinical theory classes on Medicine and Surgery everyday. Except Friday.

 

 

Clinical theory classes are….pretty boring. Anything theory is boring lah. Suppressing my yawns and red eyes are proving to be harder as the days passed. The extra time is used to catch up on missed lectures. Supposedly *coughs*

 

 

Anyway. Just now I went to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of 3 in 1 Milo. Aida was also there doing the same thing*. Well, she’s always there. If not to clean up the mess, it’s eating or drinking I couldn’t open the packet so I asked for her help. And you know what she said??

 

*drinking Milo instead of Nescafe at midnight says that we’re not planning on staying up late to study tsk tsk

 

 

“Anak dara manja.”

 

!!!

 

 

I didn’t think it was true so I complained to Qish. And you know what she said?

 

 

“Er, tu pun Aida kena bagitau ke? Tu kan pengetahuan umum.”

 

 

Just because I don’t cook! Or clean the toilet. Or look after the fat cat (I give money for her keeping. Why do I need to cuddle her everyday?) Eh wtf do I do for the house all this while? But I sweep the room! (Gave up on cleaning toilets after that first time in Pratham) And I could survive by not cooking so why is that a big deal I also dunno. There’s free food delivery some more. And I do my own laundry.

 

I would think those are independent enough of me.

 

 

But I so tak puas hati. WHY DO GIRLS NEED TO COOK??? WHY DO I NEED TO KNOW HOW TO COOK??

 

 

If I could get by fine with eating cereals and bread and semi-solid food (Neslac, Nestum, oats), why couldn’t everyone else??  It’s not like I have the need to cook. I rarely have cravings. And even if I did, well, my housemates could cook them for me.

 

 

And I’m lazy. All the chopping and mixing and grinding and God knows what else. Please. Like I have nothing else to do. I even cook Maggi by soaking it in boiled water instead of boiling it on the stove. Even my dad discourages me from cooking ok. He says it’s a waste of time. Not entirely true lah. I mean, it could be fun. Sometimes. Depends. Or maybe not.

 

 

The girls always say the same thing to me: “Nisa, nanti suami Nisa nak makan ape?”

 

“Eh. Masak sendiri lah. Kalo tak, order luar. Kalo tak puas hati jugak, cerai je lah.”

 

 

Okeh habis membebel now it’s time for Patho!!

Really.

All I said was they were too shallow in judging people. That’s it. Geez.

 

 

Guys talk about girls. Girls talk about guys and girls and everything this universe contain. That’s normal, I know. But when the vocabulary alim (religious) suddenly evolved into sweet, what happened next?

 

 

I snapped. Naturally.

 

 

How could someone you see from afar, could string a few motivational sentences, versed well in the Quran- well, in short someone you don’t even know in real life besides the fact that he/she is religious be considered as sweet? And suddenly tak pasal pasal that person becomes your idol.

 

Now you get what I mean?

 

 

And so I retorted, “Mane ko tau dia sweet? Ko tak pernah cakap ngan dia. Ntah-ntah dia pengotor. Or tak suka mandi pagi.”

 

To be replied by, “Heyyyyy, tak baik cakap macam tu tau!”

 

=_=

 

 

Before you guys get emotional, I’m not trying to make any point on religious people here. I’m trying to figure out how some people – ok, girls – think. People who are in depth about Islam, I have plenty of respect for them.

 

 

But that’s as far as it goes lah. Takkan sampai tahap stalking kat FB.

 

 

And this doesn’t apply to people who are learned in religious matter only. It applies to an apek in a white tshirt and short pants who turned out driving a Mercedes. Or a polite someone who turns out to be a blabber once he opens his mouth. But I’m focusing on the former since that’s what I couldn’t fathom out the most right now. 

 

 

I’m just saying, how could people interpret religious as….well, perfection. Some people know but doesn’t preach. Ramai yang macam tu. So to basically judge someone just by looking at a few characters is absurd. I’m not saying they are. I’m saying they might be. I mean, you would never know right? You wouldn’t know someone has bad breath until you talk to him.

 

Respecting is one thing. Clouding your rationalisation with make up beliefs is another.

 

 

And when I pointed these out, bursting their bubble of giddiness, all I got was

 

“Ko memang. Ko kan alien.”

 

Pulak dah.

Rain rain go away

Only 2 weeks ago I was complaining about global warming. The sun was pulling faces at us and sweats trailed our backs. Pretty annoying considering by October it’s usually already winter.

 

 

Winter in Bangalore isn’t that cold. The lowest temperature would be around 12 degrees. It’s like walking around in air-condition. Just cold enough for us to put on our coats and jackets and wear layered clothes. An interesting season as this is the time people tend to pull out their best outfits. Well, certain people that is.

 

 

Comparing this year’s winter with last year’s (coz this is only my second year), this year selalu hujan and hembusan angin kuat kuat huh. Colder. Wetter. And yes, increased possibilities of slipping off the stairs and landing on your butt.

 

 

Which happened to me this morning.

 

 

Siot. Sakit ok. Another black and blue for me. And a bump. Ish. Luckily people who witnessed it were my housemates and Syafiq. Helwa boleh pulak tanya, “Nisa! Sakit tak??”

Hello, mestilah sakit! And considering the fact that Syafiq didn’t comment on anything, I was pretty sure he was trying not to laugh out loud =_=

I think I’m somewhat a great person because I’ve experienced almost all types of fall. Ah. Pain. What’s life without it?

 

 

Also, nowadays the sky is always covered with dark clouds. Now whenever I see the sun shining outside, I’d be all giddy and excited and put on my tracksuit and tshirt and go for a jog. I think JP Park is somewhere at the west because when everywhere else is cloudy, there’d definitely be a streak of sunlight there. And I always pretended I was chasing the sun hahahahaha takde kerja.

 

 

Looking at this picture alone gives me a very comfortable feeling ^_^

 

 

 

Humph.

 

 

Sejuk sejuk jogging is pointless. What can I say? I miss the sun. I miss the heat. I don’t really like the cold (nanti dah summer I’ll complain about the humidity pulak you just wait).

 

Which reminds me. Yesterday while I was jogging at JP Park, a young Indian girl in her school uniform approached me.

 

“Aunty, what’s the time?”

Paused Ipod. “Pardon?”

“What’s the time?”

“Oh. It’s 5.30.”

“Thank you aunty!”

“You’re welcome!”

 

 

Smiled and jogged away. What a polite girl. Such pleasant – wait. Did she just called me AUNTY?

 

 

Smile vanished. DO I LOOK LIKE AN AUNTY??? Sister ok, sister!

Juggling

She says there’s a difference between passion and compassion.

 

Passion is a strong emotion- in this case- sympathy.

 

Compassion is a feeling of deep sympathy with a strong desire to alleviate the sufferings.

 

She says,

 

Choose.

Tasty Tangle

After months of delaying, we finally went to Ubicity for dinner last night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sorang buat pose gedik, the other one was annoyed.

 

 

For appetizers we had,

 

Chicken satay. Rs 139 for 4 sticks. At least they were tasty.

 

 

Prawn crackers which turned out to be keropok udang HAHAHAHA A’IN YANG ORDER.

 

OMG THEY HAD CHICKEN SIEW MAI DUMPLINGS.

 

 

 

I died and went to heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

Our main dishes were:

Kung pao chicken with egg noodles. Too salty for my liking. Blergh.

 

 

Does this look like Laksa Curry to you? More like coconut milk soup to me.

 

 

Like they added too much boiled water into instant tom yam.

 

 

Chicken fried rice. Yosh. TASTELESS.

 

 

 

 

 

Desserts…..

Thai sticky rice pudding. Nice!

 

 

Manggo pudding. It tasted like mango pudding la. No one no where could make any mistake in preparing it.

Unless that person is me. But that is a different story.

 

 

Now this dessert was the nicest of all desserts. Lychee something something I forgot its name.

 

 

Lychee filled with peanut butter. A perfect combo. Yum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, personally I’m not picky when it comes to food. Especially Malay food. If the chicken tasted like chicken and the fish tasted like fish, I’m satisfied. I know! I’m so simple! So when I say the main dishes suck, people should believe me. I could cook tastier fried rice. Ok la, I couldn’t. I don’t even know how to make porridge. But my housemates could!!

 

5/5 for appetizers and desserts though.

 

For a restaurant which served south asian food, the menu was suprisingly…lacking. One page je kot! South Asia besar kot! And they only had 2 types of dumplings. TWO. Even in Miri there are more than 15!

 

I’m sorry it’s just that I’m a Chinese food lover. Not the Beijing ( a restaurant in Bangalore ) type of food either. I want dumplings, and carrot cakes, and butter prawns, and lemon chicken, and jelly fish and a lot la! I want fried pau and home made egg tarts

 

I have yet to find any halal chinese restaurant here in Bangalore so if you guys knew any, please tell me! ^_^

 

Dah I need to complete my record books now.

It’s how you see it

Being in Bangalore for over a year now changes me a lot I guess. This place teaches me to keep an open mind on all matters because nothing is impossible here. Literally. And not necessarily in a good way either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Up till now, I’ve heard a lot of people complained about being here. I know most of them prefer studying in local universities rather than India. And that, irks me. A lot. Not so much on their complains but more on the fact that they’re medical students who’ve experienced living in India.

 

 

I’m not saying this place has no flaws. Yes, they are no factory outlets here. It’s tiring having to argue with the auto drivers everyday. People here litter and spit as they like. The traffic is horrible. Cows sit in the middle of the roads and one couldn’t walk without stepping on their poo.

 

 

 

 

Are those it? Or is it merely social stigma?

 

 

Me, I’m not saying I’m fine with those. Heck, I’m practically in tears whenever a beggar tugs on my clothes asking for money. But then, those are what make Bangalore, Bangalore. Get what I mean?

 

 

Personally, I like being here. I’ve wanted to go to India ever since I was in high school. My mum even laughed at me when I told her I wanted to visit India after SPM (seriously =_=). I didn’t know why. I just knew there were a lot of poor people in India and I wanted to see if I could pick a thing or two. It was never my intention to study here but by God’s will, that’s what happened. I probably missed out on factory outlets, boxing day and four seasons but what I get here is…well, incomparable.

 

 

India is without doubt, one of the backward countries. But heck, I’ve never seen people who are so determined in struggling to live. I’ve never seen anyone who’d do anything to earn a penny before.

 

Being here teaches me a lot on empathy and humanity. Surrounded constantly by poor people and seeing kids running on the pavement without even wearing slippers. Peeping into their houses and realising the toilet in Pratham is even bigger than their living rooms. Seeing them living in camps instead of proper houses. Those make me walk with my head down. They make me feel thankful of what I have, make me realised there’s a lot more to be done. They make me to want to help.

 

What I’ll be able to learn from them will not only shape me into a good doctor, but also as a person. The lessons are worth a lifetime.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a way, I need them, not the other way around. Thus, I don’t feel I have the right to complain.

 

 

It annoys me to the max when someone said, “Eeh. Diorang ni busuk la.”

Hello, were you born as an Indian in India, you would probably bear the same scent. And you wouldn’t think you’re smelly either.

 

 

And to think people who said it were medical students. It’s like they’re saying they won’t ever ever ever work in rural areas or treat poor people! Are you gonna clamped your nose when dealing with your patients in the future? Not likely. We Malaysians do not have higher positions nor are these people lower than us.

 

 

I have yet to hear doctors who studied in Europe earned more in Malaysia than those who study in local universities. Nor did I hear anything about doctors from local unis being unemployed. Doctors are doctors. They’re all the same. I don’t mind getting a stamped certificate saying I graduated in Malaysia and not India. As long as I have the skills and as long as no patient of mine is going to say, “Bodoh ah doktor tu. Baik tak yah jadi doktor.”, I’m fine with it.

 

 

I’m just saying, if you’re given a lemon, make a lemonade out of it ^_^

188

188 codes for nisasabri. That’s my present serial number. One. Eight. Eight. A hundred and eighty eight. 188.

 

I am, of course once again, the last student in my batch. Now I have to wait for the first 187 numbers when attendance is taken. Which means I will be the last student leaving the lecture hall everyday.

 

Tu lah. Siapa suruh kena duduk for supplementary exam. Padan muka.

 

 

Ok la, it’s not like I’m not used to it. I was the last student in my first year. Now I have to bear it for another year and a half. But last year I got an odd number! This year is even! Do you know what that means? It means I’ll be an obvious target whenever the lecturers ask questions   Aish.

 

That leads to my resolution for Phase II ; I’m adamant not to sit for supplementary exam again!! That’s the only way I could shift my serial number upwards! Ahah. A fusion of a medical student with bimbo thoughts. So what. Good la right. That means I’m gonna work hard.

 

So. My classes officially start tomorrow *coughs coughs* Fine! They started today but how should I know? The management thought they could post the official results and timetable up yesterday afternoon without announcing anything and we would know by ourselves is it? And I did mean to go to class today. I overslept……and woke up at 11.30 am. Perghh. Overslept by 4 hours =_=

 

Darn la now have to go to class already (I could hear my mum saying my english sucks as I’m writing this). Baru plan nak gi Otti!

 

 

These books look so lovely that I’m afraid of opening and creasing them up. Right.