Thursday, 16 August 2018

Why we require curry to eat rice?

The reason why we cannot eat rice without curry was told to me by one of my friends when I was in primary school. I did not forget the reason until now due to the sheer illogical explanations which I dared not protest, at that time. 

He was a big bully. Not so big in size  but he was like a grown up man among the children. He was leader in everything not because he was good but if his orders were not followed you will be bullied. He was the captain of the ‘bagtang’ ball football team always. He was good at it because his coordinations were more developed than the others. He had a mouth like a fish, perhaps due to constant talking as no one dares to talk in his presence unless he allows you by looking at you. 

I saw him once after a decade and half or so and he maintained his size but his hair became lesser or rather it shifted its place from his head to his chin, cheeks and upper lips. The hair on the upper lips and chin provided a jocular kind of frame to his fish like mouth. 

During free time he took the dominating position and narrated the story about why we require to eat curry with rice. 

‘Once there was a man. He was fed up with working especially because it was the stomach that needs to be filled. He thought that if he had no stomach he could relax as he will not have to go looking for food to fill the stomach. So he told the stomach to leave his body. The stomach went out of the body without second thought. 

‘The man when he tried to stand straight after stomach had left his body, he was not able to do that. He was in fact folded into half bending towards the front. He called the stomach back and requested it to come back to its place. When stomach refused he promised that here after not only a simple rice but he would also provide curry along with rice. 

‘The stomach agreed and took its original position and the man was able to stand straight. But thereafter he had to work double time to provide the stomach with rice and curry. That was how we have to eat curry with rice’.

He looks up after telling this story as if, seeking for appreciation and everyone seems to agree with his story either out of fear or ignorance. I also did not protest to his logic, though I felt funny because even at that age I knew that it was the backbone that helped the man stand straight and not the stomach. However, he captivated the children more than our teachers with his illogically logical story. 

Seriously. He must have meant and believed what he was telling as he failed twice and ultimately dropped out of school along with many other bagtang ball players. He went on to become a truck khalasi, after that he became a truck driver. As of now he is a driver in one of the departments and doing pretty well and surviving, providing rice and curry to his stomach and to the stomachs of his wife and children. 


Some people can make a great impact, with stories and other stuff lasting life long. 

Wednesday, 18 July 2018

United Nation’s Effort.

(It is not about UNO, it is about united effort of mankind.)

There was no treaty signed. There were no elaborate conferences to act together. There were no obligations or coercion for any country that came forward to help those boys trapped in the caves in Thailand, but everyone came to help, influenced by the response to the stimuli of different kind and bringing forth all the beauties of the humanities to the fore. The joint effort was answered, by finding all the boys alive and more so being able to rescue them from the near impossible situation.

It happened during such time when people were all glued to the TV due to war of different kind happening on the green field – the world cup soccer match. Whether your country was playing or not the emotions ran high. Some people had their favorite teams, some had favorite player but some, like me, sided the teams based on their character and the behavior displayed within the first few minutes. The loss and the wins brought despairs and ecstasies respectively, no matter what
.
Amid all that, there were 12 young boys with their coach, which could be hardly called an adult, and all of them coincidentally footballers went missing in the caves. The helpless parents were seen praying and conducting rituals, keeping the hope alive day after passing days. The rescue teams garnered more support internationally, beyond anyone’s imaginations. It was not possible for everyone to conduct the search and rescue; it required a special skill – diving. The divers poured in not caring about their own safety to save others’ lives.

Everyone empathized with the parents and the boys who were lost in the depth of the caves. That empathy and the humane feelings brought the world together. Despite all odds the humanity won the war.

Such humanity and empathy is what is required in today’s world. Life lost or endangered anywhere should draw the same humane feelings. We ought to re-evoke the empathy missing in certain cases. We can draw borders on land. We can draw borders in ocean and we even draw imaginary lines as borders in air. But we must not let the borders being drawn between the humane feelings. It was too great to see the barriers of the man-made barriers being broken and the raw humane feelings evoked due to the media coverage both by main stream and social media.

It was relieving to see that all the boys were taken out alive from the complex cave system from the jaws of the death from the real precarious situation. It was more relieving to see that at such times everyone cared and prayed and the humanity prevailed in the world. It was most relieving to see that the whole world came together to save the lives of those boys, whose only exit from the caves was blocked by the rising level of water. Without the joint effort, the outcome would have been different.

The story of how a Navy SEAL who lost his life in the process of rescue mission would be told over and over again. He was the retired navy SEAL personnel which sums up a lot about doing it voluntarily with the humane touch. Salute!!!!!

Wednesday, 20 June 2018

All The Best?

English is not our mother tongue. However, it is the official language of the united nations French being another official language. The official communications both verbal and written are through these languages only. There are people from all over the world serving in the UN. And in military it so happens that there are capable people in the lower ranks, just short of the commissioned officers, who does not speak the official UN language. They normally, command and control their troops from their own countries but sometimes they do have to communicate with the people from the other nations as the UN being the multinational organization.

I was sitting in the joint operations center, an elderly looking man appeared from the doorway. His mustache was well kempt and radiated authority through it. He was tall and smartly dressed and smiled to everyone. The rank on his shoulder did not ring any bell for me. By the look he must be a Drimpon Gom of the contingent that was stationed at the location.
When he spoke, it was confirmed that he was ‘the Drimpon Gom.’

“All the best”. He said with a broad smile. I was bewildered initially, because I was not doing or going to do anything special that day. ‘All the best’ is normally said to a person wishing him or her luck. That was the normal things for the people who knew English. But for him it was not the case. For him ‘all the best’ means all the best – best in all aspects.

“All the best?” he asked me. I quickly gathered the meaning of what he was saying. The literal meaning!!

“Yeah, all the best, today”, I replied to him and shook hands.

If I am told to speak French, I would commit the same mistake!!!
>>>>>>>>> 
And here is another one……..
“If you could kindly tell be the details, I would be grateful”.

“Oh, ok no worries I will give you all the information I have”.

“Ok thanks, this would help me in getting some pictures of what is happening around”

“Oh, ok I will send the pictures also.”

“No no no, I don’t require the picture. Thanks”

“But you said something about the picture. No?”

“Yeah I said, leave the pictures I will take it myself later. Thanks, have a nice day”

“Shame (same) to you too sir.”

The communication ends.

Sunday, 17 June 2018

World Cup Changes the Destiny

As I am watching world cup match on TV. I remembered how it has the capability of changing the destiny of some people. It was somewhere in early 90s.  The World Cup match coincided with the school exam. There were not many TV like today. The cable network was non existent, only place to watch live football match was at the airport which was around 2 hrs walking distance away. Only a die hard football fan would complete a daunting task of bunking from the hostel and making an arduous brisk walk of four hours sacrificing sleep and of course the ongoing test. 

The World Cup this year seems to have coincided with the midterm exam in Bhutan. There would be some students who would prefer to watch World Cup match rather than study. The time difference between the hosting nation and our country always asks for sacrifice of some dozing time. 

This World Cup 2018 would definitely change the destiny of some of the students who are the crazy fan of soccer. The realization will only dawn on then after a decade or so, or it would be gently reminded by the recurring matches in future. When one can watch alone in the comforts of the cozy couch, perhaps with legs stretched on the center table - Thoughts running wild during the part of the game when it’s not so exciting. 

As a youngster one will not know the importance of studying to make the future - back to early 90s... A few students, who were die hard fan of soccer, bunked from the hostel and went to the town or to the place where there was dish TV. 

The fans of soccer could not do the exam well because of the obvious reasons. On top of that they were caught missing from hostel which led to punitive and destructive punishment of cleaning the school campus. (The constructive or corrective punishment could have been - to make them study compulsorily).

The names of those diehard fan of soccer need not be mentioned but in case they go through this article they will remember that they were the one who ran away from the hostel to watch TV instead of studying for examination, which made all the difference and changed the course of their life; Just as Maradona became old, Ronaldo(s) replaced in the spotlight, Pele became history. 

I am writing about it because most of them ended up in the military. Those guys who choose to join army thought that there won’t be much things to study in military. But once they are in the Academy it was shocking surprise for them that they have to study more than what they have imagined in their wildest dreams. In the military Academy not studying is - not an option. During the study periods, the rooms had to kept open both the doors and the windows, so that if you fell asleep the captains who roam around, with immense power to punish you a little short of death, catches you sleeping would give a necessary punishment. 

There were others who joined civil service and doing well as of now because of the sheer time that they have spent in the job with accumulated experience. World Cup this year must be refreshing their memories of the past matches and efforts involved to go to the World Cup venue - no, not to Italy in 1990 or Russia this time- but to the dish TV station. 

Tuesday, 29 May 2018

The Game within the game

 It was in the enclosed campus were the movements outside the campus was restricted due to prevailing security situations. All the facilities for personal physical training like: gym, mini football ground, badminton and tennis were available within the campus. The feelings like that of inmates does not set in if we do not let our imaginations loose. 

Workouts and physical exercise, not only keeps one fit but it also helps in keeping oneself busy doing it and recovering from it - for much longer duration. Good sleep is guaranteed after an strenuous exercise. That maybe the reason you could see so many people doing various kinds of physical training, untold. 

For the walkers there was a oval paved path around the tennis court. The walkers can occasionally watch the game as they complete their un-stipulated laps. As I was doing that, I used to see an elderly looking man and a somewhat younger looking men playing the game. Going by the number of ball boys and the attendants it was evident that they must be a higher ranking officials. Their tennis was not up to the mark. Like a novice they knocked the ball here and there and most of the time sending the ball boy scurrying after the ball. If it was for the physical exercise, it served the purpose well; making everyone sweat including the ball boys - they sweated more than the players, I guessed. The younger men lost the game always. It wasn’t a fun game to watch at all but due to the layout of the decent walking path, I watched the game while taking a stroll. It was better than watching the digital display on the monitor of the treadmill. 

The older man who was the commander, was a brigadier and he asked me whether I would like to join for the game. I accepted the invitation but for the next day as I could see he already had enough and I was doing the last lap too. I thought it would not be so difficult to win the game. It would be better than just walking round and round. 

The next day we played and I beat him straight six without losing even a single set. He was a fun gentleman to play with but what was not fun was the displeasure shown by the ball boys and people present there. They did not liked me winning from their commander. The younger opponent, who was a Major, probably his staff officer, sought permission, informally, from the commander, to play with me the following day. 

I was like, ‘OMG, it would be a worse game! I have already beaten the player who had always beaten him in the game.’ However, I accepted the challenge for the sake of cooperation and to not to offend them, yet again. 

The following day, I went relaxed into the court, expecting a worse game of tennis. I was thinking of feeding him to have more knocks before the ball boys catch the ball. When the game began, to my astonishment, he was an excellent player! He served like a pro, the ball was coming to me so fast that I have to think for a split second whether I should receive the ball or just dodge and let it pass. The back hands were as swift as his fore hands and it sent the ball accurately to wherever he wanted and wherever I was not thinking to move. 

I was beaten one to five. The ball boys and the other people gathered there were so elated that I thought, I was given more courses of juice that day. I have never felt so tired and drained in energy and thoughts. 

This is the game within the game. Sometimes it is not always about winning. “Tai tai bay maray” - I remember the vague and famous advice applicable everywhere. 
(It is a fictional story and any resemblance to any person (L or D) is just a coincidence)


  

Saturday, 26 May 2018

Arak - The spirit.

The drinks, the intoxicants I don’t know who invented it but it must have been there from the time immemorial. The custom of drinking must be as old as the beginning of the human race. This amazing stuff is good for everything, happiness, sadness, celebration and mourning. 

There is a very few people who drinks - just like that for pleasure of their taste buds in the brain. They are not addicted to it for they can stay without it if not available, and if it is available, then they can have a sip or two. I belong to this category of drinker. The pleasure drinking when the sun goes down, must have made my tolerance stronger that I never get drunk. In fact, I have seen drunkards, who could barely stand straight saying, “I am not drunk”. The pronunciation of the words, twisted, matching those twisty legs. So don’t believe it. 

It had been quite sometime, after reaching Syria that I tried anything stronger than the beer. A little dingy shop, just around the corner of the town nearby, had all the necessary items. The shopkeeper must been stocking up the shop as per the customer searching for an item. From water to bread, from cigarettes to lighters, from tissue papers to soaps, from beer to wine and alcoholic drinks are available there. 

That shop can be comparable to a big malls, less the wearables like clothings, shoes and electronic. And most importantly, the availability of parking as not many cars park there for too long, not even our car. Three rows of shelf can be scanned within minutes. You will not be put into dilemma or delayed due to difficulties involving decision of choice. 

I brought a tray of eggs. Eggs there is an egg. There are no ten types of differently priced eggs. It suited me well. It did not give the the unnecessary tension of decision making. (It tasted the same, no guilt and regrets of thinking I should have brought the other ones). On the far and the darker side of the shelf, there were drinks sparsely filled with wines, whiskies and other cheap looking bottles. 

The tiny bottles with name “Arak” caught my eyes. Upon asking the shopkeeper, in his sparse English, he told me that it’s a local drinks ‘made in Syria’. There were around four types of Arak. The decision of choosing which one to buy was thrown back to the shopkeeper, due to lack of knowledge and having scanty information about the product. The coincidence here is that our locally brewed alcohol is also called “Ara” and jocularly - “Arak”. That was how I got myself thinking about the origin of the intoxicating drinks for the mankind. (Sometimes woman kind also).

When I tasted that Arak, it send me back in the memory lane, when I was patrolling in the Southern part of Bhutan. It tasted exactly like “Raza” - alcoholic spirits brewed by the Assamese residents living, bang at the borders. The name was similar to ours, and the taste similar to our next door neighbors, interesting. 

I threw up badly, trying to drink a tumbler full of raza. I did not want to repeat the same history here, so I drank a tiny amount - neat. When it left the burning sensation along its trails till the stomach, I knew that it was not supposed to be had - neat. The bottle was small, perhaps only 250 ml, for a reason. 

After three weeks I was able to empty the bottle. When it takes so long to consume the liquor, you must have already guessed the taste. Like for all drinks, the taste for the drink needs to be acquired with repeated dose, until the time you starts to love the punishment. Once you have acquired the taste, you have done it. You can drink without flinching. It must be an acquired taste for the Arak too. I am not going to acquire it. Good bye to arak and all the memories it evoked and giving me reason to write this blog. 



Wednesday, 4 April 2018

Literally illiterate


The markings and the labels on all the goods are marked in their national language – Hebrew. Yes, I am talking about going for shopping in Israel. Here, I am not talking about shopping like a pleasure shopping, that one resort to on holidays, buying things that you really do not require. The jeans, shoes, jewelries do not require a labels to be read. 

Going for a groceries shopping is totally different and in the absence of labels that you can read, you have to go by the pictures. You feel so helpless and illiterate. Taking picture of every bottle or a can, for the google translate, makes you look prominently foolish. Many times the translation makes lesser sense than the photographs.

Thank god! The prices are however, marked in English pasted on the rack. There too you have to pray that the fillers stacked the right stuff at the right place corresponding to the price. The marking of the aisles, makes no sense for us, who do not know Hebrew. That’s why, the new UN guys move around in the super markets, as if playing hide and seek. To add on to the confusion, there are at least 20 types of cheese, 5 types of milk, 4 types of egg, 15 types of rice and it’s better to not to mention about the canned and packed items. 

The trial and error method was generally used to try things out, having one whole year to live here. “Once you get the right stuff, you stick to that throughout your tenure. Trying new things is risky and expensive” said one of the colleagues. Thereafter, the shopping for groceries becomes easier. Pick the ones, which passed the trial and error method. What about the failed ones? Here is the story....

I was not good in cooking. I wanted to have precooked food, which can be consumed after warming it up in the oven. There were not dearth of such food, stacked on the shelf neatly packed in the plastic container. With gravy, without gravy, fried, boiled looking yummy but what is it really? Oh the labels? It was in Hebrews. Avoided it.

Adjoining to the food shelf, I found the stuff that I was looking for. A bun, cut into two hemisphere. In between the two halves there were latus, tomatoes and onion rings protruding out of the sandwich. A perfect sandwich which could be warmed and eaten, quickly. That’s what the picture on the package, depicted. The labels, I could not read. I bought it and kept it in the fridge.

The next day I was returning from work, hungry. I had the sandwich in mind and I was thinking of savoring it with as little effort as putting it in the microwave oven. When I took out the package of the sandwich to warm it, I was already salivating. I tore the outer plastic cover as carefully as possible so as to not to damage the filling in the sandwich. When I took out the content, I was so surprised to see a bundle of plastic bags. There were no sandwich inside. ‘Was it a prank? If so, how could people play such pranks?’ I thought.  

I sunk on the sofa, hungry and disgusted. How could they put plastic in the food packaging? Suddenly, I realized that it must be plastic meant to pack the yummy looking sandwich in the picture. The photo in the package is the content of the content of the package was supposed to contain. Confusing? Huh? But I guess you are not hungry. 

They could have put the picture of the plastic in the package for the ones like me, who cannot read Hebrew. But then, back home a face cream container has a picture of beautiful lady. That does not mean that a lady is in the container!!! Confusing? My heart goes out to those illiterate people. I would be literate for 5 months. Too short a period to learn new language. Flying back.

Saturday, 24 February 2018

The Medium for God’s deed


Who knows that When we save an animals life or when we do some good things to help someone in need, that it must be, the One above, doing his deeds through us. We are not kindest all the time or cruelest all the time. Sometimes a pang of pity and sympathy just runs seeing someone suffering that we just go out of the normal way to help, at that instance. Many of us must have done such things like giving more than normal to some beggars at some particular time. Are we by doing that answering the beggar’s prayer? Are we, the medium of God, through which, prayers are answered?

I thought of these questions remembering an incident at border out post. It was at Lingshi, in the middle of nowhere, above the tree lines, there were just two huts. No shops were nearby. The only settlement was two hours walk away with cluster of not more than ten houses. The nearest town was either Thimphu or paro, two days walking distance. Walking distance,  because we cannot use the cars due to absence of motor-able roads. All our supplies need to be brought to cover the tenure, i.e normally a month. I was however, made to stay two months by my commander, who did not like the way I looked, as I found out later.-that’s beside the topic. 

Our supplies like cigarettes and baba needs to be taken in good quantity, to last, more than the food item. Those addicts would agree with me. The food becomes just secondary once you are an addict and runs out of the substance you are addicted to. The tobacco bill was in the process of being passed at that time. Every paan shop had different brands to sell. It was ‘smoke free’. ‘Smoke’ here being verb. Now the verb had turned into noun and it had become ‘smoke (n) free’ - after the deadly tobacco law. 

One day when we were getting ready to go for foot patrolling, one non commissioned officer said he could not accompany us. He was a chain smoker and his cigarettes were running out, a week before the tenure. He had two golden pieces left. He jocularly told his friends that he wanted to complete some sort of prayers. 

We proceeded without him. From the border we could see the towns in the Tibetan plateau. It would definitely be closer than Paro or Thimphu. The path leading towards it was not looking as treacherous as the way towards our own town. It was almost beckoning us to do the shopping there. The view was heavenly, brownish hills like desert on the high altitude dotted with lake here and a patches of snow there. Our tired limbs rejuvenated faster due to the fabulous view and the cool wind. Especially the cold wind forced us to get moving again. 

As we were returning we met with some local guy - likely - yak herders. They were as glad as us meeting them. One of the local guys  came forward and gave us a packet. We were sorry that we had nothing to give in return. He said that it’s cigarettes and he doesn’t smoke. We nearly threw the packet away, as none of us in the group, smoked.  Suddenly we remembered about our friend back in camp. There were around four packets neatly stuffed in a bigger packet. 

Upon reaching the camp, I gave the cigarettes to the NCO. He was so happy as he had already smoked the last piece after lunch, that day. He was about to go insane craving for it. He went inside and bowed in front of the small photograph of his god, and thanked - god profusely, instead of thanking the one who brought him the stuff. I stood there perplexed. 


Was I the medium through which God answered his prayers? If such things happens to us should we thank god or the medium? Sometimes the things doesn’t happen as we want it to happen, but it happens as it is supposed to happen. The medium plays the greater role. We must listen hard and be the God’s medium as much as possible. But devil’s means also gets achieved through such medium, only marked differences being that when the devil tries to use the medium, the medium normally are - angry. 

Monday, 15 January 2018

Water in Agra



After a day long sightseeing in the ever present dust and smog of India, I decided to take bath after reaching the hotel. I got into the bathroom but I could not take bath immediately because the hot water took time to come out of the tap. Upon asking to the reception it was told that the hot water side of the tap needs to be kept running for about three minutes or so. It was a waste of water but winter is cold everywhere. 

When the hot water started coming out of the tap, the rituals of bathing began. After the soap which refused to leather was applied, it was time to rinse it. When the water was got in contact with the hair with soap, the hair became hard and bundled up instead of becoming the other way. The water tasted weird too. Even the eyebrows stuck together in a white sticky mess. Applying more soap and water worsened the condition, implying that it was the soap and water that was the main cause of the problem. 

When pthe room service came it was confirmed from the waiter that the water in Agra was like that. He said that Agra is famous for two things Taj Mahal and its water. The later one I had to experience it first hand. Only shampoo can be used to wash the hairy parts of the body but not soap. I learned from experience that soap used for washing clothes could be used for taking bath as I saved myself from the sticky mess using a remnant of Rin soap that I carried to wash clothes. 

Brushing the teeth was another problem as the water would leave a bad taste overpowering the freshness of any toothpaste. Unexpected rinsing of the mouth would make you throw up. I do not know about the purity of water with regards to the germs but it looks clean and the content of the minerals is confirmed. Other then the bottled mineral water I dared not drink it. 

Next time if you are planning to visit Agra, to have a closer look at the Taj Mahal be prepared for the water flowing through the tap. Other then that the monument itself is breathtaking and worth a visit. It evokes a sense of awesomeness and it would make you overcome with amazement with its beauty, the geometry, the symmetry and intricacies of the design. 

The not so beautiful surrounding enhances the beauty of the Taj Mahal and it stands out like a lotus flower in the muddy water. The view from the rear, from the other bank of the Yamuna river was awesome and less costly. 


The two lovers whose carnal remains occupies the center of the Taj Mahal, would not get a peaceful rest anytime soon as thousands of people throng the palace everyday to have a glimpse of the mark of the man’s love to his wife. The tribute of the powerful and wealthy to his beloved, standing the test of time and personifying ‘I love you forever’ of a single person but not forgetting the sweat and skills of each individuals involved in building the monument ages and ages before.   

Friday, 29 December 2017

The Dutch, Argentinean and Slovenian Flu.



“I was down with the flu”. I messaged to explain the long gap, without messaging. This is the age of connectivity. The world had become smaller due to availability of so may apps to keep in contact with the people. There used to be a time, not long ago when I was away on course in India, I had to queue up near the PCO, a public telephone booth, to make a call and keep in contact. Now the PCO, or better than a PCO travels with me in my pocket.

“Even after taking so many vaccination shots….” , My son remarked. True to his remarks, before coming here I got vaccinated for so many deadly diseases. Left shoulder, right shoulder, left shoulder until I finished all the doses. Some were painful some where not. After couple of shots, I could watch the needles going through the skin, into the muscles and the nurse emptying the syringe filled with concoction into blood streams. But flu was not fatal.

I have suffered from flu before, but I have never experienced the flu like this before. I don’t know whether it was Dutch or Argentinean or Slovenian flu. I would, however, prefer to call it Dutch flu. For I was sure that I got it from a Dutch colleague of mine. We travel in same car, windows all closed and work in same office. It was the Argentinean guy who was first struck with the virus. As suddenly as he was struck, he was alight. Then it was the Slovenian guy. He was not cleared for quite some time. The Dutch guy was the last one to catch it before he delivered the virus to me.

The back aches, as if I was carrying a heavy load the whole day. Even lying down does not help the pain subside. It is accompanied by funny fever. Funny because it shifts from hot to cold in a matter of moments. One moment you feel too cold and you wrap up with blanket over the warm cloth and the moment later you feel too hot that you have to take off everything. I guess the virus disrupts the thermostat system of your body. There was headache and sore throat and general feeling of malaise. The occasional cough would send a severe jolt of pain, if you try to clear the throat. It was so painful to clear the throat that you would prefer living with a lump in the throat; discomfort was better than the pain when there are so many other pains to deal with.

Back home, I used to believe in letting the flu go away on its own without medication. But this time, it being a different kind of flu, a Dutch flu, I was willing to have any type of medication. Side affects or any affects were not going to bother me, I just wanted the flu virus out of my body. I didn’t know whether it was virus or bacteria, nor did my friend in the hospital, as he prescribed me couple of tablets along with antibiotics. I started munching the tablets the moment I came out of the hospital, for the faster affect. My body was dying for weapon and ammunitions to fight the virus. I was trying to provide it, as fast as possible trying to skip some normal logistic routes.

After two days, I felt weak but the general feeling of malaise was gone. The medicines did its job. The flu started to leave, leaving behind a great lesson. I can appreciate what it was like to be healthy and without pains. I can empathize with those people, having unexplained pains in hospitals and at home. It made me thank god, for sparing me the same and providing me with occasional-lesson-teaching-Argentinean flu.

My Slovenian friend who was still in the process of complete recovery, drops by with a big grin, no not to make fun, but happy to have someone who can feel and understand the pain he underwent or was still still undergoing. We seemed to have suffered from the same kind of flu that comes with the backache. Oh wait, was it Slovenian flu that I was suffering from?