Here is another writer whose writings I have found very interesting, insightful, witty and wry – Faiza S. Khan. I have not read any of her other works except for those published in the OPEN Magazine, and each one of those makes for wonderful reading.

Click here to read Faiza’s Articles – I strongly recommend “Leap of Faith” and “My Name is Khan, Too”

Faiza is from across the border, but should that really matter? It should not, but yet, somehow, that description was the primary reason that drew me to read her very first article. Why is that? And incidentally, she does touch upon this in one of her articles.

It was in 2004 that the Tsunami struck the shores of India and neighbouring countries. The devastation was huge and the loss was unaccountable.
The destruction on television was running in a wild loop, long after the Tsunami had done its work and bid adieu. Amidst all this, I started reading a barrage of blogs and websites that were constantly updating and writing about this natural disaster. One particular post that I read back then struck deep within. It questioned and shook my entire understanding of my fellow men, my country (as we define it) and my self. That post was written by someone who went by the name Dilip D’Souza. And the particular post was this one: TV, Tsunamis and Too Many Dead.

From then on, I became a fan of Dilip’s writings – his wit, his subtle way of reminding us of our wrongs, his simplicity and his philosophy. Even my book was perhaps infused with the flavour created by numerous re-readings of his works. It has been almost 5 years now since I read that first post and I have, almost, never missed a post or article of his.

A few weeks ago I learnt that he was going to be in Bangalore for the launch of his book, Roadrunner. There were three events organized in this city. The first one involved Rahul Dravid and Ramchandra Guha. I chose to skip this one – I didn’t want to attend an event where the crowd was going to be large (owing to a star cricketer). I chose the third event. It was at the Oxford Bookstore, where my book was launched a few months ago. Tagging along with Taksh (whom we had to carry along, irrespective of his future liking/disliking of literature), the Mrs. and I reached well in time to see Dilip in person for the first time.

It is an un-describable feeling to be able to put a face to all those numerous articles that you have read and pondered over. Dilip is not only a wonderful writer, he is an equally wonderful speaker as well. After the reading session and discussions, I stood behind others who had queued up to get their copy of Roadrunner signed by him. The Oxford staff by then had, to my pleasant surprise, recognised me and they fetched my book to hand it over to Shobha Narayan and Dilip. Before the event, a night before in fact, I had thought a lot about whether I should offer my book to Dilip, hoping that he would read and give me his feedback. Finally, I had decided to drop the idea – my book was nowhere near the kind of writings that Dilip creates with his play of words and thoughts. Neither was my book close to any of the wonderful books out there that people should be spending their time on. So, this was a complete surprise when I saw the Oxford staff member walking towards me with two copies of my book. And what took me aback (in a nice sort of way) further was that Dilip asked for my book to be signed. This was just not the way I had anticipated things to be. When Dilip heard my name he asked whether I was “Dhi Only One”, which is a former alias of this blog. Now that was indeed an honour to know that he had read this blog.

The Roadrunner, with its nice colorful cover, now resides on my bookshelf. And its first page has something which I am going to be proud of for a long time to come:

Ladies and gentlemen, do go and get a copy of the Roadrunner. It will be well worth your time. And you will also do well to follow this blog – Death Ends Fun. Enjoy.

Taksh is now 4 months into this world. He has been doing all things that babies of his age do, including waking up the parents at odd hours and making them fret and fuss over his every move.

One fine day we observed that Taksh had a slightly warmer-than-usual forehead. “Fever”, the Mrs announced with eyes that had already begun to sulk. “Uh-oh,” I whispered to myself. A digital thermometer was drawn out by the Mrs. (who doesn’t believe in the good old Mercury thermometers, the only ones that I had ever seen until this moment).

After sticking it into Taksh’s mouth, the digital thermometer began its painstaking measurement process. The digits raced from 90 to 97 degree Fahrenheit in a matter of seconds. I was impressed already. After 97 however, every decimal point took an era. Taksh was holding the thermometer in his mouth pretty well so far, not breaking into his customary agoo-goo-goo yet.

97.1 97.2 97.3 – time was ticking on.

It reached 99 in about 20 minutes. The Mrs and I were left aghast to see that the counter didn’t stop even at 99.3! Finally at 99.4 the digital thermometer sucked up all the energy from its tiny cell within and gave a tired beep sound. So, 99.4 was Taksh’s temperature. We had freaked out by now. This is not ‘normal’, you see.

So, the Mrs. drew out another digital thermometer (she has quite a few of them, as you can never change the cell in them anyway, so you need to keep a few handy, you know. Of course it is rational). We started yet again. The numbers raced forward, stopped, sputtered and finally settled at 99.4 yet again. I was impressed with the consistency of these gadgets before coming back to the issue on hand.

“Is it really too high?,” I asked.

“Not sure. Perhaps it isn’t?,” said the Mrs.

But then again, we are new parents and new parents in this new age don’t take chances do they? So we rush to the paediatric (I got that spelling right the first time!).

“Does he have fever?,” asks the doctor while he finishes writing some notes about the previous patient.

The Mrs. and I look at each other screaming in our thoughts “Isn’t HE supposed to check and let us know?”

“Yes,” replies the Mrs.

“Is it too high?,” queries the Doctor.

“We don’t know. His forehead is a little warm though. Perhaps you can check?” I, the man of the house, decide to take charge.

“Ok. Most likely it is nothing. But if the fever persists, perhaps you need to get his urine tested for infection,” the Doctor casually replies, scribbles with his blue pen on his white letterhead, tears the paper in a flourish and hands it out to me. He didn’t even touch his thermometer! What gall! Perhaps gall wasn’t the right term to use where matters of urine infection were being discussed.

So we go back home and we figure out how to get Taksh to contribute his watery excesses for a test. The Mrs and I both get on the internet (after all, even God comes after the internet) and go through a million web-pages, half of which were filled with Google advertisements. Finally we learn of a small bag that can be used to achieve the desired goal.

Leaving aside the details on what we did next, we manage to submit Taksh’s contributions for a test.

Two agonizing days later, the tests come and the report says that our 4 month old has a case of serious infection. Infection which left untreated can lead to a failure of kidneys! We run to Paediatrician number 1.

Paediatrician number 1: “Oh-oh. This is too much. We have to go for ultra-sound, 10 days antibiotics and perhaps even an operation”

So we rush along with Taksh and his bag of accessories (read diapers and many spare clothes) to Paeditrician number 2.

Paediatrician number 2: Takes a while staring at the report. Removes his spectacles and says “This is very unusual for a 4-month old. I cannot take a call. You need to consult a specialist. A paediatric urologist  infact. Here, this is his name, he is a friend of mine, take an appointment.” He mumbled has he wrote some doctor’s name on a white notepad, tore it with shaky hands and gave it to me.

By now the Mrs and I were scared out of our wits. However, we didn’t want to give up now did we. So off we again went running to Paeditrician number 3. All this while Taksh has been perfectly happy with the goings-on and urging us to smile and laugh at life. “What character my son has!,” I think to myself, visibly impressed.

Paediatrician number 3: Looks at the report in a calm manner, turns it around, looks at some other parameters. He then takes his pen and circles a few parameters and explains to us “While this report states that the bacteria count is so high, none of these other parameters confirm it. You see, if the bacteria count is so high, then Ssdfhsdfs, Tesdfoidsfs and Qerewrposd should also indicate some numbers. But they don’t. So what I suspect is that the bag in which you collected your sample was most likely contaminated.”

The Mrs. and I are all smiles now. Taksh is bawling as he hates being put flat on a doctor’s bed. Cutting the rest of the details short, we repeat the test and much to our liking the test comes negative.

But after all this, I wasn’t really happy. What would have happened if we had not gone to Paediatrician number 3? What if we weren’t able to afford consulting 3 doctors? Isn’t that the case with most people? How many people out there even have access to a second opinion? Third opinion? What about the ability to go to so many doctors? The ability to get information? Why is there such a vast asymmety of information and access to healthcare in our country? And aren’t doctors supposed to be a whole lot more responsible?

I shudder to think that if we hadn’t visited the third doctor, Taksh would have undergone a 10-day antibiotics course, perhaps even an ultra sound. And later a new test would have affirmed that the bacteria was gone. Then we would’ve heaved a sigh of relief and thanked the antibiotics and the doctors, whose status would’ve now elevated further in our eyes. And we would spread good word about such doctors and they would become famous.

Scary, isn’t it?

Well, most of you who follow me on Twitter or are on my GTalk friend list have perhaps already seen this. But those who haven’t here is the unveiling of  Startup Crush.

It is a Digg-styled clone catering to the niche of news, reviews and information about technology startups. I don’t yet know whether this is going to be focused on Indian startups alone or will want to continue to cover global startup news. An interesting section added there is that of Startup Jobs, which I hope many startup job consultants will make use of to get to the right audience.

And personally, this is an experiment on how user generated content and a social community can be rallied along for a particular subject.

Love to know your comments/reactions on Startup Crush.

Is global warming a hoax? Are the polar bears really disappearing? Will the Ganges become a seasonal river by 2035 due to rapid depletion of the Gangotri glacier? Will the sea levels rise high enough to gobble up coastal regions? Or is “Climate Change” the catchphrase of this decade, overriding some of the more serious and imminent threats to our planet?

Open Magazine’s (yeah, again!) article Climate of Chaos addresses these and many more questions related to climate change and exposes the Inconvenient Truth in a whole new light. Do read for some very interesting snatches of information. For instance did you know that:

Some, like Philip Stott, professor emeritus of biogeography at the University of London, argue that historically, there have been sharp rises in tempera­ture over very short periods. In 1200 AD, Europe was 2 degrees centigrade warmer than it is today and agriculture flourished even in Greenland.

Or, for some perspective:

While the world’s population increased by 300 per cent in the 20th century, the use of water increased by a staggering 700 per cent. Over a longer period of 250 years since the Industrial Revolution, carbon dioxide formulations in the atmosphere have gone up by approximately 37 per cent, methane by 150 per cent and nitrous oxide by 16 per cent.

Perhaps it’s time to re-orient our thinking and focus on more pressing and real issues, ones we can act upon and remedy before its too late.

At a restaurant today, I met a waiter from Orissa who was a Muslim named Israel. Is there a lesson here somewhere?