Cycling in Vellore, India

Today, I cycled to the hospital on my rented bicycle. The journey was nothing short of amazing as I find myself falling more and more in love with 'Incredible India'. The lack of orderliness, numerous pot-holes in the road, pedestrians walking like they have a stake in the road's ownership and the unceasing beeping, clinking and honking all culminated in my authentic experience of what it was like to travel like a local.

Throughout my journey, I got responses as varied as weird stares, amused smiles, delightful waving and approving nods from the locals. Many people think I am pretty crazy getting a bicycle (or two-wheeler as they term it here) to travel over here in Vellore but some are quite supportive like Ms Sheela from the Dean's Office. My mother was pretty indifferent, probably due to the numerous things I have done over the years that have numbed her fears, all she said was "be careful".

Cycling here is very enjoyable for me as the traffic flowed like fluid; it moves around you, but never at you. I felt like a fish back in the ocean weaving in and out of traffic, meandering around other two-wheelers and pedestrians; I was in my element.

Another reason why I wanted to travel on the bicycle is so that I can better recognise the roads and places. I always believe that there is no better way to travel and discover a place then walking the ground personally. It is through such first-hand experiences that you connect with the people and become incorporated into their way of life. It is only through such means that one can truly be immersed in culture - you eat, shop, travel and do everything like the locals.

After the ride in the morning, I was even more convinced that I needed to buy a bicycle. Therefore, I rode to the rental shop to meet the boss during lunchtime. He was pleasantly surprised at my offer to buy a bicycle and quoted me 1500 Rupees for a very decent secondhand bicycle. That bicycle looked pretty new compared to the one I rented before and I immediately agreed. I took the bicycle for a spin to make sure that the chain did not keep falling out like what happened on the previous bicycle. It was a smooth criminal; each stroke of the pedal felt as smooth as butter between tongue and palate. I went back, borrowed some tools to true the handlebar to the front wheel as it was pretty off and paid the boss. I was the proud owner of a two-wheeler! Words could not adequately describe how happy I was as I made my way back to the hospital for lunch. I intend to donate the two-wheeler to Modale International Student Hostel when I leave so that if future batches of students ever need a bicycle, it is available! =]

I had the same thing as yesterday, Chicken Briyani, as I wanted to spend some time in the Chapel after lunch.

I found an empty seat in the packed restaurant and asked for permission to occupy it. The man then asked where I was from and we started a lunchtime conversation. His name was Daal and he used to work as a non-medical researcher in Cardiothoracic Surgery. He also shared that he graduated with a degree in English Literature and was currently teaching English. This explains why his English was so fluent and why we managed to even go beyond the superficial formalities of a brief conversation. Daal left after his meal and I went to get another Pepsi and 1L bottle of water as I was seriously dehydrated from the heat. Cool Pepsi never tasted so good! The weather here is so hot that even if you refrigerate drinks, they will never be ice-cold...

Incredible India

10:15pm India time. I am finally here. I was hit by a wave of warm breeze when I stepped out onto the Indian tarmac.

Modale International Student Hostel was a good 3-hour drive out of Chennai, we looked for our driver and was on the road in a matter of minutes. India has its own sense of rustic charm. On the plane looking down, I noticed that the amount of lighted areas were few and far apart compared to the intensely bright skyline of Singapore; I was living in a country of excesses...

Time seems to pass by faster when you are enjoying every moment of it, and before I knew it I have arrived at my accomodation for the next 1-month. I was pleasantly surprised at its level of cleanliness and safety. In my opinion, it is a 3-star accomodation. I proceeded to unpack my backpack and got ready for bed as it was almost 2am!

Army standard layout =]

I woke up at 5.30am and the sun was already peeking through the clouds. A new day beckons and my medical experience in Vellore, India is about to begin. We took breakfast at the nearby canteen and then a short tour around the vicinity before heading to meet Ms Sheela for my posting throughout the 1-month here.

Al-fresco dining at the canteen

Free shuttle bus to Christian Medical College from our accomodation area

I decided that I should learn how to take the public transport to the hospital, hence we hopped onto bus 2. By some strange stroke of fortune, we managed to get seats on the local bus, something which she claims as being very rare. The ride was around 15-20mins and cost less than S$0.30!

On board the local bus

After arriving at the hospital, I was orientated to the grounds and attached to my team in Paediatric Surgery. Monday was clinics day and so I spent the morning in clinics. The clinic had a spartan set up and it resonated with me. I simply love the unassuming-ness of it all. It was basic. It was sufficient.

Dr Ravi, the person I was attached to, was very friendly and always tries to make every case a learning experience. I learnt so much in the brief 2-hours I was in his clinic. Before long, it was lunch time. I decided to explore the surrounding area around the hospital since we had almost 3-hours of free time before exit rounds. After walking through various lanes and streets, we stumbled upon a local food place. Seeing that many locals were eating there, I figured that the food must be pretty good. We entered, ordered and ate. It was delicious! What a benchmark to set on my very first proper Indian meal (breakfast was omelette). Gastroenteritis was a concern no doubt, but I personally believe that every food-seller has a moral and social obligation to uphold and I was contented with this. So far, I have not been proven wrong =]

My first Indian meal

After lunch, we continued our exploration of the area until we could not take the heat any longer, retreating to the chapel inside the hospital to cool down before exit rounds. Exit rounds was concise and every case was an eye-opening learning experience for me. After 45-minutes, my first day in the hospital ended. It was a relaxed pace, enriching learning experience which has whetted my appetite for what is going to happen in the next few days.

Seeing that the hospital was pretty near our accomodation, I decided to purchase a secondhand bicycle to commute between the two. This set the stage for our quest for the old bicycle. Getting around in Vellore is the same as everywhere else - you ask for directions.

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. - Matthew 7:7

After a long search, we finally found our shop and I rented the old bicycle pending a possible purchase when the boss returns from his business trip. We then got onto the bicycle and made our way back to Modale. Cycling in Vellore is an absolute pleasure. There is a sense of ordered chaos about how things flow and operate; people somehow can read one anothers' minds and everything moves with the precision of a highly-complexed timepiece.

Orderliness in chaos

After washing up, we went to Darling restaurant for dinner. It was situated on a roof-top with a pretty city view to enjoy with the food. The meal was nothing short of delicious and we were both pretty stoned after the meal, reclining back into our seats and enjoying the warm breeze of India typical in this time of the year. Relaxation was the theme of the night.

Pasta and Naan with butter chicken gravy

My old bicycle

Like candles that guide my path...

I guess this academic year has finally taken its toll on me; I am feeling pretty restless and quite jaded before my final paper tomorrow, I just wish it to be over as soon as possible. There are so many thoughts wrestling for dominance in my mind that I find it hard to carry out my final revision for tomorrow. The only thing that I am looking forward to is my trip to India, but even that is filled with its own set of issues. Perhaps I am thinking too much, only time will tell.

It is important to surround yourself with friends who resonate and connect with you as Coach David always say. I find that to be very true. They are like the candles that light up my path in this dark world; the guiding lights that I use to orientate myself whenever I am lost. Thank you for your call; thank you for making the effort to come down and catch up; thank you for your love, care and concern; thank you brother.

Aal izz well (all is well), aal izz well.

To love.

To love is a beautiful, mysterious event; do not miss it.
Be neither too cautious nor too absorbed.
Too many of us reason with our hearts and experience with our heads.
It cannot be so.
The heart knows no logic beyond need and desire;
the head has no senses except the common and the pragmatic.
Neither, frankly, is useful in love anyway.
Rely on your sixth sense, that little voice within.
There is no preparation for or protection from the joy and pain of relationships.
They are inseparable twins. One follows another.
And make no mistake, love is not gay abandon;
it is to be courageous, to take risks and be disciplined. - Author Unknown

C. S. Lewis: Love your neighbour...

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare...There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal...But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendours...Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses.

Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl. 

Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.

"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.

"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"

"Not really."

"Your favorite type, then?"

"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."

"Strange."

"Yeah. Strange."

"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"

"Nah. Just passed her on the street."

She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"

Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.

"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"

No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."

No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation,
I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me."

"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore.

They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"

"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don't you think?

Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.

Rush not, young one...

One reason why I enjoy running so much, or doing endurance sports for that matter, is because it attunes me to that still small voice of God. This morning, I learnt something new.

In the past few weeks, I have been struggling with the issue of impatience. I found great difficulty in fully surrendering this issue to God even though I chose to believe I have done so. This was not something new to me, I have been a pretty impatient chap all my life. Whatever I set out to do, I will get it done as soon as possible. Many times at the end, I question myself whether what I did was right. I went ahead doing things before thinking about the consequences and inevitably it led to many bad decisions. It is not right to say that I had not at least gleaned some lessons from all my past experiences, but I think I still have a long way to go and God is still moulding me.

I set out to do 16km this morning with a background of 3 10km runs 2 weeks ago and a 12km run a month ago. I thought I was able to handle the distance, but I thought wrong. At the 8km U-turn point, I was feeling really good. I was truly surprised at my level of fitness! However, it was not meant to be when at the 11km mark my right knee started to hurt. I have not experienced such pain before and attributed it to my right ilio-tibial band (ITB). Throughout my years of running, I have never strained my ITB before; when it acted up this morning, I decided to take it easy for the remaining 5km. The first thing that came into my mind then was 'learn to walk before you run'.

How apt. I have been trying to 'run' in my day to day life before I had fully mastered how to 'walk'! I stopped to stretch my ITB and tried to continue albeit at a slower pace. After 1km, it acted up again. This time I decided to walk instead. During that short walk, many thoughts jostled for attention in my mind. However, I was only interested with what God was trying to teach me. I finished the 16km run with a slow jog in the last 2km.

My conclusion at the end is that His plans are always greater and better than what we think is best for us. Therefore, is it not better if we left everything in His hands and let Him map out everything for us in due time?

'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.' - Isaiah 55:8-9

Therefore, I am to focus on my 'walking' before thinking about 'running'.

'But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.' - Galatians 5:16

'...so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.' - Colossians 1:10

'...holding fast to the Word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labour in vain.' - Philippians 2:16

This summarises everything: 'but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.' - Isaiah 40:31