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Something Borrowed

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So, most part of this article is written by a very good friend. I am a third person trying to connect this to MS. Yes! MS! That’s a large chunk of my life and everyone fighting from it. So, here it goes- “Don’t we ever get tired of this pretense. All this pretending all the time! We have surrounded ourselves with so much of it, that now we don’t know which is which. So far down the rabbit hole we are, that we put up thoughts, out there, little bitty bytes, of a person we are with or a place we are at or a situation we are in, making it sound like a fairy tale we imagine it to be and NOT what it really is. The truth, no longer exists, because in each little itsy bitsy mind out there, in each of those tiny brains, their own parents are the best parents, their husbands are the awesomest husbands, their kids are the cutest, their events are the hottest, their trips are the most wander-lusty, they’re striking a pose that no one else ever posed before, they are doing a thing, that is so a
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Every time I get shot

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I think the worst part about being human is that you don't get to choose the life you live. It's your life, shouldn't you have any say in it, except that you really don't. I mean, most of the time. And still worse, you don't know what's going on inside your own body, what's crawling under your own skin, what's flowing into your own blood, what's happening to your DNA day in day out, whether your genes are still the way you got them from your mom dad or have they mutated to invite some unlikely guest. Isn't being a stranger to your own self an irony when you advocate the crowd out there? Think about it. Every Sunday as I walk through those white corridors and make my way towards OPD to get another shot, another chance at life or may be just a few more days of comfort, all these thoughts run through my mind. How I reduced to a pill-popping, sad-looking girl from being a chirpy, fun-loving girl? Why me? Everyone tells me to take it easy and be
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The boy in the white pyjama

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My daughter, a shy little girl barely had any friends when he moved next door to us. The boy in the white pyjamas, this is how I have always seen him, early in the morning when I left for work and late in the evening when I came back. Though he was not a very social child, I could see a lot of interaction in his eyes. He would keep staring at a distance like in a deep thought or may be planning for the next game he would play. The day after they moved in our building next to our apartment, I decided to pay a visit like a good neighbour. I learnt that day that both his parents were working professionals like us, he was with his nanny at that time. So, I just had a little conversation with the boy introducing myself and my shy little girl. After dropping a little invitation card with the nanny for his parents to dine with us, I decided to head out to the grocery store. It was a nice get together and our new neighbours seemed to be nice people. His mother gelled up well with me instant
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Be A Nobody

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One fine afternoon, when I came back from one of my daily adventurous colony trips, I saw a white ambassador parked at our front. I sighed deeply because I knew who it was, my dreadful uncle who knew exactly how to demean little children as myself who were always been mediocre. Somehow, he had that right to make kids feel awful about themselves because his own children were a level above the genius. He used that right quite liberally. With a heavy heart and equally heavy footsteps, I crossed the front door that opened in the hallway. As I stood spying from behind the curtain, I could listen to the quiet murmur from my mother interrupted by high-pitched voice from my father and the great uncle. So, he was finally successful in making my parents believe that their child was a mediocre and since I particularly detested mathematics, he cashed in his brownie points. And then came that most dreaded moment which I hated the most and which eventually became one of the worst memories of my chi
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A page from MSner's diary!

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Add caption As I woke up today from my bed, whole world seemed to swirl around me. Scared, I closed my eyes immediately and a horribly confused thought crossed my mind - is it just the hangover from the last night's party or another relapse! Gathering strength and reassurance, I slowly raised my shivering body out of the bed. I spent the rest 12 hours of the day balancing my mind and running through the tiniest detail or deterioration if I must put it that way more clearly, in my health over the past few days, that I may have ignored due to increasing work pressure. The tip of my fingers did feel numb and every now and then I would feel my head suddenly going out of balance and so did my body. I finally decided to see my doctor in the evening. As a usual practice, he asked me to walk over a straight line which I clearly couldn't. He scribbled down the same set of medications that I always have. What I couldn't understand was, why was I getting these symptoms when I t
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