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CLOCKTOWERINU PARAYANULLATH 2022 ANNUAL MAGAZINE 2021-2022 Pushpagiri Institute Of Medical Science, Thiruvalla Place Of Publication : Thiruvalla Publisher Name : Dr. Tomy Philip Staff Editor : Dr. Robinson George Designing : Vishnu K Udayan Cover : Harin Kairali

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I am elated at the publication of our college magazine for the year 2021-2022. It gives me immense pleasure to scribble a few words of encouragement and appreciation for our students who have come up with bright thoughts and innovative ideas worth reading line by line from start to finish. The lucid way our Youngers have written is reflective of their hidden talents. I wholeheartedly congratulate the members of the editorial board and the college union on their sincere efforts and successful endeavour to extract and bring to light the best skills of our students. It is a treasure of poems, stories, real incidents and topics of common interest. I am sure that this has been the result of days and nights of brainstorming sessions, writing, rewriting, editing and doing the final touch ups to keep their creativity in glory. This issue of college magazine has given an opportunity for all those who were looking for a platform to express their creative thoughts and feelings. Once again congratulations and best wishes. From the chief editor's desk DR. TOMY PHILIP Principal

“MEMORIES ARE THE REPOSITORY OF OUR LIVES" – DR. ROBINSON GEORGE… At the outset, I would like to congratulate the batch of 2018 on their intrepidity despite all odds to collage & release this sublime work after a long decade. The title couldn’t have been more apt as this is also the 20th yr anniversary of PIMS & RC and this clock tower has served as it’s sentinel beacon. Incidentally, I & my pioneer batch of graduates of 1998 from Gulf Medical University, UAE were the first students of PIMS & RC as it took it’s baby steps to being the first medical college in the private sector and it is truly an honor to pen down the first words here. I, thank you for the honor of making me your staff editor. I, also thank the chairman of batch 2018 Ninan Vergis Punchamannil for his never ending support & the editorial team of Bazil Sajan, Riyas Sadali for their painstaking efforts in bringing out this magazine. The USP of this edition is…the clock tower and it’s yarns to us beginning from the first batch till date. It has stories galore of happiness & sadness, love & heartbreaks, successes & failures, first’s & last’s and, I hope it’ll take you all through a wonderful journey through our lanes. What I learnt over the years is that the joy of living is not in the time you spend here, but on the beautiful memories that one makes. Strive to live a life that is packed with achievements, amazing moments and memories, and a life that has been satisfactory. Having life in your years requires that you take every opportunity as a chance to make the world a better place and to impact the lives of other mortals. With these, I sign off & wish the Batch of 2018 the best of all the worlds & our readers a memorable time as they peek into these sheaves of time and thaw the frost in their aging souls. Walk with us…and clock towerinu parayanullath kelkaam. Staff Editor’s Note PROF. DR. ROBINSON GEORGE MS, FMAS, Dip.MAS, FIAGES, EFIAGES, FALS

Patron’s message Dr. Thomas Mar Koorilos Metropolitan Archbishop of Tiruvalla

Director’s Message I am delighted to know that our college students union 'SAMHITHA' is planning to bring out the Pushpagiri Medical College Magazine titled " t¢m¡vShdn\v ]dbm\pÅXv '. . It is interesting to note the evolution of the first self-financing medical college in the state of Kerala from its skeleton stage to a full and physical form run by a Christian minority Institution under the patronage of the Metropolitan Archbishop of Thiruvalla Pushpagiri Medical College registered and run under "Charitable societies Act" aiming non-profitable institution. Pushpagiri Medical College is exceptional as it offers patient centred collaborative learning experiences. Like any other medical institution, for our medical students also, "the needs of the patient come first". It is a rapidly changing era of health care and the students should be educated as health care leaders in patient-centred, science-driven, team-based, high-value health care. Pushpagiri Medical College, the future model of medical education and will form the next generation of medical graduates to improve health care delivery for the future decade. Opportunities to take out the hidden talents and polish it to shine and exhibit before others and experience the self-realisation achieved, boosting up the confidence to surge forward in the right direction. Thus, the temple of learning will have a vital role in inculcating, instilling and fostering the spirit of fraternity, goodness, love and generosity in all those who pass through her doors. The College magazine is the reflection of the artistic and literary talents of the institution, especially the students. I have seen in the last one year of my presence here, that we have depth of these talents. The editorial board needs to be complimented for their efforts. I congratulate all team leaders who are behind the publication of " t¢m¡vShdn\v ]dbm\pÅXv '. The College Magazine and pray that by these medical students of our Institution would excel in every area of health-care educational life. Kindly accept my best wishes in all your endeavour and may God bless you all in abundance. Rev. Fr. GEORGE VALIYAPARAMBIL Director, Pushpagiri College of Medicine & Allied Sciences

No matter where you are in life, college memories are guaranteed to invoke that wishful ache of nostalgia like nothing can. At the outset, I would like to thank the Batch of 2018 for the opportunity given to me to grace the college magazine. Little did u know, that I was one of the few visiting exchange students prior to PIMS metamorphosing into one of India’s premier medical colleges. I am honored and much humbled. I feel much like an alumni of your glorious instituition. I remember my college days as my golden years with so much fondness infused into it - those in-between years where I was a liberated young adult; with all the life and none of the baggage. Friendship was essential like air, puppy love and breakups were the only worries apart from exams and results, and life was brimming with potential and hope for the future. It is not the lectures or the heavy books that I think of when I remember college, instead it is all those unending walks along the corridors, late-night gossip sessions, the philosophical discussions, the fights we got into when a fellow friend was seemingly insulted… it is the experiences that have culminated the definition of college life. Looking back, I realize most of us have lost our pink-tinted glasses permanently somewhere along the way, along with some of that youthful naivety, precious relationships, and gut-wrenching losses. However, there is no doubt that the foundation for the person I grew into was laid strongly from my college years. The same holds true for everyone I know. Our life experiences are varied, but our core matter remains intact from when we were in college. Those years leave an impact like nothing else does, evolving you and defining you in a way that is permanent. That’s probably why as a society we invest so much of our resources and effort into shaping up our college-going demography. My peers and our generation often worry about how different the exposure is for the current generation and we wonder if it’s always a good thing. With the world at your fingertips and the possibilities endless, there’s also a lot that you should be wary of. This time of life is beautiful & is also incredibly crucial. This is what makes you, you! And it is up to you to decide how to shape it. Borrowing a line from Hemingway since he put it best, “It is good to have an end to the journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” All said and done, my sincerest wish for you is this: many decades after, when you look back at your college days, may you be overwhelmed with nostalgia and heartwarming memories, without a trace of regret or resentment. Wishing you all the very best! Dr. Jiby Rajan MD, DVD Senior Consultant Department of Dermatology & Cosmetic Surgery, Prime Specialist Medical Centre Past Editor of Association of Kerala Medical Graduates UAE Invited guest message

Chief editor: Dr. Tomy philip, Staff editor: Dr. Robinson George Staff advisors: Dr. Benny Bright, Dr. Leya Elizabeth Student editor : Bazil Sajan, Sub editors : Riyas Sadali, Arya joy Editorial Board

Surya Shanker, Parvathy Satheeshan, Bonu.K.Baby, Ammu Kunnath Sam Abhirami Ramesh, Athul Raj Puthanveettil, Athul S Kumar Sandra John, Hanna Susan Reji, Jashitha John, Tisha Anna Sunny, Gadha J.J Advisory Committee Creative and Designing Committee

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]pjv]KncnbpsS, Hcp]t£ Gähpw IqSp X HmÀ½IÄ t]dp¶ FIvtÌW doUnMv dqansâ Ime§fmbn ASªp InS¡p¶hmXnent\msSm¸w, ]¯v ]Xn\mdv XeapdbpsS IYIfpw s]mSn ]nSn¨v InS¸pv. \qdv t]cpw 6þ8 aWn hsc Ip¯nbncp¶v Dd§nbncp¶/ hmbnt\m¡nbncp¶/]cnNbs¸«ncp¶/ sdt¡mÀUv hc¨ncp¶/ ]Tn¨ncp¶, B I¼Äkdn ÌUn ssSw H¶pant¸mÄ {]m_ey¯nenÃ. Rmbdmgv¨ IpÀ_m\ Ignªv _mKv FSpt¯mSn skIyqcnän tN«sâ apdnbn \n¶v FIvtÌWensâ hfª Xmt¡mseSp¯v ImäpsÅmcp ^m\nsâ tNm«n koäv ]nSn¡p¶sXms¡ Ct¸mÄ ]g¦YIfmbn. \n§Äs¡mcp ]s£ ]pjv]Kncn Hcp Iq«w tIm¬ {Ioäv ku[§Ä Bbncn¡mw, (F\n¡pw A§s\ms¡ Xs¶bmbn cp¶qt¶!) t]mIm\pÅ Znhk§fpsS F®w Ipdbpt´mdpw tIm¬{Ioäv sI«nS§Äs¡ms¡ Ft´m Poh³ sh¡p¶ t]msesbmcp tXm¶Â. Hcp ]s£ Imgv¨bn sXÃpw `wKnbnÃm¯ A¯cw Øe§fnemWv XeapdIfpsS HmÀa¡q¼mc§fpsS Xmt¡m Hfn ªv InS¡p¶Xv. ]pjv]amÀKv Ahkm \n¡p¶ \mepw IqSnb ap¡n CSXp `mK¯mbn an¨w h¶ Hcp Øeapv AXmWv ]pjv]KncnbpsS HS tImW. ]v cv Xn«IÄ am{Xambncp¶nS¯v Ct¸mÄ ]gb bqWnb³ hI Itkcbp apv. ]pjv]amÀKnepS\ofw C¸dª ItkcIfps¦nepw HS tImÀWdn Hcp I«\Sn¨ncp¶v skmd]dbp¶ kpJw thsdsb§pw In«nÃ. Cs¶sâ Ahkm\ hÀj¯nsâ Ahkm\ ZnhkamWv. Hcp]t£ Cu Fgp¯v henªngªv Ct¶¡v F¯n \n¶Xv, tImtfPv PohnX¯nte¡v C¶v Xncnªpt\m¡pt¼mÄ Fsâ upper epigastrium-¯n Hcp colicky pain Xcm³ Xs¶ Bhpw. \msf Rm\o apdn Hgnªv sIm Sp¡pt¼mÄ Ahkm\hÀj¯nsâ A¦em¸pIfpambn thsdbmsc¦nepw Fsâ apdnbpsS DSaØbmIpw.... \Spapä¯pÅ Xnn \op\nhÀ¶v InS¶v aämsc¦nepw BImiwt\m¡n ]m«v tIÄ¡pw... Xp½nbXn\pw, Noänb Xn\pw, t\m¡nbXn\psams¡ F³Izbdn Gä thgm¼epIfn\nbpw cmgv¨ CSth fIÄ hoSpIsf A\p{KloXam¡pw.... tlmÌ saÊnsâ AI¯f§sf aäm scms¡tbm iÐabam¡pw.... F«paWn s_ÃSn Im¯v C\nbpw ]pjv]amÀKv kPohamIpw..... _nPptN«sâ ISbpw, {Ko³ NnÃokpw, kvanXbpsaÃmw aämcpsS sb¦nepw Øncw Xmhf§fmIpw..... _m¡v tKän\p ]pds¯ thfm¦®n amXmhv hopw aämcpsSsb¦nepw BhemXnIÄ tIÄ¡pw.... ]©mcap¡n \n¶pw hopw ]T\ tPmUnIfpw, {]WbtPmUnIfpw t\m«¸pÅnIfmIpw.... Bnsemcn¡Â sI«p¶ tIm¬shmt¡j³ tUmansâ Ahkm\s¯ XqWpw Agn¨psI«p t¼mÄ ]ncnbm³ a\ÊnÃmsX hn§p¶h sc t\m¡n Fsâ t¢m¡v Shtd, \o "Imean\nbpapcpfpw' ]mSpambncn¡pw, AtÃ? Aeâ sadn³ _m_p 2017 _m¨v

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After thorough ruminations and reconsideration, you are trapped in the walls of the medical university questioning your propensity and capacity. Professors, breathing down your neck, holding us down emotionally with grievous grapples and mentally with sharp scalpels. Confidence is inconsequential when we know literally nothing. Back at the hostel, ruled by seniors, fooled by the initial familiarity they show. Ragging was no mere staging is what the first year taught us, boys with their shaved and engraved moronic looks, and us girls with loose clothing and put ups made us qualify as grandmother's attending funerals. College romances blossom amidst cadavers and formalin, hitting up, winking, pouring hearts and scoring shots, much to the dismay of our teachers, after all they weren't just preachers, now, their eyes fixed on you, feeding you scornful reviews, encouraging you to part ways. Jokes on them. Nobody listened, silent romances remained our mission.

Endless loop of chattering and jabbering with flattering remarks reciprocally. The apparent singles weren't simple or silent, they found relationships soapy, clingy and cringy. Some of them stayed true to the single mantra, few of them decided to break the chain and move in the lane. Life's awesome, till we find our significant others, flawsome. Fights ensue, total blues, with no clue. You break up and make up and that drill's awake. That brings me to the gossip mongers, which is literally everyone spewing bonkers. Don't lie. But the amount of time and fun we invest is saddening and gladdening. And rumors were like tumors, spreading like wildfires. Girl gangs, mixed gangs and rivalries were also not uncommon or unheard of. Outings filled with selfie poutings and heavy accountings. In a moment, big rolls lead to bigger holes in your pocket, widening your eyes outta your sockets. Most of the musings of gallivanting around the globe called shots on flop. Postings filled with roastings, cussing and fussing leading to us feeling like a wuss. The hall walks and small talks were never a drag, but the subsequent scoldings and snickerings were quite the snag. The tons of work and contemptuous remarks and smirks paved the way for berserks. Amidst an abyss of uncertainty and inbuilt incertitudes, foundation for friendships was the only expression of gratitude. Exams nearing, faculties sneering You read and sleep following the creed via weeps. You scribble and dribble, you scratch your heads and catch your dreads. Bashing and thrashing the question paper, questioning the questions per se, you push yourself through the days, losing interest and faith in studies along the way. Aw you can't die yet, you are just starting your lifeless life, only the remaining lifetime to go. 100 students, with 100 personalities makes things more interesting and distracting. All of us lack emotional connections, or so we think, but we are connected and we must appreciate what we have, and that is we are all in the same boat on fire. Jashitha John 2018 batch

B-Im-i-¯n-sâ sN-dn-b- I-jvW-hpw Ip-ªp-]q-¼m-ä-I-fpw- I-Um-h-dn-sâ I-Y- “You can leave the hall”. C\n _lfamWv. ]pkvX I§Ä ASbv¡p¶Xnsâ, IgpIn hr¯nbm¡nb k-vImÂs]epIÄ X½n Ie¼p¶Xnsâ, ]ns¶ \nÀ¯msXbpÅ kwkmc§fm Wv Npäpw. Monday-sSÌnsâ t]mj³kv apX sshIpt¶cs¯ Nmb¸elmcs¯ ]än hsc BhemXns¸Sp¶hÀ. Hcp `mK¯v ]ªn hm§n¡phm\pw, shÅsaSp¡p hm\pw HmSp¶hÀ. adp`mK¯v, t\m«okv t_m ÀUv t\m¡n ]pXnb hmÀ¯Isfm¶pansöv Dd¸p hcp¯p¶hÀ. FÃmhcpw t]mbn¡gnªm ]ns¶, Akly amb Hcp \niÐX ]Scpw. kzXth, CcpXmWv Unk£³ lmÄ. hmXnepIÄ AS¨p Ig nªm ]ns¶ Ccp«n\v I«ntbdpw. Npacnse sNd nb hnShpIfneqsS, BImi¯nsâ Ipªp IjvW§Ä ImWmw. HcpIme¯v, kz]v\w Im Wphm³ BImi¯nsâ Cu IpªpI jvW§Ä [mcmfambncp¶p. acn¨ Xn ]ns¶, kz]v\§fnÃ, \nd§tfmSv {]WbanÃ. shâ ntejsâ DÅneqsS Hcp Ipªp]q¼mä Ft¸mtgm AIt¯¡v Ibdnh¶p. CXphsc In«nÃm¯hn[w, Iodnapdn¨v hnIrXam¡s¸« a\pjyicoc§Ä In«mhWw, ]I¨ Ipªn ¡®pItfmsS, AXv At¸mÄXs¶ Xncn¨v ] d¶pt]mbn; BZyZnhkw Unk£³ lmfnte ¡p h¶ Ip«nIfpsS I®nse AtX ]XÀ¨. NneÀ t] Sn¨v, tS_nfnsâ Hcät¯¡v amdn\n¶p. aäp NneÀ, hÀj§fpsS A\p`hk¼¯ps¶Xp At¸m-sgm-s¡, sh-fp-¯- lr-Z-b-¯n-\-I-¯v, sN-dn-b- -t\mhv ]-S-À-¶p- I-b-dpw-. Ip-«n-I-Ä- Xp-d-¶p- h-¨- A-d-I-Ä-¡-I-¯v, h-än-b- -tNmc- ho-pw- H-gp-Im-³- -sImXn-¡pw-. F-¶m-e-Xv sN-dn-b- I-dp-¯- I-«-I-fm-bn- A-hn-Ss§\- In-S-¡pw-.

t]mse, Imcy§Ä sNbvXv kzbw \nÀhrXn bSªp. ]Xnsb Hmtcmcp¯cmbn sXm «pt\m¡phm\mcw`n¨p. ]ns¶ sNdnb I¯nIfpw, IqÀ¯ k-vImÂs]epIfpw ]pdt¯¡p h¶p. "C³knj³' CSepw 'fat removal' Dw Hs¡bmbn BImw£bpsS cv aWn¡qdpIÄ. F¶men¶v, BÀ¡pw t]SnbnÃ. BZyZnhk§fn lmâ vhm jnepw km\nssäkdnepw aWn¡qdpI tfmfw Ipfn¨hscms¡, C¶v ssI IgpIm dptm F¶pt]mepadnbnÃ. H¶pIn AXy[nIw Kuch]camb Unk£³ NÀ¨IÄ, Asæn Aekamb sIm¨phÀ¯am\§Ä, BImi¯n\p IognepÅ F´ns\¡pdn¨pw. t\cw sshIpt´mdpw FhnsS\nt¶m IqSpX I«nbpÅ Ccp«v h¶p \ndªp. Unk£³ lmfnsâ \ne¯n\v Ft¸mgpw sNdnb CuÀ¸apmIpw. Npänepw hmbp XWp¯pdª§s\ InS¡pw. ]co£ bpÅ Znhk§fn "" keep your textbooks away '' F¶v tIÄ¡pt¼mÄ Ip«nIfpsS ssIIfn ]Scp¶ AtX XWp¸mtWm CXv? AÃmbncn¡pw.... Cunningham Dw Vishram Singh Dw Ac¨pIe¡n Ip Sn¨hÀ apXÂ, F§s\tbm AI¯p s]«p t]mb Hcp IjvWw ]ªnsbSp¯v "" Serratus anterior '' BsW¶p ]dªhÀ hsc. CSbnÂ, Fs´ms¡tbm hmbn¨p h¶v Unk£³ kab¯nsâ cähpw Iq«nap«n¡phm³ ]mSps]Sp¶hÀ. Hmtcm Ip«nbpw Hmtcm temIamWv. \ndsb \nd§fpÅ sIm¨ptemIw. Ahcnt¸mÄ F´p sN¿pIbmhpw? A[nIt\canà C\n, ChnsSbn§s\. Ipd¨p Ignªm sNdnb apdnbnepÅ t^mamen³ Sm¦nte¡p amäpw. ]ns¶ cp Znhkw BImi¯nsâ IjvW§Ä ImWmsX IgnbWw. BsI tIÄ¡m³ Ignbp¶Xv, ]pd¯v hcm´bneqsS \S¶pt]mIp¶ Ip«nIfpsS iÐw am{Xw. XnIª Ccp«nte¡pw, XWp¸nte¡pw amdp¶Xn\p ap³]v, ChnsS InS¶v Hmtc m¶v Nn´n¡pw. acWw shdpsamcp Xa mibmbn tXm¶p¶Xv At¸mgmWv. ] pds¯t¸mgpw Bw_pe³kpIfp sS Ic¨n tIÄ¡mw. At¸msgms¡, shfp¯ lrZb¯n\ I ¯ v , sNdnb t\mhv ] S À ¶ p Ibdpw. Ip «nIÄ Xpd¶p h¨ A d I Ä ¡ I ¯ v , hänb tNmc hopw HgpIm³ sImXn¡pw. F¶meXv sNdnb Idp¯ I«Ifmbn AhnS§s\ InS¡pw.lmfn Ahn SnhnsSbmbn AhÀ ad¶p h¨ t]\ Ifpw IfÀ s]³knepIfpw NnXdn ¡nS¡p¶p. Fs´mcp thK¯nemWv Zn hk§Ä IS¶pt]mIp¶Xv- Iodn apdn ¨v ]pds¯Sp ¯sXms¡bpw XncnsI hmcn\nd¨v, \\ª ]ªn h¨S¨v, AhÀ ]pd¯nd§nbt¸mtg¡pw Hcp hjw Ignªpt]mIpIbmWtÃm Fs¶mcp..... BImiw ]Xnsb Nph¶pXpS§p Ibmbn. AXm, Ipªp]q¼mä hopw F¯nt\m¡p¶p. AXv Hcp ]äw ]q¼mä Ifpambn lmfnte¡v ]d¶pIbdp Ibm WtÃm..-! apdn \ndsb ]q¼mäIÄ. ]e \ndw, ]e hen¸w. AhÀ R§sf s]mXnbpIbmWv. lrZb¯nsâ AdIÄ \ndsb Nph¶]q ¼mäIÄ, BÀ«dnIÄ¡pw aknepIÄ¡panSbn hbeäv ]q¼mäIÄ, shbn\pIÄ¡pÅn Cfw ]n¦v \nd¯nepÅh ]mdn\S¡p¶p. Ct¸mÄ Ccp«nÃ. apdn \ndsb shfn¨am Wv, \ndapÅ shfn¨w. \n§Ä Hcp iÐw tIt«m? tl! FhnsS? ]q¼mäIÄ FhnsS? \ndapÅ shfn¨sahnsS? Hm! AsXmcp kz]v\ambncp¶p. hopw Ccp«v...! \µ\ kp\n 2019 _m¨v

A fter a long era of struggle with NCERT and uncountable sleepless nights, the 18-year-old is finally set to enter a new phase of her dream; the Medical college, to live the life she has forever dreamt off. The fact that her passion had become her purpose, and it will become her profession eventually took her on cloud nine. But little did she know that only the real adventures are going to begin. It didn't take much time for the realization to hit her that, as she enters the college, the definition of the word 'struggle' is gonna get wider and wider. Besides the college there will be some relatives who would expect her to read and conclude their blood reports, X-rays right from the first year. The greatest challenge the 18-year-old had faced in the initial days was to prick her finger by herself, and subsequently, Physiology Lab turned out to be her nightmare. While being in The Dissection Hall for the first time, she was filled with excitement, nervousness, curiosity, and many other indefinable feelings. She didn't even realize that Vishram Singh had indeed become her forever companion, and she became used to the smell of formalin. It was so fast. Attending vivas during internals was really a wonderful experience for her. Some of the epic replies to questions during viva were hilarious. In the short span of time, she had received uncountable re-draws for her histology diagrams. But the most amazing part was that amidst all the struggles, she enjoyed

those moments. She had made many friends, wrote many difficult papers together, visited various departments of the hospital. For her, Biochemistry was really sweet. It was really a saving grace. It was easier, scoring with less effort. But she was a little fed up with her friends named Clavicle, Radius, Femur, Calcaneum etc, who were craving for their attachments. The major changes that had occurred in her was the concept of terms 'relation' and 'attachments'. Instead of pictures of her favourite Netflix series character, it became filled with pictures of histology slides in her gallery. She know she has to travel a long path. Even though it's difficult, she is never bound to skip any chapters as her friends in other fields do, as she would be answerable to her patients in the future who trust her more than anything (keeping aside the Google searches). So, she need to be the responsible and not the childish 18-yearold girl anymore. Devika Dileeb 2021 Batch Attending vivas during internals was really a wonderful experience for her. Some of the epic replies for questions during vivas were really hilarious. In the short span of time itself she had received uncountable re-draws for her histology diagrams.

Meraki : To leave a piece or essence of yourself in your work 'Kar Har Maidan Fateh' plays in the background, while I sigh into my pillow, pitying my loyal yet unfazed alarm - even after it being subjugated to a daily, yet not too many, dose of snooze jabs. Longing the cozy sheets, I begrudgingly make the bed and make a mental to-do list for the day's ward duties, inwardly sighing. Today too was going to be a long day. Envying my cherubim roomies deep in sleep, I avoid the accusatory eyes of my ever growing laundry and abuse myself to a cold shower, gritting my teeth. Already better, I silently make my way to the hospital. But first, a cup of coffee...and what better place than the beloved Coffee Point. As I take in the aroma of coffee, holding on to my small and wholesome warmth of joy, listening to the world waking up, with the pinkish lilac skies blossoming in the horizon, my eyes fall onto the majestic building in front of me, the place where we all arrived as strangers but now leave as a family. And down the river flowing backwards, my mind travelled back to the first day.

Orientation. The anticipation tangible in the air. Eyes sparkling with hopes and dreams. Our professors igniting flames within us with words of wisdom;the scene quickly shifts to us sitting in the dissection hall for the first time, Cunninghams held with reverence, all tasting the dream they've dreamt for so long. Like Harry Potter in the Pensieve, images flash by– the frustrating inability to differentiate an arm from a leg during Spotters, the lancet made blood fountains in Physio lab, the tests done on one's own urine sample, the pink purple Histology slides which magically look identical during the exams, fumbling slide staining steps in Micro and of course the much-awaited autopsy demonstrations clubbed with our memorable batch tour. The exams, the stress of awaited results, the reaping day...my phone rings and breaks me from my reverie- "Dr ji, Patient ‘A’ needs a Foley's catheter change.” As I discard the used gloves in the Red bin, feeling satisfied after the successful catheterisation, I reflect upon the joy and gratification that comes with my job –suturing a scalp wound, being the first hands to hold a new life, reading ECGs and X-rays...from once dreaming to now holding a stethoscope, listening to murmurs and creps and breaking bad news to loved onesI'm reminded of the profoundness of my calling with humility, for being an instrument in His hands . As I thank the nurse who assisted me, I realize, even as the news of violence against doctors surge by the day and cast a dreary shadow on the future, I'm not alone in this fight; with the healthcare fraternity by my side and above all, God leading my way. Meditating on this thought, I carry on with the ward duties with zeal and instill into the mundane work with ! Meraki. Michelle Mary Abraham 2016 batch

CcpÄhoWp InS¡p¶ hgnbnemsbhnsStbm NnXdns¯dn¨p t]mw ]fp¦paWnIÄ t]meth XncnsI¸nSn¡phm\mImsX HmÀ½IÄ hoWp NnXdnbo ImeN{I¯n³ thK¯n Hmtcm Zn\hpw HmSn ambth t\À¯p t]mIp¶q cq]§Ä, HmÀ½IÄ ..... Cs¶³ hc PohnX¨m hn«p HgpInsbt§m t]mIp¶p \obpw. Imeta \osb§v HmSnadbp¶p, H¸sa¯m³, IpXn¡m³ DÅw ]nSbp¶p. Xfcp¶p,InX¡p¶p, Imgv¨ a§p¶p, BInsÃ\n¡n\n \ns¶m¸sa¯phm³ acWw ]Xnbncn¡p¶p hgnIfn , sN¶mb t]m NmSn hoWnSpw taÂ.. Adnbp¶p Rm³ ]mtcm ]dªt]m ; "P\n¨msemcn¡Â \mw acWw hcn¡Ww" sR«ä ]q¡fpw, a®nsâ a¡fpw Aensªmco a®n Rm\psamcn¡Â [qfnbmbn amdpw.. XocÈoe hogphm\msb¶dnInepw, BSnXnanÀ¡phm³, thj¸IÀ¨IfWnbphm³; IcpWhpw, lmkyhpw, irwKmchpw, cu{Z`mhhpw, AWnªc§n \ndbphm³ ... Gsd \mfmbv Ne\aäncps¶msc³ XqenI, tImdnbnSp¶o ]pkvXI¯mfn ; "AWbm¯ taml¯obmbn ]Scphm³, Imeta..., asämcp BbpÊv \ÂIptam.....?!'' Bcy tPmbv 2018 _m¨v

The Bougainvillea seemed to speak in colours; colours of ardour. Vehemence of alums depicted in every nook and corner of this varsity. I could touch a stone, and it would give me stories of footsteps. The trees hovering and hearing tales of tattle, soliloquies, squeal of victories and sobs. I went and bumped right in through the glass doors; this is not the first time, I grinned and reminisced the amount of times I've gotten paused by the door. A car was approaching from a distance, its headlights beaming, those flashers reminded me of the times when I danced too hard on the floor, hitting up with newbies, vibing hard, thriving for more. I even harked back to the time when a thinker pal of mine smiled and bobbed her head, smiling ear to ear from all the fun we had. Before I could indulge in another deep-seated memory of mine, she walked out of the car. Her face was radiant, not overly excited per se, it was of pure bliss, one of a kind, where we would know when we see it. She nodded her head at me, I returned my pleasure. We stood there, speechless, lots to blabber about, though none of us could find a start. I saw an old Anatomy professor of mine, her hair put up, coral coloured attire, and glasses intact. She looked the same, not a day older. I was lurched back into a weird memory, Anatomy test results. I failed the first test conducted, being the dramatic and the emotional one, that was quite soul-stirring. I cringed hard, this again led to another evocation. Oh boy! Certain things are still painful to think about, no matter the amount of lathering given on the specified thoughts. Fact is, I was a quiet person back then, and still am when I think hard about it, but I do have my moments. Those moments are quite reserved to certain confidants of mine. Sigh. Let's leave the picture to defer. I'm here to recollect and resurface those long-lost memories of mine, let me have my day. So back to my crony, she was staring in space when I nudged her. Okay, so the weather, she speaks, Oh Lord, here she goes. Speaking of weather was one favourite conversation starter of hers, BOUGAINVILLEA

another one was 'so', yes, just 'so'. The Pharmacology professor gave out the papers, and she had some marks to gain, she went in and while going through her paper contemplating whether to give her points, in order to cast away the awkwardness, she asked him about the weather, unreal, isn't it? That's what I thought. We caught up a bit, when the rain pattered unassumingly. We sought shelter under the dome nearby. She went on about a few of her own memories. We went inside the lecture hall, I grazed my fingers over the desks, the navy-blue seats, I spoke of the time when chalk throwing was a trend among certain teachers. We laughed along, after getting the gist, we cracked a few more jokes when the door opened in a trice. It was the janitor, she was up here clearing the last round of her shift. We smiled at her and took leave. Corridors spewing chatterings, echos of words spoken, were emanating as we walked through. Dissection hall was at sight next, eye contacts amidst cutting cadavers was the highlight, no lie. Especially since it was the first year, we were getting to know each other, some were quite enthusiastic in that department. We stopped and stood there for a while before taking the stairs and the microbiology department came into our view, two words, bacteria and staining. To the right, we had our examination hall, lots of tests involving our sweats and frets. The essay was the most used word in, out and around the hall. Hushes, whispers and nervous eyes looking around for hopes and aspirations. Frankly, I still get heebie-jeebies thinking of those exam days and the nights before. We got off the building and strolled past, we got in the hospital, climbed the stairs, and scanned the departments of 6th and 7th semesters, the shortest ones, helping our way by prompting us to see the textbooks and hear the lectures. This led us to the final semesters, the mom, and dad phase of medical education, as I'd like to call it, top-notch of under graduation. The experience was indescribable. Yet more to come, hither to stay.

Spending hours and hours, eating from the most toured spot of the college-tea shops and food courts. Pining over the past, dwelling in the these days, I felt like my 79-year-old grandfather. A sudden urge to cry the happy tears, wishing certain happenings that could've happened if I wasn't such a goody, screaming inwardly, thinking the unthinkable. It wasn't regretting, since I know my limits, and I'd probably still be the same if I was given a second chance to straighten things up. I held back, patted my hair back in place, tidied my appearance before looking up to see my friend staring vacantly at me, oh how she knew! She saw right through me, through my perceptions. She was about to utter something about this, when I asked her to zip it, since I know I'd go all sentimental once she asks me about it. I am just elated, things ended right, certain factors made me unique. I might haven't stood out, but I blended in right, and that is quite gratifying. We walked out, and past our vehicles, we stood face to face, shook hands, hugged and wished well. Now turning my back to the college souvenirs, I looked back at the clock tower, a pathetic attempt to capture the pictures and address it rightly to the corners of my brain, processing and procuring the remembrances, leaving massive impressions in my head. Who knew, this very building in front of me lifted me to heights I couldn't even think of? This place would also be the reason to implant roots of my achievements? I never knew, and this stays indecipherable. Jashitha John 2018 batch

BIG FISH IN SMALL PONDS Big fish in small ponds,to small fish in Pushpagiri's ponds must have been a difficult journey for all of us. Rusted iron gates and three wooden pots separating us, fingers brushing against each other. I came to Pushpagiri wide eyed, naive and with the hopeless delusion that I could help. It was only a matter of time when trust travelled through the wrong steps. Time passed, and so grew my weariness around my presence. I had become the shell of the fish I had been in my nurturing little pond. For a while, it was constant, unchanged, the water calm. And then came the tide. When docility stood for an opinion; an opinion drenched in its own fair share of sins, an island became. Two lonely islands, a bridge, sharp stones and silent tongues. Honey ran through these steep steps as I dragged a ghost through its cornea. Now I can't smell honey without its guilt flushing through my teeth. I watched the hours fall and seasons pass through locked doors. The appetite never ceased. Sugar, honey or syrup couldn't satisfy. My mouth was a grave- yard for all the love that dropped its corpse, and the shell of its ghost resides in my body whole. My world shrunk to a house locked by an i r o n gate so my heart found its way out through t h e backdoor by the kitchen. And so, I served myself on kitchen slabs, breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner, slipping away through the backdoor with what's left of myself. I had lost my way within four walls of an excuse of a dream I once had. But within these four walls, they built a fortress. While he sat on the steps; his legs against

Im sorry for taking my friends suicide note as a jokewhen I was 11, Im sorry for not realising another was at the edge at 13, Im sorry for letting myself go at 14, Im sorry for scaring everyone at 15, Im sorry for eating alone behind the school at 16 mine, we were told it's frowned upon and the cameras were watching. While he sat between the flowerpots; fingers grazing against each other, we were told it's too dark for people our age (like love exists beyond 26). While we took our sleep away drinking coffee by the classrooms, we were told to lower our voice lest we act our age. We were told to not laugh in our hostel rooms and to not talk after 9 PM. We were told to not be. So, we submitted as our spirits shrunk between the kitchen frames and the backdoor, shrinking further between the cabinets to leak beyond those back doors. But I'm sorry. I apologize for taking my friends suicide note as a joke when I was 11, I apologize for not realizing another was at the edge at 13, I apologize for letting myself go at 14, I'm sorry for scaring everyone at 15, I'm sorry for eating alone behind the school at 16, I'm not sorry for hating my father at 17, I'm sorry for falling in love with my best friend at 18, I'm sorry for waiting for her to call me back at 19, I'm sorry for my outbursts at 20, but mostly I'm sorry for being who I am at 21. Trust me, I don't like her any more than you do. I'm sorry for all the love and the hate and losing the principle of the woman I was supposed to be. I'm sorry for all the pain I would breed. I'm sorry. I'll stay. We come in with ideals of steel and leave with a degree of paper. The price to pay for the seat is despair. But we will stay. Gadha JJ 2020 Batch

F{Xbpw {]nbs¸« kplr¯n\p, \n\¡v kpJamsW¶v IcpXs«. C¶se tImtfPn h¶n«v cv hÀjw XnIªp. anI¨ A´co£w, A¡mUanI-vkv, CSbv¡nsS In«p¶ ]pgphns\bpw, ]mäsbbpw amän \nÀ¯nbm `£Ww tIaamWv. Iq«pImÀs¡m¶pw Hcp {i²bnÃ, an¡hÀ¡pw ^pUvt]mbvk¬ BWv. ]pd¯q¶v `£Ww Ign¡p¶Xm Wt{X... ChäIÄ ImcWw saÊnse `£Ww am{Xw Ign¡p¶ F\n¡pw h¶p ^pUvt]mbvk¬-. CXv ]IÀ¨hym[n BtWm F¶tÃ?... AsX, ssat{Im_tbmfPnbn ]dbp¶pv streptococus managementitis F¶ _mIväocnbbm sW¦n CXv ]Scpsa¶v. \nsâ PohnX sams¡ F§s\ t]mIp¶p. ]gb t{]asams¡??. ChnsS¸ns¶ AXn s\m¶pw kabanÃ. ]Tn¡m³ am{Xam btà ^okvsImSp¯v ChnsS h¶Xv, AXpsImv t{]asam¶pw ChnsS ths¶mWv kvt\lapÅ A[ym]IÀ ]dªXv. Iym¼Ên apgph³ CCTV Dv. ChnsSmcp ]©mcap¡pv. Fsâ Adnhn HcmÄ¡pw kzØambn AhnsS \n¶v ]©mcbSn¡m³ ]änb Xmbn AdnbnÃ. F¦nepw t]scms¡ sImÅmw. \o ChnsS htcXmbncp¶p. \nsâ ssZh\nµsbms¡ amäm³ InSntemk-vIn hgnIfpv ChnsS. \nsâ {]iv\w {]mÀ°\bnÃm¯XmWv. Hcmgv¨ ASp ¸n¨p IrXyambn {]mÀ°n¨m \nsâ {]iv\saÃmw amdntbt\. ChnsS AXn s\ms¡ {]tXyI hIp¸pv. FÃmhcpw IrXyambn AhnsS hcp¶Xnsâ Kp«³kv F´msW¶p F\n¡v a\Ênembn«nÃ. C{Xbpw \mfn\nsS F\nt¡ähpw KpW apmb Hcp Imcyw shůnsâ hne a\Ênembn F¶XmWv. shÅw ChnsS ]mgm¡mtd CÃ, AXpsImv lm³ UvjhÀ t]mepw ChnsS R§Ä D] tbmKn¡mdnÃ. ChnsS hnZymÀ°nIfpsS {]iv\§sfms¡ IrXyambn NÀ¨ sN¿m dpv. AÂ] kzev]w Xmakn¨p, Ipd¨p amkw Ignªmepw ChnsS FÃm {]iv\ hpw NÀ¨ sN¿pw, ]cnlmcw ImWmw F¶v Dd¸pw In«pw. Xnc¡v ImcWw ]ns¶ R§Ä _m¡n Xnc¡mdnÃ. R§sfms¡ ChnsS kpc£nX cmWv. IrXyw F«p aWn¡v Xs¶ R§sfsbms¡ XÅt¡mgn Ipªp §sf NndIn\Snbn kwc£n¡W t]mse AI¯p Ibäpw. ]ns¶ Hcp IÅ\pw AI¯p tIdm³ ]äm¯ hn[w hmXn ]q«pw. AI¯p ]ns¶ R§fpsS temIamWv. AXpt]mse Xs¶ hgntb \S¡pt¼mÄ X«n hogm Xncn¡m³ ac§sfÃmw sh«n¡fªn «pv. ]ntÅÀs¡Ãmw \à P\m[n]Xy t_m[y§fpv. Bcpw bmsXm¶n\pw thn hmin ]nSn¡mdnÃ, F´n\p ]nSn¡Ww. AtÃepw Cu kacsams¡ Hcp _qÀjzm k¦Â¸atÃ. cm{ãob sam¶pw Ifn¨p \S¡m³ kabanÃ, ]Tn¡m³ Xs¶ kabanÃ. CXn\nSbn Nne iey§Ä cm{ãobw ]dªphcpw. R§Ä Ahscsbms¡ Ifnbm¡n HmSn¨p hnSpw. Iptd kzmX{´yhmZnIÄ..., Nncn¸n¡m\mbn Cd§nt¡mfpw. ]ns¶ {]tXyI ]cnK W\ In«Wsa¦n {]tXyI Iq«§fn  IqSnbm aXn F¶v a\Ênembn. AhÀ¡mWv ChnsS Gähpw ]nSn]mSv. bqWnb³ t]mepw XmsgbmWv. F§s\bpv \nsâ ]Tn¯w. CtâW amÀs¡ms¡ In«p¶ptm?.... Asà th...... ho«n FÃmhÀ¡pw kpJamtWm, tN¨nbpsS IeymWw Rmbdmgv¨ BWtÃ, IgnhXpw F¯m³ t\m¡mw ... Ah[n¡v thn 6 I¯v FgpXnbn«pv. AXpÂ.Fkv.Ipam 2017 _m¨v

`q]S¯n CÃm¯ cmPyw t]mse Nne a\pjycpv BcpsSbpw tcJIfn BcpaÃm¯ a\pjyÀ {Kq¸vt^mt«mIfn CSw ]nSn¡m¯, BcptSbpw BcpaÃm¯hÀ. Häs¸« NncnIfpambn _nkvt{Smbnse Bsfmgnª s_©nencn¡p¶hÀ. CSapdnbmsX s]¿p¶ agsbbpw, ]pjv]amÀKnse hnIsfbpw, tlmkv]näensâ \memw \nebnÂ\n¶v AhÀ t\m¡n \n¡pw. FhnsStbm \ãamb NncnIsf tXSn Häbv¡v At§m«pant§m«pw shdpsX \S¡pw. Ahcnte¡v IS¶p sNÃmt\m, AhcpsS Nncn ImWmt\m \n§Ä¡v km[ns¨¶phcnÃ. \n§Ä F{X {ian¨mepw, F{Xsbms¡ Xo Iq«nbmepw, DcpInsbmen¡m¯ aªn AhÀ Hfn¨ncn¡pw. shfn¨w IS¶psN¶n«nÃm¯ Ccp«dIfn FhnsStbm AhÀ NncnIsf AS¡w sNbvXXmbn \n§Ä¡v a\ÊnemIpw. IS¶phcp¶ Hmtcm ]pXnb Pohnsbbpw, Hmtcm {]Xo£Isfbpw `qXImet¸Snbn kwibt¯msS t\m¡m\mbn hn[n¡s¸«hÀ... Hcn¡Â¡qSn XtâXmbn HcmÄ Ibdn hcpsa¶,sI«n¸nSn¡psa¶, Nncn NnIsªSp¯v Xcpsa¶ {]Xo£bn Im¯ncn¡p¶hÀ. kvt\l¯m tNÀ¯p]nSn¡s¸SpIbpw, AXn\m Xs¶ Dt]£n¡s¸SpIbpw sNbvXhÀ F§s\bmWv \n§Ä¡mbn lrZbw Xpd¡pI. Pph tPmkv 2020 _m¨v

a\pjym, thZ\bmWv, ITn\ thZ\bmWv. Hmtcm CeIÄ s]mgnbpt¼mgpw thZ\n¡p¶p. tl! Rm\nhnsS \n¡phm³ XpS§nbn«v Ime§fmbn. hk´hpw th\epw Hcp]msSs¶ Xgp Ins¡mv t]mbn. Rm³ ]mZapd¸n¨p \n¡p¶ a®nsâbpw Rm³ ]SÀ¶p]´en¨p \n¡p¶ Cu A´co£¯nsâbpw Hmtcm amä§fpw F\n¡dn bm³ Ignbpambncp¶p.F¶n \n¶pw Hmtcm CeIÄ s]mgnbpt¼mgpw Rm³ Icªncp¶p. F¶m AXv t]mbn, AhnsS asäm¶v XfnÀ¡pt¼mÄ Rm³ Fs´¶nÃmsX kt´m jn¨p. Hmtcm XhWbpw \ ãs¸Sp¶ ]¨¸v, Rm³ XncnsI¸nSn¡p¶p s h t ¶ m À ¯ v A ` n a m \ w ]qp. \n\¡dnbmtam, F\n¡v Gähpw ITn\amb kabsas´¶v? th\en Rm³ Gähpw hnjan¡p¶p... Fsâ Hmtcm Ce Ifpw \ãs¸Sp¶p. kqcysâ AanX {]lctaäv Rm³ Xfcp¶p. DSpXpWn CÃmsX \n¡p¶ \nsâ AhØbmWv F\n¡nt¸mÄ. Fsâ a\Ênsâ hn§epIsfÃmw Rm³ AS¡p¶p. C¶sæn \msf Cu th\ \o§pw. Rm³ hopw Xg¨p hfcpw. Hcp th\ sImpt]mb kt´m jw apgph³ Rm³ XncnsI¸nSn¡pw. AXn cmhnse Fsâ CeIfn Xq§n\n¡p¶ aªp XpÅnIÄ Ing¡pWcpw ]£nbpsS IncW§Ä sImv Xnf§p¶p. Cu Imgv¨ Iv Rms\sâ FÃm {]bmk§fpw ad¡p¶p. Rms\Ãmw ImWp¶pv. sX¡³ Imäv hoip¶ aes©cnhv apXÂ, A§v hS¡v AebSn¡p¶ A\´kmKchpw, Ing¡v \n¶v ]Snªmtdm«v ]mbp¶ an¶Â¸nWcpIfpw Rm³ ImWp¶p. Hmtcm XhWbpw ag s]¿pt¼mÄ Rm³

Fsâ Zmlw XoÀ¡p¶p, ASnapSn \\bp¶p. Fsâ IqsSbpÅhcpsS AebSn¡p¶ H¨¸mSpIfn Rm³ kt´mjn¨p. Imä¯v AhcpsS kt´mj§fnepÅ \r¯¨phSpIÄ Ip Rm³ DÃkn¨p. Hmtcm sImÃhpw Ing¡p \n¶pw Fsâ a¡Ä hcpt¼mÄ, Rm³ Adnbp¶p ImeN{Iw Dcpfp¶psh¶v. Hcp ioXImew apgph³ Ft¶msSm¯v Nnehgn¡p¶p. hÀjs¯ Gähpw henb hnfhpXs¶ Rm³ AhÀ¡v \ÂIp¶p. Fsâ ]g§Ä `£n¡pt¼mÄ AhÀ¡pm Ip¶ kt´mjw Ie]neIqSn Ahcdnbn¡pt¼mÄ F\n¡pmIp¶ A\p`qXn! B kabw Rm s\mcp A½bmhp¶p. Fsâ NndIn³Iogn Ah h¶Wbp¶p. ASp¯ ioXIme¯n\v ImWmw F¶p ]dªp AhÀ bm{X ]dªnd§p¶ \nanjw Rm³ achn¨p \n¶p. Hcp hÀjs¯ apgph³ IYbpw ]dbm³ Ah hcpw F¶ hm¡nt·Â AkvXab kqcysâ taL§fn AhÀ A{]Xy£cmIp¶p. C\nbpw Imew IS¶pt]mIpw. EX p¡Ä IS¶pt]mIpw. ag s]¿pw, aªp s]m gnbpw, shbn hcpw. CsXÃmw Iv `qan bpsS Ahkm\ XpSn¸v hsc ChnSn§s\ \n ¡Wsa¶mbncp¶p Fsâ B{Klw. Ignª hk´w Fsâ Cu B{Kl¯n\v £Xta¸n¨p. A§v Zqsc A\´kmKc¯nsâ Xnc ASn¡p¶Xn s\m¸w Rm³ Hcp ImgvN Ip, \o \ nsâ kmwk-vImcnI D¶XnbpsS ^eamb B[p\nI Bbp[§fpw sImv Xoc¯Sp¯Xv. A¶papX Fsâ PohnXw hymIpeXIÄ sImp \ndªp. \o \nsâ Bhiy§Ä¡v, \nsâ ]ptcmKXn¡v Fs¶bpw Fsâ IpSpw_s¯bpw \in¸n¡phm³ XpS§n. A¶phsc `qanbpsS Hmtcm kv]µ\hpw Xncn¨dn bmambncp¶ F\n¡v Fsâ IW¡v Iq«epIÄ sXän¯pS§n. Fsâ a¡sft¸mse Rm³ \ns¶ AcnI¯p tNÀ¯p\nÀ¯n. F¶m \o sNbvXtXm? Fsâ IpSpw_s¯ thtcmsS \o ]ngpsXdnbm³ XpS§n. \nsâ hgnhn« hnIk\ _p²n Fsâ Poh³ A¦em¸nem¡n. Hcä¯p\ns¶sâ IpSpw_s¯ \o \in¸n¨p. \msf AhcpsS hfÀ¨Iv kt´mjnt¡nbncp¶ Cu ap¯Èn C¶v A\´amb BßkmKc¯n apdnthä a\Êpambn Aebp¶p. ]qÀWhfÀ¨sb¯n, BZyambn Imbv¨ Fsâ Ahkm\ s¯ {]nb t]c¡p«nsbbpw, a\pjym \o sh®o dm¡n. Hcp \nibpsS XWp¸Iäm³ thn Ahs\bpw \osbSp¯p. Hcp Iã¸mSpw PohnX¯n A\p`hn¡m¯ Ahs\ \o I¯n¨t¸mÄ Ahs\{Xam{Xw Ic ªn«pmhWw? Fsâ I×p¶n \n¶v hfÀ¶ Fsâ a¡sf \o CÃmXm ¡nt¸mÄ Rm³ A\p`hn¨ thZ\ F´msW¶v \n\¡dnbphm³ IgnbnÃ. \nsâ Hcp kmt¦XnI hnZy bv¡pw FsâbpÅn \pcªp s]m§p¶ k¦Saf¡m\pÅ Afhp tIm \nÀ½n¡m\mhnÃ. \nsâ tcmKw t`Zam¡m³ \o Fsâ IpSpw_s¯ B{i bn¨p. tcmKw t`Zambt¸mÄ \o hopw Fsâ IpSpw_s¯ CÃmXm¡n¯pS§n. kmwk-vImcnI ]ctam¶Xnbn F¯n \n¡p¶psh ¶v \o AhImis¸Sp¶p! AÃtbm a\pjym...CXn FhnsSbmWv kwk-vImcw, \o \nsâ Zpjn¨ a\Êpambn FsâbSps¯¯nbncn¡p¶p. Fsâ \ng ]än HmSn bncp¶ sNdpXSmIs¯ \o a®n«p aqSn. AXnÂ

I-gn-ª-h-k´w- F-sâ Cu- B-{K-l-¯n-\v £t¯a-Â-¸n-¨p-. A-§v Zsqc- A-\-´-km-K-c-¯n-sâ Xn-c- A-Sn-¡p-¶-Xns\m¸w Rm-³- H-cp- Im-gvN- I-p-. hnlcn¨p sImncp¶ aÕys¯bpw \o CÃmXm¡n {]IrXnbpsS PohN{I¯n\v \o £tXa¸n¨p. C\n Fsâ IpSpw_¯n Ahtijn¡p¶Xv Rm³ am{Xw. Cu ap¯Ènsbbpw \o \msf I¯nhbv¡pw. Fsâ icocs¯ sImpt]mIm³ \o X¿mdm¡n sh¨ncn¡p¶ Dcp¡p\n ÀanXnsb Rm³ Ip. Fs¶ hcnªpapdp¡m³ \o X¿mdm¡n sh¨ncn¡p¶ Dcp¡v t]inIsfbpw Rm³ Ip. Hcp BbpjvImew apgph\pw Rm³ Pohn¨p XoÀ¯p. ]ehn[ L«¯neqsSbpw Rm³ IS¶pt]mbn. PohnX¯nsâ FÃm AhØbpw Ip. imcocnIhpw am\ knIhpamb ]e k½À±§sfbpw Rm³ AXnPohn¨p. ]ebnS¯pw ]cmPbs¸«n«pv, F¶m hopw Rm³ {ian¨psImtbncp¶p. F\n¡v hgnXcm¯ ]e ]mdIs fbpw Rm³ CÃmXm¡n. Fsâ hncepIsf Cd§ns¨Ãm\ mIm¯ ]ebnSt¯¡pw Rm³ ]dªb¨n«pv. Rm³ Fsâ Im¸mZw Dd¨v Xs¶bmWv Nhn«nbncn¡p¶Xv. Fsâ a¡fpw A§s\ Xs¶bmWv. C{Xbpw ]nSn]mSp mbncp¶n«pw, Fs¶bpw Fsâ IpSpw_s¯bpw \o \in¸n¨p. tl a\pjym...\o CXv BtemNn¨ncpt¶m? Hcp Xnc h¶m hoWpt]mIp¶ \o F{X\mÄ ChnsS ImWpsa¶v! Hcp BbpÊn Icªp XoÀ¡m\pÅsXÃmw Rm³ Cs¸mÄ Icbp¶p. \msf \o Fs¶ apdn¡pt¼mÄ Fsâ Cu Ic¨nseÃmw agbmbv s]bvXnd§pw. `qa nbpw, A´co£w apgph\pw F\n¡v Bt´ym]Nmcw AÀ¸n¡pw. Fsâ apdnhpIfpW¡pw B ag. Ct¸mÄ \o Fs¶ apdn¨v B\µn¡pambncn¡mw. F¶m \msf Hcp Znhkw \o Fs¶ sh®odm¡pt¼mÄ B Xobn \n¶v Rm³ DbÀs¯gpt¶Â¡pw. IpSpw_w \ãs¸«v a\pjy \m A]lcn¡s¸« Hcp cm£knsbt¸mse. Nnet¸mÄ AXv \o {]Xo£n¡pI t]mepanÃ. \ns¶ hngp§p¶ Hcp almamcnt]mse Rm³ Nnet¸mÄ ht¶¡pw. \msf \o F\n¡v I¯nshbv¡pt¼mÄ F\n¡v thZ\ kl n¡m\mhnÃ. Nnet¸mÄ Rm³ Aeapdbn«v Icsª¶v hcpw. CsXm¶pw Iv a\pjym \o t]Sn¡cpXv. hcm³ t]mIp¶ ]oU\Ime¯nsâ XpS¡w am{XamWnsX t¶mÀ¯m aXn. F\n¡v C{Xbpw \mÄ Pohn¡m³ Ig nªXpXs¶ Hcp `mKyambn Rm³ ImWp¶p. ioXIm e¯n Fs¶ kt´mjn¸n¡m³ hcp¶ a¡sf Hcp t\m¡pIqsS ImWm³ ]änbncps¶¦nÂ! Rm³ Ahkm\ambn Hcp ImcywIqSn ]dbp¶p. \o `qa nbn hcp¶Xn\v apt¶ Fsâ ]nXm¡·mÀ ChnsS Dm bncp¶p. a\pjym \obmWv amdns¡mncn¡p¶Xv. \o CXv F¶v a\Ênem¡pw? CXm Rm³ FÃmw ]qÀ¯nbm¡n Fsâ acW¯n\mbn Im¯ncn¡p¶p. a\pjym \o X¿mdmbnt¡m! FÃmhtcmSpw Rm³ bm{X ]dbp¶p AXp cmPv ]p¯³ho«n 2020 _m¨v

In the Pursuit of Life, Oh Little Lad, Don’t take a break, Don’t take a stop. Run, run forward, If not trod. Keep moving forward, Lest you’re left behind. Keep moving forward, Lest you’re trodden on. In the Pursuit of Life, Oh Little Boy, Moving forward is All you can do. Step after step, You trudge on. Keep moving forward, Lest you’re lost. Keep moving forward, Lest you’re gone. Merlin Elizabeth 2017 Batch Pursuit of Life

HmKÌv 21, 2022 ]Xnhpt]mse kplr¯p ¡fpsSsbm¸w `£Ww Ign¡m³ t]mbn Xncn¨p hcp¶ kabw. t\cw GXmv cm{Xn 11.30 Ign ªp. ImcWw hmÀUnse Ahkm\ s¯ UnkvNmÀPv k½dnbpw ssS¸v sNbvXp Ignªv hni¸nsâ hnfn¡v sNhn sImSp¡pt¼mgmWv hm¨nsâ kqNn Ifnte¡v It®mSmdv. Ahkm\ ]´n bnencn¡m³ _m¡nbpÅhÀ F¶ h®w AhnsSbpw ChnsSbpw ImWp¶ A¯mg ]«nWn HS amscbpw Xq¡nsb Sp¯v GsX¦nepw Hcp¯sâ hnbn Ibdn Hä t]m¡mWv ! CXmWv Rm³ BZyw ]dª B ]Xnhv. C¶pw AXpt]mse Hcp ]Xnhv bm{X am{Xambncp¶p F\n¡v CXv. ]t£ saUn¡Â tImtfPv tlmkv]näensâ {^v tKäv IS¶v Imjzmenänbnte¡v F¯nt¨cp¶Xn\v ap¼pÅ B Ibäw Ibdpt¼mÄ, ]Xnhv sXän¨v Fsâ lrZbw im´ambncp¶p. Cu Ibä¯n sh¨v s\©nSn¸v IqSpIbpw, hopw Xncn¨v ChntS¡v hs¶¯nbtÃm Ft¶mÀ¯v s\SphoÀ¸nSpIbpw, {ItaW hn \o§n tlmkv]näent\mSv ASp¡pt¼mÄ \mfs¯ ]änbpÅ X¿msdSp¸n a\ Êv im´amhpIbpw sN¿mdmWv ]Xnhv. Cs¶t´m a\Êv BZyta im´ambn cp¶p. lrZb¯nsâ Cu tkm^väv dnYw \ ÂInb IpfnÀabn kam[m\t¯msS B Ibäw Ibdn ]pjv]amÀKn F¯n hn \nÀ¯nbt¸mgmWv, Adnªn«pw Adnbm¯ t]mse A{Xbpw t\cw `mhn¨ncp¶ B kXyw CSnan¶Â t]mse h¶v s\©n Xd¨Xv. The last day of house surgency life, buh\ L«¯nse Bdp hÀjw F¶v ]dªm AsXmcp a\pjysâ \à ]mXn¡v XpeyamWv. Hcn¡epanÃm¯ A{X kvt\lhpw hmÕeyhpw C¶o a®nt\mSv F\n¡v tXm¶p¶p. Ccp Ihn fpIfpw \\ªp XpS§nbt¸mÄ Rm\ dnªp, Fsâ DÅnepw hn§Â Dm bncp¶p F¶v. \o«n Hcp izmkw FSp¯v ]pjv]amÀKn se Hcp s_©n Rm³ Ccp¶p. F¶t¯bpw t]mse kpµcnbmbn \n¡p¶ t¢mIv Shdnte¡v I®pw \«v AÂ]t\cw... shÅt¡m«pan«v tImtfPv tKäneqsS \S¶phcp¶ BÄ¡q«¯nte¡v I®pw \«ncp¶p Rm³. Fsâ s_Ìv {^vkv, Hcn¡epw anWw F¶v Rm³ B{Kln ¡m¯ B Ip«n, Hcn¡se¦nepw H¶p annbm sImÅmsa¶v B{Kln¨n cp¶ B Ip«n, FÃmhcpw Dmbncp¶p B Iq«¯nÂ. henb B Iq«¯nte¡v HmSn¨mSn \S¶p h¶p Rm³. H¸apÅh cpsS tXmf¯v ssIbn«v A\mbmkw \S¶ph¶ AXy´w kt´mjhXnbmb Fs¶, ChnSncp¶v Rm³ t\m¡n Ip. F§pw {]Imiw ]c¯p¶ Fsâ Xe bv¡v apIfn BhcWw sNbvXncp¶ B Idp¯ taLw At¸mgmWv {i²bn Âs¸«Xv. A¶v NpäpapÅ BÀ¡pw hmbns¨Sp¡m³ ]ämXncp¶ B ImÀta Ls¯ Cs¶\n¡v hyàambn ImWmw. I can see myself clearly, a hazelnut of insecurities coated nicely with caramel of over enthusiasm and made in charm. Yes! ssSw sajo\n 6 hÀj§Ä ]n t¶m«v Nen¸n¨v C¶nhnsS Rm³ \n ¡pt¼mÄ DÅn Hcp sImSp¦män t\mSv aÃnSpIbmbncp¶p. Hcp]mSm{K ln¨p HSphn saUn¡Â k-vIqfn Im seSp¯p sh¨t¸mÄ H¸apÅ 'smart ones' s\ t]mse Aà Rms\-¶p Rm³ Xncn¨dnªp. NpäpapÅ kpµcamb apJ§fpw icoc§fpw Iv, I®mSnbn t\m¡m³ Rm³ aSn¨p. A]IÀjX Isf FÃmw ad¶v kzbw t]mcm«w sN¿m \mbn a\ÊpsImv X¿msdSp¯p. kplr¯p¡fpsS FÃm {]iv\§fpw

XoÀ¡p¶ 'ultimate pro' te¡v DÅ Fsâ bm{X s]s«¶v Xs¶ InIvÌm«v sNbvXp. AXnibnt¡! HmSn\S¶v {]iv\§fn sN¶v NmSnb FÃmbnS¯pw {]iv\§Ä Dm¡n XoÀ¯v 'the problematic teen' emWv B bm{X sudden break C«v \n¶Xv. kzm`mhnIw! What better could I do?!. So basically let me be cool about it. I hated my body, my face, my hair, my empty brain, my skills hands and overall wooh, me! Wait! Am I crying? ( haha, LOSERS cry often, lol). apt¶m«pÅ 6 hÀjw Rm³ Fsâ F¶n te¡v DÅ hfÀ¨bv¡v km£yw hln¨p. I had been body shamed, bullied, unattended, slut shamed and what more! But what, I survived and grew up to that solid bean sitting around, looking up and dreaming. Excuse me? Are you looking for that insecure talentless girl who turned into a beautiful success story? Nah, sorry to say. CXv AXà sFäw. I am here, sitting here, luring the beauty of the clock tower still the same girl, the same body, fair, hair, hands, and brain, with just one extra thing. To the world out there, I®mSnbn t\m¡m³ aSn¨ncp¶ Fsâ apJ¯n\v 6 hÀjwsImv kuµcyw IqSnbnÃ. ]pd¯v ImWn¡m³ aSn¨ncp¶ Fsâ XL size icocw kotdm body size Bbnà 'useless brain' sImv academic excellences t\SnbnÃ. The only thing that changed was my concept of beauty, my definition of brain, my explanation of talents and skills. Xebn Idp¯ sXm¸nbpw Idp¯ tIm«pw [cn¨v I¿n Hcp oath scroll bpambn Rm³ ]Snbnd§pt¼mÄ ]pjv]Kncn F\n¡v k½m\n¨XmWv Fsâ Bßhnizmkw. Fs¶ Rm\mbn ImWm³, kvt\ln¡m³, XebpbÀ¯n ¸nSn¨v \S¡m³ F\n¡v thnbncp¶ Gähpw henb Bbp[w. From a white coat to a black gown, I learned that life is a chess board. You have this you with all worldly imperfections and tastemakers of confidence near each white box. Yes, your insecurities are always in white boxes (not the conventional blacks), because blacks and whites are nothing but beauty and success! So this is me the 'perfectly imperfect ' girl (woman now) signing off. With lots of love to Pushpagiri that carved me. And my people, Spadikans of 15, miss you to hell! tUm. AcpWna acnb 2016 _m¨v NpäpapÅ kpµcamb apJ§fpw icoc§fpw I>v, I®mSnbn t\m¡m³ Rm³ aSn¨p. A] IÀjXIsf FÃmw ad¶v kzbw t]mcm«w sN¿m\mbn a\ÊpsIm>v X¿msdSp¯p. kplr¯p¡fpsS FÃm {]iv\§fpw XoÀ¡p¶ “ultimate pro”te¡v DÅ Fsâ bm{X s]s«¶v Xs¶ InIvÌmÀ«v sNbvXp.

Tale of the Alpha DR. RINCY THOMAS 2002 Batch MBBS (1st batch)

We still remember the day that instilled alarm and fear within us, when attending Anatomy lecture in Lecture Hall I, unaware that the medical college grounds were surrounded by protestors. Before our teachers could evacuate us out of the class, protestors hurled stones at the lecture hall windows. A few of our classmates sustained minor injuries from stones and broken glass. In fear mode, we were rushed out of the class into the Library on the third floor, from where we watched the glass complex of the Medical College building being shattered by stones. Before the Police could arrive, the damage was done. The incident became the sensational news of the time. (Video clips of the incident prevailed in the media for years).The next day, hundreds of members representing the Pushpagiri family marched through Tiruvalla town with banners and slogans against the government. This included our whole batch, faculty, management, parents and other supporters of Pushpagiri Medical Society. Subsequently, a protection team, the ‘Samrakshana Samithi’ was formed, comprisTwo decades have passed, but our first day at Pushpagiri Medical College is still fresh in our memories. Led by our parents and relatives, we strolled through the campus grounds and amid buildings still under construction to complete the admission process. A few days later, we were officially enrolled in the MBBS course of Mahatma Gandhi University and welcomed by the Pushpagiri family as its prestigious, pioneer batch of future doctors. We met our batch-mates for the first time and friendships bloomed on the spot. We had already started fashioning vivid dreams for our future. Little did we know that in the following days, the atmosphere full of new dreams and hopes would change to that of despair and uncertainty! As one among the first self-financing colleges in the state, Pushpagiri Medical Society faced a great deal of opposition from the state government and student unions, owing to the allocation of seats in the different categories. Negotiations and meetings with the government ensued to resolve the issue. Unfortunately, we lost our first Principal, Dr. George Paul, who succumbed to a myocardial infarction he suffered, during one such meeting. In the midst of the ongoing conflict, our classes started in December, 2002, before our official strength was 100. Before the Police could arrive, the damage was done. The incident became the sensational news of the time. (Video clips of the incident prevailed in the media for years).The next day, hundreds of members representing the Pushpagiri family marched through Tiruvalla town with banners and slogans against the government.

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