you have to live it to know it

Budha kaka fudina compound or fudina ark. The magic medicine that is essentially the essence of mint. A green coloured liquid with the heady taste of mint mixed with alcohol; it makes for a multipurpose medicine. It was introduced to us by my maternal granny. A few drops mixed with water were the simple solution for almost anything from cuts to stomach disorder.
I was a pretty weak kid with a fragile constitution. I would get the loosies or would vomit quite frequently. This was especially the case when we shifted to Mumbai from Dubai while I was in the fourth standard. It was always a part of the standard medical kit that my family carried on our vacations. I must in total, over my life guzzled litres of the medicine. A retching followed by the cool effect of the medicine. So far it has proved an able ally for our family over the years. Don’t bother searching for it on Google. This really invisible medicine guy is nowhere to be found on the internet. I find that really funny, for a medicine that had saved me from many a hardship.
There are two types of people, one that vomit without too much fuss, and the other that gets a violent shake while attempt to throw out what the body finds unwanted. Sadly I belong to the latter. My vomits have been a complete body shaking affair. My stomach cramps up and recoils in the act. I am thrown back and in case of a particularly bad case, I even fall down by the recoil. This happens in a bad attack of malaria, or a stomach disorder or even on a winding hill road. It’s crazy and one has to live it to understand it. I have had the misfortune of being on the wrong side on frequency and intensity. Quite a bad one.
As a child most of the time while I puked, my parents would constantly pat me on the back trying to ease the process. My legs would bang up and down and my body would move violently and my stomach would hurt as hell. They tried their best to comfort me. Come adulthood and I had to deal with this myself. This violent struggle would be my test of growing up. Would I be able to do it alone? Whenever Jasmine would be around, she would try to hang around, but blessed as she was with a decent constitution and a simple retch, I don’t think she ever understood what I went through. She’d be lost and wonder what was happening to me. The standard pat on the back would follow.
The other day I was in Delhi for an event and in the evening, at the airport, making my way back I had a bad case of food poisoning. Luckily the toilets have improved in the new terminals across India and while the feeling may not be great, at least you have clean toilets and tissue and water and soap. Luckily I had a colleague travelling with me as well, as nothing stayed in my tummy. Not even the water I had before takeoff. Vomiting in an air sickness bag, while being strapped to your seat, during takeoff was up there with my top ten worst situations to be in. The poor collegue next to me could help much except, yup, you guessed it right, pat on the back; while I shoved my head into the bag. I can vouch for the quality of the bags now for sure. Not a single leak. I got off at Mumbai to run to the loo and was sitting on the floor after the act.
Jispa has been pretty ok with her constitution as well. She hasn’t had the chance to retch too much. She doesn’t seem to get motion sickness and she by and large seems to have her mother’s health as of now. Yesterday night she woke us up at 3.45 am, urgently saying that she wanted to vomit. As she went to the loo, I woke up as well. I heard her and it did not sound too good. She was sounding similar to me. A bad cramp and a violent noise. I knew instantly what to do. So while she was sitting, I first got her water (that is the first essential), then I sat behind her and held her tight. One hand over her right shoulder and the other from under her left shoulder in a compact hold. When I throw up I have always found it difficult to focus my energies on staying up straight and not falling out. Typically all strength goes away from the hand and legs in an effort to control the stomach. This way I could firmly hold her steady while she throws up and comfort the stomach and back as well. and then give my head over the shoulder for her to lean her head against mine and relax her head as well. I knew exactly what she needed there.
Deed done, a dose of Budha kaka fudina ark and a glass of water and off you go to sleep. Oh I have been there many times. Enough to know what’s the feeling like. I asked Jispa if she liked how I held her. Yup. It was good, came the reply. Of course. Thats what fathers are meant for. We go though this shit many times in the hope that at the least, we can empathise when our kids go through it, try and blunt it and at best try and avoid a repeat. As I learnt from my childhood, puking is a good thing, body throws out the waste and it’s still better than most other diseases. There is little you can do except hold your muscles and bear it. Also going by my experience, this violence will last even into adulthood. I might not be there with her always but I hope if Jispa’s partner ever reads this post... something can learnt and used.
Last update – the medicine seemed to have held. Jispa is recovering. It might be a one off case.

grow up

I don’t what it is like now but small boys in my time had pretty simple ambitions when they grew up. Some wanted to be fire engine drivers or train engine drivers and then they quickly grew up to want to be doctors, engineers, army men and the lot. Standard professions to want to be in. not to much to write home about. I was always a patriotic buff and wanted to be in the army. That was it for me. It lasted till I was 21 for me. I had even joined the NCC in college. The national cadet corps was the perfect stepping stone for my desired career. Though I was always the thin sickly kid in college and I never knew how someone like me would ever pass the tough admission tests. I guess that lasted till I got my MBA admissions and Jasmine’s desire. While I think she still does not like to believe it was her but I remember clearly the moment when I decided to go for the MBA. I guess it was better in the end. I might be too much of a non conformist to succeed in the armed forces. I might have been kicked right out. Or possibly never selected. You never know. My NCC was in the Air Force wing so I might have been flying one of these flying coffins as well. So I guess my immature patriotism probably never managed to convert itself into a profession.
This vacation I had a chance to remember my dream job. The taxis in the mountains were always a sure fire way to puke. In fact any vehicle in the mountains would result in puking bouts. As a kid I was always plagued by morning sickness. In the vacations we would drive in the morning only to find me puking my breakfast. As I grew older I managed to only puke on curving roads. And this was anytime during the day, not restricted to mornings. It was a gut wrenching experience. You first puke your food and the next time you still puke but as since there is nothing left in the stomach you puke air. It is a bad thing. I used to be miserable and I remember my dad telling me that there is no hope for you as an armed forces career if you can handle this. I was so pissed at him for this. That was no way to treat my dream. That was insensitive.
The last vacation, last year, in the mountains we had taken a vacation wherein we travelled by road but this around we had hired small cars like the wagon R, Alto and the van. Sitting in front in these petrol run cars with a low clearance seemed to have a positive effect. I managed without a single throw up. That was a revelation. I finally figured what happens. I need a small car (less movement) with a low ground clearance and it must be petrol. The diesel fumes also create huge issues as subsequent travels in a jeep result in near vomit situations. The issue is also that in the mountains the un burnt diesel from your car or even from a car travelling in front of you is enough to give me the reaction. This time in a much smarter move we took a smaller car (Indica) though it being diesel run, we opted for the air conditioned version. That substantially cut the heat, noise, dust and diesel fumes and it resulted in a puke free trip. I couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t a simple thing like curvy roads that get my goose. It a complex combination of many factors. I could have made it in the Armed forces after all. Hehe.
But on inane ambitions like fire engine drivers; I saw this man outside my office window the other day. I guess this is a profession that I might find interesting. I have always found the guys who wash windows interesting. The fun of getting squeaky clean windows added to the thrill of getting to hang from the ledge and cleaning windows from the outside makes for a lovely profession. I am pretty enamoured by it.