Now Chandigarh is a joint that essentially survives because of the cumulative governance of the Punjab and Haryana State machinery. To that add the chaos of a Union Territory. And the extreme planning of Le Crow. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again that place is the epitome of how one can make a city so monotonously well planned it creates a serious antithesis in the head whether one wants to live there or not.
Rediscovered a Single Malt(Whiskey, you Philistines) there called Ardbeg. In a failing attempt to not sound the male equivalent of la-di-da, it’s a pale whiskey with an incredible peaty flavour, best probably diluted with an equal amount of water. For a bit, sitting on a friend’s terrace in a Chandigarh winter watching the stars and sipping on a glass of Ardbeg felt like some Persian poet thinking Agar firdaus bar rooye zaminast to haminast, to haminast, to haminast. Though with a few modifications in time place and person it could be another Persian poet content with a book of verse and a jug of wine but there was no one singing in the wilderness.
The Post Graduate Institute of Medical Education and Research, Chandigarh is one of those institutions set up like maybe the Missionaries of Charity and Tihar, by an act of Parliament. Thus it enjoys certain privileges, one of which is conducting it’s own entrance. A sop that thankfully Tihar doesn’t have. It would be the end of world when a jail started choosing it’s inmates. With guys getting rejected if they “passed their morality paper” or “turned out just too smart for here”.
The PGI (as it is fondly referred to by friend, foe, employee, auto-driver and patient) entrance is not just a test of knowledge. It’s one of endurance, patience and sheer nerve. The application process is by far the most complex. And one is never sure till the last moment that one is eligible. Then every once in a while you can pick up the hall ticket at the exam hall ten minutes before commencement. The exam itself is at 8 AM on a winter morning. In a freezing classroom on desks and chairs made for ten year olds. It thankfully lasts for only an hour and a half. After that all there is to do is wait in the midst of all that winter for the results. And for those of you who understand it, full AJM happened. For those of you who don’t it stands for akkan just miss and no I’m not explaining that further. So I wrote AIIMS over the weekend and I don’t know yet but it doesn't look too good.
Had a discussion with an uncle of mine over a bowl of mishtidoi and screw you if you don’t like my transliteration; about life, the universe, medicine, music and food. This is the food bit. So chaats, it turns out have been destroyed by the Punjabis and us Southies by the simple act of adding onions to them. So the Original Hing (Asafoetida) based Chaats got overshadowed by the Onion based Chaat like items (paav bhajji, for example) which apparently are favoured by teenage females of the human ilk. It might even be that the predilection that the aforementioned teenage females have for such items is related to hormones and their swinging. Teenage males may also be found flocking to the centres that sell such onion based chaat like items resulting in the illusion that such tastes are not gender specific. However, one must realize that such selective migration of males could primarily be due to the presence of teenage females in those areas in the first place.
And we win a hundred points for sheer joblessness.
AIIMS results tomorrow.
For more interesting images of up north wait a bit… on a dial up and can’t upload.
