A little operation

As far as my blog is concerned, I’ve been keeping a low profile for a few days. It has something to do with my internal energy that has evaporated through the pores created by self-nurtured tergiversations. Not to mention the little finger of my left hand that developed an abscess without an apparent reason. There had been a harmless itching at the tip of it and I had been absentmindedly rubbing it against my payjama. Then all of a sudden it developed this strange sort of puss. Then, again all of a sudden one morning I woke up with a swollen little finger. The surface of the finger was dotted with medium-size balloons and the lower portion had grown as fat as my thumb. I panicked because I didn’t know any reason. So I went to the hospital; the good surgeon made incisions here and there with quite a liberal hand and squeezed out all the puss he could. Of course before going on a rampage with his knife he injected a few drops of local anaesthesia, which was quite a bloody affair, and on top of that, I doubt if the anaesthesia ever worked that day.

I squirmed with pain as he cut small pieces of my skin. He had told me there won’t be much pain, but I had no idea how much pain for him was “much pain”. Anyway, I swallowed my pride and gave out a repressed scream. He apologized and promptly inserted the needle of the anaesthesia injection exactly where he had just made a cut and orchestrated the unbearable pain with his instruments of torture. I wondered why he was so resentful of me having that puss in my finger.

After having a go at the tip of my finger for good 20 minutes, he gave out a satisfied sigh and declared that he would put a bandage on it. My finger no longer remained my finger — it looked like the finger of someone who had put his finger into an exploding landmine. Nothing to worry about, he threw a cursory glance at my ravaged finger and said, it’ll be alright in a few days. I had no choice but to trust him. When my driver saw the heavily bandaged finger he thought half of it had been chopped off. The finger is OK now and I can type without any trouble.

Back to the ambiguities that have been playing free-style wrestling inside my head. I’m not going to write about them because they are, sort of, private, but I’m sorting them out, and I think things are back to normal. Even ambiguities are great learning lessons because they help you clear out the intellectual cobwebs that spiders of daily routine surreptitiously keep weaving. They are dangerous too, for they can lead you to a path of total isolation and self-destruction. The trick lies in weeding out the right from the wrong and there is a very thin line that separates the right from the wrong, especially when you evaluate right and wrong ideologically and not according to what other people opine about them. Putting your priorities into right perspective helps here. Once you know what your priorities in life are, the cobwebs are cleared, the ambiguities disappear, and you end up realizing how much you value those priorities, whether they are the people around you, your work, or the dreams you want to pursue.