Tag Archives: Philosophy

The Colour Of Blessings

The Colour Of Blessings

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

Carefully calculating the dose and mixing it with the intravenous fluid with precision, I told the kind old lady: “I am starting the medicine drip now. If you feel anything unpleasant, please tell me.”

Through her pain, she smiled in reply. Her son, my lecturer Dr. SK, stood beside us and reassured her too. He had to leave for the OPD, there already was a rush today. “Please take care of her and call me if you feel anything is wrong” he said and left.

Dr. SK’s mom was advised chemotherapy of a cancer. It was quite difficult to calculate its doses and prepare the right concentration for the intravenous drip. Just a month ago, my guide Dr. Pradeep (PY) Muley had taught me how to accurately prepare and administer it, so when Dr. SK’s mom was admitted, he requested me to do it for her too.

The drip started. After a few hours, I noticed that her urine bag needed emptying. The ‘mausi’ supposed to do it was already out for some work. Any resident doctor in India naturally replaces whoever is absent. So I wore gloves, requested a bucket from the nurse, and emptied the urobag into it. Just as I carried the bucket with urine towards the ward bathrooms, Dr. SK returned, and offered to carry it himself, but I told him it was okay and went on to keep the bucket near the bathroom where the ‘mausi’ would later clean it. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

Once the drip was over, Dr. SK invited me for a tea at a small stall outside the campus. He appeared disturbed. He said awkwardly: “Listen, please don’t misunderstand, but when I saw you carrying my mother’s urine in the bucket, I was amazed. You are a Brahmin, right? When you were away, my mom even scolded me why I allowed you to do it, she felt it was embarrassing, as we hail from the Bahujan community. I am myself a leader of our association, as you already know”.

I knew it, to be honest. His was a feared name in most circles.He was a kindly but aggressive leader of their community, but always ready to help anyone from any caste or religion, to stand by anyone oppressed, especially from the poor and discriminated backgrounds.

“I didn’t think of it Sir! She is a patient, besides that she’s your mother, and I am your student, it is my duty to do whatever is necessary. Otherwise too, my parents have always insisted that I never entertain any such differences”. I replied. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

“That’s okay, but I admit my prejudice about you has changed,” he said. “If you ever face any trouble, consider me your elder brother and let me know if I can do anything for you”. What an honest, courageous admission! Unless every Indian who thinks he / she is superior or different than any other Indian actually faces the hateful racist in the West who ill-treats them both as “browns or blacks”, they will never understand the pain of discrimination!

As fate would have it, in a few months, I had an argument with a professor about some posting. The professor then called me and said “So long as I am an examiner, don’t expect to pass your MD exams.”

I was quite worried. My parents were waiting for me to finish PG and finally start life near them, I already had a few months old son, and our financial status wasn’t robust. I could not afford to waste six months. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

I went to Dr. SK. He asked all details. Then he came with me to the threatening professor. He first asked me to apologise to the professor for having argued, which I did. Then he told the professor: “Rajas is my younger brother. Please don’t threaten him ever. Pass him if he deserves, fail him if he performs poor. But don’t fail him if he performs well. I will ask other examiners”.

The professor then told me that he had threatened me “in a fit of rage”, and it was all over.

With the grace of God, good teachers and hard work, I did pass my MD in first attempt. When I went to touch his feet, Dr. SK took me to his mom, who showered her loving blessings upon me once again, and gifted me a Hundred rupee note from her secret pouch. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

Like most other students, I’ve had friends from all social folds at all times in school and colleges. I had excellent relations with the leaders of Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Association, and twice in my life they have jumped in to help me in my fight against injustice when everyone else had refused. I love the most fierce weapon of all that Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar himself carried: the fountain pen!

No amount of fights will ever resolve any problems between any two communities, the only way forward is to respectfully walk together and find solutions. Fortunately, no doctor, even in India, thinks about any patient in the terms of their religion or caste. (© Dr Rajas Deshpande). Just like the Judge in the court premises, humanity is the single supreme authority in any medical premises. Blood or heart, brain or breathing are not exclusive to any religion or community. Just like the bigger brain, a bigger heart is also the sign of evolution.

I so much wish that the black clouds of disharmony between different communities are forever gone. The only hope is that our students can open any doors and break any walls, so long as they do not grow up into egoistic stiffs. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

I am proud to belong to the medical cult of those who never entertain any discrimination. A patient’s blessing has no coloured flags attached! Even outside my profession, I deeply believe that the very God I pray exists in every single human being I meet. If at all anyone asks me, I am happy to say that:

My religion, my caste and my duty as a doctor are all one: Humanity first!

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

Neurologist

Pune

Please Share Unedited

The Sweetest Pinnacle Of Life

The Sweetest Pinnacle Of Life© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

To many students who are lost in their search for the right aims and goals in life, who trusted me enough to ask that question, I have suggested that they imagine what they actually want in their life at its Pinnacle.

Success, riches, fame, awards and accolades, a legacy, achievements are all good to show and leave behind oneself. The truth is far more than that. Love and care, affection and respect in one’s evening of life is what everyone deserves, but few are fortunate to achieve. For what good is s life that spends its aged years in desolation, isolation, despair of an uncaring, loveless family one has sacrificed much to bring up well?

Hollow words of “show- love” and “pretend care” are commonly employed everywhere, especially among the rich, educated and culture-claiming pundits of humanity.

One experience I have is worth sharing: that the poorest of the poor, like the farmer in the wheelchair here, are cared for with far more genuine love and affection than many. This family collected alms and help to get him to India, and never asked for any concessions, free treatment etc., always saying they were willing to do anything for the happiness and health of this grandpa. His son standing by his side is an illiterate farmer, but is caring for his father . quoting proudly “He brought me up!”. There is no smell of “I am obliging my parent” in his behaviour.

I have met hundreds of Arabic Muslim patients who care for their parents, sons and daughters equally well, willing and with total faith in the treating doctor. It does not change with their financial status. They insist on the parents staying with them, ask questions about their food, exercise, medicines, happiness and comply strictly with the given instructions.

They naturally do not know the words “Culture, Rights, Medicolegal, Elderly care, Nursing Homes, Mercy Killing etc.”. Rarely have I seen them unemotionally “okay” with a bad diagnosis of a parent.

This old man, in my personal opinion, is one of the luckiest human beings upon earth!

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Thank you, Mr. Naser Ali, Mr. Abdul Hakim Mohd. Al Malahi, Mr. Majdi Jamil Aiselwi, Mr. Ahmed Anwar Aqlan!

Made In Heaven

jadhavs

If I ask him about HIS health complaints, he points at her and says “Ask her, I don’t know”.

Mr. Hanuman Jadhav brings his wife Mrs. Laxmibai Jadhav regularly for follow ups, keeps all her records filed date-wise, brings all the medicines and asks me to do the best for her, adding “Don’t worry about the expenses, we can buy for her any medicine you want”. He has no source of earning, but his children provide for them.

“She has looked after me, my home and grown up my kids. I am nothing without her” says this retired foreman of an electric company. He spent his life roaming all over Maharashtra with his family, wherever the govt. transferred him. His old wrist watch and simple clothes reveal his humble state of life’s affairs. He is minimally educated, does not know the words “Culture” or “Gentleman”, but is better cultured and more of a Gentleman than most who know those words!

He patiently listens without interrupting till she finishes all her questions. He does not behave as if he is her ‘Master’. Then at the end she asks (rather orders) me to examine him. If I ask him about his complaints, he points at her and says “Ask her, I don’t know”. Then she blushes and lists all his complaints, and he usually agrees. The only argument they have is about the other one “Not eating well enough”.

In the end she always says “My illness is not important. He must stay healthy at all costs. He has worked hard to keep us all well”. As they leave, she does not forget to remind me that I am like a son for them.

They do not ever complain about each other, not even as a joke with hidden shades of truth!

We rarely see this respect and equality for one’s own spouse, even among the best educated. These two have not read any literature, nor seen any movies about women’s lib. Since the last five years that I know them, they have been one outstanding example of genuine, heavenly love only dreamt by those in the ambition industry. Even the most educated and elite seldom treat their spouses as equal.

These two are still so shy, they urged that I stand between them for the pic!
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

A Policeman’s Tears

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“She was found unconscious and naked lying on the road. The baby was near her, moving when we found her, now she also looks unconscious” said the police constable. “Actually I had my civil dress in my jeep, I covered both with my clothes and got them here. Most likely an orphan roadside beggar”.

It was early morning, I had gone to the casualty for a call as a medicine resident, and was chatting with the CMO when this police constable had rushed in the mother and the baby, probably less than a year old. He and his colleague completed the formalities and left. The CMO was alone, so I stayed on to assist.

The lady had high grade fever and some bruises all over her body, only one on the thigh deep enough that it bled. She also had a contusion upon the head. Needless to say, unclean and unkempt, visibly quite weak and poorly fed body. There was a traditional tattoo on her forearm that said “Seeta” in distorted devnagari script. The baby was dehydrated and had fever too, with only minor contusions.

“Sending her to female ward, and the baby to paediatric” said the CMO. We completed the police information and Medicolegal form, the nurses had started the IV line for the lady. I accompanied the baby to the pediatric ward, handed her over to the resident doctor friend on duty and went to the female ward to attend the other admissions. Basic medicines for fever and head injury were started for Seeta. There was no CT scan facility in the hospital. Blood tests were sent.

In absence of relatives, it’s the interns, resident doctors and nurses who attend to the necessities of such patients. Administration mocks everyone sympathetic and compassionate to such patients, be it a government, private or corporate set up. My professor advised some more blood tests. Some tests were not available in the govt. hospital, we had to send them outside. As we had just received the stipend, money was not a big problem.

Next evening I went to the pediatric ward to find out what was happening with the baby.
“She has had convulsions”, the resident colleague told me. We have loaded her with anticonvulsants, but she still has fever. Dr. Jain madam (new lecturer in paediatrics) has advised lumbar puncture, but there’s the consent problem”.
I went to talk to the lecturer, she was all insulting. “Don’t teach me what to do. We will send a request to the dean, and if he allows, then the resident will do the lumbar puncture” she said, “By the way, what’s your interest in this baby? Why don’t you mind your own business? I have heard about you.. you are in the student’s union na? Don’t throw your weight around me.” She said.

The dean consented to our request, and a lumbar puncture was done. The baby had probable tuberculous meningoencephalitis (infection of the brain and its coverings). Antituberculous medicines were started.

The comments of the pediatric lecturer made me extremely angry. Most of her resident doctors hated her attitude too. Those remarks soon spread and various sick, exaggerated and vulgar jokes about me caring for that orphan baby made rounds among my colleagues. But one good thing about wanting to do good is the shameless pride and courage that comes ingrained with it.

My colleague Dr. Madhu stood by me. She often reminded me: “There are five percent good people in the world, and 95 percent bad, Einstein has said, but it is the five percent good who take the world forward, they represent human race”. That has always pumped me up against all the mockery that I ever faced for being “too sensitive and compassionate to be sane”.

The best support for the poor and helpless always comes from the poor and helpless. The pompous, actionless “blah blah” of advising others to be more kind and compassionate is usually the trademark of those who themselves rarely help anyone. The mamas and mausis (wardboys and helpers) of the ward came together to attend Seeta during their duty.

The pediatric resident told us on the third day that the baby’s health had gone bad, and she was unlikely to survive. Dr. Madhu stopped smiling. “At least can we shift the baby near her mom?” we discussed. It was of course not possible.

Dr. Oak (real name), one of our ophthalmology genius professors, learnt about this. He came over and told us in his royal tones, to tap him anytime for any help. He also left some money with us.

On the fourth day, the lady started having convulsions too. We ran around, trying to arrange whatever the professor suggested. She was gradually sinking. Tuberculosis neglected and untreated is one of the most cruel diseases. It takes over ten days for the action of Tb medicines to kick in.

On the fifth day, the baby passed away in the morning, and the lady shortly after. That coincidence was less tragic than their trolleys being rolled into the mortuary together.

“What happens now?” we asked the mortuary in charge.
“They will be cremated as orphan, unclaimed bodies after the post mortem” he told.

In a world of billions, ruled by religious, powerful and rich, a young mother and a baby girl would be cremated as orphans! We told the mortuary assistant to please keep us posted, and came out. Of course we could not sleep.

Next day we took special permission and went to attend their cremation.
On the way, we bought some flowers, a tiny dress for the girl and a saree for her mom, probably the first new clothes ever for either of them. Dr. Madhu had already brought a few bangles, a necklace and two bindis with her.

Dr. Madhu was sobbing as we returned. The rowdy looking policeman with us also wiped his eyes. He dropped us back to the medical college in his jeep.

He said in a heavy voice as we parted:
“Doctor, we see all the worst things in the society. We meet criminals day and night. But when such young girls and babies die, I feel like shooting everyone who didn’t come out to help them. People just talk, nobody helps. God bless you. You have what it takes to be a doctor. Don’t ever change.”

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

P.S.
Years later, I read about a divine human being from Chennai, one Mr. S Sreedhar, who collects unclaimed dead bodies from various hospitals, and performs decent and respectful last rites for them. Planning to meet and touch his feet one day.
Please share unedited.

When once I met God

When once I met God
(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Rainy Sunday. My Corolla, still young at 8 years.

I had just finished rounds and was still irritated at the never ending task list. From grocery to Income tax, there always is something pending, and what’s done is never enough. Countless patients with their endless problems, trusting you to solve them, and many suspicious that you have other intentions. Add the cut-throat professional competition where hitting below the belt is a smart move, and frame the picture with the duties towards each relation, closer the costlier. Driving through the city, you cross faceless somebodys flaunting ugly egos. Their middle name is money. Bribe hungry vampires wait at every corner, dressed in official greed. Nothing to be proud of, nowhere to go and nobody to look up to.

Life felt like a carcass with vultures on all sides, tearing me away.

Top gear, I entered the expressway and switched on my mental autopilot: the beautiful sound system that was prepared to play the huge collection of music: seventeen thousand tracks, pieces of history encoded in sound, human creation that separated us from animals.

The system burst alive with “Les Valses de Vienne” by Dmitri Shostakovich / Francois Feldman (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6mwqQvv99c ), and my brain lit up at the smiling face of my most favourite actress Sophie Marceau dancing gracefully to the waltz.
Irritability vanished, and a hopeful yearning for good days started whistling to the tune of this eternal piece of music. It hijacks my brain every single time. Born to a shop maid and a truck driver who divorced when she was nine years old, she made to the top in French films and a mark in Hollywood. She must have had her mountains of problems and valleys of a lustful society to overcome before she reached the top, but she indeed made happy memories for the world! It must be so damn difficult to smile and love and dance in front of a camera, knowing inside the reality called world. Then I felt it: that the beauty is your inside, what you can be, what you do good. Nothing outside will ever change, and the mirage of a utopian society will always kick between the legs of most idealists. But at the end of the day, what one will run to, what one will beg for, and what one will regret having lost is this: that all the time one had to do good and feel happy was wasted in feeling bad about what people are and what they do.

The music system, competing with the madness of its owner, shuffled to Simon and Garfunkel’s “El Condor Pasa”.. “A man gets tied up to the ground, He gives the world its saddest sound” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNbltoivskc ) . How tightly we hold on to the ground, never letting go! How religiously we guard the image we like to create of ourselves for others, and how much beauty of life we sacrifice to safeguard that image!

The rain decided to be nice for once, and became torrential. If at all it rains, it should rain like the final war, or it should not rain at all!

“Moonriver” by Henry Mancini started, as Audrey Hepburn sung in a most loving, melodiously romantic voice, what the heart had always craved: “There’s such a lot of world to see… we’re after the same Rainbow’s end” … so many artists have made timeless icons of lovely moments that soak our lives..

God knows how mute love would have been without music, and how dry without the rains!

The uncontrollable desire to get drenched, suppressed for long, took over me. No book said it was unbecoming of a doctor. I parked on the shoulder and got out. Happy raindrops jumped upon my being and got hold of everything I had.

Ironically, the happiest and the saddest moments in life are when you have nowhere to go and nothing to prove. If you hold a hand in the rain, you are the luckiest, richest in the world. If that hand holds your hand too, you have lived life.

Steaming hot poisonously sweet tea, made by a roadside stall, added to the flavour of that moment. Like a loving but stern mother slapping the bum of her naughty child, nature had shooed shut human movement, a reminder to the highest rule: enjoy happiness while alive. . Big and small, rich and poor, all looked at the sky, content with nothing, smiling at the rain, forgetting the desire to earn more in that moment!

Nostalgic, I recalled sitting by my father and watching water-lily buds broken open by raindrops. I remembered my stunningly beautiful friend with curly hair who kissed me on Marine Drive by the roaring sea under the stormy rain, standing on that parapet, forgetting that there were shocked people around. I remembered falling flat upon my back like a hundred idiots while running with my kids, telling them to be careful.

What is it that I am running after now, with so many beautiful things around me: the music, the rain, the friends, my kids, coffee, books, driving, writing… What more will I buy that will make these things more meaningful? Is it worth being unhappy, being irritable with the world, trying to change people, having more money than being able to enjoy peacefully?

Once in a recent radio programme (recorded) Mr. Ameen Sayani, that messiah of voice, played a rare clip of speech by Mr. Raj Kapoor “Sangeet nahin hota toh jaane hum kahan hote, kya karte, kaise jeete (If there were no music, God knows Where we would be, what we’d do or how we’d live)”.

I suddenly realized, that the music, the drive, the road and the rain had conspired to take away my worries. They had reset the method in my madness. The eternal ‘Flute’ so dearly mentioned in “Geetanjali” by Rabindranath Tagore had played in me.

The rain had stopped for now. The music never will.

Thus I met God in my own Happiness.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Delusion, Doc? Part-I

Delusion, Doc? Part-I
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
This post is primarily meant for doctors.

For one moment, stand naked and shed the language public likes. Be yourself as a “non-doctor” person. Right, the one under the shower.
Not enough time for self, peace, family, health, food, sleep, happiness, hobbies or even introspection. No stress free days. Continuous social and media criticism. Highest moral and ethical conduct expected under scrutiny, even the most criminal and immoral can deride you publicly.
Do you want this to be the schedule all the rest of your life?
Doc, are you living your life then?

The dream has materialised. Became doctor, served people, most patients happy, some unhappy. Some earned a lot, some didn’t. Some achieved personal / social goals. Some made mistakes, some suffered unfortunate violence. Some are beginning with new hopes and vigour, confused still confident of better futures.

Some fortunate and vocal got awards, fame, medals. Some fell for the hypocrisy of having to tell everyone how rewarding and pious their career was. Thousands of stories. Some genuine.

Some questions and material answers:
What is the ultimate aim of a doctor?
Serve as many patients as possible, earn money and fame, stay free of problems, and be respected for all this. Be the best in one’s field. If possible, achieve something great. (What?.. Oh! Haven’t had time to think about that yet.).

What was the last stress-free phase of life?
School. After that, only merit, hardwork, compromises and stress. Medical stress is worst, dealing with uncertainty of life itself. One may choose to accept, mature, ignore, meditate and come to terms with some situation, but never have “Peace” of mind in true sense. Absence of irritation is not peace of mind.

How is your family life?
Compromised. No peaceful, happy togetherness. A torn relationship especially if both are doctors. Worst if a surgeon. More irritability, more self neglect, less “love making” time, disturbed nights due to serious patients and other endless calls: a practice essential.

As a parent: Guilt, Shame and Tears. So much want to spend time with kids, watch them grow up. But mostly irritable and completely tired while with them. Sunday is the peak fatigue day for doctors, paralysed with the past week and outstation visits, or plans of the oncoming one. Kids find you happy and energetic only rarely. We catch up with their childhood years later in photo albums!

Personal life?

Food: not always in time, irregular, cold if home-cooked. Cannot afford / even plan healthy eating time wise.
Romance: What’s that? Oh Ok! Yes yes we imagine that
sometimes among the bleeding, crying, whining and violence.
Sleep: Shut Up! Just please SHUT UP!
Exercise: Only what the running around in and between hospitals, stairs.
Social: Hardly a weekend with friends. If hoteling or travelling, accused of being bribed by pharma. At any other social event, grabbed by opportunists who will discuss their health problems, especially bowel habits (during buffet) with you. Or ask you references of a cheap but very good doctor who will treat without investigations or surgery.
In a beautiful Santoor concert, my next-seater described her Tinnitus for a good 20 minutes, entirely spoiling my favourite Raag Shivaranjani!

Time for parents: Rare. Most doctors cannot even accompany / attend their own parents in illness properly.

If you are away from work, someone else is waiting to take your place. Patients cannot wait.

Work satisfaction:
Private practitioners: Moderate income, huge risk and stress, long work hours if charges are competitive. Surgeons earn better, but have higher stress. Physicians have to see more patients for decent income. Good work satisfaction.

Corporate/ Nursing Home practitioners: Moderate income. Most corporates using “divide and rule” policy to encourage competition for earning more. Most doctors have to continually increase revenue. If you are not making good profits for the hospital you work at, there’s someone else in line with better ideas.Hospitals must make profits. So most specialists must work at different hospitals for a decent income. Not everyone can afford to open hospital with all facilities. Low-Moderate satisfaction.

Govt. servants: I am yet to meet a genuinely happy govt. doctor. (Exceptions: those whose transfers / promotions or some other “special requests” are pending). Right from Resident Doctors to Professors, even Deans, are paid pittance, their only satisfaction being : atleast this is better than the earlier generations. Too many non-medical paperwork ‘dumped’ tasks by govt. Low-Moderate satisfaction.

There are some claims:
“I am happy because I don’t care what happens once I am out of my clinic”. Difficult if one is really involved in their patients.
“It is my choice to be in this much stress”. I wonder how happy their families are with this attitude.
Two classes say: “I enjoy serving the poor for free and am proud to be in this profession. I live for this”. Typically a MSS (Medal Seeker Syndrome). Will write separately soon about this.
Class ‘A’: Have it alls. Please explain your merc or beamer sir.
Class ‘B’: Dying for recognition, attention, praise etc. Explain your outcomes sir.

Are you happy with the perpetually unstable state of affairs that has become lifestyle for this profession now? Anyone can make any rules and you must follow them, all specialties must obey what semi literates and non specialists dictate.

The “High” of actually saving lives, curing diseases, easing suffering can never be understood by anyone else, but we too never understand the addiction part of it. We must work, or we are afraid people will die. There is no compensation for being a good doctor, you are at par always by law with anyone with a similar degree.

There are few seekers of perfection, of “doing the best for most”. They are villains in the public eye, for earning more, for being in a hurry, not explaining themselves to the system and general public. They do a lot but never get the deserved “social” accolades, which are typically reserved for the A class mediocre hypocrites.

All in all, the “Doctor”, under the delusion of respect and recognition, is subjecting him/her self to extreme stress, social and media criticism, health and legal risks, and most importantly, a life of a slave to their own delusion.

You income stops, your reputation dies the day you stop practice. Many retired Indian doctors of yesterday, who served the society without thinking of money and who are unfortunate to be alive today, live in a miserable poverty. None of the “Ethics and Morals” lecturing idiots ever cares what happens to them

Like times, we must change or die..

In Part II let us see some of the solutions.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

I have to walk my life alone. Always.

I have to walk my life alone. Always.

I can deceive myself and others by pretending to understand.. Hold hands and falsely reassure myself and someone else of things being shared, but then we both choose to close our eyes to the reality: that no pain ever can be shared. No happiness, no personal achievement, no mental evolution, even peace cannot be shared. We cannot divide anything that’s not physical, anything in mind/ heart is not often understood even by ourselves.
The only thing that can be shared is Love.
I can depend upon no one. I can use people, and they can use me for mutual gains. This is growth, but at the cost of either’s freedom to grow alone, and the speed of growth of the faster one among the two. Friends and family can help me in tasks I specify, but then again, I can’t depend upon anyone if I want things done when I want them done. No one is born for the purpose of helping me achieve.
The only person I can depend upon is myself.
I have to pursue my dreams. I have to stand up to my aims. I cannot expect anyone to push or pull me. No one can motivate anyone. Those who need to learn and move ahead do so by their own will power. Those who need help need it all their life. Those who blame others, circumstances, and situations are in fact declaring their own submission to these all. One may fall due to someone else’s fault, but getting up is always a personal choice.
I am the only guardian alive for my dreams.
There are no guarantees of any future. Nobody is expected to follow rules to suit you. Everyone will ultimately choose what suits them most and that too, materialistically. I am, and you too are selfish to the core, that being the human nature. Some of us learn to overcome this for love in different forms. This is a personal choice, not mandatory for others because you chose to be unselfish. No one dances to your tune, and you do not dance to anyone’s.

I can only choose what I do, not people.
Relationships between two where one is superior are fake to the core. That is slavery by definition. Be it between two humans or that between a human and an institute or society: respecting each other equally is the definition of a relationship, all else is financial / legal / professional contract. A relationship where both are not equally happy and satisfied (words may lie) from within is useless and redundant. It is amazing, the length to which we may deceive ourselves before realizing that the other was just using us, and our imagination of them was a mistake all along!
A relationship is only possible with true equality and mutual respect.
There is immense pain in loneliness, but there is cheap compromise in accepting a deceitful relationship. There is no meaning in a bond between two if there is no true love. Complete understanding and acceptance, no deceit, mutual respect of each other’s choices, and also a willing, caring attitude towards solving the differences are an essential part of any mixture of minds. We often deceive ourselves for the people we like, and realize over time that Nature / God / Prudence / Wisdom / Intuition had all warned us again and again about compromising for petty gains. If to avoid looking down upon ourselves in future, we need to be more careful in choosing who we trust. This is the brain put to one of its best uses.
Love is only blind, we should not make it deaf and dumb too.
Tc

Rajas Deshpande