Time burnishes memory of cherished moments.    Devi was admitted to our hospital in the summer of 2011. I saw a young officer being wheeled in the operation theatre daily, for dressing of his foot. He would wish me, smiling diffidently. Perhaps he is embarrassed to be moved around the hospital in a wheelchair – I thought. The procedure did not demand anaesthesia and my presence was not required. I didn’t learn the cause of his malady for a few days. 2011 is etched in my memory as the year I went on Kailash-Mansarovar trek. Though the trek was only four-week’s long, I spent months in preparation. I had been smitten by the idea of this Himalayan journey for a few years. I had no experience of mountain trekking then. I was looking for seasoned trekkers who could advise me on preparation for the trek. I contacted our Adventure cell. ‘One of the best climbers of the Air Force is in your hospital. Take his advice.’ Thus, I learnt that Devi was an accomplished mountaineer. He had su

Cakes and Ale - W. Somerset Maugham Worldly Pleasures and the World of Letters I buy books faster than I read them. There is a large pile of unread books on my shelves, mutely awaiting their turn to be picked up. This hoard is increasing by the day. A nerve-wracking anxiety seizes me as I finish a book and am faced with the decision to begin another. I dare not waste my time – even a day – on a book that I'll later regret having chosen. Time is at a premium. Life has only that many moments to offer. Books I intend to read before I die seem infinite.  This dilemma tortured me incessantly in the past. Of late, I've reached a truce with my unquenchable lust. I now appreciate that I cannot win this race against time. It is important that I enjoy each moment spent with a book. It would matter little, how many books I have read, once I cease to be. I love seeing beautiful books neatly stacked on my racks and I continue to buy the ones that catch my fancy, without worrying when I

The Heart of the Matter Graham Greene (A Tale of the Matter of Heart)                                                                                         It was fortuitous, and also fortunate for me, that the first book of Graham Greene I read was The Heart of the Matter. I have had similar experience with two more artists: writer Somerset Maugham and classical singer Kishori Amonkar. The very first volume of their works I came across , spawned an ardour that has grown stronger in decades- Love at first encounter. With The Heart of the Matter a similar fondness was born for Greene’s books, perhaps seasoned in more reason.                                                                              Before reading Greene, I had not met in literature, attributes that are trademark of his books: immaculately terse prose, severely understated emotions, inner turmoil of ordinary man facing extraordinary tribulations, a realistic appraisal of human condition in its varied hues, t