Winters & warm hearts

Winters. 

I am invariably transported to the years spent in hills, in the snugly lap of majestic Dhauladhar range of Himalayas. 

Mountains all silvery white, a divine glow in sunlight. 

Just mesmerizing . 

One is amazed at the beauty of nature and its grace. A treat for the eyes and soul. 

I remember the snow flakes falling from the sky and my car was covered with them and tiny flakes falling on me felt like tiny  cotton fragments. 

And how we had to walk carefully to avoid slipping on the road covered in icy sheet . 

The plants, trees and everything outside was covered in snow. 

Just beautiful ! 

In the hospital, we had electric heaters placed near our feet under the table. 

And the peon at the door of the OPD chamber had the "sigdi/angithi " (an iron 

structure shaped like a square pot balanced on four short legs. Coals used to burn in it) 

Time after time we used to heat our numb hands also by placing them near the heater. 

Every one used to be loaded with woolens.

But what surprised me was the "tolerance" of Lamas (Tibetan monks) towards the cold. 

Being in the city which was seat of Tibetan Government in Exile and His Holiness The Dalai Lama, it was a mixture of Tibetan and local pahari culture, mixed with foreigners. My every morning opd started with seeing Lamas and other Tibetan patients. Since language was the issue because majority of them didn't know how to explain in Hindi or English and I didn't know ABC of their own language, they always brought interpreter with them. Some times a single interpreter had   the heavy responsibility of showing so many different patients in different departments and there used to be frantic search for the interpreter when she /he was not available and patient was sitting right in front of me  :) 

That time the gestures came handy and of course my own clinical experience and knowledge. Both the parties (Doctor and Patients) used to smile at the absurdity of the situation  :) 

Many times patient came back having found the interpreter somewhere in the hospital and asked for the prescription to be repeated orally for better understanding. 

Lamas were definitely NOT loaded with woolens like us. Their sleeveless maroon robes were the standard garment. Sometimes they would just take a warm shawl over the robe. And woolen leggings sometimes. 

I found the older generation of Lamas more disciplined religiously and more tolerant towards the hardships of life and weather. 

A feeling of respect automatically exuded towards them. 

We also had females (Nuns). They were full of life with their tonsured hair and maroon robes and chirping in their language. I just loved to see them. 

I never saw a Lama with a sad look. They were always smiling no matter how unwell they were. 

Celebrating life?