A quasi-philosophical and quasi-semantic conversation

On a usual summer evening, my friend Sunny and I were sitting at a bar, quaffing a glass of beer.

The mundane working schedule of anaesthesiologists burns them out — more so if it is 24x7. An hour spent away from blaring monitors, claustrophobic confines, and vitamin D–deficient lights not only presses the refresh button for jaded bodies but also rejuvenates souls.

With every swig, the inertia of the vigilant mind dwindles and comes to rest before new thoughts embark on a new voyage.

Gradually, confabulation turns to the topic of the evening, which may vary from movies, cricket, politics, and religion to spirituality.

Today it turned quasi-philosophical and quasi-semantic.

"Why are you so furious? I was just 10 minutes late," resented Sunny.

"Ten minutes! It is 600 seconds that were wasted," I tried to explain the importance of time.
To end the confusion, he finally uttered, "Sorry."

"Okay. Accepted. ‘Sorry’ is the most powerful word in the Queen's language," I muttered as I waved to the waiter for refills.

"No. Sorry isn't. It may make a relationship powerful but makes a person weak," protested my friend, and I nodded in agreement.

"By the way, what is the most powerful word, then?" Sunny wondered, after ethanol replaced anaesthetic gases on his cerebral cortex.

His query pulled me out of the ethereal world of the Operation Theatre.

"Karma," I retorted.

"Although it empowers the victim, it renders the sinner meek," contested Sunny.

And we both dismissed that word.

With every sip, a series of options — from thank you, sorry, love, to lust — entered our grey matter.
Since every option was riddled with some kind of weakness, we let them go as we emptied our bladders.

While we were contemplating over this issue, the bell for the last order rang and the bartender asked us for our next refill. Although we were nowhere near a conclusion, we both declined, as our next day’s OT list was expected to start early in the morning.

Familiar with our Punjabi appetite, the bartender resisted our refusal and picked up our glasses for the next drink. In spite of the fact that our thirst hadn’t been quenched yet, we yelled in unison, “NO!!!”

“Yes,” we both blurted. “‘No’ is the most powerful word,” as we experienced a moment of enlightenment.

This two-letter word empowers you to draw boundaries — not only for others but also for yourself. If it is easy to say “yes” to virtues, it is difficult to say “no” to vices.

It was the end of one more exciting evening that rejuvenated us for the next few weeks.

“So, are we meeting this next week?” was the parting question by Sunny.
I reminded him of the auspicious days of Navratras the following week.

“It’s okay with beer — we won’t have non-vegetarian food,” he urged insouciantly.

I admonished him: “No means No!!!”