she taught me:

to touch the bottle mouth to the glass and save the last drop from rolling down the side
to use the back end of a teaspoon to scoop out congealed ketchup
to snip off just the right length of Sellotape when wrapping presents
to not let the last few drops fall on the floor when I use the boys' room
to write 'O's anticlockwise
to repair torn trouser seats and dangly buttons on my own
to swallow pills of all shapes and sizes with impunity (I was a very sickly child)
to pay attention to detail whether I am dusting furniture or suturing wounds
to admit defeat with grace and not be a sore loser
to not be happy with mediocrity
to never look at the person behind me in skills or achievements
to distinguish intellectual stagnation from personal satisfaction
to do the best with what I have
to always find ways of improving what I do
to aim for the stars without fear
to put family before all else

all I can add to her list is:
to be as good a son as I can ever hope to be

that good night

Quarter past six - still at work seeing the last of the ward referrals.

Old man with falls, the form says - cardiology opinion to see if a pacemaker would help.

I don't feel so well, I think I am coming down with a flu (again). 'Let's make this quick' - I say to myself. She has already texted me twice about picking me up from work and I just want to go home and curl up in front of the TV, ignoring my MD thesis yet again.

I get to the ward and leaf through the notes.

Familiar story - frail and old, fell down, wife could not get him back on his feet, brought to hospital, now bed bound. His heartbeat was slow (but not too slow) and maybe a pacemaker would help.

Hmmm..., I am not convinced. So after a quick glance at the drug chart to confirm that we are not feeding him anything to weigh his old heart down, I walk (swagger) upto the patient.

He looks tiny in the big white bed. He seems forgettable in the ubiqitous hospital greens (Why can't people have their own clothes in hospital? They would certainly look healthier without those sickly greens).

He looks up from his shapeless, nameless hospital meal and I see the tell tale glint of lens replacement in his eyes. 'Hello', I say, as I give this man (who is at least three times my age) a paternistic (patronising) pat on his knee, 'I am one of the heart doctors and I am here to see what I can do to help you'.

He throws an angry glance in my direction. 'Well you can start by coming back after I finish my meal. And I don't like to be rushed either. I hate it when people just start talking AT a blind man without warning'

I look down at the form - yes it is there in print - 'registered blind'. Two months into my specialty training, am I already turning into an 'organ doctor' without concern for the rest of the patient?

'I am sorry to startle you, Sir. I'll come back when you're done' I say and withdraw from the bay.

I give her a call in the stairwell (mobile safe area) to say that it may take a bit longer than I thought. Then I go to the next ward to check on another patient (but end up checking my emails instead).

I am back in about 15 minutes. I sneak a guilty look into his bay to see if he has finished his meal - and I am only slightly ashamed of the relief I feel when I realise that he is not aware of my presence.

I go up to him to find out what's wrong:

- He is registered blind

- He looks after his wife - who is older than him (and he is 91!)

- He fought for his country at the age of 21 (he didn't think he would make it out of France alive)

- He is fiercely independent

- He does not suffer fools

- He does not like to be patronised

- He expects decency but does not demand it

- He is an extraordinary man in ordinary skin

'Now I may not be an educated man, but surely 91 years of life must count for something' he says.

I do what I can for him - which is not much at all.

As I walk up to the car (she is tapping the steering wheel - not a good sign), wondering about my own old age (how old? will she be there? please God let her be there), Dylan Thomas whispers to me in a blind man's voice:

'Do not go gently into that good night'

fighting by default?

I found this on a website in an introspective moment:

'Krishna said,"Do you duty, Arjun, as your nature dictates. All work fetters, as all fire gives smoke. Only selfless duty saves. Fix your mind on me. Surrender all deeds to me. All problems will be solved by my grace. Pride will lead only to your moral ruin. If, filled with pride, you say, 'I will not fight,' it is all in vain. You are foolish. Fight you will, your nature will make you fight. Your karma will make you fight. You will fight in spite of yourself." '

'Do your duty' - not 'do your work' - because 'work fetters' (of course). It should be selfless duty - hmmm, I wonder if I am capable of that. By default, my approach seems to be one of ensuring personal gain, playing with my own 'empire building starter kit' - the only thing that varies is the extent to which I fabricate excuses to pretend it is not.

'Fix your mind on me' - I know this is beyond me most of the time, there are so many distractions, so many temptations and what's more, God is not cool these days anyway... mainly because God is inextricably linked to religion, which is not doing a great PR job at present. He/She/It/They would be better off without men of learning tending the flock in their name. If only God was like the internet - ethereal, yet full of answers and no one gives a toss whether you use AOL or Yahoo, whether you have a wheezy old desktop or a snazzy new laptop. If only spiritual access was truly equitable.

'Surrender all deeds to me' - almost impossible if I cannot fix my mind in the first place. Moreover, it is a potential escape hatch for all sorts of weirdos to exonerate themselves from their crimes - easy enough to say it's all in God's name. As if we are all spoilt brats with a Big Daddy to bail us out when we run into trouble.

'All problems will be solved by my grace' - to what extent do I truly believe in this, and why? Do I believe because I will be happy? Do I believe so that God will be happy? Do I believe this on a superficial level so that God will think I believe? But then surely God will know if my belief is superficial anyway, so why bother? Or is it the spiritual equivalent of burying my head in the sand?
To each his own (placebo), I guess

'Pride will lead only to your moral ruin' - tell me about it! This is the one bit that I believe in wholeheartedly, for I see how my pride degrades me everyday, even as I type these words hoping that someone will read them and find them profound and intelligently crafted.

'You are foolish' - yep, so they tell me, that was not very tough to figure out, was it?

'Fight you will
your nature will make you fight
your karma will make you fight
you will fight inspite of yourself'

So, do I have a latent memory to fight when the time comes? A Bourne Identity of the soul, maybe? Or is it the cliched old survival instinct that we are expected to have buried in us? A primeval evolutionary trait to swim against the current? Or is it no more than the chest-thumping of a silverback, the graveyard whistling of troubled minds? If only I could fight inspite of myself - but I know I never will.

I love me too much for that

I wrote this at the lowest of my lows, and yet...
and yet...
I found it in me to have faith and fight the hardest when it truly mattered and the chips were down
maybe there IS something in the Gita after all!

Us

I wrote this about six years ago - almost to the day, in fact.
Stumbled up on this today while cleaning out my e-cupboaard
it seems so ruthlessly insightful
anyway, here goes
a blast from the past ...

''I am getting to be a real butt aperture, with a generous amount of MCP (male chauvinistic porkiness) added on top. Anything that goes against my wish and against my “Greater Scheme Of Things” upsets me terribly and then I am so irritated and generally crappy that selfishness oozes out embarrassingly from every pore.
Today her hospital informed her that they do not have accommodation for her for Aug. 2002 – Feb. 2003. This is less than 1 month before the next job, today being the 8th of July, with her job starting on the 7th of Aug. When she told me about it, she sounded so lonely and scared that it broke my heart. She said she was in the library searching the net for some sort of accommodation (that was pretty serious, she avoids the library like the plague).
I did the most sensible thing I could do – I panicked. I was in a raging fit. I imagined myself throttling the office staff in her hospital, contacting the BMA and making a case out of it, writing letters in triplicate with carbon copies and blind carbon copies to everyone concerned.
About half an hour later, I was in the middle of such a letter when I called her again and she told me that SHE HAD NOT INFORMED THE OFFICE STAFF UNTIL ABOUT ONE MONTH AGO (remember that the job was confirmed in March which means she never enquired about accommodation till 3 months later!)

Let’s stop here.

Think about the facts.

Why did I feel so angry?? Because I love her??

Oh, yeah! Heard that one before.

The honest answer remains, I did what I did because it was a spanner in the works, against my GSOT (Greater Scheme Of Things) and I can't allow it, can I?

I mean, to work up an anger, to shout at her for not enquiring about her accommodation (by the way, I still feel it was justifiable), it just shows my obsession with GSOT above everything else. It embarrasses me, at the same time, I can’t let go (like the mother of a serial killer/rapist/psychopath – she knows her son is wrong, but he’s still her son), it’s an obsession I don’t want to correct.
She says I am looking for headaches when I don’t have any. She is right, I should let her sort her problems out, me saying all this undermines her confidence and makes her feel that she can never be independent, but at the same time, a small voice in my head says “well, she is just too irresponsible right now, you have to sort her out, or she will go against your GSOT”

Its tough fighting against yourself, as I now discover.

I think about it more and more. In my universe of uncertainties, she is the Reference Point, the imaginary axis around which my world revolves, the pole star that defines the pole, the 0 that gets me started, my launch pad, my home base, my soul keep. But, when I've been out fighting the dragons, only to come back and discover that my castle is not where it used to be (especially if the aforesaid dragons are hot on my tail!) I feel, well, to say the least, kinda stupid.

No, I don’t feel betrayed; I know better, she never ever betrays me, it’s beyond her. It’s more of a nuisance, like the runs of ill-sustained VT on the cardiac monitor, like discovering that your gun has jammed just after you challenged the psycho in the corner to a duel.

An irritation, like nettle rash.

I call her again and tell her so.

She didn’t eat me alive (only vegetarian on Mondays)

Hmmm…I wonder why she muttered: 'Olanzapine by syringe driver'

Very strange.''

what does it take - the short version

it takes 5 years and 93,000 miles

what does it take ...

to be where you want to be?
to do what you want to do?
to love who you want to love?
to live how you want to live?

it takes a decision
with a pinch of denial
and a hint of a daydream

it takes the love of friends
and the tears of loved ones

it takes desire wrapped
in love and sealed with
a drop of
molten passion
- for what you believe in
- for when and where
--you want to be

it takes the journey of
a lifetime shedding excess
baggage on the way -
- looming black boxes
of pride and anger
and arrogance lie
by the wayside
like rusty old cars

it takes the fall of
frustration and the
rise of confidence

it takes the sweetening
of bitterness with a
sprinkle of hope

it takes
the absolute certainty that ...
this is the work you really want
and the love you really crave
and the place you really like
and the life you really choose

it takes the humility to
remember your mistakes

and the gratitude to
acknowledge your friends

and the love to
try your best

and the strength (oft borrowed!) to
see things through

and the (pigheaded) stubbornness
to keep your head low
and your eyes straight
and just swing away
with all your might-
-till you feel your arm ripping out
to keep swinging
and not stop to hear that
resounding CRACK
as you finally connect and
the ball goes sailing
to remind yourself
(yet again!) -
-to swing away
with all your heart
and enjoy the pain
in your torn shoulder

... for the game
has just begun ...

finally, alone in the dark,
as you lie down
and lick your wounds
and nurse your arm

you realise
(every day
every night)

that it takes
more than anything else

the good fortune

to be

a friend
to the best friends
a man could have

and a son
to the best parents in
the whole wide world

Ray of Brilliance

Ray Bradbury seems to be a writer whose brilliance shines through quite unpredictably - like an unannounced flash of lightning which burns a likeness of his nocturnal mindscape into the reader's brain, leaving a lingering after-image which is not altogether unpleasant.

Well, judge for yourself, this is from Frost and Fire - a short story about a human(oid) race living on an unfriendly planet where 'normal' lifespan is reduced to 8 days - with an accelerated aging process which plants a paralysing fear of mortality in everyone from the moment they are born - knowing that their days are numbered irrevocably.

'Birth was as quick as a knife
Childhood was over in a flash
Adolescence was a sheet of lightning
Manhood was a dream
Maturity a myth
Old age an inescapably quick reality
Death a swift certainty'

Why then, I wonder, does this description of an 8-day lifespan feel so much like my own, at least as far as I have lived and what I expect from the rest?

As I read the struggle of that far away race to gain an extra day of life and to find answers for a 'normal' life span, I felt suffocated by my guilt - for wasting the time I have.

Now that is the sign of a great writer, when his words from a different time zone, frozen on paper, makes me feel a certain frantic desperation for all the things I have not yet done ...

Peptic verse 2 (hope nix)

so what happens then?

a new job
a new car

goodbye old life

the only thing certain is uncertainty

Peptic Verse (a rag man)

As I drive up the motorway to work this weekend while
my friends - who I dearly love and yet rarely meet - are
scattered amongst the bedsheets like random
dream wisps, I think of the road I have travelled
in this foreign land miles away from the warmth of home

At 24, I came here chomping at the bit,
eager to prove my worth,
let the whole world know:

I HAVE ARRIVED

(thank you all for waiting)

Aound me was a glowing sphere of youth and opportunity
anchored on ME by invisible cables, drawing upon
my sheer brilliance at it's centre for it's existence

I never veered from the fast lane
I dipped my lights for no one

At 26, I was sure of what I knew and I was sure
of what they knew, I was sure that what I knew
was more than what they knew and I was sure
that they knew they needed to know what I knew

My right foot stayed firmly on the pedal
I stopped not for amber

At 28, I saw chinks in my armour,
pointed out by others and at times by myself,
during the endless nights of insecurity when
I probed and prodded for weaknesses

The cars around me sped past while
my gaze fell frequently upon the fuel gauge

At 30 denial helped, although I had to change (reluctantly)
my drop down menu selections for the first time

My faithful ride looked weatherworn
(tiredness is infectious)

And yet maybe
just maybe...

all it needs is a new angle

a fresh

perspective

(peptic verse for some)

British values

There is a lot about in the UK press these days about the importance of British values and how all immigrants should adopt these values (the list includes a sense of fairplay, justice, dignity and respect).

I have sometimes wondered whether the British are 'hijacking' what are essentially universal human values and calling them 'British' (in fact I still believe there is an element of this involved).

However, something happened recently that made me think: 'Now that's what I call British values because this will not happen in many other countries', i.e., in the fairplay shown by the powers that be, there was something uniquely British.

The background to this is that the Department of Health (DoH) brought in a set of measures to curb the employment opportunities of non EU doctors in the UK National Health Service (NHS) two years ago. This move was challenged by the British Association of Physicians of Indian Origin (BAPIO) in the High Court where they lost. Following this, BAPIO took the case to the Appeals Court, where in a landmark decision, three senior judges found in favour of non-EU doctors.

Not satisfied with this outcome, the Government took the case further, to the House of Lords, the only avenue for judicial review above the Appeals Court in the UK.

The following is taken from the House Of Lords hearing on this issue (on the 30th of April 2008):

''With effect from 1 April 2003 the Immigration Rules were amended to expand a programme introduced in January 2002 and known as the Highly Skilled Migrant Programme (HSMP). The object of the amendment was to facilitate the entry into the country of highly-skilled non-nationals who would be an asset to our economy. …. the HSMP applied to all skilled occupations and was not confined to the medical profession, although the selection criteria were such that most International Medical Graduates (IMGs) would meet them.

(The Department of Health had) concerns that the Highly Skilled Migrant Programme (HSMP) might prove an alternative route for International Medical Graduates to obtain appointments as junior doctors. So the Department proposed that the HSMP be restricted…, so as to exclude IMGs at postgraduate training level from the HSMP. An amendment of the Immigration Rules to this effect could not, however, be agreed with the Home Office, with whom the responsibility lay for amending the Rules. So the Department (of Health) decided to take action on its own. It did so by issuing, on 13 April 2006, the guidance attacked in these proceedings.

To speak of the guidance being “issued” is to suggest a degree of official formality which was notably lacking. It appears that the guidance was published on the NHS Employers’ website in terms approved by the Department, but no official draft, record or statement of the guidance has been placed before the House, which has instead been referred to an e-mail beginning “Dear All” sent by an official of the Immigration and Nationality Directorate of the Home Office in response to confusion caused by some earlier communication. It is for others to judge whether this is a satisfactory way of publishing important governmental decisions with a direct effect on people’s lives.

Until April 2006 the Government had encouraged IMGs with HSMP status to come to this country in the expectation that they would get work in the National Health Service. The aim was that these skilled migrants would help staff the Health Service. In fact, for some years, it must have been clear to the Government that, due to a change which it had itself initiated soon after taking office, from about 2005 there would be an increased supply of home-grown medical graduates. In order to try to provide jobs in the National Health Service for these home-grown doctors, in April 2006 the Government issued advice to NHS trusts in England. (Similar advice was issued for Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.) The advice was intended to free up places by making it impossible in practice for IMGs with HSMP status, including those already in this country, to obtain appropriate NHS posts. In my view, that was unfair to the IMGs with HSMP status in this country because the Government thereby dashed the legitimate expectations which it had fostered and on which they had acted. The advice was accordingly unlawful.

Obviously, the Government could have achieved its objective if it had amended the Immigration Rules. For various reasons, it chose not to do so. But, if it had chosen to try to amend the Rules, it would have required to pay the political price of subjecting the proposed change, and its highly damaging effects on the IMGs with HSMP status in this country, to the scrutiny of Parliament.

I would dismiss this appeal (by the Department of Health) with costs.''

So you see, there is a certain 'British sense of fairplay'

On a larger scale

this confirms what my father always says:

'If Truth is on your side ...

you have nothing to worry,

because sooner or later

it will out'

There is still hope -

thanks to

the House of Lords (in this instance)

and my father (always)

Where do jokes come from?

According to MultiVac (Asimov's brainchild) jokes are part of an elaborate alien experiment and all humans are lab rats. Apparently this is why we cannot remember where jokes come from and we are unable to make our own.

But I have tried:

Q: what did Arial whisper to Times New Roman?
A: I am font of you

But then MultiVac also says puns are all that we are capable of and they don't count

Hmmmmmm.......

Thank you Mr Eliot

I said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope
for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
wait without love
for love would be love for the wrong thing;
there is yet faith
but faith and love and hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought:
so darkness shall be the light
and the stillness the dancing.

Heard this on Radio 4 the other day.
The words resonate
with a special meaning
in my current state of mind:

wait without thought
for you are not ready for thought

Very likely that I am frantically
carving out a mental escape hatch,
a slick denial chute perhaps

but I don't care
the words are soothing
like my mother's hand
on my feverish brow
(a lifetime[?] ago):

wait without thought
for you are not ready for thought

what's my age again?

As I squeeze a little multicoloured
cylinder of toothpaste on to my
sleepy brush yet again I wonder
why I bother with days and
years and birthdays when
it would be simpler to just measure
my age in toothpaste - after all
I use the same amount each day
and replace the tube religiously
without fail - I am my own
timekeeper - my mathematically
inclined neurons (a minority) whisper
my age - one hundred and ten
tubes of toothpaste - accurate
- down to the last squeeze

ever wondered ...

whether Gabriel García Márquez would have been as reknowned an author had he chosen to call his best seller 'Love in the time of profuse watery diarrhoea'?
Somehow does not have the same ring to it, I think
Makes me want to slap people who spout philosophical nonsense like 'what's in a name?'

raindrops on...

depends, really

I remember those never ending monsoon rains
not anything like the half-hearted attempts
people call rain in this part of the world-
-no more than a spoilt child's sniffles

monsoon rain overwhelms you
drowns your thoughts
reminds you of the sheer
recklessness of nature
at its arrogant best

as the wind rattles the exquisitely
carved solid teakwood
windows of huge art deco houses

thunder (g)rumbles like an old
man - arthritic and always complaining
about the weather
about being dragged out into
the cold wet sky
but nonetheless dazzles
with his unpredictable flashes of brilliance

little rivulets rush down the road
like a bunch of chattering boys
when school is out
they push and shove and
run up the embankments
carefully crafted to keep
low lying houses dry - why
do people bother

the milling crowd under
black umbrellas lean into
the rain as if the weight of
their communal shoulders would
push away the clouds
and the column of water
- a solid sheet curtain
blotting out all senses
filling the void with
an onomatopoeia
yet to be coined

and when finally
nature has had it's say
when the last rivulets have
bubbled off to hide
in the undergrowth

the sun comes out
and lights up the little
droplets clinging on
to the dark green
fleshy leaves and
the unashamedly yellow
flowers

raindrops on...
















Thanks to photocheese for bringing back a childhood memory

part 6: parting shots

post tenancy check
empty as expected

but...

she says last night
(with a little laugh-
-devoid of mirth)

she expected
in an irrational
(yet entirely convincing) moment
that you may
still be around
smiling as she opens the door

you don't miss
even your parting shots
hit the nerve
spot on

part 5: teflon

'hold on tight' she said
'please hold tight' she pleaded

she was scared, but
you had other plans

you teflon coated
little troublemaker

We are NOT amused

but we will
let you off

Just This Once

part 4: little blue box

her too small hand
in a too large yellow glove
she scoops it up
while I look away
and then we (she) improvise(s)
there is the little blue box


I cannot look
but I do

I cannot see
but I do

I cannot hold (the box)
but I do


the bag crinkles
the blue box
is light
- unbearably so

hailstorm outside
my heart feels
right at home

I place the little
(unbearably light)
blue box
in the back seat


I cannot look
but I do

I cannot see
but I do

I cannot hold (my tears)
but I do


The box nestles in
a corner
without a peep
without a crinkle

I need Michael Stipe
his blue tattoo
just right for

the (our (my))
little blue box


It spends half an hour
in my right pocket
with my hand around it
then
I hand it over


I can look
but I don't

I can see
but I don't

I can feel
but I don't

part 3: odds 'n ends

I love her
so I tell her last night

'Remember,
when you wake up tomorrow
it was NOT a dream
it really happened
so DON'T think it was a dream
because if you do
even for a brief moment
the pain will sneak up on you
and stab you in the heart.

So remember my sweet
it was not a dream
it really happened
don't let that heartless b*****d
sneak up on you'

on our way out today
- our second memorable journey
in four weeks
she sings along with Michael Stipe
about having a 'bad day'

my heart breaks
it must contain
rather a lot of
rising damp

so I do the old deep breath-look up
and some rapid eye movement
(Mr Stipe approves)
and it works again

I'm hugging
a grenade
in mid-explosion
the shrapnel loves me
makes me feel alive

part 2: who am I kidding

pain is white
and searing
and vengeful
and cruel
and it hits below the belt
- always
and it hurts
so much

it's like when you are walking about in the dark
on a cold morning
and then you stub your toe
for a moment

you

are

suspended

in a world of your own

and then it's a right hook
and a left
and a right again
you are reeling
but pain doesn't care
it holds nothing back
lets it rip
leaves you bloody and bruised
but it doesn't stop

and then ...
a turning point
you see why

so you take it on the chin
and you join in
your mind is a little Ed Norton
you are your own fight club
you like pain
it was all a misunderstanding
pain is your friend
long lost friend

you realise
you have a war (cry) in you
just waiting

this is nothing new
I have always liked picking at my scabs
just to see how much they'll bleed

that's why
today morning
after the freak hailstorm
I opened the little blue box
to look inside

didn't make me feel any better

I just like picking at my scabs

part 1: lest we forget

New Years day

'Hello' you say. We listen intently - did we hear something? yes we did. Excited, but not sure. So we listen again.

'Hello' you say again. This time we are sure we heard you... we think.
What do we do? It is the New Year - time for new beginnings. So we are happy - and excited - and in love. With each other - and with you

But we want to be sure...just in case. So we ask uncle Google. He tells us where to go. We buy the latest digital equipment - just to listen again - to your little 'Hello'

Excited, proud, happy, in love - pure magic

We cannot hold back - I want to buy a whole news channel, maybe a satellite too - like old man Murdoch. Then I can tell the whole world - that you said 'Hello'

6 day later...

I catch myself talking to you - a tentative little (thought) wave in your direction, as if I am anxious. Will you like me? I feel like a schoolboy on the first day of school - I want to be friends - with a certain little someone

two weeks now

you look so funny. So I decide what to call you. Makes perfect sense - whether you like it or not. We have decided. So there!

I have new targets now. Get in shape - I have only a few months to do it.

I start cooking - can you imagine?! Maybe you can - of course you can. Sorry I sounded patronising there for a minute.

I ask her what you are upto each morning. She says you are kinda shy - not much of a talker, it seems.
That's OK. I know someone like that. Take your time.

last weekend

I tell her that you will like it here. We are easy going - well she is, at least. Also, she is very very beautiful. Oh yes. You will like it here.

yesterday

I didn't ring her - to ask after you. I don't think you liked that. Yes I am sure that's why. That's why... you did what you did
(Hey, this is strange. Why has the screen gone blurry?
LOOK UP! LOOK UP! Let it all roll back in.
REM
Deeeeeeeeeeeep Breath
There. That did the trick)

What was I saying?
Ah yes.
So you have decided to leave - for now.
That's OK
We can wait
Take your time - all in your own time
I know you are kinda shy

Today

We liked your short visit
four weeks went flying past
I should have talked to you more
didn't really get to know you
But that's OK
There is still time
She says you've gone back
because you forgot to pack something
- something you needed badly
Before you come and say 'hello' again

You know what
We know you now
so we will be ready
and this time round
once you say 'hello'
there will be no going back
so make sure you pack everything you need

there is a little unplugged socket in me now
and I know what slots in perfectly

so like I said
(I have an annoying habit of repeating myself)

just come back

Fair game...

All information provided is current as on 08/01/2008

Immigration rules

http://www.bia.homeoffice.gov.uk/workingintheuk/hsmp/

The Highly Skilled Migrant Programme (HSMP) is designed to allow highly skilled people to come to the United Kingdom to look for work or self-employment opportunities.
Anyone outside the United Kingdom can apply for entry to the HSMP. If you are already in the United Kingdom, you may be able to move onto the programme without needing to leave the country.
Unlike our work permits or business people schemes you do not need a job offer or detailed business plan to apply to the HSMP. Your application will be awarded points based on your skills, experience, age and past earnings. If you are awarded enough points you will be accepted onto the HSMP.
The HSMP can provide you with a route to permanent residency (settlement) in the United Kingdom.

http://www.bia.homeoffice.gov.uk/workingintheuk/hsmp/settlement/
To qualify to settle in the United Kingdom under the HSMP you must:
- be living legally in the United Kingdom for the last five years; and
- currently have permission to stay in the United Kingdom as a highly skilled migrant; and
- have been in the United Kingdom as a highly skilled migrant, work permit holder or innovator throughout the five years; and
- have maintained and accommodated yourself and any dependants without the use of public funds throughout the five years; and
- have been employed, self-employed or a combination of the two throughout the five years; and - have sufficient knowledge of language and life in the UK

Legal challenge:
England and Wales Court of Appeal (Civil Division) Decisions (Hearing date: Tuesday 30 October 2007)
This appeal concerns the lawfulness of two government measures:
1. the alteration without consultation by the Home Secretary of the Immigration Rules so as to abolish permit-free training (PFT) for doctors who lack a right of abode in the United Kingdom; and
2. advice given by the Department of Health to NHS employers that doctors on HSMP whose limited leave to remain was due to expire before the end date of any training post that was on offer should be offered the training post only if the resident market labour criterion was satisfied (i.e., after UK/EU graduates are considered).

Relevant sections from the verdict:
60. Department of Health had raised its concerns with the Home Office but the Home Office
"… had doubts about the feasibility of excluding International Medical Graduates at postgraduate level from the HSMP without fundamental alterations to the provisions of the Immigration Rules governing the HSMP”

'it is impossible to avoid the conclusion that the Department of Health decided to "go it alone" and, in so doing, issued a document, the nature and purpose of which was to regulate the conditions attaching to the immigration status of an identified group.'

'the Home Secretary cannot introduce a change to immigration status without obtaining the necessary authority of Parliament. It would be absurd if another department of state could achieve the same forbidden result by acting independently. '

The Lord Justices Sedley, Maurice Kay and Rimer were unanimous in agreeing that the DH guidance was wrong.

Post graduate training opportunities for non UK graduates

Final Report of the Independent Inquiry into Modernising Medical Careers (Tooke Report), Page: 29
FINAL RECOMMENDATION 11
Department of Health should have a coherent model of medical workforce supply within which apparently conflicting policies on self-sufficiency and open borders/ overproduction should be publicly disclosed and reconciled. We recommend that overseas students graduating from UK medical schools should be eligible for postgraduate training as should refugee doctors with the right to remain in the UK.

Modernising Medical Careers (MMC) Recruitment FAQs
What is the position on International Medical Graduates?
Doctors who graduated abroad, not least those from the Indian sub-continent, have made a massive contribution to the NHS and its patients. We do not want to prevent such doctors from working in the NHS, but we do think there is a case for trying to make sure that specialty training, which is funded by the taxpayer, gives priority to doctors who graduated in the UK. Every developed country provides some similar way of prioritising their domestic medical graduates.
In February 2007 guidance to the NHS on this was found by the High Court to be legally justified. However, in November this year, the Court of Appeal disagreed with that verdict, and we are unable to implement the guidance in 2008 as a result.
We are looking to see if there is anything else than can be done, but if a way is found to give preference to UK graduates, it will almost certainly not be possible to implement it in 2008.

Response from BAPIO (British Association of Physicians of Indian Origin):
“Our client is concerned that a reference to whether the tax payer should be investing in training doctors from outside Europe as distinct from UK medical graduates, coupled with the link to the consultation document which sets out the justification for the Department of Health preferred option, implies that HSMP graduates and our client are to be held to be causing difficulties for the Department of Health and UK medical graduates. It is incumbent upon the Secretary of State for Health to act in accordance with the law and as such we do not consider it is appropriate for the Department of Health to now act in such a way that the planning difficulties of the department appear to be attributable to our clients when the Court has ruled that the Secretary of State is acting unlawfully”.
“In the circumstances we consider that the Department of Health should revisit the website and amend the wording to reflect the ruling of the Court of Appeal, notwithstanding the petition to the House of Lords”.

Bottomline?
no jobs for bloody foreigners, even though they contribute to UK society through their professional services, pay the same tax as any UK citizen (note the 'UK tax payer' gambit by the government), have no access to UK public funds (i.e., not a drain on resources like some UK citizens) and have been asked to sign a statement promising the UK government to stay in the UK long term at the time of issuing their HSMP visa