tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145458992024-03-23T11:29:32.020-07:00sunshineSpeaking my mind aloud ...sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.comBlogger766125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-24099185306648389172023-03-19T21:59:00.002-07:002023-03-19T21:59:09.488-07:00To move or not?<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">After
living in the US and Germany for twelve years, I moved to India about four years ago. Many
wrongly think that I moved “back” to India, and I have “settled down” because
my parents are getting old and they need me, and because moving back to the
home country seems like the logical thing to do for many. I did not move to
India because I am from India. I moved to India because this was the best job
opportunity I had. After living elsewhere for better work opportunities, my
best opportunity happened to be right where I grew up. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Oddly,
I had no anxieties when <a href="https://sunshinenjoy.blogspot.com/2006/09/seattled-in.html" target="_blank">moving to the US</a>. I was 25-years old and very
excited about living alone for the first time. I also had very little
information about where I am going (both geographically and metaphorically). I
did not know anyone from the US, wrongly thought that I was moving to the east
coast (Washington, D.C., and the state of Washington, I could not tell them
apart), and took a huge leap of faith. I had so little data and so few choices
(I think I had four funded PhD offers) that I did not experience analysis
paralysis. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">This
time, I got some very valuable advice from G, <a href="https://sunshinenjoy.blogspot.com/2007/05/meet-ghost.html" target="_blank">my first friend in the US</a>.
She said that to feel at home in India, I must give it at least three years and
not quit before that. I see the value of this wisdom now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Many
have asked me about my move, possibly because they are considering a move
themselves, or looking for justifications not to move. I know many immigrants
who constantly wonder what life would be like in India. There is no one right
answer. No matter where you live, you will have your excitements and
disappointments. But if you wish to make an informed move, I will strongly
recommend listing all kinds of capital you think you have. You can only work
with what you have and not what you wish you had. This is what I had:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">1.
Family: My biggest capital was my family support. Moving to any country
requires a lot of paperwork, more so in India. It was mind boggling and
stressful. My parents, being insiders to the system, helped me figure out a lot
of these things. When my parents could not help, my sister stepped in. Getting
an Aadhar Card, setting up bank accounts, investing money, finding a financial
consultant, buying a house, applying for a loan, <a href="https://sunshinenjoy.blogspot.com/2021/01/debt-free.html" target="_blank">paying off my mortgage</a>, even where to buy furniture and office wear, they helped me with
everything. They did most of the running around while I mostly signed
documents. I could not have imagined this move later in life and without this
level of family support. It always helps to have people who are insiders to the
system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">2.
My personal background: It immensely helped that I moved to the country where I
look and speak and dress like everyone. I did not have to work hard to fit in.
I will never have to worry about visa, immigration, and stamping my passport. I
can work anywhere and do anything (or nothing). No one will tell me that I have
a different accent. No one will ask me when I am going back. Being fluent in
English and Hindi, I can easily navigate most of India. The system may be
chaotic, but I also know exactly how it works. I do not have to look for an
Indian association or Indian group to find friends or wait till the weekend to
celebrate any festival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">3.
My educational background: My US degrees and work experience are highly valued
at my workplace and made me a competitive candidate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">4.
My employer: The country I left and the country I came back to are very
different. I was no longer visiting as a tourist annually. Daily life in India
is hard. Anything you do takes a long time and standing in many long lines. My
employer cushioned me from a lot of things. I did not need to
figure out where to live, how to commute, and how to set up home. My employer
took care of everything I needed during the first few months to settle in
comfortably. My bags were held at the customs for a while, but my employer
ensured that they were released soon. I had a cooking gas connection within no
time. I cannot imagine this level of support in the other jobs I have had. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Most
of my transition pains happened because initially, I expected things to work
out in ways that it worked out in other countries. I cannot go to SBI and
expect that I will have the Bank of America experience. I cannot stand in line
keeping distance and expect that people after I will not jump lines or elbow my
back. I cannot do an impromptu road trip and expect to find a (clean) restroom
in the wilderness. I cannot expect to drive in peace, something I immensely
enjoyed in the US. I cannot expect to fulfil my cravings for Chipotle (although
Calcutta mutton biryani has more than compensated for it). I suffered so long
as I brought my prior baggage and expected that things will work out the same
way. Once I reset my expectations and stopped whining and complaining,
adjusting was easy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Daily
life in India is hard in many ways. But it is also awesome in other ways. I
took G’s three-year advice. I also decided that if things did not work
here, I would move elsewhere. I am happy to report that it has been more than
four years and I am still here. If you have a well-paying job, the quality of
life in India could be much richer than life in the west. One could bypass most
of the struggles one would experience anywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">A
caveat: My experiences are but one data point, one lens of looking at the world.
My experiences are also shaped by the capital I have. If you are considering a move to anywhere, here are
the things you should think about:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">What kind of a position (job) am I
moving to? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">Is it better or worse than what I
have? In what ways?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">What kind of capital do I have?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">Would it be possible to go back if
I needed to?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">Would it be possible to maintain my
ties with where I am now?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">Do I see myself living here for at
least five years?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 38.8pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;">If things do not work out, do I
have a Plan B?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Would
I move again? Yes, if the opportunities are better than what I have now.
However, the benefits I get here would be hard to match. I also have tenure.
For the first time in fifteen years, I am not looking for, applying to, and
interviewing for jobs every year. My employer is stable and wealthy. Retirement
is decades away. The hurdles I experienced at first (for example, not
having enough courses to teach) have all worked out. I get to see my family
often (sometimes too often). It would be hard to overlook these and move
elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">sunshine</span><p></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-69874663909819286152022-02-15T06:43:00.002-08:002023-03-19T21:47:41.133-07:00No good bones, only funny bones<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Main aur meri tanhayi aksar
yeh baatein karte hain…</span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The tanhayi in me is the
voice in my head, a fiery, filter-less, chatty one. You’d think I am walking
alone but I would be talking to that voice. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I wonder what is the big
deal about a candle-lit dinner. You cannot even see your food, and what if you
were eating fish with bones on Valentine’s Day? Maybe they have other sources
of light too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I am seeing someone since
the last two weeks. I did not anticipate it this early in life. A burly man
with a paunch and the kind of laughter that makes you wonder if he ate a pair
of Bose speakers for breakfast. I only knew of one Mody before I met him. I was
destined to meet the second Mody the day I woke up and could not move my hips
due to stiffness. The sleepy voice in my head wondered if I was already dead
and this is rigor mortis setting in with my spirit talking to me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">A general physician had asked
me to get an MRI before seeing Mody. Mody, a specialist, looked at the MRI
reports, prescribed medicines, and asked me to see a physiotherapist who works
next door (like literally the door next to his). I noticed that Mody’s name and
his spouse’s name have four out of five letters in common. That’s an eighty
percent match! Even sunshine and moonshine are not as close. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I waited for a long time in
the waiting room. I read about all the medical miracles he can do through the
laminated cutouts of printed text he has put all over the walls. Many of them
are written in grammatically wrong English. My inner vice scolds me for
unconscious colonialism for noticing wrong English when English is neither of
our native language. What a hypocrite I am!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I see Mody’s picture
standing next to a tall, White doctor in scrubs. I see names of cities from Germany
and the US printed on those laminated walls. I have no idea what he was doing in
those places (getting trained, I suppose). I wonder if he would post a picture
of himself standing next to a Black doctor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Mody surely knows how to
market himself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And when you have a lot of
time to kill, you think of things that do not concern you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And then the power goes off!
It’s dark. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">A power outage! I haven’t
experienced one in a while. Suddenly I hear a lot of footsteps and shuffling
around. A lot of hustle. People talking loudly in Gujarati, which, I can
understand, not!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My eyes adjust to the
darkness and I crane my neck from the waiting room to catch a glimpse of what
is happening. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Mody is attending to his patients
as the receptionist holds up the cell phone torch light. You’ve got to be
kidding me!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I keep hoping that my turn
never comes till power is back. And the woman loudly screams something that
sounds like my name followed by, “Ben aaucho!” (sister, are you coming?)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I enter his room, half
hoping that he will send me back. The woman is now holding two thin candles,
looking like she is about to sing a haunted song from the 1950s by Lata
Mangeshkar. Mody looks scary in the shadow. He asks me to touch my toes. He asks
me to arch my back. He asks me to show a Bruce Lee kick in the air while facing
away from him. He scribbles down the name of some medicines in illegible
writing, prescribes more physiotherapy, and asks me to come back in a month. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">On hearing that I work where
I do, he tells me how impressed he is that I am a faculty at my age. I remind
him that young people do not have orthopedic issues (although I want to remind
him that being a faculty does not depend on age). He tells me the names of all
my colleagues he has treated, possibly his way of making me comfortable through
informal small talk. Patient confidentiality (and privacy) be darned! Those are
subjective social constructs, some western society bee-ass anyway! I shudder
thinking which colleague of mine will now learn about my creaking hips that are
threatening to fall apart. Such a hypocrite I am, writing about my health and
daily life on the blog but complaining about privacy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">G’s decade-old forecast that
I may have my childbirth and hip replacement surgery on the same table still makes
me shudder. I remember that line every time my hips creak. Mody tells me how
intelligent both his sons are (also practicing medicine). He shares that he
wanted his sons to study engineering but they did not listen. Good call, I say.
Good riddance, I think! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I ask him if he will show me
the exercises. He says his physiotherapist will. Who knows, his paunch might have
lashed out at me in the dark for asking him such a question. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I get up to leave. I tell him
that this is my first candlelight consultation (I skip the Valentine’s Day
reference). He laughs with an abandon that hurt my eardrums. As a child, I have
studied for many an exam in candle light (especially during summers). I think
that I have turned out to be fine, so this should be okay too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I walk up to the
receptionist and show her my ID. I write down my name on a receipt book. I pay
nothing. My employer and my insurance will sort it out and take care of the
bills. I count my blessings. One of the many perks here include never paying
for a doctor, medicines, blood work, tests, etc., if I see someone within a quite
extensive healthcare network in India. They have my parents covered too. And
here I am complaining about lack of patient confidentiality! <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I walk back to the campus clinic
and hand over the prescription. The receptionist makes a copy and notes my
secretary’s number. Tomorrow, my secretary will collect the medicines and leave
them at my office even before I am there. That was, in a nutshell, my
Valentine’s Day this year. January was all about experiencing COVID-19 and
February has been about getting orthopedic spas. What else will keep me busy this
year, I wonder as I walk back home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-45040119440395373632022-02-09T11:42:00.004-08:002022-02-09T11:46:20.576-08:00Virtual wars<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I passed the daabwaala (the guy selling green coconuts) this
evening to get a haircut. He was oblivious to the world, <a href="https://sunshinenjoy.blogspot.com/2022/02/daably-distracted.html" target="_blank"><b>busy playing PUBG</b></a>. I
stopped and stared at him for a good 10 seconds. He had no idea!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You
know how hair salons in India are (or maybe you don't). You go for a simple
haircut. They take a fistful of your hair and assess it with the seriousness of
a physician examining a patient. People and places change, but the narrative
remains the same. I have extremely dry hair, I need to apply serum and a
variety of other things, I need to do certain treatments, need to color my
graying hair, blah blah blah. The way he was diagnosing me, it felt like I
would be the next popular choice for the movie Bala. He looked at me through
the mirror with a thoughtful expression, giving me a multitude of haircut
options, asking if I wanted curls and spikes and what not!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I have
seen this too many times. People with straight hair wanting curls and people
with curls and waves getting their hair ninety degrees straight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I was
running out of patience. I told the guy, “Look! I am a 50-year-old teacher. My
job requires that students take me seriously. I have not come here to get a
"chokri-look" and I have about 40 minutes to spare. Hair health comes
from good food and sleep, not from serum. I need a simple haircut. Remember, I
need to look my age and not like some 20-year-old!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The guy
was too stunned to say anything after that. He said I am the first person who
asked him not to give a chokri-look. Then he talked about his home in
Darjeeling, how he landed up here, that Shontu Pal was the previous guy who cut
my hair and has now moved to the Kolkata branch, how their landlord has banned
cooking meat and fish at home, how he craves for his native food, that he gets
one month off every year, etc. He asked me if as a Bengali, I miss eating Bengali
"non-veg" food. After all the small talk about dry hair, there was
something we both connected over, not having access to our native food. I
didn't have the heart to tell him that due to my privileges, I was less
alienated from my food. That I did not have a landlord and I could order
Bengali food from a restaurant whenever I wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">He
forgot to take my "before" shot but took some "after" shots
after getting on a stool. He was barely five feet tall. The great thing is that
he showed me his Instagram page and asked if he has permission to post my
"after" pics. Given that a lot of people have no idea about consent,
it was a very nice gesture. The guy refused a tip.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I
stopped at the daabwaala's on my way back. His head was still bowed
subserviently to PUBG. I asked if he ever fears that his neck will fall off his
shoulders. He laughed. I asked what if someone steals a few green coconuts
while he is distracted? He looked up at the sky and said rather
philosophically, "God is watching everyone. He will punish."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"God
is watching you too, that you are distracted and not giving full attention to
your work," I said rather unceremoniously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">He
shrugged, scraped off the flesh from the coconut for me and went back to
fighting virtual wars.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine
</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-80118127452813774862022-02-08T11:34:00.001-08:002022-02-09T11:35:58.613-08:00Daably distracted<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I went off for an evening stroll and enjoy daab (green coconut).
Found a daabwaala (seller).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"I
want a young coconut with moderate flesh," I said. I didn't want a ripe
daab that has now become a coconut, nor did I want one with no flesh at all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The guy
barely looked up. On auto-pilot mode, he tapped and picked a coconut, cut it,
and gave it to me. He had his earphones on, and his eyes were glued to his
cellphone. He was smiling, lost in his own world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I found it rather odd. I finished off the water and asked him to
take out the flesh. He did so rather reluctantly, on auto-pilot mode. I
finished it and asked for one more. I was pretty sure he looked mildly annoyed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"What
are you watching so intently?" I asked, curious.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"PUBG,"
he said. And I needed to hear no more. We have a PUBG-addict in our family too.
My brother-in-law.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">"Sabzi?"
I asked knowingly. The dirty look he gave me, you should have seen his face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I gave
him a 500 rupee note. He showed me by hand gesture that he may not have change
and he doesn't want to get distracted looking for change. I gave him a 100
rupee note. He barely managed to return me a twenty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine
</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-4826609052195804012022-02-07T11:26:00.000-08:002022-02-09T11:27:58.070-08:00Pune<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I am reminded of the
breakfast we had at Vohuman Café three weekends ago. Some of us had taken an
early morning flight to Pune. We got really excited about the chicken sandwich
they offered in Spice Jet, which is way better than the Chicken Junglee
Sandwich in Indigo. Once we landed, we learnt that the hotel was full and could
not accommodate an early check-in (wedding season and all). It was 8 am and we
had about four hours to kill!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">So my colleague and I went
to Vohuman Café. The maska bun was laden with butter, the cheesy omelette was
out of the world, and so was the Irani tea. After waking up at 3 am and
catching a flight at 6 am, I needed this. I wish I had not been so impressed
with my Spice Jet sandwich earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">After that, we walked the
length and breadth and climbing the heights of Shaniwar Wada. We also went to
Shreemant Dagdusheth Halwai Ganpati Mandir. The driver said that a first timer
in Pune should not miss this, and it was not too far from my hotel in Koregaon
Park either.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I did end up meeting a
friend as well. I had last met her in 2006, at her wedding. Back in the day,
getting parental permission to go to events post dusk used to be as difficult
as getting a US visa. There would be thorough background checks, you had to
answer hundreds of questions like kothaye jaabi? Keno jaabi? Na gele ki hobe? Koto
bhalo bondhu? Kokhon firbi? Aar ke ke jaabe? Ki guarantee je timely firbi? There
is no telling you what would happen if you were late. I think the curfew time
for me was 10pm, which was more generous than what other friends had. Another
friend and I had miraculously managed to get permission, so we slapped some
makeup, borrowed a sari, took the afternoon metro with full makeup and people
staring at us, and travelled all the way to Behala. We never got to meet the groom
because we had strict parents who set stricter curfew times, and we were
dependent on public transport which could take forever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We never met after that.
Fast forward life to 2022. Parental permissions are a thing of the past. I
don’t even attend weddings anymore, all my friends who wanted to be married are
married. I am in Pune and I am looking up the map for some odd-sounding place
called Pimpri. I have no idea what it means, but I see that it will take a good
hour to get there from my hotel. I must be there by 7:30 am. So, I message my
friend, letting her know that I am in town and apologizing that I will not be
able to meet. By some divine intervention, she tells me that she lives in
Pimpri too, not too far from my work location. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">So off I went there,
literally gate crashing on a Sunday morning, finally meeting the groom from
2006 and the entire family. It was a gorgeous morning. I had my fill of adda,
ginger tea, koraishuti'r kochuri aar alu'r dum, and we talked about good old
times. We called up the other friend and gossiped some more! I even made her
pack me some kochuri and alu’r dum for the rest of the day, so shameless I am.
It turned out to be the best two hours I had spent in Pune!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And just like that, life
continues to surprise. I love that my work takes me to different places, and I
have reconnected with many school and college friends over the years. I loved
Pune as a city too for many reasons and cannot wait for a re-reunion (or tri-union),
hopefully with other friends as well!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-23828171105796685112022-02-06T01:43:00.001-08:002022-02-06T01:43:07.967-08:00Miss-understandings<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The delivery person calls my phone, telling me that he has a package for
me at the campus main gate and will come over in two minutes to deliver it. I
open my main door and wait outside on the porch. While doing so, I notice some dead
insects and dried leaves on the porch. As I wait, I pick up a broom from inside
and start sweeping the front entrance. The man shows up as I am sweeping. He
hands me over the package and says, "Ask madam to go online and fill out
the short survey." I nod my head. But wait, madam? Who is madam?
Apparently, I got mistaken as the domestic help while sweeping my own home.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I usually stay back in the office till late night, working as well as
indulging in non-essential work sometimes such as watching movies. More than
once, a security guard makes a round at around 2 am to make sure all offices
are locked. He taps on my office door; I open the door and tell him that I will
be working some more. He nods, looks at the name plate outside my office door
and asks me my name. I point to the nameplate and tell him that is my name.
Confused, he asks me which professor I work for. I tell him the name of the
professor (my name again). He asks me what my name is. I repeat my name.
Suddenly, realization dawns on him and he says, "Sorry sir, sorry sir, I
thought that you are the research assistant!" (In Indian English, you say
things twice or more for extra emphasis, yes yes, sorry sorry, ya ya, no no,
aiyyo aiyyo). When I work late at night in my office, I frequently get mistaken
to be a research assistant. And on realizing that I am the faculty, I magically
become a sir. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Sometimes, I keep a straight face and play along. Like when a cleaning
staff had once asked me why I don't have children, I made a face and said,
"Babu doesn't show interest!" Her expression was priceless. I find
these episodes hilarious!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And just like that, while enjoying my anonymity (many staff on campus
still do not know who I am) and in between playing kaajer mashi (domestic
help), the disinterested professor's childless wife and a nocturnal research
assistant, I completed three years here recently!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Segoe UI Historic, sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-3913214763357577722022-02-05T00:13:00.002-08:002022-02-05T00:13:28.038-08:00Some gossip a day keeps the doctor awake<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">There’s something very
nostalgic about sisters staying up late at night, giggling and gossiping, that
brings back memories of growing up. I think it’s a sister-sister thing; only
sisters with sisters will get it. The last many nights have seen us indulging
in decadent gossip, from the whereabouts of the paara’r jethima-pishimas to
eccentric friends and relatives we are better off not knowing (in life) but
knowing (on social media).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">There’s little Maya trying
to sleep, flanked by two gossip mongers incessantly chatting. Our chats are occasionally
punctuated by a restless group of birds outside, or Maya’s shrill cries when
her chomping spree has been prematurely interrupted because the overworked teat
has unceremoniously slipped out of her mouth since her mom and aunt were
giggling uncontrollably. This is usually followed by our mom’s sharp rebuke
from the other room for being the careless Ma and mashi that we are, up and
chatting in the middle of the night. “Tora ghumo ebaar! Bachcha jege jachche!”
I sometimes wonder if she says these things out of decades of habit of
disciplining us, or simply because she is experiencing FOMO. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Maya goes back to sleep
peacefully once she has found her chomping device again, hanging like a
half-monkey, half-kangaroo from her mom’s pouch, occasionally getting restless,
turning on the other side to punch my chest with her little fist. She sidles up
to her mom, a tiny human with simple, non-gossipy needs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We go back to looking at
social media profiles of people we consider as “odd.” Kamalika from Keshtopur who
is Kami(nee) from Kansas now. I am looking at people and I have no idea who
they are, what they do, or how did they come to occupy my attention. The nyaka
boudi from Gurugram with baggy arms, Mampi and Tampi posing in front of the
temples of Hampi, the new mom posting a dozen baby pics everyday with an emoji
stuck on the baby’s face (why show when you don’t want to show?), the ex of the
ex’s ex whose spouse is currently friends with some other ex (it’s a small
world!), the crush from school who is a bald-headed, pot-bellied catch (me not)
from New Jersey, Ranga mashima’r meye being married to Poltu kaku’r bou er
bhaipo, and the more recent scary Halloween costumes of more Putanas from Durga
pujo. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">“Ei dekh Ei chobi ta. The
caption says, ‘Dressed to kill!’”— my sister remarks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I look at a woman I do not
know, dressed in tight hunting clothes, her hair making her look like a cross
between Sheeba and Kimi Katkar. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">“Dressed to kill what?
Mosquitoes?” I observed wryly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We giggled in spasms. The
baby got startled again. This time, she rightly turned around to kick my lower
abdomen. I gasped audibly. The voice from the other room with the impending
threat was back!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Ghumoshna tora. Oshobhyota
kor. Bachcha ta keo ghumote dish na!! Kalke dekhchi toder!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-43380923365992953832022-02-04T08:29:00.001-08:002022-02-04T08:29:13.916-08:00Starting 2022 with (COVID) positivity<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="background: white;">2022 started with new experiences. </span><span style="background: white; color: #050505;">I should have known something is terribly wrong when I
started to crave watching Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham. I sat through the
over-the-top, misogynistic, problematic 3.5-hour movie, crying through every
moment, even more than the very gaal-fola-Gobindor-Ma Jaya Bachchan did. I was
feeling pretty down by then and decided to order biryani. I must be the only
person in the world who got the news of being tested COVID positive and went
back to eating biryani, now somewhat relieved that the sudden, inexplicable
urge to watch a crappy movie might have had a medical reason.</span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505;">.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I’ve
been thinking a lot ever since, lying in bed and asking, why me? I’m doubly
vaccinated and always doubly masked up. I live the life of a recluse. I don’t
party. I’ve said no to most people wanting to meet in person. All my
friendships and relationships have been relegated to WhatsApp. I haven’t
attended a wedding since 2012. I have never had domestic help. I haven’t
traveled internationally. I mostly cook my food and order room service when in
a hotel. I teach online. I never whine on social media about how I don’t have a
social life anymore. Why me? <br />
I got plenty of time to mull over these questions but found no answers. I spent
the whole of January coughing and sleeping out of sheer weakness. That is what
COVID does to you. Everyone who has survived it will have their own story to
tell. My story involves a quarantine room I fell in love with, some brain fog,
and a former US president.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
I am glad that I quarantined myself within an hour of showing symptoms, even
before my RT-PCR could be scheduled the next day. I had taken a flight to
Kolkata a week ago, just like I had done a few times in the past year, doubly
masked and fully vaccinated. I had managed to evade COVID for almost two years
since its outbreak. Yet, I shivered uncontrollably that evening, so much so
that I had to wear a few sweaters and don double socks, getting on my haunches
horizontally and hugging the bed. It also brought a sense of deep fear that
pushed me to message a few close friends and let them know that I was very ill
and I might be dying. I did not know what had afflicted me to bring about those
chills and shivers (I still did not believe that it could be COVID), but if
this is what dying looked like, I wondered if my financial savings would sink
down the bank’s floor remaining unclaimed for life.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
It was my sister’s father-in-law, Malay Babu, who took most of the brunt of my
illness. Within minutes, he had to vacate the bachelor pad where he lived,
cooked, watched television, and enjoyed his life. It is a small, cozy room on
the mezzanine floor I passed on the way to the rooftop. The doors were usually
partially closed, so I never really got a good peek into the room. That would
be my quarantine room at least till my test results were out. The sheets were
quickly changed, fresh pillows were brought from downstairs, and Malay Babu
barely got ten minutes to collect his essentials and move. I somehow limped up
the stairs, holding on to the handrails, entered the room, and collapsed on the
bed. I do not remember much from the rest of that night.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
I opened my eyes the next morning and looked around to get my first close look
at the room. There was a fan atop my head and an air conditioner on the wall in
front of me. There was a monitor. On the corner was a table with an assortment
of medicines, a bottle of hair oil, and shaving paraphernalia. On the right
wall were two windows, now closed. On the left wall were a series of pictures,
some in black and white and some framed. First, there were Maya's ancestors
staring back at me with stern eyes, I could tell the resemblance with little
Maya. Maya is my eight-month-old niece. In one picture, Maya looked like an old
man wearing dhuti and sitting on a chair. The resemblance of the forehead was
striking. In another picture, Maya sat in a white sari, her head partially
covered, with a striking resemblance of the cheek bones. Wait, was I
hallucinating? How could both her great grandparents look like Maya unless they
both looked like each other? My eyes drifted to the other pictures, a wall
calendar (the tell-tale sign of a Bengali household), gods and goddesses,
Thakur Ramkrishnadeb, Sarada Ma, and Swami Vivekananda. Then there was Sai
Baba, Radha Krishna, and wait, a framed picture of George W. Bush smiling back
at me. How did I forget about this picture?<br />
.<br />
.<br />
My sister got married many years ago. It was during the wedding that I met
Malay Babu for the first time. He seemed like a traditional, nice person who
spoke in Bangal and lauded me for doing a PhD (I was a PhD student at that
time). He had also made an unusual request, asking me if I could bring him a
picture of President Bush the next time. It would be one of the more unusual
things someone had asked me to do. Obama was already the president then, I
wonder if he knew it. I wondered what connection a gentleman from Kolkata who
has only left the country for three trips to Bangladesh and has never boarded
an airplane ever could have with President Bush. I told myself that it was none
of my business. The next time I visited Kolkata, I gave him a rolled and
laminated, 19” by 13” poster of President Bush, bought from Amazon for $10
(including $3.99 for shipping), that has gone out of stock since then. He was
thrilled and thanked me many times. He never asked me for anything again. I
heard that he took the poster to three shops in Rashbehari Avenue and all of
them refused to frame it after looking at the poster. He finally found a shop
where the person, after much coaxing and cajoling, framed the poster for him.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
And now, I was trapped in Malay Babu’s room, watching George Bush smile back at
me from the very poster that I had bought many Januarys ago.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
I tested positive. I postponed my tickets. I called my parents and told them
that I am not coming back to spend time with them for a while. There were
tears. There was pep talk. There were dozens of medicines—cough syrups, nasal
sprays, and multivitamins that replaced Malay Babu’s medicines. And there was a
lot of brain fog. I was too weak to sit or walk or spend time on my phone, so I
spent the next many days looking out of the window to see darkened algae stains
on the walls of the adjoining homes on the right and President Bush smiling
back at me on the left. I do not know if one was more interesting than the
other.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
I fell in love with the room. It had a calm, restorative energy to it. I would
doze off by 8:30 pm and wake up by 6 am, opening the windows and waiting for
the first rays of the sun. With winter sunlight streaming in, this became the
window to the world I was temporarily quarantined from. I suddenly had the gift
of time and started taking note of the small things. An old woman, now blinded
and possibly in her 90s, sang devotional songs praising Ram and Krishna every
morning. I learnt that she has been abandoned in that house with a servant, her
children having moved out long back and now waiting for her passing so that
they can sell off the house to a promoter and build a high-rise apartment. On
the other side, I heard loud voices of a child and a rather overbearing mother
that left little to the imagination. “Why aren’t you eating breakfast? Why
aren’t you doing your homework? How much water have you been drinking since
morning? Have you emptied your bladder? Come, it’s time for a bath. It’s time
for your drawing classes.” At night, the mother cooked and the child sat in the
kitchen doing homework, the mother constantly nagging and asking him to frame
sentences in English with perfect grammar. “Make a sentence with the word boy.
What is the opposite of a boy? Make a sentence with the word girl.” One mistake
in sentence construction, and the mother would be very upset. I wondered what
all the fuss was about perfecting a language, a foreign language that too.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
I listened to many such conversations throughout the day, all while in bed,
that I eventually discovered was raised on a platform using bricks and
discarded blocks of wood to increase under-the-bed storage space. I sometimes
wondered what would happen if the bed collapsed under my weight. The sunlight
continued to give me hope every morning while President Bush kept smiling at
me. Time had slowed down, and with nothing much to do, I thought a lot. I
thought about my childhood and the winter of fourth grade when I had contracted
chicken pox. We used to live in a really big house, and I was sent to the
farthest room to quarantine. I lay there on a folding bed all day and watched
the Telugu neighbors erect a grand pandal for a family wedding. They played
loud music very early in the morning and with the absence of television or
phone, that was my source of entertainment. Thirty years later, I still
remember some of the songs of Kumar Sanu they played; those songs still remind
me of chicken pox.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
My symptoms changed for the next few days. The chills were gone, but then came
high fever. Then one day, there was sneezing. And coughing. The night when I
threw up my dinner, I had an elevated heartbeat. My body had no clue how to
respond to COVID. I went downstairs only a few times every day, for bathing and
for using the restroom, my head reeling as I climbed up and down the stairs. My
sister and her husband sanitized everything I touched with gusto. They gave me
delicious home-cooked meals, peeled pomegranates, washed my dishes (so that I
do not touch more things), and refilled my hot water flask, being at my beck
and call 24/7. After living on my own for 16 years, I was glad that I was not
left to recover on my own. On days when I felt a little better, I sat on a chair
atop the stairs. From there, I watched little Maya play or watch “Gaiyya meri
gaiyya” (Oh cow, my dear cow) on television.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
Malay Babu, the fantastic story teller that he is, regaled me with hundreds of
stories from his life in Bangal bhasha. He enunciates Corona as Koruna
(sympathy), and told me stories from the time when he served in the army, how
he ran away from home once, how he drove jeeps during war, lifted weights, and
ran miles every day to stay fit, how he went to Bangladesh to meet his extended
family decades after his parents had moved to India, how he went bargaining for
Ilish maach (fish) from Podda when the person selling fish told him that he has
two begums (wives) and 18 children to take care at home, and how he got on a
cruise ship near Barishal (might have been a large boat) with no money when a
Muslim don who wore “jaali genji” (a vest designed like fishnet) rescued him. I
relished all his stories from my vista point atop the stairs till I had no more
energy left. Then I would go back to my room and stare at President Bush till I
fell asleep. I am not sure if I was hallucinating, but I sometimes thought that
he was moving his lips to talk to me.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
Eventually, my quarantine ended. I slowly started spending more time
downstairs. Wearing a mask all the time became a habit. We celebrated the end
of quarantine with biryani from Nusrat’s, just like the day when I had tested
positive and spent the evening watching a crappy movie and eating mutton
biryani. I booked my tickets. My parents visited. I packed my bags and put the
sheets and pillow covers for washing. I hung my blankets in the sun. I picked
up my things and took one last look at the room that had become my safe haven
for the past two weeks. And I was awash with sadness. Sunlight was streaming
through the windows just like it did every day. The mother was asking the child
if he needed help separating the bones of the fish on his own. Maya’s ancestors
started back at me. And on the far end, President Bush smiled back at me,
wishing me health and waving me goodbye. <br />
.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine</span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-10006783178213708812022-02-03T06:26:00.007-08:002022-02-03T10:38:27.622-08:00Managing the career<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">While checking in, the
hotel receptionist asks me, “Ma’am, can I see your id?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The concierge looks at my
id, looks up information about my booking, looks at my id again, and asks me
the most unusual question.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">“Professor, can you give me
tips to prepare for the CAT interview?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The next morning, I wait
for my taxi to get to the interview center. I call the driver and hear a sweet,
pre-recorded voice speaking to me in Telugu. I understand nothing but
understand enough to know that the line is busy and Driver Garu is speaking to
someone else. He shows up eventually, wearing pottu, a circular dot on his
forehead. I pay him and am about to leave when he says, “Madam, please give 5
rating before you get down.” He ensures I gave him five stars before I leave.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span><span style="color: #050505;">At the center, I meet those
who are organizing the interviews. My job was merely to see that everything
looks good, and everything does look good. I didn’t have to do anything but watch.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The head of the center hurries to meet me. “Welcome madam. Welcome madam.” He assured me that
everything is taken care of. Then, he lowers his voice a few decibels and asks
me— Professor, may I ask my daughter to come meet you so that she can get tips
on how to prepare for the CAT? She is in the tenth right now. She will need the
time to prepare. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">A helicopter parent! He
asks me if I got my MBA from the same institution where I work. I tell him that
I do not have an MBA. He never summoned his tenth grader after that, so I hope
that this signaled to him that I am not worthy of giving career advice. What a
relief!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The MBA obsession is
everywhere!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine</span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-20445972845959567352021-09-29T06:47:00.003-07:002022-07-11T06:50:05.127-07:00"The Elite Charade of Changing the World"<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Congratulations,
ma'am. Apple will donate a part of the funds to support HIV/AIDS programs in
Africa.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Really? Where
in Africa?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Umm....
Africa, you know!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I know
Africa. It is a continent. It has many countries. Where exactly in Africa?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Ma'am, you
must read this brochure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">She hands me
a brochure and tries fading into the background quickly. A line in that
brochure catches the eye. Something like, "This booklet is printed in
China."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">It reminds me
of the book I am currently reading. “Winners Take All: The Elite Charade of Changing
the World” by Anand Giridharadas. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-86701784444542338152021-09-01T06:59:00.004-07:002022-07-11T06:59:55.583-07:00Birthday tales<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Birthdays and birthday conversations are interesting. I usually
call my mother once I wake up on my birthday so that she can wish me. Usually,
what follows is an in-depth account of the circumstances under which I was
born. I have heard it so many times that I can repeat it verbatim now. How it
always rains in Shrabon mash (my birthday month coinciding with the monsoons).
How the day before I was born, my mother started complaining of minor
discomfort (possibly she was about to go into labor). On hearing this, my
grandfather immediately left for the fish market to buy the choicest Ilish
maach (Hilsa fish). After a multi-course lunch of fish and patha’r mangsho
(goat meat) and what not, my mother yawned and told my grandma, “I am going to
take a nap now, please wake me up if I go into labor!” Apparently, she was so
naïve that she thought that she might birth me in her sleep.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I have heard this story so many times now. And also the story
about how my father went missing in action when I was born because he got Joy
Bangla (conjunctivitis) and had to be quarantined. And there are other stories
as well, mostly revolving around what they ate once they were home with me, and
how the physician mistook my grandma for my mother because my grandma was
holding me and the nurse started rubbing her arm with alcohol to give her a
shot. Every morning of my birthday, I lip sync as my mother recounts the same
stories while she continues to argue that my birthday should be celebrated as
her birthday (the birth of a mother). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">This year was special. I managed to include grandma too in our
conference call. My mother and grandma recounted the same stories again. And
the special part? They did some simple arithmetic and figured out that when
grandma was my current age, she became a grandma. “</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">আর</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">একে</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">দেখো।</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">হাফ</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">-</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">প্যান্ট</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">পরে</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">বাচ্চা</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">সেজে</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">ঘুরে</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">বেড়াচ্ছে।</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;">” – “And look
at her? Prancing around in half-pants, dressed like a juvenile!” they observed.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">How elated I was to learn that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-83208203426733835602021-03-15T08:11:00.003-07:002022-02-06T07:13:09.473-08:00Progress report cards for old people<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Annual report cards didn’t bother me in school.
I did well in the subjects I liked, and the rest did not matter. As long as I
was somewhere nicely hidden at the center instead of standing out due to good
or bad reasons, I didn’t care.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Growing old, of late, has brought annual report
cards of a different kind with newfound anxieties. My annual health report card
didn’t look so good last year. It didn’t look terrible either, but I wanted to
avoid being on the newspaper for suddenly dying under mysterious circumstances
while, say, climbing up the stairs or sweeping and mopping the floor. If my
mother could write one self-help book, it would be named, “Getting things done
by nagging!” She nagged me into working on my numbers. She had high
expectations of me waking up at 5 am every day and working out, which never
happened. But I said goodbye to mutton, biryani, and mutton biryani (kinda!).
The pandemic worked wonders too. I lost adipose with minimal effort, mostly by
eating at home.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">It was time for my annual report card. I found
myself sweating as my mother frowned at the numbers from my bloodwork. I left
it to her, I didn’t have the heart to look at the numbers myself. Looks like
the undesirable higher numbers have gone down and the undesirable lower numbers
have gone up. I still wonder how someone living in all-year-sunny India can
have insufficient Vitamin D levels. But overall, the numbers look better than
last year.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I celebrated the good numbers with mutton
biryani from Arsalan and loved every grain of it!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #050505;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", sans-serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-73895851758781859542021-01-18T06:07:00.005-08:002021-01-18T06:09:32.221-08:00Debt-free!<p><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I remember the day I signed the papers to my first home. It was
a day after my thirty-eighth birthday. As I signed the documents, I felt no
joy. I was awash with confusion and dread. I have seen (on social media) people
proudly sharing pictures of their new homes, throwing housewarming parties,
smiling into the camera, a dream-like depiction of life that social media
paints. Yet, I felt nothing but discomfort, like a sharp pain in the chest that
shoots up every time you take a deep breath, the kind of claustrophobia you
feel every time you are in the dressing room trying on clothes two sizes
smaller.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">As intuitive as it is in hindsight, it looks like I hadn’t done
my math well. The dreamy pictures were mostly from people I knew in the US who
pay way less interest rates on house mortgages than people in India do. At
close to 8.75% compound interest, the numbers had really added up. I could see
the dissonance between romanticizing the idea of owning something and the
burden of owning it for real. Despite everything that people told me (this is a
great investment, you will be getting tax breaks, etc.), I saw this as bondage.
I had just started a new job, and with a mortgage to pay for the next two
decades, I would not be able to take risks, change jobs or professions if I
wanted to, or take a gap year to try something new without keeping my loan in
mind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I had no problem in getting a loan. The reputation of my
employer helped, and the wiry thin bank manager was happy to have fulfilled his
own quarterly target of finding people who needed bank loans. The more he
grinned and asked me if I wanted tea, the more irritated I felt. The only thing
I could do now was, no, not live with the discomfort of wearing smaller clothes
for the next twenty years, but to pay off the loan as soon as possible. And for
that, I needed a plan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I was able to pay off that loan in 2020, finally, in about 14
months. It did not go well with the bank manager and he almost threw a tantrum,
borderline misbehaving. His fake grin had vanished and this time, there was no
offer for tea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">There were a few things I learnt in this process of what I call,
intentionally managing my money. The income was constant, so I did not have a
lot of leeway there. However, the spending was something I intentionally
controlled. I did not turn into a penny-pincher, I just got more intentional
about where my money goes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For one, I had some savings already, but the interest it was
getting me was way less than the interest I was paying on my loan. So I
reshuffled some of my savings and put it towards my loan repayment. That was
simple. I also spent a month minutely tracking down every expense I made. I
already knew where most of my money goes, but putting it on paper made the
process more visual (I can only act on things I see and not things that are in
my head). I realized that fulfilling a goal became easier when it fed into
other related or unrelated goals I had. I was already working on a few other
things like getting tenure, losing weight, and reducing the noise in my life,
the kind that had created dissonance for a while. All of these nicely fed into
each other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For example, I love traveling, but I mindfully decided to only
see places I would be visiting for work. This would cover a large proportion of
my travel expenses, and conversely, I would be motivated to seek out work that
required me to travel. And I did travel. From a conference in Canada to another
one in the US, from a travel award that took me to Germany and work trips to
Kolkata, Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Goa, and Rajasthan, I traveled to
my heart’s content. Since last year, I don’t remember paying for a single trip,
not even my flights to visit my family.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I also became more intentional about what I did with my leisure
time. I did not have to visit every party I was invited to, especially if they
were large and impersonal. I did not have to say yes every time someone wanted
to dine out. I intentionally declined attending parties I did not feel like,
especially the ones at night (I do not feel very hungry after 7 pm and most
parties start at 8 pm). I said no to weddings, these were people I barely knew
(I think even they were counting on me to bail out). COVID-19 helped immensely
to reset my social life. All the parties and eating outside stopped. I
re-learnt to cook and eat at home every day, something that worked wonders for
my physical, mental, and financial health. With the newfound free time, I read,
watched interesting videos, developed interesting courses, had interesting
conversations, and thought of interesting research ideas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I also became more mindful of the resources already available to
me. If I wanted to read a book, I’d ask the library to buy it for me. In the
US, I regularly hung out at Starbucks, eating and drinking things high on
calories. Every time I was at an airport, the smell of coffee lured me into
lining up for my favorite iced mocha or Caramel Frappuccino with whipped cream.
I barely drink coffee now, but if I am craving it, the faculty lounge has an
impressive collection of tea and coffee. I have no paid subscriptions to
entertainment channels like Netflix, I stick to YouTube. It is free, doesn’t
have everything I want to watch (which keeps me intentional about what I watch)
and I have found tons of amazing stuff on YouTube including videos on how to
save money. A book, a cup of coffee and a movie here and there is not a lot; I
can afford it all, but why do it if you don’t have to?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I go to very few parties, those that are small and I know I will
love. This gives me more time to do the things I like. I have never had
domestic help, which is unusual in India. An average colleague of mine has a
cook, a gardener, a driver, and a couple of people to do domestic chores.
Instead of paying the domestic help to clean my home and then pay for a gym
membership (which I do not enjoy going to), I clean my own home. From dusting
to mopping to drying clothes, cutting vegetables, cooking and doing the dishes,
it is a full-body workout. I also get to know my home better that way, things
that I already have but have forgotten about. Even if I don’t feel like it
someday or if my cleaning is not perfect, I don’t lose sleep over it. I don’t
need a perfectly manicured garden or sparkling clean floors. My space is mine
to manage whichever way I want to. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I have incorporated dozens of such small changes in my life,
tracking, and if needed, modifying my consumption patterns. This helped me to
work efficiently, take care of my health, and save money. Work-wise, this has
been one of my more productive years. I published several research papers and
taught many new courses during the pandemic. Delayed gratification also left
some room for magic when I wanted to buy some things but did not, and later got
them either from a sale or free from <a href="https://buynothingproject.org/" target="_blank">Buy Nothing</a>. Adding
to the magic were some speaking assignments, a small award, and a stimulus
check, unexpected things that brought in a little bit of extra pocket money and
helped to pay off my loan sooner. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #050505; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Shifting mindsets (from “I do not have enough money” to “I have
exactly what I need”) has taken me on newer journeys and helped me become
debt-free quicker than I expected. Despite what others say about investments
and tax breaks, there is no comfort of living in debt. Now I can continue with
my job or change it, change cities, countries, professions, take a break, or do
whatever I fancy (including doing nothing). I am likely going to do none, but I
have the freedom to. As I reflect on the year that was 2020, going debt-free is
one of the more significant events I will remember about it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine</span></span>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-88094787546195111712020-06-14T06:37:00.026-07:002022-07-11T06:44:05.284-07:00Rotten brinjals and forgotten mangoes <p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">For better or for worse, contrived or by
co-incidence, I lack situational awareness beyond a point that helps me to work peacefully, do my research, design my online classes, and
move on with life. A few things I look forward to everyday are watching the
banana flowers sprout rows of raw bananas from my kitchen window every morning
as I make breakfast, count the different sounds the birds outside my home make,
and of course my cha and shingara every evening. I have managed to stay away from
reading the deluge of emails where my colleagues are fighting and arguing
everyday (unless they concern me, which they don't), the information overload
due to people sharing dozens of COVID-related popular articles everyday, and
constant online arguments over whether we should allow 900 students on campus
this year or simply go online (or let them in and still teach online).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I understand that we all have many unanswered
questions, but arguing over emails everyday is not going to yield answers. When
there were three COVID-positive cases on campus, people lost it and started
sending all kinds of weird emails. All I can say is that I am glad I am not the
dean or director of an institution right now and do not need to pacify people or reply to
their strange emails (including a question like if one of the faculty gets
COVID, who will teach the rest of the course?). "Stay home and don't get
into people's business" would have been my standard template of a response
anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My sister, however, has come to my rescue multiple
times. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Didi, do you know, Irrfan Khan died.
Rishi Kapoor died."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And there I looked it up and spent the next
few weeks watching Irrfan Khan and Rishi Kapoor-movies after I read about the
news of their passing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Didi, your city has the
highest death rate per million in India now."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Me: "Oh, really? Let me read up!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Didi, Sushant Singh Rajput
died by suicide!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Me: "Oh, really? I just watched PK
yesterday. Wait, let me read up."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">And now, "Didi, are you okay?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I thought she is asking me this question
after I told her yesterday that two of the brinjals bigbasket delivered were
rotten.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Me: "Of course I am, I even made brinjal
curry with the rest, why do you ask?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Uff... there has been an earthquake
close to where you live. Don't you know?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Me: "Ummm... no!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Uff, what were you doing? It's all over
the news!!!" she asks me, sounding very annoyed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">"Err.... I ordered 3 kg mangoes and
bigbasket delivered 6 kg by mistake and asked me to keep them all. So I shared
some with the Myntra delivery man who was very surprised. I was looking at all
the mangoes in the fridge and wondering what to do with them!" I replied,
somewhat sheepishly. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I don't think she thinks
very highly of me anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">sunshine </span><span face=""Segoe UI Historic", sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-51043159338438447772020-05-29T05:36:00.000-07:002020-05-29T05:36:58.093-07:00China Rose<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_fTLgk8Xtylwu-Ip0yfunTY-2amcB7KH4n07sxihgYnAR7L2T0a7KwZDbXWSKlBnMS5f9hxObVU6Okb2Dxe6TuUC_AdXfRP_8eDFd1sEUdH1hKCxKam8RZj_UneWCclRuQRu/s1600/WhatsApp+Image+2020-02-13+at+11.24.50+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="924" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_fTLgk8Xtylwu-Ip0yfunTY-2amcB7KH4n07sxihgYnAR7L2T0a7KwZDbXWSKlBnMS5f9hxObVU6Okb2Dxe6TuUC_AdXfRP_8eDFd1sEUdH1hKCxKam8RZj_UneWCclRuQRu/s320/WhatsApp+Image+2020-02-13+at+11.24.50+AM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">On my way to work this morning, I picked up this flower. Bangla naam- Jawba phool.
Scientific name- Hibiscus rosa sinensis. The two names have very different
meanings for me. I taught a class on post-structural feminism recently. It took
me a long time and multiple attempts of hitting my head on the wall to
understand what is post-structuralism, what is feminism, and what is
post-structural feminism in this context. However, it did help me develop an appreciation for the symbolic meanings of language once I vaguely
understood the concept well enough to be able to teach it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jawba phool reminds me
of Ma Kali. Of Shibpur, Howrah. And hajar haath Kali (goddess Kali with
thousand hands, you should look up her picture. It gives me goosebumps, she
looks so jagrata, so alive). All these are memories from my childhood, visiting
hajar haath kali mondir in Shibpur and coming home to my grandparents’ place
armed with two big bags of steaming hot boma. Boma means a bomb, and Chondi'r
boma is the best alu’r chop that you will ever find. The story goes that
Chondi, the inventor of boma, uses a secret spice recipe that no one else in
the world has been able to replicate, and this humble family business over 3
generations did so well that he built a three-storey house. I do not know how much
of this is true, but I do know that my mom spent years of her childhood bonding
over boma with school friends, and I haven’t had it in decades now. So if
anyone could get me hot bomas from Shibpur, you are my best friend for the rest
of my life!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know how I jumped from jawba phool to boma, but the
other name, Hibiscus rosa sinensis, opens up a whole new world of memories for
me. I am in the ninth grade and Mrs. Khurana is our biology teacher. She has
just taught us how to eviscerate the flower along its longitudinal axis to
expose the reproductive contents using a dissecting needle. The catch is that
during the practical exam, you only get one flower and one try to get it right.
Sometimes, even surgeons are not as skilled as is expected of a 14 year-old.
This would be followed by my vague attempt to neatly draw and label the parts
of the flower, something I hated doing. I am so bad at drawing and sketching, I
could not even draw a pumpkin, forget drawing the private parts of a dissected flower.
I spent a good few months of my childhood surreptitiously plucking red flowers
from the landlord’s garden and practicing my surgery skills on them. I might
not know how to cook biryani or write R codes, but I can surely show you the
reproductive parts of this red flower.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And of course now, the flower reminds me of the three-year old
grandson of our neighbor who religiously sings me “mayer paye jawba hoye” in
his mellifluous voice every time we meet. It is a devotional song dedicated to
Ma Kali which means something like- I will be the flower of your feet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine</span></span></div>
</div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-9684558778100723022020-05-22T01:23:00.000-07:002022-02-06T00:55:53.837-08:00Thod(a)-Thod(a)<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">A lot can happen over a banana stem (thod in Bangla) from the
garden. Sunday morning, I saw my neighbor chop a few of the banana plants in
the garden. No idea what he was up to. Although I love the thod that my ma
makes, I did not know what raw thod looks like. The neighbor-lady and I were
chatting in the backyard when the neighbor-man handed me a shiny white,
tube-like thing that looked like a rolled calendar, which was apparently the
thod he got from the banana plant.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">He put me in a
huge dilemma with his neighborly kindness. I had never seen raw thod in my
life, forget how to cook it. I looked at them helplessly and confessed that I
do not know how to cook thod. “I love eating it though,” I added shamelessly,
hoping that they would take it back and cook it for me. Instead, he asked me to
try cooking it myself, explaining the basic steps.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Thod in hand, I
called 911-aka-Ma. I think ma was more worried for me than I was. She again
told me the basic steps. Keep peeling the hairy extensions, chop it finely, let
it soak for a while in salt to get the moisture out, yada yada yada. In the
meantime, the neighbor-man showed up and shared with me a bowl full of cooked
thod, smelling heavenly of ghee and coconuts. Here is a person whom I have only
known as a fellow faculty-colleague, writing papers and teaching classes, who
chopped down the plant, sickle-in-hand, removed the thod, processed it, cooked
it and shared it with the neighbor, and I am panicking.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Armed with ma’s
verbal lessons, I decided to triangulate the information with YouTube videos.
The first few I watched did not show how to process and cut the thod, they gave
long lectures about how thod is good for diabetics, has lots of iron, yada yada
yada. Finally, I found a few videos of villagers who grow and cut thod, sans
any unsolicited gyaan about its health benefits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Armed with
three sources of information (neighbor-man, ma, and YouTube), I fell asleep.
The next day, off I went to work, but kept thinking of the thod sitting in my
fridge. Looks like once you were able to chop it all, it did not take much time
or drama. No onion or garlic peeling. No adding groom moshla or other spices.
Simply temper the oil with mustard seeds and red chilies and cover and cook
until done. This much, I could do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I usually come
home late (as late at midnight sometimes) but I was distracted. I wanted to
bite the bullet and see how I cook it. By 3 pm, I was home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Peeling and
chopping was the hardest part. My hands ached for hours, maybe even a day, and
what came of it after chopping reminded me of my friend, G, who knows that I
hate chopping vegetables, my fine motor skills are horrible. Every time I visit
her in Seattle, during cooking all my favorites, she makes me peel and chop
vegetables. Sometimes, multiple vegetables. Sometimes, vegetables for things
she will be cooking in a week, just to torture me in the name of meal
preparation. And when she runs out of vegetables, she makes me break and chop Thenga
(coconuts). No matter how well I try to chop, she always looks at the chopping
board and says, “Maadu kannu podardhu” in Tamil, meaning, “looks like the cow
gave birth,” referring to how messy the chopping board looks. She asks me to
chop beans and carrots measuring 0.1 centimeters. Which fully-grown,
self-respecting mammal with permanent teeth chews such small pieces, I don’t
know. She claims that the way something is cut determines its taste, but I
highly doubt it and think she puts me through these cutting challenges to mess
around with me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">After
30 minutes of working out my biceps and risking developing gout in my hands, I
was able to cut it all. It still looked like the cow gave birth, but I didn’t
care. I can chew the coarse pieces. I was half-dead after chopping and was
contemplating going back to sleep. But true to what people said, after the
chopping was done, cooking was easy peasy. And just like that, from not knowing
what thod looks like, I learnt how to make decent thod in less than 24 hours. I
was so excited that I shared some with the neighbor. After all, I had to return
the bowl and according to tradition, we do not return empty bowls.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">And with that,
at 5 in the evening, instead of working in office, I enjoyed my first DIY thod,
right from the garden, and became the first person in the world to have it with
shingara. I did not wait to make rice; I had no energy left. When the
neighbor-man told me a few weeks back that if he runs out of food, he will
start chopping banana plants, I was terrified. I thought that chopping things
from the garden is a terrible thing to happen. However, it was far from
terrible, and quite an enjoyable process. The thod tasted quite ordinary, but
for me, it was the best thing I had accomplished that day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I portioned it
off and left some for the next day before coming back to office. I really hope
that when that mocha (banana flower) is ready, they do not make me peel it too.
I have never made mocha, and I don’t think I can keep getting emotional about food
from the garden.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Like my friend
recently said, “It’s the time you have wasted for your rose (watering it) that
makes your rose so important.” That’s why I wrote this post, for posterity, so
that I always remember how excited I felt to cook thod for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-58042985346818344092020-05-14T08:27:00.000-07:002020-05-14T08:27:41.345-07:00My first time in Jugarat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In 2006, when I first
moved to Seattle, I met a girl at the orientation who could not say Gujarat. She
would call it Jugarat. I had even <a href="https://sunshinenjoy.blogspot.com/2006/10/ever-been-to-jugarat.html" target="_blank">written about it</a>. However, I had never
visited Jugarat myself.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fast forward to about two years ago, I visit Jugarat for the first time, and what an introduction to the place I
get! I was so excited to see what Jugarat looks and smells like. To me, it was
the mystical land of Krishna and Gandhi and Amul and Garba. I had heard some
odd stories related to Jugarat, about how a neighborhood family from Kolkata
had moved there and when the child came back, she would only ask “Kem chho?” Not
a word of Bangla. Or how that family’s daughter in Kolkata had eloped with a Jugarati
guy after the tenth grade, or how an uncle whose first wedding we attended went
there and found a new, Jugarati wife. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I stuck my nose to the
window pane of the aircraft, trying to get my first glimpse of Jugarat in the
fading sunlight that evening.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the airport, I
decided to use the restroom before picking up my bags. There were parallel stalls inside the restroom,
all occupied, and I was surprised to see four parallel lines in front of those
stalls instead of a single one. Back then, anomalies like this were out of my
schema of understanding things; of course now, I am used to anything, even the
lack of lines. So I had to choose any one line and hope that someone was not
stuck inside that stall creating a bottleneck. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I waited patiently,
and as the line moved forward, suddenly, I heard firing. It was the kind of
fear-instilling firing that one does not easily forget. I heard loud firing
from all the stalls- boom boom bam bam boom! And without realizing, thought
bubbles started forming in my head. In those thought bubbles, I saw pictures of
dhokla, thepla, fafda, handvo, khandvi, all under various stages of digestion.
I clutched on to my chest instinctively, not knowing if I would survive the
firing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally, the firing
stopped, almost all at once, and there was a deafening silence. The doors to
each of the stalls opened. From inside, I saw four very fat women in saris
emerging out victorious, slowly moving towards the wash basin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Very wisely, I decided to turn back and run out, not looking
back. I could empty my bladder later. I did not have it in me to go ahead and
cross the war line after all that firing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That was my first introduction to Jugarat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine</span></span></div>
</div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-5760699446227950492020-05-13T01:09:00.000-07:002020-05-13T01:17:41.901-07:00Recapping the past decade<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The one thing that
Covid-19 has given many of us is a lot of time to stay at home and reflect. That
is what I have been doing since March. I was thinking that if someday, my
memory left me, I would not know who I am. My basic fabric, the blueprint of
who I am will go amiss. I know that we are into the fifth month of the year,
a year many want to wish away, but the start of this year also marked a fantastic
end to a decade (2010-2019). Here are some of the things I will remember the last decade for:</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I restarted my PhD for
the second time and also earned it. This time, my PhD made me leave Seattle (the
“best” coast) and head diametrically east. It brought new
experiences, new friends, and new adventures. I miss those three years and keep
wishing that one day, I could return. From the beaches of North Carolina and Virginia to the mountains of upstate New York, the ocean of Maine and the beaches of Florida, I drove everywhere. From Boston to Princeton to New York, Baltimore, Washington, DC, Richmond, and Orlando, I made new friends everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The last decade also
marked my transition from science to social science research. The transition
brought its own challenges of learning an entire new field. Each field is a
new way of looking at the world, and this new lens taught me to look at
the world in a different way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I grew an inch taller.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2010 is when I first
traveled Europe as a tourist. That was also when I got a taste of backpacking
and traveling alone, and there was no looking back. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Half-way into
the decade, when I got a job in Germany, I was thrilled. Over the next few
years, I lived, worked, and paid taxes in the USA, Germany, and India. Germany for two years was another nice experience. I lived right by the ocean and woke up looking at the sun rise by the water and the ships dock right outside home everyday. Germany is one of the prettiest places I have ever lived in. Again, this is another place I keep wishing I would go back to, maybe for a year or three. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I got my first faculty
job. And my second one too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I traveled Cambodia
with dad. And Thailand. And Nepal. I got to see Angkor Wat and the Annapurna range. The decade opened up Asia for me and made me
realize there are so many places I haven’t traveled. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I discovered the joy of living in hostels. I discovered Airbnb. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I got to work in one of
the renowned schools in India. All these months later, I am still in awe of this place!<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I became a home owner.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I traveled to 32 new
countries. And I am not talking about airport layovers or watching television at a
hotel in Dubai because my connecting flight leaves tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I regret that I didn't
learn a new skill or a new language.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Okay, I was kidding
about my height! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-13073486004147057252020-05-11T10:25:00.001-07:002020-05-11T10:25:54.225-07:00Air (un)conditioning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I moved to a new home in December, then started traveling for work. I thought that once I am back in March, I will set up the home, buy nice furniture, buy an air conditioner. I was about to spend part of the summer in the US and Germany anyway, so I did not bother. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then, the pandemic happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, I am stuck in the 45 Celsius (and rising) heat, without an AC. And this is only May. This house is so intelligently built, it is freezing in the winter and blazing in the summer. Add to it cooking, cleaning, and all the household chores that make you hotter (pun unintended). Even in the middle of the night, the fan lets off a plume of hot air from the overheated ceiling. The mattress absorbs all the heat. I have never had so much hotness in life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’ve moved my makeshift bed to every room to see which one feels a little better- the ground floor bedroom, the ground floor living room, or the upstairs bedroom. The suffering is all the same. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’ve considered sleeping on the open rooftop, but fear being bitten by bugs and mosquitoes. Worse, imagine waking up and seeing a monkey sidling up to you. I’ve also considered sleeping in the office, either on the floor or atop my wooden desk, but fear the bugs, the hiding lizards, and my own snoring alerting the security guards and a consequent email on the notice board the next day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everything I cut for food, I try applying it on my face to see if it would cool me down. Cucumbers, lemons, melons, and papaya have worked out great! Tip: Cauliflowers and eggplants don’t help!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I updated my playlist to play all the Raag Megh Malhar songs. And it started raining in Kolkata!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Watering the plants is my favorite chore now. Most of the water goes on me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m fantasizing about an ice bucket challenge. Right now, I could eat ice for breakfast, lunch and dinner. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am trying to look at the positive side. Less electricity bills. Absolutely no need to work out. Reliving childhood nostalgia when we had no AC.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When most people around the world are working from home, I am going to office every day. Even on weekends and holidays. I stay there as long as I can, staring at the AC and fantasizing about stealing it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I keep watching winter videos of Switzerland on Youtube, hoping that it helps. It has. By now, I know all the names of the Swiss counties. There is nothing left for me to see in Switzerland anymore. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some activities are a complete no-no. Not getting embroiled in Facebook fights. No reading romantic stories. No watching kissing scenes in movies. No horny thoughts. Complete abstinence from all activities that tend to raise the body temperature. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I look at old pictures of me wading in the snow the one terrible winter I spent in Nebraska, hoping that it will produce some cooling effect. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I chant this mantra to myself, “Evaporation causes cooling!” 50 times every day while sweating, hoping that all this positivity will get me through till the end of summer in November. Here is another one. Close your eyes. Imagine there has been a power cut. Now open your eyes. Look at the ceiling fan still working with gratitude. You will not feel as hot after that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think of life as a Bikram hot yoga class, a meditation retreat, or a tropical vacation. People pay a lot of money to get some of these experiences. I’m getting it for free. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-72346419127693817402020-05-07T02:11:00.006-07:002022-07-11T06:17:42.187-07:00Food (scarcity) for thought<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I am not easily perturbed by news of the pandemic, but today
feels different, hollow. Last evening, the municipal corporation announced a
lockdown-within-a-lockdown starting midnight where all supplies are suspended
till May 16 except milk and medicines. As soon as the announcement was made,
thousands of people flocked to stores to stock up. People only got a five-hour
notice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It wouldn't
have mattered to me even if I had known. I came home from work and slept off,
slept through the announcement and woke up only at midnight. Not that I would
have rushed out anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Even a few days
back, the campus store had crates of eggs. I did not buy because I still had seven
eggs in my fridge. My first thought following the news was, the eggs would be
all sold by now. I was right. The entire store is empty other than the last few
packets of biscuits and cookies. I looked at the aisles in dismay. I had been
eating clean for a few months now (minimal processed food, large servings of fruits
and vegetables and home-cooked food) and was feeling great. Would I have to
resort to buying junk food if I ran out of supplies? I was wondering when I saw
a person check out 15 packets of popcorn and about 50 packets of jimjam
biscuits, vanilla sponge cakes, chocolate muffins, salted peanuts, and
Haldiram's bhujia sev. Thankfully, I will not have to resort to eating junk
food anymore. The person took it all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Next, I went to
the faculty lounge which had seen better days. We used to have fresh lemon
water, buttermilk, an assortment of tea and coffee, another Cafe Coffee Day
coffee machine and what not. Today, there were the last few bags of tea, no
coffee, and someone left a bowl full of sugar. Looks like we ran out of sugar
packets too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Next, I went to
the cafe to see how they are doing. They have groceries for the next four days
or so and are still serving paneer and porota and chole, but no more vegetable
fried rice, lockdown shingaras, or anything for that matter that requires
vegetables.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">As I walked back
in the 45 Celsius heat, I thought about the days of yore when interviews were
followed by grand faculty lunches with fish, meat, fruit custard and rabri
(along with several main courses). I thought of faculty meetings and an
unending supply of cha, shingara, dhokla, peyaji, and anything you fancied. The
campus dogs look so emaciated; they are mostly sleeping all day because they
have no energy to move. One of them whimpers on seeing me, telling me that it
is hungry and asking for food. Its rib cage is jutting out, I can count it's
ribs. It breaks my heart. I have no food with me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I see my
faculty-neighbor walking by. I stop to say hi. His spouse told me this morning
that I should let her know if I run out of food. Her generosity embarrassed me.
I am a single person, they are a family of four, yet they are thinking of their
neighbors. The faculty tells me the same- let us know if you need food. I ask
him what will happen if things go drastic? "I don't know," he has
that contemplative look. "Maybe I can start chopping the banana plants and
cook its stems." He is not joking. Thod (banana stem curry) is a popular
food we eat, but for someone to seriously consider chopping trees from his
garden sounded scary. If it came to that, I do not even have tree-chopping or
thod -skills.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I came home and
took stock of my fridge. I haven't eaten meat in more than 3 weeks, lacking
some level of animal protein, but things are not bad for me. I have multiple
levels of protection. The fruits and vegetables will last me for the next few
days. Then I can switch to dry food (daal sheddho, khichuri, bhaat, oats). If
needed, I can go out and get milk. If nothing, I have some adipose I have been
storing for the last many years. I know that by the time I run out of all my
options, the lockdown will be over.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">When a pandemic
doesn't target your stomach, it targets your head. It brings bizarre thoughts.
Did my education and skills teach me to survive a catastrophe? Sure, I can
cook, but can I chop down a tree? Or barbeque a bird? Or milk a cow if it comes
to that? I was distracted with these thoughts while cooking and I forgot to
peel the potol (pointed gourd). With the thick peel on, the curry tastes awful.
Normally, I would throw it away and whine to my mom. Today, I ate the potol with
peels and did not even bother complaining. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It is stressful to think of things I
do not have or cannot control, so I take stock of the things I have. I have
some food (both perishable and dry). I have on-campus community support. I have
clean drinking water, electricity, an air-conditioned office and a home with a
fan. I have a job and an office that someone comes to clean every day. That
should be enough to get me through. With this comes the realization of how
hollow some of the core things in my life have become. When you are hungry and
thinking of how to procure food, you do not wake up in the morning and wonder
what papers you will publish this year and what international conferences will
you go to this year. I am not going to chew on my research papers or my 10-page
long CV to stay alive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I
absentmindedly look at the world data on Wiki. Cambodia, Nepal and Bhutan have
no reported deaths. Some of these countries, I have been to as a tourist. Then,
some of the developed countries I have lived in or aspired to be in have their
death counts in thousands. Nothing that had glittered once feels like gold
anymore. Everything has boiled down to the basics now- stay at home, eat when
hungry, drink when thirsty, do not get infected, keep calm, take care of your
mental health, stay alive, and take it one day at a time!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Once the lockdown is over and COVID-19 is past us, the first
thing I will do is order a plate of Kolkata mutton biryani (with a boiled
potato and an egg). I know that we had broken up last year. But I have thought
of you every day, especially during my last four weeks of forced vegetarianism.
And I have realized with unambiguous clarity what my heart truly loves and
wants. Quoting Catherine from Wuthering Heights,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt; margin: 4.5pt 0in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">“My love for
lockdown shingara is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm
well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for mutton biryani resembles
the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
Nelly, I am mutton biryani! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure,
any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-41440684730388324882020-05-04T07:23:00.001-07:002022-07-11T07:25:23.899-07:00Irrfan Khan<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My life is a little richer because I have Irrfan Khan movies to
watch. About his brilliant acting, there is nothing I can add that people haven’t
already said. I love his movies because the moment he came on screen, I felt
that everything will be alright. He will take care of everything. It's a
feeling I cannot fully explain, I do not know what would be fine and what he
would set alright. His movies had that kind of a calming effect on me.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I loved him in
all his roles. A lot of people remember The Namesake as their favorite. I have
a slightly unconventional choice. I absolutely loved his small role as the
slightly eccentric guy, Monty, in Life in A Metro.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Life in A Metro released around the same time that I was meeting
a lot of guys with the possibility of marriage in mind. It was a strange stage
in life filled with annoyance, uncertainties, disappointments, and
hopelessness. It would be fair to say that I disliked almost everyone I met.
Twenties are also the time when you are not quite sure about who you are and
who you could be. You put up with a lot of bee-ass in the name of societal
conformation (I love the thirties that way! They are so freeing!). So many of
my evenings were spent in faltu, never-ending chain of mindless conversations
and small talk. Looking back, I hated all of it, but I digress here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Watching Monty at 28 had given me a lot of hope. Here is this
character from a movie who has met 29 girls so far, who is real, as real as it
gets. Remember him ogling at Shruti's boobs and later telling Shruti,
"gaadi garage se nahi nikalogi to pataa kaise chalega ki light green hai?
Take your chances!"-- "How will you know the light is green unless
you take your car out of the garage?" Or when Shruti professed her love
for him while he was mounted on a horse for his wedding ceremony, all he could
come up with was- "But the blouse and petticoat have been stitched for the
other girl, why didn't you tell me before?" No matter how bizarre the
situation was, he always said or did the right thing. I had connected to that
character like no other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I watched Life in
A Metro again after I heard the news of Khan’s passing. When Rajesh Khanna
passed, both my mom and grandma spent every day binge watching his movies and
crying. This went on for a month. I don't typically cry while watching movies,
but I relived the feeling of that hope that he gave me as Monty. I celebrated
his life through his movies. He will live on among many of us forever through
his movies. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #1c1e21; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">sunshine </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-16485777524785598002020-05-02T01:23:00.003-07:002022-02-05T00:24:36.466-08:00Lockdown diaries<p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">For posterity. Today is May 2, 2020</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Six weeks of lockdown over. The
government just announced a 2-week extension.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; mso-add-space: auto;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Last restaurant visit: March 16<sup>th</sup>.
Healthy breakfast of mihidana, mishit doi, filter coffee, and aloo’r porota at
Cal 27.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Last flight: March 18, from Kolkata.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Last biryani (homemade): March 18.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Haven’t stepped out of home since: March
19.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">1 USD = 75.84 INR.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Daily activities: Cooking, doing BJP
(bashon, jhaadu, pocha).</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Newly gained knowledge: What plants grow
in my garden. Also, it takes approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes for a thorough
jhaadu pocha of the house.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">New daily addiction: Shingara and cha.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Current weather: 43C/27C.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Biggest challenge: Surviving at home
without air conditioning.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Thankful to: 1) My sister for helping me
figure out Bigbasket slots. 2) Friend for telling me to sleep putting on a well-wrung,
wet towel. This has cut down time to fall asleep from 4 hours to roughly 1
hour.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Look forward to: Kakima’s collated corona
memes (try saying that fast).</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Mental health measures: Asking people
politely not to send me Whatsapp forwards. Blocking those who cannot follow
instruction. </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Not missing: Waking up to an alarm clock
every day. Knowing what day of the week it is.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Something I look forward to: Cooking
every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">New companion: YouTube.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Highlight of the day: My plant is
sprouting jasmine flowers and I have the time to notice it. </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Bad joke of the day: </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Colleague: “Do you know about IS-LM
model?” </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Me: “No, I only know about SL-IM models.”
</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">In-house murder of the day: Usually I see
lizards feasting on tiny insects. Or I unapologetically kill ucchingdes with my
slippers. Early this morning, I saw a mid-size cat in-hiding, hunting down a large
pigeon. Think about it. A land animal so agile that it could hunt down a flying
animal much larger than the size of its mouth. Well, I am no saint to be
preaching cats about eating vegetarian, but this national-geographic-moment in
my garden made me dizzy and sick. </span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; mso-add-space: auto;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;">Biggest realization: I love this social
distancing and slower life. No unnecessary meetings where nothing useful gets
done, clingy students asking for my time, pressure to socialize or comb my hair
daily, reading restaurant reviews and planning Friday nights, look nice, book a
cab, take a flight, go through security checks, be somewhere, say something,
look nice. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; mso-add-space: auto;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">sunshine </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-44147808683809434332020-04-30T12:48:00.000-07:002020-04-30T12:48:11.731-07:00Activa(ting) talk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Imagine a day comes
when you make an entry in your gratitude journal that reads like this: “Today,
I was able to place an order with bigbasket.” It was truly a miracle. While
making the online payment, I half-expected to see the familiar message that has
been popping up on my screen all week, “All slots full. Please try again
later.” But my order went through. After trying for nine effing days, my order
went through. Delivery day was the day after tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was so excited, I
called mom to share the news. Then for the next twenty-four hours, I kept
staring at my order list, mesmerized. So what if they have stopped supplying
meat and fish and eggs? So what if only about 60% if the items were available?
So what if they showed delivery time between 6 am to 3 pm, which meant waiting
in a limbo for the doorbell to ring and not being able to get to work in the
morning? In forty-eight hours, I would have all these items in my fridge. The
fridge that was starting to look so empty these days. I never thought that the
biggest joy in my life would be to wait in anticipation for two kilo apples and
two large watermelons to arrive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On delivery day, the
guy called and told me that the company has asked him not do a door delivery. I
would have to go meet him at the main gate and get my stuff. The same order
list that gave me a dopamine high not too long ago was now going to give me
nightmares. Imagine lugging two kilo of apples, one kilo of pomegranates, two large
watermelons, four liters of milk, one kilo of bananas, half a kilo of cucumbers, and
other such heavy things from the main gate to home. No worries, I told myself
that in this 42 Celsius heat, at 10 in the morning when the sun was already
high up my head, I am off for my army-training. The kind of training they show
you in movies where you carry heavy bags on your back and crouch and crawl on
the ground. I can do this! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One look at the stuff
and I knew that I cannot do this. In a bad attempt to use the poor
defenseless woman card, I made a sad face and said to myself, loud enough for
the security guards to hear, “No problem, I will make four rounds in this heat
to lug everything!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the security
guards took pity on me and asked me to hand him all the stuff. He had a scooter (Activa) parked nearby. On a side note, I did not know what an
Activa is when I moved here. Someone asked me if I have an Activa and I told
her that I now eat Amul Masti yogurt (and wondered how she knew about Activia,
the brand of yogurt I ate in the US). Anyway, the security guard was nice enough
to drop my heavy bags home. That army-training I was fantasizing about never
happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I told this story to
my family on the phone, amid much gasps and oo-maas and ahaares from mom and
grandma. Of all the things, my dad asked me somewhat suspiciously, “Did you sit
behind him on the scooter?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I can walk just
fine,” I shouted at him. Ridiculous! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine</span></span></div>
</div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-4379087903571488492020-04-29T12:20:00.000-07:002020-04-29T12:20:01.228-07:00Confe-runs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Last year in Germany:</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am about to bunk one
session of the conference to check out the city when a needy-looking student
comes running and panting, looking for group 3 (I am group 3). We had to
compile a PPT and our team had done 95% of the work. All this person had to do
is put it all together and give a two-minute presentation. The person just got
here and doesn't yet know me or what group I belong to.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Hallo, entschuldigen Sie, have you seen someone from group 3? I
need help with the presentation!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am all for helping
people, but I know this student is going to take an hour of my time, the time I
could be exploring a new city. PhD students are supposed to be independent
anyway. Evil of me, I nod a “nein! nein!” to say that I have no idea who is in
group 3. I pointed to the garden in the opposite direction of the exit to tell her that a bunch of people are there and she should check them out. She ran in that
direction and I ran to my exit of freedom from needy students, laughing a loud,
evil, Muhahahaha in my head.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Karma, however, is a B-I-T-C-H with a capital B! I take a tour
of the city and come back to find that the student has found and followed me on
Twitter. Fine, I was not going to see her again anyway, I reasoned to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Goddammit, I was walking down my hotel stairs for dinner that
night and found her again walking up the stairs. The one time in five days that
I bunk one session of the conference, karma hits me like a ton of bricks. So
glad for quick reflexes and hoodies that you can use to instantly hide your
face, which is what I just did!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Please tell me we are not taking the same train to the airport
tomorrow!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14545899.post-57606061424647674002020-04-28T11:25:00.001-07:002020-04-28T11:25:33.628-07:00Foucault’s Panopticon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt;">
<b><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Late January, 2020</span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Winter is coming to an end, and I am grateful for the remaining
few early mornings that are chilly. One such chilly morning, I was eating
breakfast in the kitchen when I heard the bells ringing loudly in the neighbor’s
house. I stared out of the kitchen window to see the big banana plant
obstructing my view. It is the morning of Saraswati pujo. I was not sure if I
found it odd or relieving that I was not invited. It’s one of those things
where you feel left out when not invited but don’t get excited either when
invited. There were clear signs of a pujo in progress. More bells ringing, some
conch-blowing, and the telltale burning smell of incense sticks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I did get invited though, to a different house. I went there
shortly before class. It was a ghoroa pujo, not a large gathering, everything
done at home. No selfies or videos, no photo shoots, no dressing up and posing
in front of Saraswati. There was kool (the berry) offered to the goddess. I had
kool after a decade. The priest is a fellow faculty I have never seen in a
dhuti before. I met a few faculty and their partners.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A particular woman I met first thought that I am her husband’s
student and was surprised to learn that my office is located next to his. “How
come I have not heard of you before?” she asked me. I am torn between a witty
comeback and a sarcastic one, but I decided to nod politely and not say
anything. I was there to pay my respect to the goddess from the department of
education. But she is not satisfied with my nod. She added, “How come none of
the maids told me about you? I have never seen you during my morning walks
either.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“That's because I do not have a maid and I do not go for morning
walks,” I replied. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Well, even not having a maid is news on campus. Anyway, good to
meet you, will look out for you during my walks.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am not sure why some old woman who has never met me before was
so fixated on bumping into me during her walks. It reminded me of Foucault's
panopticon metaphor. People tend to modify their behavior when they know they
are being watched, as Foucault writes in his book, “Discipline and Punish.” I
know that I am being watched, my garden is being watched, what plants I grow or
not grow, the kind of clothes hanging from the balcony, the kinds of shoes and
slippers outside my door, the lights from the house, everything is being
watched. Do I care? I don't know. I know that a bunch of maids watch me every day,
because some actually knock on my door every now and then and ask me why I am
not hiring them. I know that the sweepers who sweep my walkway watch me every day,
they keep asking me if I need a gardener. And now, an additional person on
campus will be watching me too, unable to come to terms with the shock that she
did not know me before.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I got down on my knees, paid my homage to the
goddess, thanked my hosts for inviting me, and left for class. My immediate
neighbors are performing Saraswati pujo and not inviting me. I am watching them
too!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">sunshine<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
sunshinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01592553581294142760noreply@blogger.com0