Grandma questions conferences

Two days before I was supposed to board a flight to Seattle, my favorite city in the world, both my conferences got cancelled. I had spent almost a year planning this seven-week long trip with multiple conference talks, invited talks, presentations, work meetings, sleepover parties, and dinner plans with old friends across Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and San Antonio. All gone in a whiff.

 

I was so numb and disoriented the first day that I did not know how to function. By day two, I had to have Bailey’s shots before I could sleep well at night. After spending a busy quarter teaching and traveling, I was really looking forward to this trip. I had said no to a work trip to Kolkata, something I would usually not do otherwise, so that I could be in Seattle.

 

Baby Kalyani threw a tantrum and said, "Auntie not coming, not fair!!" Her little sister looked dejected. Overnight, more than half a page from my vita vanished. My suitcase was packed, and now, I was left with kilos of snacks from Sukhadiya Garbaddas Bapuji and Induben Khakrawaala I did not know what to do with. Continuing my rant on my first world problems, I suddenly did not know what to do with all the unaccountable time. There was still research to do, but suddenly there were no meetings scheduled, no interviews, no students asking me for my time. I had cleared my calendar of everything for 7 weeks. Now, I had the gift of time and did not know what to do with it.

 

I decided to visit Kolkata and spend some time at home. My family, who was traveling at that time, made super quick plans to come back before I did. My sister finished her office for the day and decided to show up. My grandma, who is old and not as mobile, ordered her to be brought to our place. Everyone knew I would be in a terrible mood. Barely two hours before I landed, the entire family in different corners of the city and state had regrouped to welcome me.

 

And welcome me with something that always works- food. My parents stopped at Shanti Niketan to get me the most amazing Gokul Pithe. My sister got me the best mutton biryani I have had in a while. My parents asked me to list what I was craving. For the next twenty-four hours, everything I was craving the last 3 months was there- from begun pora to bel to toker daal to homemade kababs and what not. It seemed like an entire army was deployed to take care of me. And the narrative went something like, "Ahaare bachcha meye ta conference e jete parlona." The poor little girl (poor? little?) could not go to the conference.

 

My sister and I giggled and gossiped till late hours, just like we used to. I heard her telling my brother-in-law on the phone, "Look, I don't know when I am coming home, I just need to spend some more time here." My entire family made it their mission to make me happy.

 

But then, the talk came, from my grandma. Hands on her hips, she asked me, "Hya re, conference talk dile ki taaka daye?" (Do they pay you for speaking at conferences?)

 

Money? No. I pay money to go to conferences. They do not pay me.

 

What? Then why are you losing sleep over cancelled conference talks, she chided.

 

My family does not understand much of how academia works. Sometimes, through their eyes, I get a fresh perspective!

 

sunshine

Of bananas, temples, and early morning walks

There is something with me meeting people who take their fitness a tad too seriously. They sometimes involve me in their excitement and with me not able to say no, I get into all kinds of trouble.

 

A professor of mine has invited me to her campus. This evening, she enthusiastically showed me around. We walked for close to 3 hours, she is holding a moderately heavy bag of books and me, nothing. Yet, I kept huffing and puffing, stopping occasionally and pretending that I am admiring the trees, the birds, and the buildings. I was simply catching my breath. Her shapely biceps showed with the bag of books that she refused for me to carry. At 72, she gave me serious fitness goals. There is no asking what I would be doing at 72. I will be dead by 72.

 

With all her enthusiasm, she asked me if I'd like to join her and her spouse for a morning walk tomorrow so that they could spend more time with me. There was a window of a few milliseconds when I could say no, but why would I? This is exactly how I get myself into trouble. It's only after I said, "Sure, why not?" that she told me that they would meet me at 7 am. 7 am on a Sunday? FML! I haven't had a single day off in February due to early morning flights and interviews, and this is how I start the first day of March? While saying goodbye, I said, "So see you at the guest house tomorrow at 7 am?"

 

"Not there, we will meet you in front of Sri Maramma temple at 7 am," she said.

 

Holy cow! I quickly Googled to see that Sri Maramma temple was at the other end of the campus, a good 30-minute walk away from the guest house (make it 45 with me losing my way). I just said yes to a 7 am fitness meeting to learn that I must start much earlier than that. I am a ravenous breakfast eater; I cannot function without breakfast. And I don't mean tea or coffee, I mean solid food. Even if I managed to wake up at 5:30 am to start walking at 6:15 am so that I could meet them at 7 am and walk around some lake until 7:45 am (which is what they had planned), I would be dead at 8 am without food. The dining hall (which again served me vegetarian food during dinner, double dhokha!) doesn't open until 8 am on Sundays. This is like living a nightmare I did not sign up for when I left home this morning, coincidentally at 7 am.

 

Shamelessly, I asked the dining hall person if he can give me some fruits. I made up a lie that I wake up at 5 am everyday (no, I don't!) and I cannot starve until 8 am. He was understanding. He went inside the kitchen, talked to some people, and brought me four sorry-looking bananas I felt embarrassed to carry back as people started at me. I would be eating these at 6 am tomorrow before starting my shorter walk that would be followed by the longer walk. Just to make sure I know my way, I walked back from Sri Maramma temple to the guesthouse after saying goodbye to her. There was a huge demon standing in the temple with a tiny goddess poking his bulging belly with a trishul. The goddess was slaying the demon, but it looked like she was poking a hole into his belly to relieve him of all the gas after he overdosed on beans and radish for dinner last night. I know all of us at some point have felt like this demon, wishing for relief! I named her Goddess Anti-flatulence! By the time I had crossed Swamiye Saranam Ayyappa temple, I was screaming ayyo and appa in pain. I had not packed walking shoes and my feet were screaming murder!

 

So, as you enjoy your Saturday night eating and drinking and making merry, I am going to bed early. I was hoping to hang out with a few friends, chilling with some beer and barbecued animal protein. But I have a big fight ahead of me tomorrow. And only the spirit of Saranam Ayyappa or Sri Maramma and these four bananas can save me.

 

sunshine