The PhD Launch Pad

Living in the IT-hub called Seattle and hanging out with a bunch of techie geeks, I listened with yawning boredom to all the tech talks, the heated discussions about if an Ipad is better than an Ipod, an Ipod is better than the Droid phone, and so on. I was surrounded by gadget maniacs, people who lived, loved, and were wedded to gadgets. I have known friends who window shopped at the apple store for hours, or booked iphones even before they were launched. 2G led to 3G and then 4G. I don’t really get much of it, and learning new technology sure does scare me. I like to keep the things in life simple. I used my phone set, a simple one that can be used solely to talk, for four years till it’s parts were threatening to come apart, thanks to excess usage and baby Kalyani fiddling with it whenever she could lay her tiny hands on it. Last week G forced me to get a new phone, a free upgrade that I had resisted for so long. It’s a simple phone, again used solely for conversation, but just the thought of learning how to use a new device scared me. It took me days to figure out how to control volume or put it in the silent mode, how to send messages without sending it to the wrong person, and how to set the alarm clock so that I wake up on time. You get the point I hope.

My advisor is a gadget crazy person. Like I’ve noticed with most men, his eyes light up with childlike excitement whenever he talks about those cool machines he ordered and the glamorous phones and computers he uses. I am yet to see the cool machine he has that tracks eye ball movements as one gets into deep thinking. In one of those states of deep thought, he finally blurted out, “I need you to get an ipad.”

I didn’t think I heard him right. Who needs an ipad for research? He said he needs to keep in touch with me even when I am traveling. I tried assuring him such a situation wouldn’t arise as I wouldn’t travel if there was work. I mean it takes me hours to figure how a simple mp3 player works. I thought ipads are toys for the rich and spoilt CS people. I left it at that.

The next day he asked me again if I had given it a thought. What was there to think? I didn’t want an ipad, or any gadget. Why couldn’t he get me a gift card from Barnes & Noble? Or take me to his next conference where I could see a new place? But then, words of wisdom came from a senior who I asked if there was any need for me to have an ipad.

“Take it as a gift from a person who loves technology and leave it at that. It’s much simpler that way.”

So dear friends, I’ll soon be a proud owner of a 64 GB ipad 3G. I don’t know what those words mean, I just googled the name. Like I told a friends, “I usually have an apple in my bag just in case I get hungry…... now I'll have 2 in my bag :)"

How times change. 4 years ago, my school gave me a flash drive as a gift. It had thrilled me beyond everything. The world has come a long way from giving away flash drives to ipads.

How much I learn to use it is yet to be seen though.

sunshine

School of Thought

It's time to start the next chapter.

It’s time to leave those fancy handbags behind and pick up that backpack.

It’s time to hunt for free food on campus and live on Maggi, Subway, and Chipotle.

It’s time to stop living in that apartment alone, and to have fun staying with roommates.

It’s time to brag about the campus you will be spending the next few years of your life in.

It’s time to get into the vicious cycle of sleeping during classes and staying up late finishing assignments.

It’s time to subscribe to PhD comics.

It’s time to start taking the bus again instead of hopping onto the car every time.

It’s time to aim for those conferences and travel at the advisor's expense.

It’s time to push myself to do something new and creative, and to try to be productive everyday.

After a break of 2 years from school, it’s time to get back to school again.

sunshine

What’s up?

It’s been a long time since I visited my own blog. Talk about priorities. So much has happened ever since the last time, I keep penning down snippets of thoughts till my mind wanders off to the next thing.

So what’s been happening? A lot actually.

I miss Kolkata. But not as much as I miss the home cooked food. The biryani ma made for my farewell lunch was awesome.

I miss watching Indian Idol 5 live. It was something to wait in anticipation for Mondays and Tuesdays. Now I just update myself watching it online.

Germany is a very efficient country. If there is a place I would like to work in, it could be Germany.

Europe is all about nice castles and palaces, trains and trams, cobbled streets and nice little shops. US doesn’t seem as visually appealing to me as it used to ever since I left Europe.

My obsession with my favorite movie “Before Sunrise” led me to plan a trip to Vienna where the movie was shot. I wasn’t disappointed. Vienna lived up to my expectations, and more.

My other obsession with Mills & Boon, and those tall, dark hunks led me to plan another trip to Italy. Italian men look as handsome as I always thought they would, and Italian women are the best dressed and good looking women I have seen. Italy seemed like the fashion capital.

Prague was beautiful, just wish it wasn’t that hot there.

I am sporting a nicely developed tan as a gift from my Eurotrip that will take me years to get rid of.

A little accident on the streets of Sicily, I tore my ligament and am in bandages and crutches. Not that it has stopped me from doing anything, but the bandage needs to be there for 6 more weeks.

Which is why I am not driving from the western coast of the US to the eastern coast anymore. My big plans of the 3,000 mile road trip I had planned for this summer goes down the drain. Sob sob !!

I am in the US now. I entered the US in a wheelchair. Which also meant minimum security questioning for me, and minimal waiting in queues. The services and assistance provided by Lufthansa impressed me.

I am slowly catching up on emails and posts, but am spending most of my time figuring out how to ship my car and stuff, preparing myself for school that starts in 3 weeks, and meeting friends in Seattle. I never thought I would make so many acquaintances here, but for the next few days, my lunch, dinner and evening schedules look full.

Lastly, I just turned a year older a few hours ago. As a kid, you wait in anticipation for your birthday, waking up and meeting all your friends in school, your friends wishing you, your teachers being nice to you. Your perspectives change as you get older. For me, the people who mattered to me and who I mattered to were all there, personally or in spirit.

It’s time to plan the move again, but will catch up soon.

sunshine

A Big Fat-(free) Lie

At some point of my life, roughly 83 hours and 52 minutes ago, I got tired of hogging on all the Rasgulla, Gulab Jamuns, Rabri, and all those deep fried masses of sugars and calories. Nothing triggered it, it just happened. I guess it’s like giving up on smoking (or getting rid of that loser of a boyfriend you should have left 5 years ago). You have been thinking of doing it for a while, and every time you try, you just fail. Then one fine morning, you wake up and just do it. I think the same happened to me. I have been unhappy with the way I have put on weight for the last few years. From being a person who jumped at the center of the screen whenever I spotted a camera, now I started shying away from the camera, finding a comfort spot behind somebody so that my paunch was hiding. Paunch I could still hide wearing appropriate clothes, but where would I hide my face, a big round blob of fat now with chubby cheeks? It’s been years since I’ve seen my face oval, the original way God designed it. Anyway I will rant about my body and looks some other time (I promise I will). I will not spare you, I will even rant about my huge biceps, till you are bored to death. Anyway.

So one fine day I just decided to give up on the empty calories. This was the least I could do, since I wasn’t committed to gymming and working out big time. The mangoes looked at me from the fridge expectantly and I looked back at the mangoes with pain. The neighbor who makes awesome “Patisaptas” (sweet crepes stuffed with coconut and jaggery and sometimes condensed milk filling) was promptly asked not to make those for my goodbye dinner in 5 days. Convincing mother wasn’t a problem since she has always been after me to lose weight, but convincing neighbors and relatives who believe in increasing their good karma by stuffing another Rasgulla into your mouth became a big problem. I turned down two dinner invitations feigning a stomach ache because it is futile to argue and explain to these people why I will not hog on the coconut cream based prawns, the deep fried potato tikkis, and the four courses of dessert following a five course dinner. Not that I have slimmed down overnight, but I still intended to stick to my decision of not eating rubbish.

So I went to visit my ex-student’s place. I taught her Math for 4 years and though she sucked at Math, we became great friends. Ironically I was the one who told her that Math isn’t everything in life, but as long as she studies it, she should do it well. I go visit my student after 4 years, and aunty (her mom) gets me a huge brown chocolate pastry and a tall glass of chilled iced tea. Poor aunty is familiar with my eating habits four years ago when I used to religiously devour every sweet she put on my plate (I don’t just have A sweet tooth, my entire dentition is sweet !!). Today I had already reached the stage when I was having sugar withdrawal symptoms, a little dizziness in my head and a very irritable temper caused by it. Not that I was starving or dieting, I just decided not to hog on high-calorie, low-nutrient stuff.

My plea of neither touching the chocolate pastry nor the iced tea fell on deaf ears. I promised I was more than happy sipping on a glass of cold water, but she wouldn’t understand. I tried reasoning with her, feigning a stomach ache, but nothing worked. Poor aunty must have been worried what she would offer me instead; maybe she didn’t have too many options. When nothing worked out, I had the most innovative idea. The only problem with that was, well, I can plan a lie beforehand and deliver it well, but when I make up an instant lie, I usually get caught.

“Aunty, please don’t insist. I have been diagnosed with high cholesterol”.

I don’t know why I said it, but it was one of those things you say first and think later. It sounded odd to my ears, high cholesterol at 28?

“Oh dear, sorry about it”. Aunty promptly put back the goodies away.

So we sat in an uncomfortable silence the next few minutes, aunty too shocked to ask me to eat anything and me too scared to speak lest I am caught.

“So how did it happen?”, she asked. “Family history?”

Now something in me refused to malign my impeccable family history. I was already feeling guilty for making up illnesses I do not have.

“Uh, not really. Just a bad American lifestyle. Not eating well and all”.

So the conversation drifted to normal soon. We spoke about this and that.

“Where did you get your tests done?”

I must admit I was totally unprepared for the question that caught me off guard. I was about to say our family doctor’s name in Kolkata, but something in my head was screaming our family doctor is aunty’s brother-in-law too.

“Aa- aa- bbb- bbb….”

Aunty stared at me stammer.

“Bbb—bbb--- Bellevue clinic”

“Which one? In Kolkata?”, she asked.

“No no, the one in Seattle? Bellevue clinic in Seattle”

“Oh.. okay”

“My memory getting bad aunty. These days I forget names so often”, I explained lamely.

The chocolate pastry stared at me from the corner of the room for the next 30 minutes, untouched. I came back later that night and had healthy roti and subzee for dinner. I wonder if aunty ever realized I gave her some instantly concocted lie. Even if she did, I’m sure she would know it was an innocuous, fat fat-free lie.

sunshine

A season of changes

The sad part of visiting home once every few years is that while you are away, some people you thought you would meet when you are back are no more. Yesterday when I said my final goodbyes to my grandparents, I wondered if I will ever meet them again. Not that they are sick or ailing, but they are old. When I came back to Kolkata, one thing I couldn’t help noticing is how grown up the kids looked, and how old or aged the adults looked. I was seeing people after 4 years, and my mind could not keep pace with the changes time had carved out for everyone of us. Mother has more strands of grey hair than I could remember. Father has a couple of wrinkle lines that wasn’t there before. Grandfather is almost white and bent with age. Grandmother has slimmed down a lot (and ironically looks younger) after her gall bladder removal. My maternal uncle in his mid-40s died of a heart attack a few months ago. My grandfather’s elder brother died of cancer.

And then some people are married, some have divorced, and some have remarried. The so called kids have started going to college. Newly born babies have started going to school. The guy in the neighborhood whose leg was amputated after the train accident got an artificial leg.

Some people are missing black hair, while some have gone bald. Wrinkles. Missing gall bladders and kidneys. Depressing, moribund, and strangely funny conversations, ranging from who died under what circumstances, and what was the menu during the death rituals. I think we Bengalis are a strange lot, deriving stimulation from recounting gory details of someone’s last days of life, the menu of the death ceremony, and even who was wearing what.

In the broader scheme of things, there are more changes. Anu Malik has copied more songs. I've thankfully stopped listening to Himesh Reshammiya. There are more flyovers. More crowded trains and metros. Longer queues. Steeper prices. More KFC and Subway joints. Something in the city is dying. The innocence of the city is dying.

Next time I visit, there will be more changes. More people I grew up with gone. More wrinkles. More white hair. More baldness. When you see people once in a few years, the change is stark. It depresses me. It depresses me more to think that I am growing old too. I’m progressing and retrogressing at the same time, in the same time scale, with the same people.

And in this depressing scale of things, I have some comfort. I feel happy looking at old picture albums. Pictures where I was a baby. Parents looked so young. Grandmother took me to school and picked me up. We had more fun filled family trips. Roads looked less crowded. Amusement parks looked more exciting. School friends who vouched to always be with each other.

Things are changing. And for good or for bad, I have to accept it.

sunshine

Free mein Gyaan

Some random gyaan on spreading news, free of cost for you :)

Information dissemination is a skill worth learning, what to say, how much to say, and more importantly, what not to say. Is it okay to confide to a best friend, where everyone is someone else's best friend? "But I had to tell my best friend about it, and she promised she won't tell anyone".

Don't confide anything to anyone you are not prepared to publish in a newspaper otherwise. Just my 2 cents :)

sunshine

Babies with personality

I just spent 2 hours in a pediatrics clinic while getting my immunization reports updated. Our family doctor also happens to be a famous pediatrician, and since I had barged in without prior appointment, I was asked to wait or come back in 2 hours. I should have gone home and come back, but I decided to wait and observe the babies for a while. I did not have anything pressing to take care of at home anyway.

Babies are not little adults. They have a mind of their own. They communicate and negotiate even with their little and almost non-decipherable vocabulary.

The baby personality

There were real babies. Those who are a month or two old. Some looked so tiny that it seemed they hadn’t even hatched properly. Eyes closed, toothless smiles, little fists, they are a delight to watch. I observed one had a little finger even tinier than my nail. One had an entire hand the length of my palm. And to think I was of that size too someday.

The adult-baby personality

Some babies had accompanied their little siblings who were getting shots. These are the caring and curious kinds who touch their sleeping brothers a little on the cheek to see how the baby responds. A little fellow, a heavy chocolate addict as obvious from his missing dentition, derived great pleasure tickling the feet of the little one when the mother wasn’t looking. They were like adult-babies, still babies because of their age, but very adult-like in behavior.

The throwing-the-tantrum or the negotiator kind

These babies had negotiated with their parents, that a visit to the doctor is going to cost them perhaps the doctor’s fees and 2 chocolate bars, a coloring book, or a toy extra. The shopkeeper had strategically placed all the toys and chocolates and other goodies that attract attention near the counter where you paid, so that one could not avoid that particular place by choice. I actually saw a baby promptly wiping her tears after the visit to the doctor and negotiating with the parents, “Okay, now buy me toys and chocolates".

The drama-kind

These kids freaked out at the sight of the clinic even without being so much as touched by the doctor. They perhaps feared an injection, the smell of the clinic, or the way the doctor looked, for even before they were touched or examined, they started to howl out of fear. Of course taking them to the area where these chocolates and coloring goodies were located calmed them down temporarily and helped the clinic get back its sanity.

The friendly/gregarious kind

These babies are great friends to make. They smile, run around, make friends with other babies, talk to random strangers as if they are family, refer to other babies as “little brother” and “little sister”, and ask questions instead of sulking in a corner and crying out of fear. One such cute little fatso, wearing a sleeveless shirt, went up to all the babies and touched them with fondness. This fellow came back to me, looked at me, and said, “Doctor will give you an injection”. Not knowing why a friendly chap would smile and try to tell me scary things, I replied, “But the doctor is already behind you with an injection”. The boy panicked for a bit, turning back, only to realize he was made a fool of. Regaining his composure and refusing to be verbally defeated by someone 4 times his size, he looks back at me with a very unperturbed and a suspense-filled expression, telling me, “Wait till the fishes in the oceans attack you and bite off your cheek”. As I feign fear, the boy chuckles at his verbal victory, bids all the other kids a goodbye and leaves the clinic, animatedly chatting with his mother.

After watching 20 babies or so, the doctor finally signed my immunization papers. In the meantime, I spent a fun-filled 2 hours watching these little ones, each having a completely different personality than the other.

sunshine

Are men really from Mars?

Mars, because you don’t need to shop there. Or lug stuff half way across the world from point A to point B. And lug stuff back from point B to point A.

While visiting Kolkata, I made sure I chose an airline that let me carry the maximum weight as baggage allowance (Apparently Air India still allow 2 bags, but American Airlines doesn’t). Then I made sure every bag was filled to its maximum capacity, and a little more. I got away smiling innocently at the person at the counter who had started to protest because I was carrying some 1.5 kg extra. Perfumes, body lotions, chocolates and candies still unfinished after 3 months, IKEA stuff, and this and that. If my airline had given me four extra bags to fill, I’m confident I’d have filled them too.

Once my bags were empty in Kolkata, I had to fill them up again before I moved back. This time it was Indian clothes, books, jewelry, and more “this and that” things. I asked myself how much an innocuously looking saree could weigh. Oh that kurta looks amazing, isn’t it? And I want that dress in blue too. Before I knew, I was long past my weight allowance. Oh hell, I had to prioritize and take only certain stuff with me now [I kept the rest and convinced sister I got it for her for her birthday which is still 7 months away].

And then I called up my guy friend visiting Kolkata for a rant session about how it sucks to have baggage restrictions. I was sure he would have understood my plight, going through the same situation himself.

Me: “Isn’t it a pain to have baggage restrictions? How are you managing?”

He: “Err…. I got just one suitcase.”

Me: “What !!! Poor you !! What airline are you flying? It allows just one bag?”

He: “It allows two. It’s just that I carried one.”

Me: “Wh…Wh…What?? Why on earth?”

He: “I didn’t have much to bring back home.”

Me: “So you could have got empty bags. What about stuff you need to carry back?”

He: “I don’t have much to carry back to the US either. I have enough ethnic clothes and so I didn’t get anything. In fact I still have some 5 kg empty in the bag I brought.”

Readers, I cannot tell you how shocked I was. I wondered if I should have been impressed with him or ashamed at myself. For someone who could have carried 46 kg each way, he is just carrying 18 kg and is happy about it while I’m having sleepless nights. I’m sure I would have filled those 46 kg and would have bargained for more. My friend neither eyes the amazing clothes he could have bought from Kolkata, nor regrets that he left a bag behind. And me, with my Europe trip and all those hostels I’ll be staying at, am carrying two hugely pregnant suitcases, crammed with this and that, half of which I might have done without. I don’t know if this is a girl thing, or it’s just me.

And ironically, I claimed I am not one of those who tried to recreate my Indian life in the US, carrying packets of rice, masalas, Ponds talcum powder, and Boroline cream overseas.

I just fill it all with clothes.

sunshine

To car, with love ...

You gave me wings. To go places. To be free. Free of asking around for help or depending on others.

A few days ago, sister woke up a sobbing me in the wee hours of dawn. I don’t really have bad dreams often, but for the really bad ones, I wake up in tears. I saw I had parked my car in Chennai (of all places, no idea why Chennai) and since it was a new city for me, I got lost. I kept looking for my car everywhere. Even the friends I was visiting in Chennai looked everywhere. But for some weird reason, I did not remember where I parked my car. I kept looking for hours, running around every corner and every street, but I did not find my car. A few minutes more and I would have perhaps found out my car. But I started to sob in my sleep and sister woke me up.

Later it all sounded a silly dream. I called up my friend to ensure my car was fine. And suddenly, I longed to drive my car. I’ve always thought being crazy about one’s car was a guy thing. Now I know I was wrong.

For as long as I’ve been in Kolkata, I have had a strange fear. I’ve feared by the time I get back to Seattle, I would have forgotten driving my car. I’ve asked multiple people if this really happens. The other night I had another dream (this time a non-lachrymose one) where I was driving and on seeing the lights go red at night, I just didn’t know how much to brake so that my car would stop just in time and just at the right place. Friends tell me I’ll be fine and driving in no time, but I have to take the steering in my hands to believe I haven’t forgotten driving altogether.

I bought my car when I didn’t even know how to drive it. My friends drove it for weeks, even months, before I slowly started driving it on my own. But once I started, there was no turning back. I fondly remember so many places I’ve been to and so many fun trips I’ve had. I no longer needed to ask someone to help me with grocery or think twice before stocking up things bought in bulk from Costco. I no longer needed to catch the last bus on time every time I went for a party. I no longer asked others to pick up my guests from the airport. It’s a different story that every time I have been to the airport, I have spent some extra 20 minutes taking the wrong exit and going round and round in circles. Once or twice is understandable, but this has happened every time.

Right now I am transitioning from job life back to student life. This means earning less, leading to less affordability of things. I am asked if I would sell off my car and start taking the bus to reduce expenses. Bus, I’d gladly take any day, but just the thought of saying good bye to my car makes me sad. I would need to compromise on my other luxuries, but would try to hold on to my car if I can. I fondly remember the numerous fun trip we have made together, to every nook and corner in Seattle, to the Coldplay concert at the Gorge, to Olympic National Park and Neah Bay (the north-westernmost tip of continental US of A), North Cascades National Park, Mt. Rainier, Leavenworth (a Bavarian village) on Christmas, Mount St. Helens (an active volcano in Washington), Mount Baker, Mount Shuksan, Deception Pass, and so many more places. I’ve never driven my car out of Washington, and on that same thought, I’m considering a cross-country drive across the US of A sometime. It’s going to be a good 3000 or more miles of driving depending on the route. I haven’t planned the logistics or the dates yet, things are very much in a ruminative state, but I’d definitely love to consider a cross-country road trip, visiting all the places I’ve always wanted to. Let’s see.

So ending on an affectionate note, I wish my sunshine car a very happy first birthday. I am sad I am not with my car on her birthday. I go back to my Science textbooks from Class 1 where I was taught how to distinguish between living and non-living things. I know my car, however nice she has been, is still a non-living thing. However, I am as attached to her as I’d be to a dear friend, a pet, or family. With that thought, I hope I can spend many more years driving my sunshine car, and that together, we go a lot many places.

sunshine