Facebook Wall(Street) Journal

My daily dose of entertainment these days comes from the FB post I read on my feed one by one, without seeing who wrote them. It gives me a chance to snicker, while I wonder if loss of IQ has a correlation with the amount of time people spend on FB. This is of course after I have “unfollowed” many people in the last few months, because I do not have the mental bandwidth to go through all the garbage they spew. From romantic trips in Hawaii to theme weddings and babies sprouting teeth chewing on organic strawberries, I have seen it all. It is not so much the news that is distasteful to me as it is the self-aggrandizing way in which it is portrayed, that seems distasteful. On an average day, when I read my feed, it looks something like this (note that it is not what one person writes on their wall, but how different people writing different things appear on my wall):

Narendra Modi blah blah blah.

Having an awesome time in Uganda. Going to Botswana tomorrow.

[And why would I want to know that?]

Narendra Modi blah blah blah. Sonia Gandhi blah blah blah.

Production of India's Ambassador car suspended.

My darling son [insert name of baby] just ate an entire banana. Yipee!

Emma Watson graduates from Brown University.

Made goat curry and steamed pulao for lunch. Who wants to come?

[Note: She is actually not inviting anyone. Just being mean and showing off about how she is eating nice food on Sunday].

Missing you darling. Come back soon.

[I have no idea who they are missing and why they are not contacting them directly, unless they are aliens].

Share this with 30 people in the next 5 minutes and Sai Baba will fulfill all your wishes. If you fail to do that, you will face misery for the next year.

[This makes me strongly suspect that my present day miseries might be attributed to one of these people].

20 reasons why [tall people/thin people/MBAs/Republicans/Arranged marriages/Bengali food/Single women travelers/People with B positive blood group] are great.

OMG! GMOs are killing people! Global warming is real! OMG! GMO! 

125 reasons why non-vegetarians are sinners and should become vegetarians.

Every time you share this, Bill Gates will donate 5 cents to the poor and needy.

I love Chweetu! He is the cutest.

A list of 25 quotes by [Albert Einstein/Paulo Coelho/Aristotle/Bill Gates] that they never said.

I hate my life. Some people are such losers. Sigh! (Comments: What happened dear? What happened? What?)

OMG! Look, we are in the park. Look, we are smelling the roses. Look, we are walking on the grass. Look, we are eating an ice cream. OMG! Life is so good.

RaGa sucks! Om Na Mo Na Mo.

And the circus continues.

sunshine

Of research, and resolutions, and other miscellany

This is a write up about this and that, specifically the “this and that” that has happened over the last two weeks. I continue to get many emails from many of you (thank you for that!), but it seems like some of you wrongly thought that I am depressed and in need of help. Trust me, it is nothing like that, and I am not in denial. Usually an upbeat and positive person, I am doing great.

I usually have this argument with a close friend of mine. The friend’s point is, people are better off not knowing when they will die, because that will spoil the rest of their life. And I wholeheartedly disagree. I think that I would be able to plan my life much better if I knew my expiry date. That everyone will be dying someday is a universal truth; there is no doubt about it. Now given the current state of things, I would prioritize my life differently if I knew when I am dying. If I had 1 more week, I’d straightway drop everything and go visit Peru, because that has been high up on my list. If I had a month, I’d do Peru, Scandinavia, and visit India just in time. If I had a year, I’d spend it traveling most of the time. But if I had 30 more years, I’ll continue with my job search, publish more papers, etc. Now since I don’t know when I am dying, I have no clue how to prioritize things.

Not convinced? Most food we buy, milk cartons, cheese, eggs, juice, etc. come with an expiry date. Don’t know about you, but it helps me plan my grocery, money, and space in the fridge better. I feel cheated that I just know that I will be dying someday, but I was not told when.

So why am I talking about dying? Because these days, I am prepping for a different kind of goodbye. Goodbye from the current research group. I figured that I have 16 more weeks now. Time is finite for all of us. And now that I know when I am departing, I am able to plan my 4 months of remainder work so much better. At some point, I realized that instead of working the usual 40 hours/week, if I can ramp it up to 60 hours /week, my productivity will increase by 1.5 times. Which means that I will be able to publish more papers before I leave. Which will help my CV look better, and will help me find a job in the long run. But given how many of us complain that time is a constrained commodity, how do you find those extra hours? I came up with a very simple strategy.

No opening laptop at home during the weekdays.

It is as simple as that. This plan works like wonders for many reasons. Earlier, I used to come home, open my laptop, and spend hours looking at people’s awesome lives on Facebook (and feeling worse about myself). And being a big movie addict, I’d start a movie while eating dinner, watch it until late hours, go to sleep at 3 am, wake up at 9 am, and lose time and productivity. Now since I have no laptop on weekdays, I strangely find that I have not much to do at home. Hence I go to sleep by 10 pm. I am not kidding you. I don’t remember the last time I did that, but this plan works wonders. When I sleep by 10 pm, I wake up by 6 am, without an alarm clock. I not only wake up early, I wake up with my batteries fully recharged. So I have more energy to work now. I get to work by 8 am and spend the next 12-13 hours working. Now since I know that I will be at work for long, I don’t hesitate to take a break, go on a walk around the campus, and take some time off. Earlier, I would be constantly looking at the clock, trying to finish as soon as possible. Also, since I do not Facebook from work, my Facebook time is mostly restricted to when I browse on my phone. And how much time can one spend on phone browsing Facebook? The other thing is, alone at home, I keep thinking about all the things that will go wrong for me next. Mostly unhappy, negative thoughts. So the longer I am at work, the less time I have to think negative thoughts at home. Overall, this “no laptop from home on the weekday” is a win-win situation (which also explains why most of my blog posts and the replies to your emails happen on the weekends). In fact, once you get into this habit and rediscover the value of 8 hours of sleep, you do not even miss your laptop much. Notice that restricting the time you spend online is way effective than cutting it out totally.

I have had an awesome time practicing this the last two weeks.

This strategy helps me in another way. I think that research work (or any work for that matter) consists of two kinds of skills, lower-order and higher-order. The lower-order things are those that do not require much thinking, and is done mostly with practice. The neurons in your brain follow a fixed trajectory. For example, interviewing a research subject, transcribing a research interview, supervising the undergraduate student, looking up mail addresses, posting gift cards, etc. These activities are needed for research, but do not need specialized skills. And then there is higher-order work. Like designing a study. Writing a paper. Running a statistical model. These challenge your brain to think.

Now ever since the boss gave me the marching orders, they have also been dumping lower-order menial jobs on me. And I can see why. They know that I am leaving, so no point in spending their time training me. The boss doesn’t want to give me any higher-order activity that might not be finished during the last few months of my stay here (understandably because after I leave, they will have to depend on me to finish it). So the boss has started dumping lower-order work on me. I was recently asked to transcribe 35 hour long interviews, and I have no idea why I am doing the work of an undergraduate. It’s brain dead, mind numbing, menial work. It is not research, it is the preparatory work that leads to research. Now in an 8 hour work day, I am spending 8 hours doing menial jobs. But if I increase that to a 12 hour work day, I now have 4 extra hours to do higher-order work. It makes a hell lot of difference, being able to do those few hours of challenging work everyday.

So anyhow, this post is more about me babbling, because I am on my laptop after five days of hiatus. Now you might be wondering, if a 12 hour day makes people more productive, why don’t people do it more often? The answer is simple. Working such long hours is not sustainable. You can do it in spurts. Now that I know I am leaving, I have real motivation to get as much done as I can. Because I have an incentive of publishing more papers. If I knew I would be with this group for years, I would not feel the push. It is the same analogy of why most of the studying happening during the last week of the final examination. Students don’t study seriously everyday. For better or for worse, 90% of the studying happens in the last 10% of the remaining time.

So I have taken a hiatus from everything else for now- laptopping, photography, travel, socializing. Someone told me that I should socialize and seek a support network, and I respectfully disagree. Now is the only time to get some work done, for initiating some real research-related action. Socializing can happen during old age.

Anyhow, I got two job rejects this week. And next, I am tempted to write about my interview for another two jobs, and how interesting they went. Sarcastically speaking, of course.

sunshine

My Graduation Ceremony: Why I wanted to go, and why I will not go.

May 17, 2014. That is the day when all the graduates from my institution will be attending their graduation ceremony. When I was a student there, every year, I would attend the ceremony, camera in hand, because another friend would be graduating. I would take their graduation pictures, cap and gown and regalia. On a hot May weekend, I would stand in the sun, watching the graduates parade the ground, listening to the guest speaker give their lecture, and feeling inspired for being a part of a top US institution (my university is actually an original Public Ivy League school). To me, it is a matter of pride, a sense of belonging, a way of life I have chosen for myself. I could be a school teacher or a sales manager or a PR person, but I voluntarily chose to be a researcher at an academic institution.

I always dreamed about what it would be like, attending my own graduation ceremony. I know people who never bothered to attend theirs, and I wondered why. I have even flown to a different city to attend someone else’s graduation ceremony, whose family was not going to be there, because I did not want them to feel alone. Yes, I have done things like that. Because to me, it is nothing short of a huge achievement. An achievement which is not celebrated enough.

If I had decided to marry in my twenties, or even decide to do it now, there would be a huge week-long celebration. Hundreds of relatives will breathe a sigh of relief that I have finally come back to my senses and a getting married, congregate from different parts of the country, eat and drink for days, and bless me. There would be good food and good music. Much to my dislike, I know that my father has a separate budget in his savings kept for the occasion. He is not going to give me the money (which is a substantial part of his savings). Instead, he will use that money to buy me expensive clothes and jewelry, invite a few hundred people and feed them, hire photographers and catering services, buy flowers and decorations worth many a thousand rupees, and marry me off. And what have I done to deserve this celebration? Just found myself a husband, nothing more than that. I did not clear entrance exams, did not ace competitive exams, did absolutely nothing. But I would still be worth the week-long, expensive celebration.

Now think about this. Almost nine years ago, I worked day and night to ace my GRE. I got into a top ranking university in Seattle. I worked harder, attended classes, learned my subjects, aced my exams, and the drill continued for two years, until I graduated with a master degree. Then I worked in the industry for a bit. And decided to go back to school again, and finish my PhD. This time, I moved to the other coast, joined a top university again, worked hard day and night, did everything one needs to do, and finished my PhD in a little less than three years. Now given the amount of celebration for a wedding, and the amount of celebration getting a PhD makes me worth, what do you think happens? Does my father buy me diamond jewelry, invite a few thousand guests, and throw a party? No. Actually, they would not even make it to my graduation event, because India is far away. So on a bright and sunny May morning, I would don my cap and gown, and receive my degree with absolutely no one to cheer for me. No one. Sure, a few friends might show up, and take me to a local restaurant. My adviser might tell me a few words of encouragement. But nothing more than that is going to happen.

This is what makes me so sad. That in my family, getting married is valued more than getting an education, being independent, mastering a subject, being a student of two world renowned universities, getting a PhD, and creating my own identity.

So I thought to myself, forget parents. Forget the celebrations. Forget the makeup person and photographer. I will celebrate my own success, alone, like I have done so many things in life. When my sister got married a few years ago, I was appalled at the amount of money that was spent on junk- flowers and unwanted guests and lighting and clothes and what not. My sister, who works and is financially independent, let my dad blow off a lot of money for the celebrations. Because she thought she deserved it, and it was my dad’s duty to do it. And my dad was happy doing that, marrying my sister off. And during the same occasion, I was harassed and bullied by God knows how many people, who did not understand why I am not showing any interest in getting married, and doing a PhD instead (note: I don’t see a PhD and a wedding as mutually exclusive events). I tried to let go of the hurt, and think rationally about why people had that mindset. Maybe because it is an age old tradition to celebrate marriages, while women during those days did not do PhDs, so getting an education was not valued. I don’t know.

Even now, look at the amount of celebrations that go for weddings and baby showers and thread ceremonies and engagements and birthdays of the little ones. And look at the amount of celebration that goes for getting an education, getting a degree, and being smart. The comparison is stark.

So even one year back, I was decided that I would go for my graduation (note: If you graduate after May, your graduation ceremony happens the following May). But a few months ago, I changed my mind.

Because I graduated, and I moved 1,200 miles away. That is roughly the distance between Kolkata and Mumbai, without direct flights. I would have to change flights at least once, if not twice. And it would cost me $500. Also, for a weekend ceremony, I would have to fly out on a Friday, and return on a Monday, which is taking out two vacation days from my 12 days/year vacation time. The time and money, I could not justify, not to mention the exorbitant amount of the graduation gown. You know, I have heard many people say that the honeymoon should be right after the wedding. If you wait too long, you would never end up going. And I saw the same thing happening. This year long gap had put my focus in different directions now. I was over my initial high of getting a PhD, and was sufficiently busy in my new job. But all these reasons aside, there is one big and only reason that finally convinced me that I will not go attend the ceremony. The money and time are resources that can be replenished. So I would have gone eventually. But something happened, that totally changed the way I perceived my graduation ceremony.

I decided not to go for my graduation, because I am convinced that my PhD has not adequately prepared me to find gainful employment. Eight months into finishing my PhD, I am desperately looking for my next job, and keep getting rejected all the time. The visa is a pain, an apt description of what it is. My adviser might have written me reference letters, but he has done nothing to connect me to the right people, or to reabsorb me in his group. I have had occasional supports from here and there, but overall, I have been on my own through this mess. Parents didn’t understand, adviser didn’t care, and another professor made fun of it and asked me to find an American boyfriend.

Which created a disconnect with the excitement I had of celebrating my very own and only achievement of this magnitude. It was my very analysis of the situation that perhaps my PhD has not prepared me well enough to find a respectable job in the field. Forget a faculty position, I am unable to find even a postdoctoral position. I mean, how hard can it be? It’s not that I am not looking hard enough. It’s not that I am not smart or do not know how to get the work done. Some things in life do not make any sense, and this is one of them. I finished my degree in record time, am actively publishing and presenting at national conferences. Still I am unable to find anything. It is a puzzle to me. Somehow, the pieces do not add up.

So May 17, I will be home. It was a hard decision, but a practical one. I think that I am better off saving money for the rainy day. Too bad, I cannot walk the ceremony next year. If I had a job by now, I would go back to attend the ceremony in a heartbeat. But right now, it doesn’t seem right.

It is one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. But I am at peace with my decision, because it seems like the right thing to do given the circumstances. The path I have chosen for me is not appreciated by a lot of people around me, and I will have to be okay with that. Perhaps in another life, I will get a PhD, and then my dad will invite hundreds of people and there will be weeklong celebrations, dance and music, good food and a lot of photographs. Not in this life. And in this life, when the situation is better, when I have some more money and lesser worries, I will celebrate by going backpacking somewhere nice. Maybe Alaska. Maybe Europe. Perhaps South America. I know that I will celebrate someway. Just that I will not walk my graduation ceremony.

sunshine

A Personal Touch

Over the last few weeks, several people have sent me emails, asking me how am I doing, sending me links to jobs that might be a potential fit, listing institutions I could look into, or simply wishing me luck. And I have read all these emails and messages multiple times, smiling, and basking in the feeling of wonder. Many of you wrote that you have been reading me for years now, and never commented, until now. Some of you appreciated that in this age of twitter and Facebook, I still wrote long blogs. It was like suddenly discovering a mini treasure chest of friends who I did not know existed.

Thank you for every note and every comment you wrote for me. I am not very good at replying right away, but that is not an excuse. What amazes me is, even after sharing so little personal information, you have been interested to continue reading. I don’t think I would be very keen on reading someone whose name I did not know, but I might be wrong. I consciously try not to mention identifiers, names of people and universities and where I live and where I work and what color car I drive. Because when I started blogging back in 2005 (almost 9 years and going strong), I wanted to be this totally anonymous person on the web people did not know about. That way, I could write more freely without hesitation. I see many people on Facebook promoting their blogs (which is fine I guess if you do not want to be anonymous), and then going a step ahead and soliciting certain people from their friend’s list to read and comment. It makes me cringe, though it should not. To me, it is a self-selecting group of readers. Nothing wrong in that. It just makes me feel weird that people personally known to me are reading everything I write. It would be fine if I wrote movie reviews and restaurant reviews and fictional stories. Not otherwise.

However, those emails I received were lovely. And I want to genuinely know who you all are. Not because I am going through a crisis and looking for a job and could do with some much needed support. I just want to know who you all are. To me, it feels like I have been performing on stage all this while, the spotlights on me, while my readers sit in darkness watching the show.

Please send me an email at sunshinenjoy[at]gmail[dot]com if you’d like to say hi. I look forward to hearing from you.

sunshine

Nothing to lose

There are times in life when you take in a lot of garbage. And then comes a day when nothing really happens, but a small something tips you over. You realize that you have had it, and you are done taking in all the garbage. I think I reached that point recently.

It happened the same day I wrote my earlier post. I was walking back to my office, and the wind was strong. It was raining as well, and thankfully, I had my umbrella with me. I have very fond memories of this umbrella because I bought it on a rainy day during my trip to Europe. So it is a souvenir. Anyway. The wind was strong (Nebraska is infamous for that), and my umbrella kept turning the wrong way. There was no point in carrying it if I was getting wet anyway. So I tried to close it.

At that point, my finger got stuck in the umbrella, tearing a little bit of flesh and drawing a few drops of blood. I find the sight of blood very repulsive, and as I looked at my finger in horror, something in me flipped. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, mingling with the rain, as a bunch of school kids on an educational excursion walked by me. These were not tears of sadness or fear, these were tears of anger pent up for a while. The umbrella incident was totally random, but it invoked a strong sense of anger in me, because it was symbolic of the helpless situation I was in. And I realized, I don’t want to be helpless anymore. I don’t want to feel like a victim, because I have not done anything that should make me feel like a victim. I am done being in this toxic situation that I am in.

And suddenly, in my head, I heard my own voice. Screw you job! Screw you visa! Screw you insecurity. I don’t have to take this. I don’t have to live in a country where I am perennially afraid of the insecurities. I don’t want a colleague suggesting me ever again, even jokingly, that I should have tried hooking up with a citizen, like many people wanting to stay here do. I am done. I am so done with this life. It is no better than being made to feel like an outcast, being asked to sit separately, like the British did to the Indians pre-independence, or higher caste people did to lower caste people.

The epiphany of “screw you” perhaps came from self-worth, and gave me more strength than anything had given me in the last few months. I have a PhD (I am told that less than 1% people have a PhD, but in America or around the world, I do not know). I am in good health. I can speak in English. I can learn. I can relocate anywhere in the world. I can do math. I can think. I have the energy. I have the courage and determination to do what it takes. I can take risks. Most importantly, I am alive. Why am I forgetting all my blessings? Why am I constantly trying to fit in? When I moved to the US eight years ago, I had nothing. And I had nothing to lose. But now, what do I lose if I don’t find a job? Absolutely nothing. I just go somewhere else, and take my skills and ideas with me. I haven’t spent a single day for the last few years when I have not worried about a visa. No self-respecting academic should ever fear that. Because wherever I go next, I take my brains, and my ideas with me. I realized that a high school dropout is perhaps more fearless than I am, armed with fancy degrees and all.

This realization gave me a lot of strength. Often under duress, we tend to think that we are helpless. We are not. This will be my chance to reinvent myself, create my future, and start a new chapter in life. I am looking for a job, but I already have enough work to sustain me for a while. Then what am I so scared of?

When I get a job, this post will be shelved as one of those inspiring notes written during crisis. If I do not, these will become words that will dissipate into nothingness. In either case, I will have nothing to lose. And that thought that I have nothing to lose is empowering in itself.

sunshine

The Ides of March

A few months back, they selected my doctoral dissertation to be among the top three in the field. And last month, they told me that they do not have additional money to renew my contract.

The bipolar nature of academia baffles me. How could these two extreme things happen within a span of a few weeks, I cannot explain.

So I am back to looking for a job, a postdoctoral position to be more specific, not knowing what awaits me. It has been six weeks since that day, and I still haven’t found anything. But in these six weeks, numerous meltdowns and heartbreaking days of staring into the unknown later, I have had some profound realizations.

I have realized that I cannot control everything. That instead of resisting the waves, I can only learn to ride with them.

I have realized that the transition time between the end of something and the beginning of something else is the region of greatest possibility. I make the analogy using Lego blocks. Whenever something ends, anything, a relationship, a career, a job, a life, we lie like a pile of Lego blocks, broken, without direction, and feeling useless. But that is also the exact moment when we can recreate and redefine ourselves, mold ourselves into something new, create new possibilities, and become someone different. I think that if we were never broken, we would never get a chance to build ourselves again.

I have realized that the US is extremely unfriendly and unforgiving for people who require a job as well as a visa. Even when they have a PhD from the US.

I have started looking into my options in other countries, which I had not done before. The complacency of having a job in the US had stopped me from looking into my options elsewhere.

I have learned to reach out to other people. I don’t just wait for a job posting to show up. I proactively contact people, asking if they are looking to hire. Sure, nothing has come out of the effort so far, but failure is not the opposite of success. In fact, success and failure lie side by side, the opposite being not trying at all.

I have realized that people can ask to interview you, and you give a job talk with full gusto, only to be told that they do not have a position, but they will keep you in mind. What baffles me is, if they never had a position, why did they make me prepare a job talk and make a presentation in the first place? Human behavior is sometimes difficult to make sense of.

I have realized that there is more to me than what I do, my professional identity. When asked about who I am, I say that I am an educational researcher. However, there is much more to me than just being an educational researcher.

I have learned to be able to stare at the ending of something, and let go. If I do not find another job (with the visa in place) in the next few months, my stay in this country is history. I have been here for more than 7.5 years now, and to think that I might just have to leave everything I have and leave one fine day is heartbreaking. It is worse when you know that it was not your doing, and you cannot do anything to make the situation better. The feeling of paralysis that comes from helplessness is very difficult to come to terms. In fact these days, I notice in me a tendency to push doing certain things that bring gratification. The other day, my mom remarked that I need a haircut, and I told her that I want to save the occasion for the day when I find a job (equaling a hair cut with finding a job). I am seeing that the rice at home is beginning to get over, and a part of me is debating whether I should delay buying the big bag of rice until I find a job, because I don’t want to leave it unused if I have to go. The rice connection doesn’t even make sense to me, one needs to eat everyday, job or no job. Yet the prospect of spending for something makes me feel guilty, not knowing how much I might need to save for the rainy day.

I have realized that there will never be a dearth of work for me, even though there is a dearth of jobs. The number of papers I am involved in right now, it will take me at least a year to finish writing all those papers, job or no job.

I have started to notice myself as an observer, like I would observe someone else. Some days, I feel so lousy, it is hard for me to get up and get ready for work. Other days, I am naturally strong, telling myself that this is just a phase, and things will look better soon. I have better days when I feel stronger. But when I do not, the day drags on aimlessly, and inefficiency spirals, to make me feel even more lousy.

And of the many other realizations, I have also realized that I can look at the situation whatever way I want to. I can blame myself, my luck, or whatever. Or I can be kind to myself, and tell myself that it was not my fault. That come what may, I am in control of my life, and a certain external situation that was not created by me should not have the power to disorient me. Sure, I can choose to dance to the whims of fate, breaking a little bit every time the weather is rough. Or, I can choose to stay calm while the storm passes, because things will be better again. Is my pain greater than the collective pain of the world? I am looking for guarantees and securities in a world where airplanes disappear into thin air, and sturdy ships sink into the bottom of the ocean. Is my pain any greater than their pains? Or tomorrow if I was diagnosed with a terminal disease, will the job situation still bother me so much? It is all about perspective.

But most importantly, I just feel annoyed that anything should come in between me and my work. I dream of a day when I will be able to wake up and start working with enthusiasm, not having to worry about things like employment and visa.

sunshine

The Art of Giving

With time, I have grown disillusioned about the gifts we often give people, and what it means to us or other people. When I was little, there was no trend of giving gifts every time we visited someone. Visiting somebody usually meant getting a box of mishti (sweets) from the local sweet shop, and getting a bar of chocolate if there were children at home. That was the standard norm. No one expected any more. Gifts like clothes were restricted to members of the family, once a year during Durga Puja. And then there were birthday gifts and wedding gifts. But that was it.

Yet now, I see people getting each other gifts all the time. I have done that myself. You visit someone, and you get them perfumes, jewelry, home decoration stuff, and what not. If you visit someone’s home, you get them gifts. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fathers Day, Mothers Day, Friendship Day, Hug Day, Housewarming, Baby Showers, the list never ends. I have often thought about the value these gifts have in our life. Wrapped in nice and shiny paper and presented in colorful bags using ribbons, where do these commercial tokens of love eventually end up? Is it merely a formality, or did it really mean something? When my sister got married, I got to see up close how much of gift analysis and gift abuse went on- Who gave what? How many? Who did not give what? Everything needed to be remembered in precision, because the same quality of gift would be given to them when they invited you. That part I understand, but what amazed me was the huge number of gifts that were recycled. Clothes and jewelry and kitchenware that did not live up to our standards, or were duplicates. Since what we wear is so personal, it is only natural that what we did not like, we would not wear. But that gift was a token of love to begin with, so it felt wrong to recycle it at someone else’s wedding. But what if that gift was a recycled one to begin with?

It also made me think of another fundamental concept- the value (and not the price) of the gift. Gift exchanges usually happen based on their prices, but what about the value? To me, a handwritten letter from a friend, or a travel postcard from a travel buddy means a lot more than an expensive brand of lipstick. I have carefully preserved every letter and card I have received over the years, but commercial merchandise did not mean the same to me. If this is the case, why send gifts to people, especially people whose homes are already brimming with stuff? What value does it add to their life anyway?

So a few months ago, I made a decision. I decided, no more gifts. Only presents. What is the difference? I see a present as something that is valuable for the present, not necessarily a piece of stuff, but an attribute that one will enjoy. For example, taking the time out to spend an evening with someone and have dinner, instead of sending them a gift for something. Remembering someone’s birthday, and calling them, instead of sending them a message on Facebook. Sharing a list of favorite movies or favorite sings with someone. Remembering what is someone’s favorite dish, and cooking it for them. Taking someone’s children to the zoo or the park, instead of giving them an expensive toy. Doing something, teaching something, or helping someone with your skills to show that you care. I had my moments of doubts, when I feared that people might criticize me behind back, calling me a miser. But I remembered the famous saying, “Be the change you want to see.” And I think that it has worked out well so far.

Last week, I was visiting someone in Philadelphia who agreed to host me although there is a baby at home, and they don’t exactly live in a palace. I needed to be there for work, and was on a tight budget. So I didn’t want to spend money on hotels. Also, I saw it as an opportunity to bond with my friend, spend time with her, and hang out with her family, including the baby. But once again, fears crept up my mind as I was faced with the gift dilemma. I was visiting the baby for the first time, and tradition demanded that I got something for the baby. But here was my dilemma. I could not carry something big from my place, because I was taking a flight and had baggage restrictions. I have no idea about gifts for babies. Even if I did, I do not know what the baby might already have. America is the land of plenty, where most people suffer from excess and not scarcity. And knowing how picky everyone is about clothes these days, I did not know what clothes to buy for the baby. Knowing how unwanted gifts are recycled by many, I did not want to give something that would be a waste of time, money, and resources. So I went there empty-handed.

But I have one skill that I could use to give them a present. I am a photographer. So one evening, we all went outside, and I took hundreds of family pictures. And on another day, I did an indoor photo session for the family once again. I know that new parents (or even not so new parents) love having pictures of their baby. So I put in the time, and made the effort to make the baby smile, give ideas to the mom about how to dress the baby up, and took hundreds of pictures of the family that they have been proudly showing off to their friends on Facebook ever since. And that serves my purpose and makes me happy. If I gave them something from BabiesRUs, I would never know if the baby liked it, already had a duplicate, or was being put to good use. But the value of what I gave them was immediate, and palpable. I think my plan worked.

So this is what I plan to do from now on. Give a present, and not a gift. Spend one-on-one time. Have conversations in real time. Listen. Write a hand-written letter. Send a thank you note. Take pictures of people. Take the children to a park, or do hands-on fun activities with them. Teach a skill. Take time to call people on their birthdays and not just send a Facebook message. Make an effort to meet people. No more expensive toys or jewelry or clothes. The more materialistic we get, the more we miss out on the human touch. And people have enough money to buy what we gift them anyway. So what is the point?

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The Job

How often do you say, "I'm looking for a job", instead of, "I'm looking for the job"? 

This difference of one word (a versus the) makes a world of a difference in our attitude toward seeking gainful employment. To me, "looking for a job" shows my complacency, inadequacy, and my inability to bargain for more in life. Whereas "looking for the job" shows a definite aim and structured plan of action. I didn't realize this difference until very recently, when I started looking for a job, and went like, wait a minute. I'm already in the seventh page of my curriculum vitae. I have three degrees beyond a bachelor degree, including a Ph.D. I have done very well in school. And all these years of training later, I don't need "a job". I need "the job". 

It might be a good idea to pay close attention to how I frame my words. For often, what you ask for is what you get in life.

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Building Up

I think that the transition time between the end of something and the beginning of something else is the region of greatest possibility. I make the analogy using Lego blocks. Whenever something ends, anything, a relationship, a career, a job, a life, we lie like a pile of Lego blocks, broken, without direction, and feeling useless. But that is also the exact moment when we can recreate and redefine ourselves, mold ourselves into something new, create new possibilities, and become someone different. I think that if we were never broken, we would never get a chance to build ourselves again.

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Rethinking the job-identity

Every once in a while, I'm asked if I am in research or in a job. These are mostly people from all age ranges in India. Probably what they mean is, do I work in the academia, or in industry. I get that. But this mindset of research versus job is somewhat disconcerting. Does it mean that research does not count as a job? 

I think that it is the lack of basic understanding that doing your own thing can also be counted as a job for which you get paid. This is what researchers do. This is why I want to be a research professor, to pursue my own research ideas. I’d like to acquire sufficient skills and expertise that I do not have to work for anyone. That I will come up with my own questions, write grants to seek the money, and investigate those questions. It took me a long time to figure out why being a research professor is such a coveted job in the US. Based on my experience in India, I thought that all professors did was teach.

I'm wondering, what qualifies as a "job" for the greater mass? Something you spend at least one-third of your day doing? Something that pays the bills? Some place that you have to show up at, at least five days a week? What else? I don’t think that money is always a criterion. I do a lot of unpaid work too, that I consider my job. I take care of the house, I do writing and editing work, I lead many projects, and I pursue photography. The list is longer. None of these pay me. So let me refine my definition of what a job is. I think that anything that enriches our identity (social, personal, professional, etc.), is a job. Anything that makes us accountable to other people, and to ourselves is a job. Anything that makes a difference in this world is a job. Perhaps reading this will help people open up their mind about how one perceives work.

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April Snow (Oechul)

“If we met long ago or much later, what would we be?”

We find love in the most unexpected places, when we are least expecting it. I did too, for a man whose name I cannot say properly, whose language I do not understand, and who I am never going to meet. Yet he left me speechless with his acting in this movie I have watched three times in the last four days.

Sunday evening, I wanted to watch a movie, and was randomly browsing their “foreign movie” section when I accidentally saw the name “April Snow”. Intrigued, I read the synopsis, and started watching it. Two hours later, I had finished watching it, shaken to the core, sobbing, and knowing that my life would never feel the same again.

There are many famous, or not so famous movies you watch and like, and kind of forget. This, on the other hand, is an ordinary story narrated rather extraordinarily. Bae Yong-Joon and Son Ye-Jin are ordinary people, leading ordinary lives, when everything changes one fine day. Their spouses meet with an accident that leaves them in coma, and it is then that their spouses realize that they were having an affair. What we see over the next few weeks/months is how Bae and Son care for their respective spouses, and in the process of shared grief, they fall in love with each other. That is all that there is to the story. However, the way it is narrated is extraordinary. The first time I saw it, I was busy following the story. The next two times, I noticed all those subtle things that I had missed the first time. There are many things I loved about this movie. I’ll write down a few.

·         Snow: The story starts with a drive in the snow, and ends with a drive in the snow.

·         Cell phone: It makes them discover the affair, and the same cell phones, that unite the two at the end.

·         Ordinary people with extraordinary lives: Bae is a stage light designer for concerts, and Son does “household chores”. Unlike other movies, Bae is not a “hero” doing incredible stunts like beating up the goons, but an ordinary next door guy with glasses who could be your neighbor. A very hot neighbor. He does not wear fancy clothes, just jeans and a shirt (not tucked in) and a jacket most of the time, that adds to his appeal. Son is very pretty, but in a sad way. They show Bae crying in at least two scenes, one at the beginning in a bar, and one about fifteen minutes before the movie ends. This makes him seem more human.

·         The constant reference to the change in seasons, that perhaps marks the transition in their love life from winter to spring. Subtle references like the change in their clothes from heavy winter wear to spring wear, the way she buys him a plant (and not flowers) and asks him to make sure that the plant does not die. The way the plant is perched on top of the unopened boxes when he is eating dinner.

·         The utter lack of drama. They were both shocked to discover about the affair. There were tears too, from both sides. Yet it was all shown in a very dignified way. I love the scene where Bae tells his wife that at first he wanted to know, but now he does not. Because in the mean time, he himself fell in love with Son, and perhaps now empathizes with his wife.

·         Although Son has been portrayed as a very docile person, there are streaks of fieriness in her personality. Like when she enjoys running in the cold. And like how, despite hesitating, she decides to make love to Bae. Sure, there are tears, but there is no drama.

·         I love the little places in the movie. Like the motel they stay at, and the little eatery they eat at, with scrap papers on boards across the wall. And the corridor with floor to ceiling glass at the hospital.

·         My favorite scene in the movie is about fifteen minutes before the movie ends, when Son is at that eatery, looking at Bae from the window. Bae, who is in his room, has no idea that he is being watched, and in the next scene, he sobs uncontrollably. The musicthat plays when she is watching Bae breaks my heart every time I listen to it. At that moment, you pray that she steps outside, goes up to his room, and meets him. But she does not. Her husband died, his wife is out of coma, and she thinks that they will probably be reunited now, and she must leave them alone. So she walks out with her suitcases. Closely following this scene is my second favorite scene, where they walk by the sea after making love, and she asks him if they can take a picture together. Immediately, she realizes the gravity of it, and moves away, until he says yes. Once again, I see couples around me, flooding Facebook with their pictures together. Yet the couple in this movie took just one picture together, and it delivers a very powerful message.

·         Talking about favorite scenes, there is another one when the two are hanging out, peeling fruits. And Bae’s father-in-law knocks on the door. It is amazing, the way they act with composure, not panicking. She locks herself up in the bathroom, and later when he opens the door, she just says, “I’m okay.” And he goes and hugs her. One of the many many amazing things about this movie is how little the two people talk to each other, and how much they convey.

·         The most amazing thing is the open-ended ending of the story. As an optimist and a romantic, I would love to think that they united for life, but no one knows. I don’t hope for marriage or anything that screams a false sense of social security. I just hope that they got to be with each other for the rest of their life.

As you can see from my long rambling, I love the movie. This is the first Korean movie I have seen. I don’t know anything about Bae, I didn’t even know about his existence until three days ago. I don’t know how famous he is (although I Googled him, and found him dressed like a girl in many pictures, and I am really confused about that, because he is quite the hot guy in the movie). I don’t even know anything about his other movies. I know that he owns restaurants in Asia, and in Hawaii (that I definitely plan to visit someday). But I want to remember Bae as his character in the movie. Tall guy with glasses, loose jeans and a shirt and jacket, driving a powerful SUV and smoking cigarettes. I wonder why Hollywood hasn't discovered him yet. Of course I am listening to the music from this movie in a loop now. I also wish to go to Seoul now (the movie is based in Seoul), although going to Seoul doesn’t translate into meeting Bae. I just want to see that motel, that hospital, the place where they have dinner together, that walkway by the water where they walk in the night, and the city in general. I feel a connection with Seoul now. Because I have fallen in love with In-su, Bae’s character in the movie.

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I know it's a no, but I don't know why

When tragedy happens repeatedly at short intervals, following the same pattern, it becomes comical.

I had applied for a position, and last week, I received an email asking me to log in to their website and find their decision. Hastily, between palpitating heartbeats, cold, sweaty palms, and forgotten passwords, I managed to log in and find their verdict. In their decision, they rejected me. I felt hurt. I knew that it was a competitive position. Like most rejections in life, committees never tell you why they rejected you, although they assure you that they took the time to go through your application. Constructive criticism is often not valued, either from the sender, or by the receiver. Rather than reading about how sorry they are to reject me (which is about their feelings, not mine), I'd rather get to the point and know the reason, because that will bring a sense of closure, and give me perspective. Anyway, I moved on with life. 

This was last week. Earlier this week, they emailed me to say the same thing again, basically spelled out the same decision word by word, in an email now. And today, they sent out another email saying that there was some error in the subject line of the last email (which I hadn't even noticed), so they are sending me another email with the corrected subject line, and with the same decision.

The third time, I burst out laughing. Because you do not need to tell someone "no" three times before you get your point across. And because they could have saved themselves all this wasted time and energy, and just enclosed a one-line truth about why it was rejected, without rehashing again and again how sorry they are. Something about all this was really disturbing. There was no dignity in the way they were rejecting me again and again, although I had accepted their decision with dignity.

This incident once again took me back to my philosophy, unconventional for some, where I always want to know why someone said no. Once I emotionally detach myself from the rejection, I always wonder what people were thinking when they made their decisions. Everyone puts in a lot of time and energy and expectations into their application, or in anything they pursue. I understand that one cannot be accepted all the time. However, if one has really evaluated my application, like they said they did, all it takes is sixty seconds to write down the reason.

“We found someone better than you.”

“Your statistical skills or background is not strong enough.”

“We do not wish to sponsor a visa.”

“We are afraid that you may not have what it takes to do the job.”

Just one line of truth.

And the same thing translates to relationships. It has always disturbed me that people just leave, just grow distant over time. But that one line of truth not only brings closure, it does good to both people involved. Sometimes, we need to hear the truth ourselves, before we can tell others. A long lifetime ago, there was someone I really liked, and enjoyed hanging out with. I assume he enjoyed my company too, given the telltale signs. So instead of playing mental games, strategizing, and thinking of everything I should or should not do because I am a girl, I asked him out. Plain and simple. And he said no. However, we remained friends, we still are, and till date, I have not asked him why he said no. At that time, it broke my heart, not knowing the reason. I thought that we made a very compatible pair, and I was just asking him out, wanting to know him more, without the expectation of a commitment. I spent months feeling terrible about it, until I traveled to California, hiked the Channel Islands on my own, spent a day by myself, and forced a closure to it. I still believe that giving a reason would have made things easier for me.

“You are too tall for me.”

“I did not feel the chemistry.”

“I am a vegetarian. You are not.”

“I only date Russian girls.”

Just one line of truth.

On a different note, I am so trained to distinguish a yes from a no these days that I can open a letter, read the first line, and tell you their decision. When you get accepted somewhere, at a university, conference, or a journal, their first word is “Congratulations!”. They never waste time to let you know that you have been chosen, and they cannot wait to meet you. However, when it is a no, the letter starts with three lines of summarizing how wonderful you are, and how competitive the program is, and how they can only admit a small number of people. They paint such an image of helplessness that it will twist your heart, and make you feel guilty that you applied in the first place. On the second half of the fourth line, they will tell you a no (Although you are so good, we cannot admit you unfortunately). Why not cut the first three and a half sentences and just write their decision? After the fourth sentence comes five more sentences, wishing me all the best and thanking me for applying. So really, they wrote an entire nine lines without giving me any idea about why they just said no.

And I haven’t even mentioned the universities which never respond back. You know that you did not make it because they never reply back. They imitate life in a warzone, where there are no guarantees. With all my job hunting experiences over the years, I know that most places do not bother to inform you if their decision is no. And what’s wrong with this situation? Well, just because you did not qualify for this one does not mean that you will never be able to work in that school. Thirty years from now, you might be the dean of the same school. The point is, life is shorter than we think, and somehow, we go in circles, meeting the same people from the same network again and again. So even if someone thinks that you do not deserve the job, there is nothing wrong in being frank, and amicable about it.

Honesty is hard. Saying things for what they are on your face is harder. It is often easier to hide behind kind, clichéd words, that still mean the same thing. That you were not good enough. That the answer is a no.

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The Healthy Daal

As children, we used to dread the days when ma made poushtik daal (a term she had coined, poushtik meaning healthy, and daal being lentils). We knew that excess vegetables were getting old in the fridge, especially spinach, and she was using fancy names to make us eat what she cooked. She would even throw in added incentives of a glowing skin, and sharper brain, if one regularly ate that. Not that the daal tasted bad or anything. In fact, true to its name, it was healthy, and had lots of vegetables. However, we had higher expectations from mommy's kitchen. We expected meat, and eggs, and fried stuff everyday.

I am stirring the pot as I write this, cooking the same poushtik daal for dinner. The spinach and the tomatoes have been in the fridge for a while now, and I am too tired to come up with fancy ideas of using it. I am tired at the end of the day, and want a shortcut menu for dinner. I want to throw everything in one pot, stir it a bit, eat it, and go to bed as soon as I can.

The older I get, the more I become like my mother.

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