Solitary Speaker... (the end)

“Dear Ma,

I knew, one day sooner than later, your monologue had to end. You stopped speaking and writing to me and I let it happen. Instead of listening to you, I heard your favorite songs. Instead of reading your letters, I read the books you bought for me. At this point, I wish you had forced me to live in your life. I wish you had caged me. But it has been ten years and my wishing it is not going to turn time back. I am going to have to live with the fact that I haven’t really talked to you in ten years, haven’t really shared my life with you for a long time. I don’t know if I would have done it today either if I weren’t going through surgery and if there wasn’t a possibility of me dying without telling you the truth.

I believe you gave me a lot of space growing up, for living a life that was mine as much as it was as yours. However, there was an empty space in my life. The space that should have belonged to a spouse or a partner. You tried your best to address it, introducing me to eligible men, talking about my wedding constantly, planning your life around my married life. Somehow, it never deterred you that I did not show any interest. For a while, it did not bother me as well. I was focused on my job and career. I spent all my waking minutes thinking about work. But as time passed, I realized more and more people around me were getting into relationships, getting married and having children. I, on the other hand, could not even begin to think of any of it.

See, growing up I had assumed that I would grow up, get a job and you will find me a man to marry. I will not question it, and live through it, no matter whether it was a good marriage or not. After all, you lived through a difficult marriage all your life. I had expected the same of myself. But then I grew up and instead of telling me to start my life with a man you had chosen for me, you gave me the independence to choose and when I didn’t, you tried to set me up. Having never thought of the choices, I had never given my sexuality a thought. But you gave me the choice, and then I had to think of my sexuality. I had to think of who I liked, who I was attracted and that took me on a journey of self-discovery. This was the time I stopped communicating with you.

It was a difficult and weird phase of my life. As I discovered more about myself, it became clear that something was wrong with me. Now, ten years later I don’t think of it as wrong, but at that moment I did. My path of self-discovery first led me to realize that I was biromantic, I realized that I needed my male and female friends equally. I was physically attracted to both genders. I was ready to label myself as bisexual. Unknown to you, I almost went to a date with a woman. And this is when something else hit me.

While I could be physically and mentally attracted to someone, I had no interest in sex. I know, you are reading this and wondering where is this heading. After all of this time, I decided to talk and dive straight to my sex life. But believe me, there is nothing about sex life here, because I realized soon enough that I could label myself as asexual. Yes, that is true. It took me a while to accept it, took me a while to not think of myself as a freak. Took me a while to accept that I was going to live my life alone as a lonely person forever. Even having discovered that, I tried to force myself to go on dates for a few years, on and off, hoping that this time something will change. Society led me to believe that I just hadn’t met the right person. When I meet the right man or woman, my juices will start flowing or something. And I bought into that idea. For years I lived in that space, hoping and wishing one day things will change.

Now all of it seems like such a huge waste of time. Of course, I was not going to turn sexual any more than a gay man was going to turn straight. But it was a difficult concept to get used to.

I, finally, came to terms with it and decided that I should come out and talk to you about it. At this time, all we ever talked about was me getting married and how I was missing out on normal life. One week, about five years ago I was building courage to come out to you with the hope that after few tearful conversations, we would go back to our former relationship or even begin a new and better one. And that is when life decided to have its laugh. I went to the doctor for a normal visit and the doctor asked me to go on birth control because I was losing too much blood on a monthly basis. Irony, I had the best and natural birth control plan, and nature just smirked and put me on a hormonal high. Let’s just go ahead and call it a low. Somehow, it didn’t seem the right time to talk about any of this to you anymore. I was hormonal, clinically depressed.

And no, that wasn’t the last laugh life had on me. I am now in the hospital about to go through surgery because my birth control did not agree with me and gave me a clot and almost gave me a life-threatening stroke. And now, I sit here waiting for the clot to be removed, lamenting the years of self-pity and self-loathing. And through all these years, I have lamented not talking to you the most. I know you could have helped me, made me feel better about myself, but I couldn’t draw the courage to say anything to you. I couldn’t tell you I was asexual, because I kept feeling that I was letting you down. You deserved my happy life,  not my depressed life. You deserved grandchildren, not my lonely existence. Yes, you deserved those, but I now realize that you deserved to be in your daughter’s life more than the other things.  

It took me ten years to come to this realization. You accepted my silence as rejection, and I accepted yours as my punishment. If you don’t see me again, know that I always loved you and will continue loving you no matter where after life takes me. If you do see me, I will try my best to break the silence and if you don’t talk to me, I will begin my monologue….”

"AMRICANIZE" Me

The first day I braved into venturing streets of Newark, I was a scared chicken thrown to battle. I was armed with a winter coat purchased in India, my laptop and a map. The day was windy, cold and cloudy. My companions had all abandoned me for the cozy warmth of their blankets in their heated houses. But I had a battle to be waged against the unknown (Background: I was born and brought up in a city in India that had wild bears walking the streets as if they were domestic dogs. There were only 3 reported accidents in the 18 years I lived there, but no one wanted to become a statistic, so the humans moved in packs and avoided the less travelled roads unless they were in a closed vehicle. I lived elsewhere in the country for the next 7 years of my life, but the thought of going out in an unknown place always reminded me of the day I came face to face with a bear and screamed so loud that the bear ran away.

If you are wondering why didn’t we barricade our city against the bears, let me tell you we did that as a trial once. Then people missed the bears and on public demand the barricades were removed). So here I was; fighting against the chilly wind and losing. I had tears in my eyes from raising my head to look for landmarks. Against all odds I reached the campus, took cover in the first building in sight and opened the map. My inability to read a map rose like an enemy and laughed like Mogambo (Background: Mogambo is a famous villain from an Indian movie. His laugh is memorably evil). The map made no sense to me (Background: In India if you are searching for a location, you stop a street vendor and ask for directions. I would have done the same here, but I was too shy to interrupt people and ask questions which I will have to repeat twice because of my Indian accent). But since I had to move on, I mustered all my strength, fortified my body with an extra scarf, armed myself with the map and charged against the wind.

The wicked wind tore the map into two pieces and one of the pieces flew away. I ran to catch it and nearly ran into a biker. Furiously I asked him, Couldn’t you ring the bell? He looked blankly at me and it was then I noticed that his bike didn’t have a bell, or a stand. Surprised, I wondered why would someone buy a bike that was missing parts. I apologized to the biker and then remembered to be astonished that he was biking in this weather. On comparing his and my attire, I laughed out loud (I learned later that my coat was best suited for early fall, my shirt too thin, my shoes should have been in a closed closet before the first snow, the socks and scarves needed to be of wool and gloves were absolutely necessary). I shook my head and looked again at the map, decided that it was not going to get me anywhere and started walking until I reached a zebra crossing (cross walk, if you prefer).

Next demon: traffic rules (Background: In India, you look left, you look right and if you see a clear road for 5 seconds, you cross. Drivers back home are ready for spontaneous pedestrians). A car stopped and both of us waited for the other to go first. Finally he opened his window and told me to cross PLEASE. By the time I reached the library I got honked three times.

Minutes later it started snowing. Mind you this is the first time I had seen snow. I was openly fascinated. The battle had turned into enjoyment now. I walked on without direction and enjoyed the sight. Without knowing how, I reached my destination. Youhooooo! I WON the war!

I reached the office that the department assigned to me the previous day. The following conversation struck between a fellow graduate student and me.

She: “Are the electricians done with the work in the hallway?”

Me: “I don’t know. I walked here straight from the building main door. Where is this hallway?”

She: (Strange look) “Didn’t you just walk in through that door?”

Me: (Weird look) “I did.”

She: “Is there someone working outside the door?”

Me: “No.”

She: “What did you call the region outside the door?”

Me: “Corridor.”

She: LOL

Me: (What?)

She: “In America, we call it hallway.”

Me: “Oh!” (Nod)

She: LOL

Me: “What did I do now?”

She: “You did the Indian nod.”

Me: (Surprised) “There is an Indian nod?”

She: (Still laughing) “Yup. See this!” (Opens a Youtube video for Indian nod)

Me: (Head shake) “I see it. What is the American nod?”

She: (Nods and leaves)

At lunchtime, I headed out to Main Street. Again the war began. I walked backwards to avoid the brutal wind and entered the first restaurant. The lady behind the counter asked me 5 questions regarding my order after I selected it. I was flabbergasted. I didn’t know there were so many ways to make a cappuccino. Really, all you needed to do is press a button on the coffee machine!

By the time I returned home that night (got a ride on the way back), I realized I was in a different country. Since then I have adjusted to the cold, the wind, the food, the map and the American English. Now when I go back to India for a vacation, I am surprised that when I order a lunch in a restaurant, the waiter quietly takes the order and brings back hot piping food exactly the way I want (or not!).

Summer, why thou pest me!!!

There is something about summer, maybe the weather all sunny or the days too long, or the holiday season or everyone else’s energy due to the above-mentioned facts, something… But there is some reason summer is too stressful. See, summer being all activity time and me being all year round lazy type we do not gel together!!!

Every summer I can remember back to my childhood, I think I have irritated my parents with the same complaint. “I have nothing to do, I am bored, I want to go here and there, do this and that!” It is not until now that I realize I was too lazy to pick up a hobby and go with it for the entire summer. I did not ever want to take the effort to learn something new unless, of course, my sister was doing it and I wanted to be a part of it. That is how I learnt sewing, embroidery, cooking, cleaning house, painting, and various forms of painting. (Why didn’t you learn swimming Nani, it would have made my life so easier now.) Don’t get me wrong; I never learnt anything so as to master the art. I just learnt because my sister was engaged in it and I didn’t want to feel all left out. What can I say? I am a free loader on activities. I bet money, if this summer I were at home, I would be solving math problems even though I am doing my PhD in biology just because my sister is studying for her GMAT. The only thing I have ever done on my own without encouragement is read, though I have a feeling that was also brought about by my sister and me reading Aesop’s fables together. Don’t expect me to be thankful to her though, she learnt everything all right in spite of me being a bug at her side all through the summer and me, I learnt just enough to bug her.

That gives me two insights to myself. One, I am competitive. Well, I guess everybody who has spent a decent minute with me knows that, nothing new there. Second, I was a bug in my previous life. There is a huge possibility of it being true.

However, I went off topic. The fact is this is yet another summer. And most of it is already past me. I have the responsibility to make the rest of the summer memorable and I have a list of things planned to do. Though I highly doubt I will accomplish anything, the fact that I have a list is an improvement over my previous self. At least this time I forced my brain to think and my finger to type the list. On another related thought, why aren’t you here Nani? I could have just followed you around. Life would be so simpler.

Tribute to a departed soul

I lost both my paternal and maternal grandmothers this year. I wasn’t able to attend their last rites as I am pursuing my ambition to have a doctorate degree far away from home and family. I shed some tears and tried observing the mourning as much as I could while still preparing for my exams and conference. I want to believe both my grandmothers would understand.

In spite of this, why is that the death of a friend with whom I had lost contact years ago pains me more? It has been more than 5 months since his death and every time I see a picture or a reminder of his existence I feel my eyes tearing up. Ours was a casual friendship of a sort where we would hang out with other friends. I lost touch with him after 2 months of changing my location and hadn’t given him a thought until I heard from mutual friends about his accident. I did not know him and did not want to know too. If he were alive I wouldn’t spare him a thought. But suddenly I see his name on my facebook birthday’s page and I am surprised his facebook account is still active. I go to his page and see that his friends and family has continued posting on his page remembering him.

And I think, how would he remember me now if he could. Probably as the girl who talked him into wearing a sweater in the middle of a Delhi winter. I remember him as a gadget fanatic guy who had craze for bikes, who could be stubborn at points you couldn’t even bother to deal with and generally a guy with a smile. He used to say, I like hanging out with you guys, no matter the pain of standing near your seats from Agra to Delhi.

I am sorry for myself. I lost an opportunity to have a good friend. I am glad your family and friends are keeping your memory alive and keep reminding me that everything in life is transient.

My unlimited life...

It is just another excruciating day of school life when you wake up to realize its 8:30 and you have a 9 o’clock class and the only restroom at your place is occupied. If the thought that crossed your mind is when you will improve, let me tell you I have improved. This incidence occurs only once a month and I am better than many people. I know a guy who woke up at 10 for his exam at 9.30 which he missed third time in a row.

So I wake up at 8.30, somehow rush to class, reach 5 minutes later but the professor is still trying to fix the electronics in the room. Before entering the class, in the elevator, I have already stripped off my heavy jacket and took my notebook and pen out of my bag. By the time I settle down in the class, the professor is still struggling with the laptop and projector and then powerpoint and powerpoint slide changer. I take two deep breaths, relax my muscles, and immediately start feeling sleepy. And this is the very moment the professor decides to begin the class. Next one and a half hour is a torture one minute and pleasure the next. Torture because I am sleepy and my brain refuses to concentrate. Pleasure because the topic of the class is very interesting when my brain can process the information. By the end of the class, possibly the last 15 minutes, it is sheer torture, because I want to understand what is being taught but by then I have lost the thread of the class. So what did I learn in the class? NOTHING. What did I learn from the morning? Set up an alarm tone which tells me the current time and the time my class is.

Now that the class is over with I open my task list of the day. This is a list I religiously prepare and follow. I took up this habit after I forgot to submit my completed term papers twice, simply because I didn’t notice that the last date of submission was that day. When I look into the task list (mine is in excel), I see I have a doctor’s appointment in 20 minutes. I hurt my leg more than twice in the same spot in two weeks and now when I walk I can hear my knee pleading me not to torture it as much as I torture my brain. So I go to meet the doctor for which I have to rush again because it is at another end of the campus. I reach there, sign in and after 15 minutes the nurse asks me to step into an examination room. She asks a set of questions, leaves me with a paper shorts (I had seen paper towels, paper aprons, paper shorts is a first) and goes to get the doctor. The doctor comes examines my leg and smiles at my entire narration. Then she says give your leg a little bit of rest, walk slowly if you have to and apply ice to it, after all there is no fracture or sprain. I smile at her and think if I didn’t have a sprain, I might have after this morning’s exercise.

I again check my task list and find I have to be in my lab before my mice start missing me. So yet again, I rush from clinic to the lab. In front of the lab, my lab mate has his laptop open and a country song playing. I go up to him to ask what is going on. He says nothing, today insecticide has been sprayed in the lab, so there will be no work done until 2. At 2 I have another class, so I end up requesting him to look after my mice too when he takes care of his own. After all, both were plugged the same day. He agrees and I sit facing him with my laptop for the next few hours. I shuttle between Gmail, my school mail account, and Facebook account for quite some time and then begin working on something I had left unfinished the night before. The 

moment I get the momentum to get things rolling it is 2. I again run to the other class room.

In this class, I am awake but my mind still refuses to understand. The reason this time is it is tired after 4.30 hours of continuous work ;). I still grasp the straws of thoughts I can gather from the lecture, wonder about it, and grab a coffee after the class. This is my food of the day, if you consider coffee to be food. The moment I take it in my mouth, the insides of my mouth tingle. And when it hits my stomach, my stomach burns.

However, I have time only for this coffee, when I have to run to attend a special seminar.  Throughout the seminar, I wonder are they talking in English or Spanish. And there comes these few milliseconds interspersed in an hour when I hear words that feel like music to my ears. When the speaker asks do you have any question at the end of such seminars, I invariably have one question in my mind. “What exactly was your goal and what were your results? Can you please give me the answer in 100 words?”

Well that done, I have to run to my lab again. At this time of the day, my favorite protein is awaiting me. I reach the lab, go through many protocols, and design the best one that will work for my protein. I spend the next 3 hours on my protein to only find that the extract had bacterial contamination. I swear loudly in all the languages I know swear words and I walk home.

I walk really slow remembering the doctor’s advice. I reach home in 30 minutes. I am damn hungry and look into the refrigerator. Not a single vegetable which is not rotten is there at home. There is one really ripe apple and all kinds of sauces; cheese and butter but no bread. I think for several minutes what do I eat and end up cooking rice and eating it with curd. My mom on reading this will obviously react with words like “Now you know…”

Then I open my books (essentially my laptop) and continue my work from where I left in the afternoon. I do some of it and fall asleep in the middle of it, without even setting an alarm, this time for a 7.30 meeting in the morning. I am pretty sure next day will be as tough, I think in my dreams and there flies another day of my Master’s life.

I plan each day to set limits. Limits to what I will complete during the day, limit my pathetic food habits, limit my sleeping in class, limit running all around the campus. Yet no limits have been set and I have a totally uninhibited life. J