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

May be I'm addicted...

The word addiction has been revolving in my mind for some time now. I have been trying to get over mine since last year and am yet to succeed. The thing is there is this one question that has been nagging me and stopping me from succeeding. Do we ever get over the word “addicted”?

I believe all humans are addicts, obsessed over… God knows! Can be anything… I am addicted to fictional books like a druggist might be to opiates. I devour books like a hungry man would eat delicious food after 2 days of fasting. Last week I borrowed four books and I felt like I became rich and have reached the top of the world.

People who know me might have already begun enumerating reasons why I should get over the addiction. For the benefit of others, I’ll jot down the reasons why I have to let go of such a good habit. The thing is when I get a novel to read, which consumes almost all out of office hours of my day, I get so engrossed in it that I hardly notice anything else. I don’t respond to any stimuli properly, as a normal human should. And another of my characteristics, I can revisit some books too many times, so many times that people who see me reading feel like throwing the book away from my hand. After all anything in excess is bad. So I should get over my addiction.

And that takes me to the next question, what do I do of all the free time I’ll have when I stop reading books? I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time and my brain cells. I have been searching for that something from over a year now and haven’t been able to fix to anything specific which brings me back to the initial question.

Do we ever get over the word “addicted,” because I’m just trying to find something else to occupy my time, something to replace my initial addiction? Doesn’t it happen to everyone who is addicted? A workaholic finds something else to occupy their time, smokers find chewing gum, alcoholics find lighter beverages and so on, until a time comes when they don’t recognize themselves anymore and become suicidal. Yes, I believe at one point of time in our lives, we all become suicidal. Most people find reasons to continue living; some, unfortunate or otherwise I wouldn’t know, don’t and take their lives. And no, I’ll not take my life if I am forced to live without books. I’ll just not let others know I’m still reading! J 

But the point to ponder remains, why do we have to let go of things we like, only to search for second bests? Just to keep ourselves in moderation and not become attached to something we live for in some senses? I know the obvious answer, because they are harmful to our lives. Yet again aren’t the addictions what comprises most of our lives. Wouldn’t trying to rehabilitate be trying to live with something less than our true selves? I think so it is and that is the reason I still am unsuccessful in my endeavor to stay away from my beloved books. Let me know your thoughts. 

Revenge, O sweet revenge!

The other day travelling to home from work, a heavy branch fell upon our bus. My colleague remarked “I feel this is the revenge of trees. We wreak havoc to their world. They are trying to find a way to distort ours.” Two days later reading Amitav Ghosh’s “The Glass Palace” I came upon a paragraph where a rubber plantation owner explains to an educated and accomplished lady about resistance. “All these rubber plants are grown from a clone of seeds. They look exactly alike, need exactly the same nourishment, yield exactly the same amount of latex every morning. Yet there is one tree among them which refuses to provide its latex to us. Let scientists get into the detail of its genes to find out what is wrong with the tree, I simply believe this tree is resisting our efforts.”

Consider for one moment if the trees could feel and talk as Greek mythology and the Chronicles of Narnia lead us to fantasize. I can imagine all the trees in the world uniting in a unanimous mission of destroying the human race by now. I, for the love of god, cannot presume a king and queen of trees, but I can sure see the battle raging on. If I were to provide a live commentary, it would run like this.

In the backyard, the neem tree seeing three intruders in its territory, decides to shake itself vigorously so that none of the men can catch hold of one single leaf on its body. Sadly it recognizes the denuding it is causing itself. Gosh! Most of the beautiful leaves fell as if the autumn arrived without warning. Arrested in thought for a few seconds, it decides to shower the men with its alkaloids. How they would hate the taste on their lips and hands. Good for them.

The Mango tree got the whiff of the commotion as the birds stopped singing to it and left in a panic afraid of the Neem tree’s antics. Thirsty from their battle with the Neem tree when the humans come to the Mango tree, it decides to benevolently provide them with its fruit. (After all, it was sleeping at the time the battle started lulled by the Mynahs and Koels). As soon as they come near, one human picks a stone and aims its branch for its fruit. The Mango tree insulted thus, release all its fruits so that they attracted by gravity fall onto the ground hitting the humans in the process. Hit and thoroughly battered, they still try to make the best of the situation, pick a mango each, and start eating. No sooner that they put the mango in their mouth, they taste bitter alkaloid more on their lips than the sweet juice of the mango.

Defeated the humans turn to the safety of their house. But the front yard Peepul tree has decided to battle in stealth. Knowing its strength to grow in the crevices of houses, it decides to transport its seeds to every corner possible of the house while instructing the neophyte to root near the walls, infiltrate the wall with root hairs causing the walls to crack and eventually crumble. The prodigies have decided to follow the instructions to the letter. After all they have to avenge the death of their aunt by the hands of these humans. Few minutes after entering the house, the house crumbles all around them surrounding them in a cloud of dust.

On the other side of the house, the legumes are still perfecting their strategy. They have hit upon a technique of reducing the protein content in their seeds. Their scientists after careful examining has finally allowed them to process the extra nitrogen from amino acids back to nitrates while storing them in the seeds. The scientists booming with laughter is claiming that humans will not be able to consume them anymore. Ha ha ha….

Oh no! This can’t be true. This is certainly not happening. The flowering plants have detected my presence and they seem to think I am laughing at their efforts to eradicate human race… Achooo… Achoooon…… they have also joined the battle. Achhhhhooooooooooo…... They are doing their work splendidly. Aaaaaaaachoooooooooooo…… Aaaaaa…. POLLENS… chhhoooooooooo……….. Aaaaachooooon………. Aaha ahah….ahahahahahahah…. Aachchchcoooooooooooooooon………….. The trrreees… Aaahchoon…….. ha. ha. have …. Ahahahahah…. Won the ….. aaaaachooon…sniff….. BATTLe…. Sniff… Aaaachoooon…. Sniff….. achooooooooooooon….aaaaaaaaaaaaaachoooooooooooooooooooooooooo………………… dham... thump.. thummmmmmmmmm.

Happy Endings!!!

Ending. It’s the most awaited part of just anything in life except perhaps of life. I have heard people say that they are waiting eagerly for a new beginning. In my opinion, it’s just the optimistic way of telling I am eagerly waiting for an ending which will allow me to make a new beginning. May be I am a pessimist, but I have a view point here. About ending.

Every romantic story has a happy ending “And they lived happily ever after.” All thrillers, adventurous stories and even for that sake the science fictions conclude with all situations set right, the criminal punished, the victim avenged and the world saved. I cannot fathom whether it is a human mindset or is it scientifically proven somewhere that situations with happy ending are appropriate conclusions, only when All Is Well can the curtains drop.

It is not just fiction that I am talking about. In real life too, at a funeral everyone praises the departed even if during their lifetime, they were detested. Somehow at the end of a man’s life, when he can no more hear the words, his friends, relatives, colleagues and acquaintances, all seem to accept the man as he was, as if before allowing the soul to leave them forever, they wish to make peace with it. A happy ending for the man’s life even if it is a tough beginning for the loved ones left behind.

And until and unless everything is sorted out in a tight fix, the fix seems to hold on. Without the clichéd happy ending, there is always scope for the story to continue. The next generation to pick up the threads, new maladies with the same monster, a fight turning to war.

So I have reached a conclusion that if a good riddance is what we are looking for, then we should end it happily, wholeheartedly. It is the best means to protect you from meeting it again in a corner unguardedly. Ironic isn’t it? You want to get away from a work, a person, a house and you have to go away declaring peace and happiness.

But if this is the way it’s going to work, then I am game for it. And so I say Good Bye. Good Bye to anger, Good Bye to frustration, Good Bye to weepy nights, Good Bye to dreams unfulfilled, Good bye to passions not fueled, Good bye to heartbreaks and Good bye to headaches. I had a good time with all of you. You helped me accomplish many a tasks, gave me the strength to get going when I wanted nothing more than to stop, and gave me company when no one else was around. Even if you were great friends, I have to say Good Bye, for either I don’t love you, or you don’t love me, and no relationship can continue without love. Let us depart as friends today and when we meet again let us meet as passing acquaintances with a smile on the lips and nothing more.

With this, let the curtains drop for all of you just witnessed a happy ending, “And they lived happily ever after without each other.”

Tribute

Novelty, there is something magical about this word in itself. It is attractive, distracting, appealing, tempting, and so much more. Our mundane lives become engrossing and livelier by a new occurrence. A change may be for good or bad, but it being a ‘change’ is more important than the event itself.

A new toy enchants an infant. New clothes make us want to dress up completely. Our hands itch to open a new book, and close it as soon as it’s not new anymore. Each new day brings us the hope for a better day, and a new year gives bounties of hope for a better tomorrow and a better future.

With a new year and its freshness coming up in another two weeks, I wish to give a tribute to all of them who make me smile simply by being there somewhere near me. To those some people who can make me feel good by just saying “Hello.” Their presence near me makes me feel like floating in air, weightless. Thinking about them, I wish to hum a tune and dance about. To them….

You being with me means a lot to me.

For without you, I can only laugh at some joke. With you, I can keep on smiling when no one is about.

For without you, I can sit alone with a book or a game. With you, I can sit and stare at nothing for hours.

For without you, I may roam around the world and see magnificent things and still feel wanting. With you, the streets near my so called home become worth seeing.

For without you, I might see the riches of nature. With you, I feel them to the core of my heart.

For without you, I feel the cold breeze in the air. With you, I feel the cold air is the connecting bridge between you and me.

Being a selfish creature…

I see a smile on your face, I feel nothing can go wrong now.

I read few words from you, I feel my heart soar high.

I hear you happy, I feel my problems melt away.

I guess, I should stop at this or else I my sincerity might be questioned. While taking leave for another month or so, I wish I could get all of such people in my life to read this and know… I might cry and weep for little and great things that hurt me. I might feel wretched when I do not get enough attention from you. I might feel I was better off without you. But at the end of such dark times, your still being there around me is what makes me feel alive. They say people come into your life for a reason and they leave when you might survive without them. They also say when someone leaves, they make space for another. I know it to be true. I will not hold you responsible for having to move on. Even if things go bad, even if we don’t get time to even converse, even if you don’t know what you mean to me, even if we may part ways or already have, you will forever remain in my memory as a smile. 

Solitary speaker

Her daughter, Amê, grew up to be a beautiful woman. She had the same angelic presence as she had as an infant. She had a magnificent job and despite her affliction she had many admirers as well. But by now Amê had started to feel constricted and restrained by the attentions everyone paid to her. She wished to be an independent and self sufficient woman. This desire that had started culling in her from her college days reached its culmination point when she got a transfer and her mother decided to go with her leaving her father and grandfather behind.

The sudden change in her daughter’s demeanor was difficult for her to understand. After all, wasn’t she supposed to be with her daughter all the time? How could she leave Amê to fend for herself in a new city which even she had never visited before? She understood her daughter’s concern regarding her husband and father-in law, but there were others to take care of them. So without any qualms on her conscience she removed herself from her home to a new house in a new city.

But the change in her daughter grew weirder and weirder each day. Amê would leave home without breakfast and without even taking her leave. She would not pick up her calls during the office hours. She returned home late at night and she would go straight to her bed. In the weekends she would catch hold of a book or a few movies and would stay stuck up in a corner of her bed. This continued for three months.

She first thought her daughter to be busy, and then imagined her to be in love and in the last month came to know that it was she that her daughter had objections to. She tried to talk to her, but her daughter kept her silence as usual. She tried appeasing Amê with her favorite foods, movies, books, clothes, everything, that too didn’t work. She then kept her own mouth shut for a while, not talking to her daughter, yet Amê stayed away from her. Contacting her friends back home, she came to know nothing. Frustrated after three more months, she decided to go back to her husband for some time. But while leaving she could not stop her tears nor could she stop herself from writing a letter for Amê.

“One day sooner than later, this monologue will have to end. Me continuously speaking and you hearing or listening I am not sure. Or even me writing and you reading. It has started to feel as if I am forcing you to live in my life, to be caged with me when you wish to fly away, be away from me. It feels like I am imprisoning you with my needs and my words.

Though you may believe it or not, I have tried to give you as much space as possible which according to me is a wide berth. I am not even sure whether you consider it a wide personal space or an empty space where I should have been there or you have ever noticed the space or not. Only if you talk to me, will I be able to know.

Is it wrong to expect few words from you? Is it too much to be expected when I want to know what is going on in your life, how are the people around you, or even how do you react to what I have to say? Is it?

Come on, talk to me… if not then write to me. I’ll go mad in this silence. Tell me I am a burden, I’ll leave right now. Tell me you want me, I’ll stay forever. Tell me to keep distance, you’ll find me only when you want to see me… but please tell me.

This monologue that I have kept going for quite some time had left me bereft. I do not know what you think, what you need, what you feel. It is maddening.

So, today, right now, I am giving you an option, either answer me or I’ll accept the silence for what it is, Rejection. And I shall accept it this time and move away from your life forever. I assure you I’ll not look back ever and you’ll not have to face me anytime in your entire lifetime.”