And then there was this.

So,when are we getting married?

Well when do you want to get married?

Some December, some nice cold December.


"cold" is the only thing she got wrong.

That sinking realization..

Conversation with Constable

"So, Y2K? How well do you remember it?"

Y2K? The millennium? Pretty well I guess..

"You probably remember clearly, right? Like, I can remember it like it was yesterday"

Sure..I remember what I did and all that.

"Exactly. See, the thing is - that was ten years ago"

Pause. Turns to the much-younger 25-year old guy called Cricket. Hey Cricket, you remember what you did on Y2K?

Cricket: "Nope, I was 15."

Curses, am old.

Not a fan of

- Superficial patriotism. The Bton city council is passing a resolution condemning Bhopal gas tragedy (no idea why though). The Indian students here all are raved up on this with a misplaced sense of patriotism, which is apparent when they ask me - "What? You're not going for this event? How can you not go?". Fuck 'em, these kids weren't even born when the dashed thing happened.
- Picking on people from the interiors of India for their bad English. Usually done by city prissies who link to marriage ads from Facebook or their blogs. What the fuck? Leave the guy alone. First, he's done nothing to you. Second, let's see you try and learn an international language from scratch and not try and fuck it up.

On the flip side, I think I discovered a likable new sport - rowing. Now, if only I can learn to swim.

11/26

We have not forgotten. We are still on the battlefield.

Watching from the sidelines

Tryin' hard to focus on the good
I'm tired of divin' for the pearls
And every dawn is another morning less'

Poker face

She wants to pack a suitcase together with towels and socks. And then she asks me if that's weird.

I am hoping it's just those she wants to pack :).

I'll see your weird and raise you one.

Gathering threads

The landlady told me that her friend's D's 4 year old daughter is being treated for leukemia. She was this really cute and thin girl with teeth missing, and the image of chemo being done on her was just too harsh. The prognosis is good, the landlady said, there's 99% chance of full recovery.

Hmm..How's D doing?

She has a stable marriage, so it's good.

I paused for a second, wondering if it was expected that couples break up over cancer. And then she continued.

What I meant is that they've got each other, their marriage has a really strong base to take them through.

Ah that makes more sense. Or so I thought - until I read this pointed from here.

Keeping it real

I am what you see first, what you feel first and what you really want to do. I jump out of bed with fists clenched and you'll know exactly where I stand. You acknowledge me, me and you get along fine. You ignore me, you speak out one lie, two lies and three lies, then am on my knees, buried under soil and untrue filth while you cower in your false light hoping I don't disappear.

Guilty

A wasted space.

Don't move. Don't even stir.

Breathe if you must, but know that it's in waste.

Beware of this kind..

The kind of person who always always had someone to take care of things and expect you to do the same, no matter who you are.

This short little girl, whom we shall call Short, walked in class last week looking extremely huffed and flustered. She automatically turns to me and announces, "My watch's battery is gone out.'

Oh, I reply, not really interested.

"I hadn't noticed it" Short continues walking towards me. "It happened all of a sudden. Before and all, I used to give to him and he'd take care of it"

Hmm..

Now, I didn't know who 'him' meant. It could either be her husband (poor sucker) or even the watch repair fellow. But I did know what's coming up next.

"Do you know anything about watch repair?"

Err..no.

"Ok..what's the time?"

Since then, every time she's run into me, including at class today, she's asked me the bloody fucking time.

Profs and theatricity

I had a high school chemistry teacher who was so fond of exuberant hand motions that once during organic chemistry class, he got so excited that along with his hand-thrashing he kicked his foot out causing his slipper to fly off his foot and onto the studious first bench girl.

But, that was then.

Yesterday, HT after a five-minute energized discussion on the avian and the human influenza virus strains pointed his finger dramatically and asked this - why, even though there are strains of influenza that commonly recognize birds and humans, does it not pass from bird to humans?

No one answered.

Come on, think..why why

I raised my hand and delivered Blah answer.

Hmm...not quite but close. Think think..why does this happen?

Ok. I raised my hand again. Blah answer.

No No! You're going too far. It's simply because of Blah..

And then he saw the expressions on our faces - the 'oh that's so obvious, we were expecting some mega answer considering the amount of anticipation you created' expression. He mistook it for doubt.

'Whaat..?' said he, looking like a kid who's balloon got burst by a pin. 'Do you not think that my hypothesis is reasonable? At least it's better that the answers that were given to me.'

:)..That's my prof.

Curbing

Happiness is relative i.e. it is in relation to projected or simulated realities. Given a choice, we make a set of all possible futures, each associated with its own level of happiness. The simulated realities comes from choice. The more the freedom the choose, the more the number of simulated realities leading to more confusion and lesser final happiness. Does this mean that we curb choices? That Destiny is the best course to follow?

Reference: TED Talk

"The Hound of Heaven"

'Here, read this' said the retired English literature prof. thrusting a book of poems in my hand. I winced inside - I suck at reading poems. A small voice inside me goes yeah no, and I immediately tune off. The strange thing though is that I can follow recited poetry to the t, which is why I like Slam I suppose.

Anyway, I winced. Wrong time to do the wrong thing.

Come on, give it a shot. You can do it. Pretend it's your voice that you're hearing the recitation from.

A whole twenty minutes later, I confess to the prof - I didn't quite get it.

You didn't? It's simple, really. This guy is running from something that he calls the Hound. It could be God, it could be Death, or it could even be your own true Self. He runs away far and fast, asks for protection from Dawn and Eve, but he realizes he cannot escape. He is shown a snapshot of what it could be like if he stopped and allow himself to surrender. It definitely is a better picture. A truer picture. But he's still scared. So he continues running. Until last, he ultimately surrenders and is overwhelmed.

My mouth was half-open. I could relate to it so well, running from the truth instead of surrendering to it. Of the real thing catching up to you. Of letting it be. And I hope never to lose it.

Ever notice..

that the quality of your day is directly linked to the quality of music that Pandora chooses to play for you? ON ALL YOUR CREATED STATIONS!

Or is it just me?

Early wish for Santa

Dear Santa, please don't let the X-men movie series stop. Do keep them coming. And oh, try stop by at C-city on the day, yeah? To take a break?

Sigh..

For the wedding, I am going to have to remember a zillion people's names including their kids, and not just from my family.

I need a system.

My own personal familywiki.

I'll have to find some way to make everyone's name rhyme.

My experienced brethren, how did you do it?

Life is..

- Hitting the snooze button a bit too often.
- Regretting not getting up earlier to read/chat with the gf.
- Trying to stick to a overly-optimistic schedule envisaged at the beginning of the semester when one is idealistic and promise changes stricter than new year's resolutions.
- Not biking often, and thus primarily in pain during the spin class.
- Wondering about the gf's work, feeling slightly proud.
- Waiting for Tech to restore my system fully, and meanwhile painfully shuffling between laptops.
- Moving from a giving a presentation to doing assignments to doing assignments to..
- Loving the Glycomics class, hating the Biology class. Complex systems is too enjoyable for me to take seriously.
- Feeling slightly upbeat since Papa T. asked me to edit his lecture notes and comment on them.
- Yup! I get to comment!
- Throwing aside the book to watch mindless TV episodes before hitting the bed.
- Thinking about the trip home.

Some words to remember, some notes on K and constable

".. All the accumulated scientific knowledge that humanity possesses is verifiable knowledge, and my proud heritage. And yet I have no sense of attachment to it. If tomorrow new evidence is found, which demands a change in the way I look at Nature, I shall have no trouble abandoning even my pet theories. This is intellectual humility, and in sharp contrast to what happens in theology. You are not permitted to question certain statements there. How stultifying that must be for the intellect. Such an approach can kill the spirit of free enquiry, and deny the pleasure of discovery. I am glad that I do not suffer from that terrible handicap..."
- from here

I am reminded of K, whom I admit made me feel insecure about religion. I was 24, out of university, without a job and not really secure with my views of religion. She was my age, brilliant at chemistry, a PhD offer from UMich., but instead chose to head out to Africa in the name of religious charity. Our discussions left me flustered and confused. Later on, when I started forming views, I would imagine strong comebacks by me. It took a long time before I could get her voice out of my head.

The other person incidentally, who made me insecure (and still does here and there) is constable. The topic here though is, funnily, science! Constable's got this habit of getting under the skin. Here's how it works - take a theory, any theory. He asks a few questions. He relates it to something he knows. Then, he either forms an opinion about it or makes an assumption about it, just like that, based on that limited knowledge. Then the next fifty questions arise from that mindset, they are aimed in such a way to give you full freedom to change that mindset. But..you have to see what the mindset is though. If not, you are screwed. His capacity for logic far outweighs yours so he's several steps ahead of you. In time you become really defensive, cause a) you fear you're missing something or b) you fear you don't know enough. It's easy sometimes, you just have to show him the way you think and he'll follow you easily. But here and there, a few dinners and beers have been ruined cause of this. I remember one biology discussion which still echoes with me, that I had to accede defeat, and worse yet, even side with him, all in pretend. And I've been wishing it comes back cause I've been adding to my repertoire. And then I realise how silly this all is.

Creativity is dead

So this is a random post.

Currently coding.

Also listening to BirdChillRock which is playing Glen Hansard singing a Dylan song. I say, is this just me? Or does the way your day goes have any connection to the quality of music Pandora plays for you on that day? I've noticed horrible selections on really bad days. Some might say the song is not bad, it's my projection of a bad day that makes it bad.

Well, at least creativity is not dead in all domains. I found a simple (hopefully right) solution to our transcription problem, it was nice and elegant, which pissed off Y who came up with this statement - 'my only problem is that this seems really simple'. WTF. But Y's prone to statements like that.

We had a huge debate today. He said something stupid along the line of he doesn't blog his poems cause he's old fashioned and thinks that writing and writers belong to the print world. Worse yet, he said he didn't want to associate himself with the characters out there who blogged silly stuff and passed them as poems and stories. Ha! Now , we can't let statements like that go off now ,can we? Especially when we know the real thing is out there.

At the end of it, I think some stuff I said (especially about spoken word) registered with him, but he seemed uneasy when he said - 'I don't know,man, it's hard for me to open up and change to thoughts like that, my biggest change so far was moving away from my home and living with roommates I didn't know', I knew it was time to give up. Y is Y, 23 or not, he's just going to take his own sweet time.

Anyway, back to coding. Why do I have so many packed days?

Old and New

At first there was the one.
The one that took many forms and many names
but nevertheless it was the one.
It belonged to the girl I fell in love with.
The book slut.
Someone once called her 'clueless'.
Someone once hurt her hard and deep,
that caused her to become guarded
with a thick armor that doubled up as a blanket.

I fell in love with her writing before I fell in love with her.

At first...the words were...indecipherable.
But then it grew on me.
Like a morning sunlight that paves its way across the front porch
through the windows through the living room
into my bedroom into my body.
I was penetrated
I was hooked.

Your poems, said I, should be made into songs.
Then she flirted with the band leader
And I made up my mind never to let her near bands again.

I was privileged, sometimes the only one
Always there, a read away.
Here the story came to life.
Here the first days were started.

And then the new one came.
I didn't really understand the reasoning behind the change
Or the makeover
What change?
I knew not then what I know now
If I ever to change what would I become
What is I? as they say in Jeopardy.
I am beyond time, beyond the flame of change.
The flame that lights out fading darkness and burns off in fading light.
I am beyond that
I am below the layers
And the layers of the onion are peeled away
one by one, two by two
three by three.

But here we were with a pretty picture of gazing eyes
where there was more than silence
and foolish?
And nomorefollowers
and windsfate
There was more, much more
There were stories, they were characters
Saira and Lily and the wife of a liar
Words in a place
belonging to a girl I am in love with.

I want to be her everything
Her good night kiss, her good morning smile.
I want to be all her phone calls during job tea breaks and whilst sipping whiskey
I want to be there for her, cause that's what am here for.
The long run..

That's right
You and me and the long run with our dreams and our hopes
Me with my idealism
You with your practical-ism.

My image of her is of her reading
But I have other images coming my way
Her writing her stories,
Her and I in Spain
Her as a mother.
We live in a world where we are junkies
Looking forward to the next thing
We are not here we are not now
At least not yet.

And now, I am denied this space
I live with the old one and its solace.
Misery loves company
If I am misery it becomes my company
If 'it' was about misery then I became the company
But in the words of S. Williams
'Somehow I can't stop thinking
Thinking
All the time thinking
What is she thinking?'
And...
What is she writing?

Things that happen

- you have a plan
- she goes along for a bit thinking she can convince you to change your mind
- she tries hard
- you try harder, you convince her to an extent.
- But what she says and how she says about her plans have an effect on you
- you think you're selfish ignoring her side
- you start wondering about your idealism, your prev. bad decisions and how the other usually makes sense
- you could tell the other - listen this thing is here. But she could flip out
- you could keep quiet but that's not being honest is it?
- you tell the other
- the other flips out cuz she just used to your plan in her head
- you are called a flip flopper
- you make the other seem unwanted, uncared and worthless
- you have to come to terms with all this new plan where you are alone
- you are the loser.
- and the other is tired from this shit.

What do the normal folk say - these things happen?

The Bear

Friday night dinner, our man texts me saying 'Should we bring anything?'. I call him and ask if it's possible to bring some frozen parathas on the way over.

Sure! Err..How do you spell that?

I'll text it to you.

OK.

Half hour later a text comes - 'On our way with some piranhas'

Yes, we are a couple of dorks.

Of Bosses and Men

I was reading this NYTimes article that analyzed whether women make better bosses. I haven't had a woman boss yet (at work i.e., at home, the woman rules). And I realized that even if I did, I wouldn't be able to answer that question. See, I tried very hard not to stereotype and generalize, honestly believing that a person is a sum combination of experiences, exposure and thoughts that mold him or her as an individual. If my lady boss, by being a woman, had something going for her, a unique perspective, intuitiveness, anything - I would say sure she's got this and it might be because she's a woman. But I would hesitate before saying all women had it.

Anyway, here's where I would rate my bosses so far from least to most favorite

-ICC guy. My first job, and I successfully managed to get fired by ticking him off. The dickhead took off my salary and got me to work on a commission. The sad part is my parents told me to go back and talk to him, because they thought it's better than staying at home. But when the dickhead demanded money for, wait for it, taking me back, my father wised up and said forget it.
- Princi at the teaching college. This chap was spineless. Honestly. He was close to retirement and he played the safe game, not taking sides, not getting involved. I didn't fight with him though. I had learned my lesson.
- SEB. The first prof. He was pretty ok actually. He had good projects, I got to go to beautiful Asilomar and he got me started at the lab. The only irritating thing is that he used to needlessly ask me, and only me, questions in class. And he had his eighth kid just before graduation, which was really odd. To top it, I don't think he gave me a good recommendation.
- TM. Now I've not really worked for him, in the strict sense. But I would have liked to. He was brilliant. And he got me, in a way, to quit smoking and pick up running. I actually emailed him saying so. I didn't hear back.
- NJ. The first real mentor I had. They used to call us 'the one two punch'. All my coding came from him. Along with all my papers so far. We actually did great stuff together, me being pretty much a sponge. I kinda shot my mouth at him at Indy at a conference, but my crazy ex had to be partly blamed for this. It took a while for things to get back to normal (I was devastated at my stupidity) but they did, and we're cool now. I'm definitely inviting him for my Christmas wedding.
- HT. The current prof. The gentlest person I have known. That's the only reason why he tops NJ. I actually feel bad if I don't have anything to report to him. Another great thing about him is that he is pure genius. His ideas knock me off, and am quickly learning to do think creatively, something which didn't happen till now.
- GAA. Ha! I just love this guy. He's 5 years from retirement, but sharp as a needle. He's the best manager and engineer I've known, brilliant at understanding things, great at handling people and a huge sense of humor.

True story - during my presentation two weeks ago, I load it up and hit the Fn-F8. The first slide comes up with four graphs and he immediately starts off on his own, analyzing loudly - "So this the four column blah blah and what you see is blah blah". I look at him with a grin - "Hey G, you want me around here or you good over there by yourself". He stops and looks back at me. Everyone is laughing at his shocked expression and my grin. "Oh Boy", says he, "You're at it, aren't you? Hey A, you know if you're getting paid this week? Cuz I know am getting paid"

My grin pretty much vanishes, amongst roars of laughter from the others.

He's the only guy who can pull that off.

Plus he's a hero here for the volunteer work that he does for high school kids with his robotics club and his work on promoting science and math.

If I ever end up being the GAA equivalent to my lab (if I go down that way) I'll be more than happy.

Noise

'Hello darkness, my old friend,
Ive come to talk with you again'

Open eyes that are red. Definitely not allergies. Brush teeth vehemently to get rid of that bad taste. A taste of feeling stale. Rotten. Snap back to the present. Gulp down a mug of tea and two cups of coffee. Nothings gonna get rid of the gulp in your throat. Fade away. Snap back to the present. Trudge these halls, one heavy foot after another. Be real, be real. Ashes. Lance. Meetings. Take paper and pencil to write notes, but end up with a blank page. Soup. Hope it stays down. Throbbing head. More coffee. Wish for cigarettes. Numbers numbers. Code. Perspiration. There's the bad taste again. Oh fuck. Snap back to the present. Stay here goddammit.

How many times does one travel in his head if one is away?

Confession

Dear Coauthors,

I realize that you have done a much better job than me with my research paper. I was initially pissed that during three months from which there was absolutely no word from all of you, everything was changed, including the title of my work. But 5 minutes after comparing your draft and mine, I had to stop reading mine. What can I say? It was the middle of the first semester and I had a tough time. And turned in a crappy paper that wouldn't have a chance in any scientific journal. And yes, I am stupid enough to bruise my own ego. So sorry for being judgmental and complaining about you to the office mate, the good friend and the girlfriend. I should have known better.

Yours,
Bird

(The only other time when I wanted to stop reading what I wrote as compared to others was...'The minds daily battles' with Heathcliff's Girl.)

July and August

July and August are my worse months here because of allergies which manifests themselves in the form of red eyes. Mornings these days find me squinting against the light, and hastening to the bathroom mirror to see which of the two got lucky. Yes, it's always only after sleeping and it's always only one eye. The sneezing starts soon after. What follows is a desperate hours-long ritual with water, popping Vitamin C tablets like skittles and eye drops to get it to go away. Usually, and this is the best it's gotten in years, it goes away by afternoon and I can regain my normal expression without looking like am impersonating Clint Eastwood. The moment I step out of this place to somewhere , anywhere, even a stone's throw away to Seattle, and it goes completely away.

I try hard not to scare the lil one.

Incidentally, the little one is picking up stuff from me. The other night, she drops her yogurt and says ' ooh maaan'. This, I realize, is her first 'curse' word. And she's only two.

To : where?when?how? and finally, who IS she?

Frantic questions from my buddy Shakes. I was quite surprised at his fervor considering I've been engaged for over 4 months. But I guess from his view point all this happened so quickly that a little suprise, however late, is warranted.

So here it is.

Once upon a time (read last year Augustish) beyond the thrice nine lands in the thrice ten kingdom (read Vancouver, Canada) I chanced upon chapter 1 of her first short story. It was simply titled 'How I met my husband', and began with a girl on her wedding day telling the reader about the 'Just Married' sign on the car below which was written - "Jayanth weds Pallavi". Later on, she writes - "We never dated. We didn't have a whirl wind romance. Nor were we arranged. We weren't exactly even friends. Acquaintances would be a good choice of word here. He was a senior from school. The fact that he never remembered me is another story, but I persisted in talking. We were in different countries. He was working as a scientist for a pharma company in Ohio. I was a mess, if that is a place to be in."

I read it. And I couldn't breathe. I read it again and again. I knew she liked me, she told me so months before but I was with the crazy ex back then and I was stupid back then to say ..'er, sorry'. But.. cough, and this is not exactly kosher, I used to always think about her, even while with the ex. She had this thing, you know, of connecting with me. And she read the same books. And her writing! Oh man, her words were so comfortable to wrap around. Sometimes they were slow, when it comes to me aday or so later. Other times, they were like a drug - one hit after another.

But, this was months later. For one thing, I was having trouble with the ex, up to the point of breaking up. For another, I knew she was dating this guy (we'll try and be polite here), and things were ok, or so I thought.

"I had a life. I could just carry on, which I soon did. But all through I kept him in the back of my mind. A niggling doubt. A happy thought. A slight ache when I saw someone resembling him."

I could not believe she was writing about me. I couldn't let this go unnoticed. I wrote up a chapter 2 right then and there. And kept it hidden. Not a word to anyone.

Two weeks later I decide to break up because I could not handle the ex anymore. It was too much - of pain, of drama, of misery and there was no turning back. I remember looking down the streets on Vancouver and realizing that something was happening - another layer of the onion was being peeled.

I casually ask her - how's it going with victor. 'Oh well, not too good, I don't know why I mess up so much'. This was the only time I was happy when she was sad. When I finally do break up - I tell her. She says - 'If you had broken up a bit earlier, you would have had an escatic me on your hands'. I mail her chapter 2 and leave Vancouver.

There's a chapter 3 and 4 and 5.

She breaks up with victor.

We're both really nervous about this.

She convinces me to give it a shot. We do.

I see her for the first time in a cafe, reading a magazine. Oblivious. I smile. This is it.

Three months later, I bought a ring and head back home for spring break. Out of a detailed plan involving a prepared speech and beach-sunsets - all that turned out was nervous mumbo jumbo and a kneel in a hotel room in the wee hours of the morning.

The parents are ok with everything by now. During the official engagement ceremony (the between family thing) which I missed out, she reaches the entrance of the hall, and she sees the sign, with both our names in it. And she thinks of her story.

Death of a personal hero

Frank McCourt died this weekend. And I am truly sad.

I promise to keep him alive in the stories I tell people..his stories, about his mother, about the postal job, about the docks, about the black kids and Hamlet, about the excuse writing notes, about Limerick and Stuyvesant , and I will read aloud his little paragraph about a writer's mindset to anyone who cares to listen. It begins with "Listen, are you listening?.."

You

A while ago, I asked the landlady if having lil S changed her life. She looked up and said - completely. After a pause she added - and it was 99% for the good.

I smiled, thinking that's exactly what I felt about you.

So what's the 1%? Hee...your tantrums :P

As before

Round Three..yes that's always worked for me. Right?

I didn't really mind round 2, but I needed to make it anonymous, so that I can be free. Does one ever get completely free?

Anyway, what's on the table today?

I love this woman. I don't want to ever disappoint her, and if she's ever upset because of me, I make me my personal punching bag. Not physically, of course, but you get what am saying.

I have ambitions, about teaching, about changing the world - one student at a time. I have ambitions about science too, about simple ones in taking it far enough. Am not foolish about the science one, I really don't have the brains to beat the bank, so the Nobel or any such prize-worthy grandeur discovery is out. I am creative, and if I follow my intuition just right enough, stuff seems to happen. The best part is I don't have an ego, which is rare in this criticism-based field. So I figure, I'll do ok here.

But teaching, ah yes. I had granduer plans but foolish ones. See, am caught between two cultures, an 'exile' aching to go back and deliver on change, not fully aware of the intricate workings of the system back home. In the past, I never held back on talking about it. In my mind, this was what I wanted and talking help keep the dream alive. The system to me, simply needed to be figured out smartly. I was sure I could do it.

Now I am not too sure. I feel like I have failed before I even started it.

But I can't really blame her. My track record isn't so good. I used to flip flop, used to expunge high ideals but of little practical value, though I work hard, there's not been that consistency. But that was before, before you. So, what if I fail? I drag down everyone else with me. She's been through that already and def doesnt need another dose. And I dont want to be that guy, the guy who doesnt deliver, like david seadaris' father, whose words don't mean much because promises and ideas are made just for self importance's sake.

Sometimes I wonder why it has to be extremes, why can't I enjoy teaching just for the sake of it? Like how I do science. That was how it was, initially, I really didnt care where I taught. Then the pull started to happen, since nov 26. And I see everyone one generation above worrying about their parents and wanting to be close to them. And I don't want to be them 20 years from now.

Anyway, she's right. If I am not careful, instead of being the real thing, I'll be the guy that never made it.

In the meantime, my present is slowly slipping away.

So how about we finish off the PhD. And do a good job on it.