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.