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Nine months ago, on Friday, the 13th, a princess was born. She doesn't know it, but being the first born of the first born in our family and the first baby of her generation, she is kind of real special to a lot of people right now. Again, because she is the only privileged one in the entire family to be born in the land of dreams, she gets to see all the people in her life in installments. The first few months, she only knew her mom, papa, daada and daadi. There was a short visit by her buaji and phuphaji and of course her dear mausi. But she didn't get a lot of chance to get acquainted with them all. Then exit daada, daadi, enter naana, naani. But by then, she was 3 and half months old. She was just starting to get active. In the last few months, she has grown so much. It is really amazing. Until I saw her last week, I had the picture of the 2 month old in my mind.
Oh, I can still remember the first time I set my eyes on her. She was so tiny and she would come to anyone. It was the most wonderful feeling holding her in my arms. Over the next few months, I could hear her on the phone whenever I called. So, I was excited to see her again. She sure had grown a lot. She now knows everyone. She wasn't so happy having another set of hands trying to feed her and hold her. But my camera sure did attract her. She was posing for me all the time. It was the greatest 3 days I had in a long time.
Now, I am back to Houghton and she is in India with her mom and grandparents. There's a whole lot of people who've waited so long to see her. Especially, my grandma, she has been waiting to see her great grandchild. Everyone's going to be showering her with affection for the next few weeks. I hope the change doesn't alarm her. She is such a sweet child. She seems to sense that her mom is trying to handle too many things at once and tries not to be too much trouble. I can't stop thinking about her. I don't know when I'll get to see her again. I hope she has a great trip.
From strollers and car seats to a lot of loving arms,
From oatmeal and rice cereal to kattu anna and haalu anna,
From hindi and english to kannada and tamil,
I wish the transition is smooth baby,
I wish the food tastes sweeter,
I wish the words sound friendlier.
Until we meet again, sweetheart...
Why do I feel that everyone and everything around me has moved on and I've stood still?
I've been stationary for so long that I don't know which direction to move...Nothing makes sense anymore...
When did this all happen? The change-
- from their worrying about you every minute of the day
to their having no clue as to what time it is where you live
- from their cooking every meal you eat
to their asking you for new recipes
- from their names on all letters
to your name on the same
- from your asking for their permission
to their asking you if it is okay
- from your dreading their reaction
to their waiting for your outburst
- from theirs being the last word
to yours being the only word
- from their safeguarding your health
to your not knowing which doctor to call for them
- from your holding on to their hands
to their leaning on to you for support
- from they teaching you your lessons
to you coaching them for an interview
- from your believing they are invincible
to their showing their fears
- from their wiping away all your tears
to your watching them shed tears
- from they being your whole world
to your spinning them around your new world
---
The change from pillion rider to driver
happens so fast that you hardly notice
You're half way down the road
before you even realise a change has been made
Yet, you drive along to regions yonder,
at the same time, never ceasing to wonder
As to when it will be your turn
to move over and hold back
And let the flame be carried
in other able hands.
---
---Two roads diverged in a wood and I--
I took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference.
I am a great believer of these memorable words by Robert Frost. Innumerable times, I have taken the road not taken and surely, that has made all the difference. Small decisions, big decisions, they are all about taking one road when many are available. With some of them, we know where they lead to; most, we do not. Then again, the journey has so much to offer; some times more than the destination itself.
Just when I thought I was nearing the end of the journey, I suddenly find myself at an unexpected crossroad. All this time, I believed that what I needed to do and what I wanted to do were the same; and they really were. Out of the blue, I am having conflicting thoughts.
An evening drive through some familiar, some unfamiliar -nevertheless, both beautiful- roads made me reassess a lot of things that have been happening lately. Maybe I am not prepared for what I thought I was. What if I do not cherish the outcome I have been longing for so badly? For something that I held on to so tightly for so long, am I giving it up too easily?
No matter what I choose, the pain is the same. But the eternal question remains-
Do I listen to my head, or my heart?
My recent posts have been pretty melancholic, bordering on depressing; so I thought I should lighten up myself and the mood of the blog. Hence this collection of witticisms.
Ever since I was a child, I've been fascinated by quotes. I used to write down the quotes I like in a small notebook and read them over and over again. There was a magazine "Wisdom", which I used to read in my childhood, which had quotes at the bottom of every page. Now, I see quotes on marquees in front of the university buildings or churches in town. More commonly, I see them on T-shirts worn by my students. These quotes, though I don't know who wrote them, are either insightful, witty or outrightly hilarious.
Here goes..
It is not the answer that enlightens, it is the question.
Wars are poor cudgels to carve out peaceful tomorrows.
Losers quit when they are tired, winners quit when they win, champions never quit.
Do not confuse your career with your life.
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
A clear conscience is a sign of bad memory.
Geology rocks!!
If you are not part of the solution, you are the precipitate.
I love to hate you.
You have my complete attention; until someone better comes along.
I'm busy now, can I ignore you some other time?
Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?
How can I miss you; if you don't go away?
I see your lips moving, but all I can hear is "blah! blah! blah!".
When hell freezes over, we'll ski there too.
According to my wife, I'm a very happy man.
I don't need an encyclopaedia, my wife knows it all.
I've been called stubborn, I've been called insensitive, I've been called selfish. Despite all these allegations, I never wanted to give in. I was adamant that I would not go back home to India until I graduated. So much so, I even persuaded my brother to put off his wedding until I finished and was ready to move back home. I had already missed out on so much during my sister's wedding nearly four years ago. I was determined that I would be more actively involved at least in my brother's wedding, and not be just a "visitor".
However, much like everything else in my life, it was not to be. My brother got married last December and I made the trip that I had promised myself I would not make. The last time I went home was in July 2003, for my sister's wedding, less than a year after I first landed in the USA. It was after I came back from that trip that I told myself that I would not go home again until I graduated. It is not that I do not want to go home, but the fact that I have to come back is what bothers me. My family and friends have all argued with me many times about this, but they do not understand my side of the story simply because they are not me.
I have been homesick from day one and I continue to pine even to this day. Everyone who knows me knows this fact. When I came here the first time, I told everyone back home that I would be back after I completed my degree. But most of them told me that those who go to the USA never come back. It may be true, but I'm not one of them. After I came here, I found that most of my friends were happy to live their lives here and visit home every couple of years or so. Not me, though. For me, this is the temporary home, Bangalore is where I want to be, with my family. My sister kept arguing with me that I'm being selfish and not thinking of my parents and grandma who would want to see me, at least every other year. Her point was that they were not getting any younger. Well, I do agree with that but it is extremely painful for me to spend some time with them and come back here. Every departure from home is more painful than the last. If I look at it that way, I agree I am selfish. But I cannot help it.
The reason is that I am all about the people I love and the small things in life. I am not ambitious and am a very emotional person. Naturally, people do not understand me and they think I am very weak at heart. One incident during my last trip made me realise what I really felt. I was scheduled to fly back early morning on New Year Day. There were a lot of people at home the previous day, friends, relatives who came to say goodbye. By the end of the day were were all very tired, so we decided to have an early dinner and rest for a while before leaving to the airport at midnight. Everything was fine until about 10:30 when my grandma started making strange sounds in her sleep. She suddenly became delirious, coughing, choking and muttering incoherently. We could not make any sense of what was happening for a full fifteen minutes. We could not even reach the doctor. Fortunately, some lemon water and gentle stroking of her arms calmed her down and she went back to sleep. Although my mom assured me that this has happened a few times before and I should not worry; I was shaken up and couldn't believe it happened barely an hour before I was due to leave. My ajji is the softest corner of my heart and it broke me to see her so fragile. I could not even say a proper goodbye. In addition, that was the sad image I had with me all through the torturous 44 hour return journey (a different nightmare altogether).
Fortunately for me, it was nothing serious and ajji got better very soon. But for those few anxious minutes that night, her life and my spirits were both hanging by a thread. What if something had happened and I was in the middle of nowhere? I would never have forgiven myself. The sad part is, whenever I express my anxiety, I am told I should not worry too much and I should concentrate on my studies. So, is that all life is about? You are away from home, it is bad enough that you cannot do anything, now you should not even feel anything? Perhaps that is one of the "perks" of being the youngest. Since then, I look around me and realise how fragile everything is; health, relationships, life itself. I also cannot help but wonder if anything on earth is worth the pain I felt during those few minutes.
Apparently, my Ph.D is! I can only wish that the sense of fulfilment at the end of the road makes all the pain worthwhile.
Tharidubidu, thoredubidu, thodedubidu nenahinda
Karekareya berugala, manada gantugala
Urake sogasenisidaa preethi haaramumorme
Urulappudaathmakke - mankutimma !
--- Mankutimmana Kagga (by D. V. G.)
I am in immense pain
I whine and cry in vain
I get many a sympathetic ear
And the soothing words, take care dear!
It is said distance increases love
I say distance is my enemy
I want the distance to disappear
But all I get is, take care dear!
They tell me, give it a rest
Alas! My heart is in deep unrest
They know not what I fear
They go on saying, take care dear!
My pain is not so great
Thousands suffer a great deal more
Knowing that does not stop the tears
Despite the repeated assurance, take care dear!
I have no eye for the beauty around me
I have no energy for the work undone
I know it is only another year
I will get only the words, take care dear!
Words give me little comfort
I know telephones are not magic wands
All I care for is to be near
The loved ones who always say, take care dear!
They want great things from me
I am afraid I am not good enough
I see no way to make it clear
That they are only words, take care dear!
Those were the days when we did not have a telephone at home. I think I was in the ninth standard. At that time, all my free time was spent in dance class. Dance was the ruling passion of my life. It was the Dasara vacation and we were rehearsing for a major project. My dance teacher (S aunty) always planned the rehearsals such that the younger girls could finish their parts and go home early. However, I would stay back long after my part was done and watch the others or help aunty with various chores. That was perhaps the reason I became aunty's "pseudo-secretary" in later years.
Anyway, one day, it so happened that we had a recording session, scheduled in Prabhath studios, after rehearsals and aunty wanted me to accompany her. Now, I didn't know of this plan earlier and I hadn't told my mom about coming home late. I also didn't get a chance to inform her during the day since we had no telephone. Aunty assured me that we could stop by my place on the way to the studio and inform my mom. But then, when we finished the rehearsals, we had just enough time to rush to the studio and hence, no stop over. Our recording went very well but as the hours passed I got more and more anxious about my folks worrying for me. When we finished for the day and I reached home, it was 10 pm. That was an "unheard of" time for me to come home, specially since my mom did not know what I was up to.
I was terrified of the outcome and could not even open the gate to go inside. When I mustered enough courage to get into the gate, I just stood outside the door as if I waited for permission to enter. Dad was pacing the floor, mom and grandma were on the diwan, sis and bro sitting on the steps of the staircase; all with anxious eyes watching the door. I just stood there waiting for the explosion to come, but my dad's first words were,
"Oota aaitha putta?" (roughly translated to "have you eaten, dear?")
I cannot begin to describe the relief that flooded through me when I heard those magical words. I also realised how hungry I was, and sure enough mom immediately brought me a plate full of food. As I ate, I related the entire day's events and told them I was extremely sorry, this would never happen again. I was still waiting for the explosion, but it never came. No raised voices, no pointed fingers, no lecture about rules; it was as if nothing unusual had happened. That day, my fear was replaced with confidence and my respect for my parents escalated one thousand fold.
That was also the day we decided that, in case I was not able to inform them about new developments after I left home in the morning, my cut off time would be 10 pm and no later than that. It has remained so ever since. Even to this day, when I leave home in the morning and my dad is around, he always asks, "You'll be home by ten, won't you?"
During my high school and college years, I have seen friends who were terrified of going home a minute later than 6 pm. I have also seen some of them lying to their parents because they weren't allowed to go some place or stay out late. Luckily, I never had to do that. I was always cool about going home late and my parents always knew what I was doing and who I was with. It all became easier after we got a telephone and needless to say, I never abused this freedom. On the contrary, I became more confident and responsible. I am grateful to my parents for having trusted me from an early age.
I do not know why, but I think of this incident always. I may have mixed up the facts, if I ask my family, they may have forgotten or remember it differently. But I will never forget how I felt that day. I have read a saying, "You may forget what they said or did, but you will always remember how they made you feel." I could not agree more with whoever said this.
It is more than a decade since this happened, but even now, whenever I think of that day, I get tears in my eyes. Perhaps, this is what love is all about; little words and touching gestures that stay in your heart forever. It touches me even more now, being away from home for so long. I can't wait to go back home and lose myself in the comfort of that love.
Ghar aaja pardesi tera des bulaye re...
It is that time of the year again. Time to get all the heavy jackets, boots, caps and gloves out of the closet. Winter is here and with a big bang. Normally, the first snow is mild and soft which melts soon after it hits the ground. So, there's no snow on the ground for a week or two. But this year, it seems like a nasty wind has hit the great lakes and brought with it a great blizzard over the upper midwest.
So, the first snow comes as a snow storm; non-stop snowing all of thursday and friday with a predicted almost two feet of snow on the ground on friday, in the UP. After a rainy summer and an extremely short fall, it looks like we have to get set for a wild winter. I'm sure my dear friends who have graduated and gone are heaving sighs of relief. At the same time, the new comers are witnessing the glory and fury of Houghton's winter at the same time.
Was it only three days ago that I was wishing for white crystals? Well, not only did my reaction yield the much awaited white crystals; but also, mother nature decided to give me a town full of white crystals. Could I ask for more?
I suppose everyone has dreams. Some big, some small; some grand, some simple; but they are all dreams nevertheless. At any given point in time, everyone is chasing some dream or the other.
When the dream you are chasing is big, it is always at the expense of other little dreams, simple joys and moments. But this chase being a conscious choice, you try to keep your vision focussed, look at the big picture and console yourself that the loss is worth it when the big
dream gets realised.
However, there are times when you fall out of perspective. No matter how hard you try, it is hard to stay focussed. The little things you are missing suddenly loom large before your eyes. That is when you start wondering that perhaps you are on a wild goose chase.
I find myself in this position more often than I would like to admit. There are times when I'd rather be somewhere else, doing something else, but I can't. Every innocent word and gesture that reminds me of what I'm missing is mortifying.
I know no one is indispensable. Things will get done, whether I do them or not; moments will pass, whether I'm present or not. But the loss is mine and it is unbearable. The heart knows no rationale, it doesn't understand the logical and practical explanations. I so wish I was elsewhere, sharing this special time with people that matter. Especially now, because I know I'll not have another chance. I feel I've reached a point of no return. There's nothing I can do about it.
Well, I guess all I need is a little positive energy, a slight push in the right direction.
Oh, how I wish that motivation comes in the form of white crystals...
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