I graduated today

I graduated today. This is a pic from my grad ceremony. As you can see I am beaming. Today was a small step in my journey towards my goal. Although its only the beginning, I am happy at reaching somewhere. And I want to dedicate this to a lot of people in my life. I consider myself fortunate to have them. I may not have made it here all by myself.

Charlotte Airport

A lady wearing blue jeans and a pale yellow jacket walks across the Food court area. She is carrying a black background, white polka-dotted handbag on her side. She heads straight for McDonalds and stands in line to place her order. So, that is her favorite amongst all of Pizza Hut, Subway, Quiznos etc. Her standard fall back option. Mine would be Quiznos. (Only because I can expect a decent vegetarian meal from it). Another woman joins the line soon. This time its a a blue shirt over embroidered jeans. Good taste I think. After spending a few hours of shopping in New York over the weekend, my taste for fashion is certainly ignited. I can see myself taking special interest in watching what people wear. I remember we used to do this often as a pastime during our college days, it was a lot of fun. Another woman just crosses my table. She is carrying a multi-colored Jaipuri printed bag. With blue and brown as the foundation colors on the bag, I notice that she wears a coffee colored skirt and a light cream top alongwith it. Everything matches so well. Would she wear any other dress while carrying that bag? Or is she one of those who have a matching bag and a sandal for every dress they own. I see that she also wears a white pearl necklace.

Amidst all this, I hear the siren of a moving cart. There are two old ladies and one young woman sitting on it along with a lady driver. They have a smile on their faces. A smile as if they are class I travelers in a train. Lower class people have to walk on their own feet carrying their luggage. They would also give them way as the cart moves across. All the driver needs to do is blow the siren constantly. But he is patient about it.

A guy comes and parks a cart close to other carts and takes out his 25 cent reward from the machine. My friend F and I exchange a glance. We both think the same thing at the moment. We then start reminiscing about how Tom Hanks earns his money in the movie Terminal. We calculate, 25 cents * 10 (carts) = 2.5 dollars. So, you can at least get one burger a day if you can get hold of ten empty carts and park them here. I go a step ahead and calculate 25 cents * 20 (carts) = 5 dollars. So if he can manage 20 carts then he should be able to get food twice a day. How difficult would it be to manage getting 20 carts in a day, my mind prods. Somehow, I want to settle in my mind that it is not difficult to do that. I want evidence that someone doing this can easily manage to have food at least twice a day. If he remains hungry, it would be sad. I feel a perturbation about it.

By now, I feel a slight pain in my wrist. I realize I am not using any support for the writing. I am scribbling uncomfortably on my lap and my hand posture is not good. Deciding to take a break, while I take a short glance around exercising my wrist, I see people looking at me suspiciously. They seem puzzled about what this woman is upto - looking around and scribbling something constantly. My neighbor even sneaks a peek into my writing but I am sure at the speed with which I scribble, my handwriting is so illegible, that she would only worsen the suspense for herself. For a moment, I feel like a criminal. I try to look normal and make a logical conversation with F. I am not insane or prodding into your lives is the message I want to get across. Finally, I choose to stop writing.

Those treasure hunts

Car keys and I don’t go together. In fact keys and I don’t go together. I can also add that wallet, and cash and hair bands and safety pins and buttons and umbrellas and all that paraphernalia and I, don't go together. We constantly elude each other. We like to play hide and seek. We have a distant relationship. It is some conspiracy of nature, some joke of God, or some repulsive magnetic field thing. Or wait, maybe it’s simply that my mind likes to ponder about bigger things. The higher stuff. Alright, enough of blah. The truth is that I am absent minded and I agree.

Here is something that has often happened with me. I come home with some really important document or key or gadget or anything like that. Of course, my extremely careful self puts that thing in some real safe and logical reasonable place. And then after that my mind forgets about it completely. Now, after a few days or months, the time for fruition comes when that very treasure needs to be retrieved. And the search begins. And ends with the thing nowhere in sight. And then as days pass and one fine evening, I am looking for something else I find my old treasure (it is accompanied by a small private moment of pride and appreciation on what a fine place I had kept it in).

Like it happened last time when I was on my India trip this winter. I had taken my winter jacket and was wearing and flaunting it most of the time. Winters are pretty cold in Delhi although they are nothing compared to US. Anyways, so I was wearing the jacket often. One of those times I noticed that the button on the top front side was loose. I immediately removed it and kept it in a safe place waiting to fix it sometime later. Incidentally, the next few days were warmer and I did not have to wear the jacket. Then one day it became very cold again and I took out my jacket suddenly  remembering that the button had come off. Obviously it had to be fixed now before I put it on. I started to look around for the saved button. After looking around a lot I couldn't find any.

Anyways, I managed the winter there with some other jackets, shawls, pullovers. I knew however, that I was going to take this jacket back to US because it was really a warm and nice one. So, with many more search operations (private ones while faking to look for something else) and no success, I reluctantly bought a whole new set of buttons and got them stitched onto the jacket. Reluctant because the older buttons were really fashionable and went very well with it and I did not find any new ones even nearly comparable in style or look. I eventually settled my mind for this new compromise.

Time flew. Soon the trip ended and I was back in US. As I began to unpack guess what happened? I found the lost button. It was in the handbag I had checked umpteen times before. How you ask? In a way it was in the handbag but in a way it was not. Kind of like Hai bhi aur nahin bhi hai (I am suddenly reminded of the scene in the Bollywood movie Chupke Chupke, where Amitabh is trying to tell Jaya how Corolla is a flower and yet it is not; something like that... that movie is my all time favorite by the way). Let me unravel the mystery quick. So, it was inside that handbag, but it was inside a small purse inside the handbag (kinda small pouch where I keep most of my important stuff like, home keys, some jewelry, important receipts and all that). So, when I searched, I searched in the main big handbag, but not in the bag inside the bag. You see? ... It is really sounding a bit like hai bhi and nahin bhi hai, isn't it? :)

So now, I have the old jacket with the new buttons sewed onto it and the old nicer buttons all safely tucked in some 'safe' place. And … do I know where? Umm... I 'll have to check with my mind and get back to you on that.

Aesthetics

Recently I have been spending some time in brushing up the looks of my blog. It is sure a recreational activity for me. Although the recreation sometimes does overlap with my work time. And then I have to punish myself (cough). The whole process generally begins with one small thing somewhere that catches my fancy like maybe the background color of the blog title. For example, let's say I don't like the grey color because it makes the blog look really dull. Hence, I begin the process of changing the background to something brighter. And that's how it starts.

So, I google for images that would suit my current blog-aesthetics and am elated to find one. Then begins the process of adjusting the template code. Nothing very technical, just change the font-color or background-image url etc. This is followed by checking the preview. The new title background definitely looks brighter and improves the blog's looks, but now the title font-color does not match the title background anymore. So, various combinations are tried which eventually do not remain restricted to the color of the font but also the type of font. At times I also get caught in the flow of creativity (cough cough) and suddenly remember a beautiful font I saw somehwere (which I now want to include in my blog). So, back to googling again.

In fact, this reminds me of my childhood when I would go for shopping, (say to buy shoes) often with a very fixed fantasized image in mind. Would have got the idea perhaps from some movie or magazine. Then in the market I would look for those specific designs and obviously never get what I wanted. The shopkeeper and my parents would try hard to allure me into some other beautiful styles but I would not budge even by an inch. And so another day would be planned for my shopping (this time with some prior instructions and warnings )and I would eventually agree to settle for something. In my later years though, I was encouraged to go for shopping alone. The reasons were never talked about but both parties knew that it was a mutual understanding of no brain racking for them, and total freedom for me. And since then I have enjoyed my singular all-by-myself shopping escapades thoroughly.

Back to topic. Obviously, after spending like 20-30 minutes for some font and being unsuccessful, I give it up and settle for less and decide that's it. No more time on the blog. But when I see the final look of the blog, it still pinches me. So, I decide to start from scratch again. After all there should be some value add for the time lost (cough). With that excuse the timelines get extended again. And this continues till I have wasted enough time and just decide that I have to quit. End of story.

A more regular scenario though, is that I have wasted so much time that the time that is left is no more valuable and so the best choice is to continue what I have been doing. At least be productive in some thing is the bottom-line then. The worst case happens when I decide to blog about it, like now. Then it becomes something on the lines of an extended vacation. The good part being that it completes the process and after that there is really nothing left to do. In short this whole thing is almost an addiction. Just like deciding to take only one peg of whisky in the beginning and then getting tempted to take just a little more and then just a little more more until you and the bottle become one. Whew!

ps: I have changed the title of my blog to Of bamboo and elephant grass. Just got bored of the old one. That's in fact another reason why I indulge in this blog changing thingy. I get bored of things easily. Hopefully, I am going to stick with this look for some time.

A paranoid's account

The decision
She: After contemplating the pros and cons a number of times, "Alright, then I'll go for it".
F: "You can still think about it and get back to me by the evening".
She: "No, I think it should be okay. These days sunrise is pretty early so 5:00 am would not be bad. By the time I am there, it would be bright already."
F: "Okay then, we'll see you soon".

The conversation ends there. A decision has been made. There is still an uncanny feeling but she brushes it off. Recently moved from India taking a cab at night is a big deal. Or not. She is brave. 'It's all in your mind', she comforts herself. The day goes in reading, planning and packing. There is excitement about meeting old friends.

Calling the cab
Soon it is evening. There is call from F again and whatever jitters remain calm down. Time to call the cab guy (CG).

She: "Hi, I need a cab at 5:00 am in the morning to go to the airport"
CG: "What address?"
She: "260, Milson Rd, Apt A-7, Drexton."
CG: "See you in the morning ma'am", in a gleeful, high spirited voice.

Did the driver sound too friendly? Now he knows that there is a woman who is travelling alone in the morning in the dark. Even if it's morning, it's as dark as night. The am or pm doesnt really matter, does it? Was it a wrong decision?

The phone rings again, its mom's sweet voice and there is peace. Time to sleep.

Morning jitters
Wakes up an hour before the alarm is supposed to ring. A bad dream. An uneasy feeling. Can this be an indicator that something bad is going to happen? Her intuition is strong. But she is also paranoid, she knows. She again brushes off the negative thoughts and focuses on the chores.

Its 4:50 am. She is ready. The phone rings.

Caller: "Did you call for a cab for the morning?"
She: "Yes."
Caller: "I am at Wilson st. Do I need to take a turn ...", asks for directions.
She: "...." gives directions.

After 5 minutes, phone rings again.

Caller: "Baby, I am here, waiting for you outside."
She: "Okay, I 'll be there in a couple of minutes."

It's a weird male voice. He addresses her "Baby" without even meeting. That's eerie. Anyways, she musters all her courage, remembers all the Gods, locks her door and walks up to the cab. It is dark outside. Very dark.

The Close shave
Driver: "Hi" in a feminine voice.
She: "Hi" a pleasantly surprised voice after knowing the cab driver is female.

But wait, she looks really weird. She is bulky. Curly hair, lot of make up on the face and heavy jewellery. Why would she wear all this? The fears are now coming back. Shake it off, woman, she says to herself and tries to make a conversation. She knows that is her only chance to make her feel better. Otherwise, her mind is going to cook stories of its own.

She: "So, you had to wake up early in the morning to pick me up?" trying to sound like one with a sense of humor.
Driver: "Oh no not really." And then she turns back and makes a weird face and smiles sarcastically, "you know, I am a night driver. I like to travel in the night. No one around. Empty streets."
She: Gulps and manages a bleek "Oh ok", but the stress on the word night has shaken her to the core.

There is silence. Butterflies in stomach. Trying hard to brush weird thoughts aside. Suddenly the cab turns to a street that would go on to meet the freeway. It is a two miles long stretch. There is forest on both sides and the empty road. And darkness. All noises would be easily muffled. What chance does she have if the driver stops the car onto the side and decides to be hostile. Heard of being at the wrong place at the wrong time? The 80% forest area in NC was only beautiful in the day, she thought. At night, she would prefer to be in the ever busy streets of Manhattan, NY.

More butterflies. If bad is going to happen anyways, it rather happen now. Make a conversation. Dig deeper. Face the truth, now!

She: "Are you taking Gorman to I-40?"
Driver: A curt "Yes", in a matter of factly tone, as if she knows what she is doing and she does not want to reveal more.

She musters her courage again and tries to break the silence.

She: "So, how long have you been in Drexton?"
Driver: "Quite a while actually. I came here many years ago. So its been a long time, yeah." Sounds a little warm this time and real.
She: "Ok. So do you like it here?" trying to sound cool hiding her shakiness.
Driver: "Umm .. yeah ... actually yes. Its a nice small place. Its warm. Nice people."

'Nice people' she said. She likes nice people. That sounds comfortable! But it's still dark. Some more conversation would help.

She: "Yeah. I like it too here", sounding as amicable as possible, trying hard to connect.
Driver: "Do you study here? Going for vacation for Easter haan?"
She: Getting comfortable now, and genuinely interested in the conversation for a change, "Yeah, I am here with my husband, studying ... Going to friends on the long weekend..."
Driver: "You married so young?"
She: Clarifying, "Well, I turned 30 this year. That isnt so young."
Driver: "Oh ..I have two daughters in their 20's ... like you my older one doesn't look her age ...".
She: "..."
Driver: "..."

Back to good old days
Soon the passenger discovers that the driver is not a threat to her life after all. In fact she is a nice benign person who knows about the Indian "Chapatti", "Parantha", "Tandoori chicken". Add to that she has also learnt a few words in Hindi through her Indian friends. She is from Kenya. There is a regular mention of her family during the conversations. In between, she cracks a joke or two and chuckles. Her laughter is no more evil. It is genuine, innocent and carefree. Even infectious. So much for the paranoia and the butterflies. The rest of the 20 minutes are plane friendly chat. They wish each other Happy Easter. They also discuss how they wonder why Easter was on a Sunday when it is supposed to be on the third day after Good Friday, which should be a Monday. They both feel strongly about it, but let it go. Soon they are at the airport. She leaves her card and says anytime they need a cab she could be their personal driver. They wish each other good luck and happy vacations. The driver gets a good tip.

So maybe the lady driver likes to travel in the night because there is no traffic after all, she contemplates in a light mood during the flight. On reaching her destination she shares this account with friends. They find this atrociously funny and unbelievable. They cannot understand how someone can be so paranoid.


It happens.

A dream forlorn

Just some personal thoughts ...

It's a dream, forlorn.

At the crack of dawn-
Between the sea and the beautiful sky
On the brink of horizon,
With the promise of sunrise…
A hope is born.

The divine hand –
A dancing breeze, some soaring waves
Whispers of land to the sails…
A frail boat lingers on.

Thus, stroke after stroke,
On the canvas of hope…
A picture is drawn.

Faith is thy name,
Oh the light in my flame.
My dream you adorn.

With the storms, will you haggle?
From my side, will you battle?
For the question hereon -
“Will she, wont she
Enkindle her dream of aeon?"

It's a dream, forlorn.

Grandma

Today I saw grandma in my dream. My Nani. Interestingly, that was the last part of my dream and after that I instantly woke up. The dream went like this.

I am with family, all in the kitchen having some interesting discussion when I suddenly hear a voice calling me with my nick name. I look at the door (the door is open) and get the feeling that it is Nani. So brimming with excitement, I utter, "Nani?" and there she is, standing at the door, her face beaming like sunshine, wearing a grey sari with yellow and black mixed border, looking graceful as ever. She has her arms held out to me. I rush to her, hug her and feel her warm embrace. Then I bend down to touch her feet. And that is when I realise (in my dream) that my Nani died 4 years ago (which is true in real life). So, I look up at her with questioning eyes, "Nani? You ...". She just smiles and says "Chiranjeev" and then adds, "Beta, I have to rush to ...". And then she leaves. With that, my eyes open instantly, and I find myself lying on my bed, sleeping into the afternoon of the day (slept at like 5 in the morning).

I miss Nani. And I wish I had been able to see her the day she died and offer the last respects. She was 75, but she was more active and full of life than all of us pulled together. I was in office and they took her body away because it was getting late and I could not make it on time. I often get that feeling of loss of not having seen her the last time. I think that feeling has remained with me and I dont know if that is the reason I see her in my dreams. Or does she really come in my dreams, knowingly, to comfort me? I know, it sounds silly and irrational, but I would still like to believe that.

She was perectly fine till the morning she had the heart attack which took her away. And she was fully conscious till the last few seconds. All the while she was walking along in the hospital (she did not need a stretcher) mentioning small details about what to do with her body after she dies despite us comforting her she would be fine. But she kept insisting. She kind of knew that she was going to going away. It is said that people of noble birth get a sense that they are going to die before death knocks on their door. I think she was one of them.

I do remember that just a few days before her death, I had gone to meet her at my Mama's place. And we had chatted to glory. I had shown her the photographs of me from our rafting trip. And then while leaving, she had said, "I really liked that you came, I am very happy you came". Those were her last words to me. Sometimes, I just feel they probably had a meaning. It is like something knew, I was not going to see her again and those words came out of her mouth. She was so wonderful. And she had this amazing relationship with everyone. Home wasn't home without her.

Just last weekend we had Pooja at our place (in India) praying for Nani and Nanaji during the Shraadhs. I was remembering her. According to the calendar the Shraadhs end tonight of Amavasya (IST, which is today afternoon US time) and then the Navratris begin. And that was also the exact timing of my dream. I know, you would call me irrational if I say there was something special about this dream and I would agree in principle. But emotionally speaking, it was so wonderful to see her, that I would rather believe she came to visit me. And who knows, maybe she did.

Thanks for visiting, grandma. We love you and miss you. We are sure by now you would have had some great noble birth in some pious land, where you are spreading your radiance, just like you did when you were with us. We will all always remember you, wish you and pray for you from our hearts.

From all of us who've been blessed by your presence

("Nani" = maternal grandmother, "Mama" = maternal uncle, in Hindi)

Swimlogue

So more about my swimming class. Today the instructor, lets call him Mr W, taught us the first swimming stroke. The class was interesting. And yes, I had the excitement of being so close to swimming. So this is how they do it, types. Except that I am not so close. I am far from far.

The only thing I can do right in water yet, is prone float like a still dead body (face down). That is my only achievement till now. I can kick and float and move forward in water from one end of the pool to the other (of course only 4-5 feet deep) but it is clumsy and I also lose my direction sense. So if I start from like a corner of the rectangle and am supposed to move straight along that line to the other corner, I end up moving in a trajectory at the diagonally opposite corner with a deviation of like 20-30 degrees. That is very bad. If you are with me in the swimming pool, it can be fun for you- sitting and making guesses, which point will she hit this time?

So, yes, swimming is not as easy as I thought. I think it has a lot to do with coordination. I mean, you need to be doing more than one things at a time and the moment you lose that, you are into the water. I think people who are good at sports or at least dancing, may be faster learners. I can see a bunch in my class, who do it right the very first time. My brain is still learning to multi-task. Given this, I think it shall take me at least 4-5 instructors with full swimming lessons to reach a stage which is called swimming. But that is not going to be much of a problem because I love being in water. And at least my fear of water (at least upto 5 feet deep) is going away. If I still look at the 10 feet deep side, I get shudders though. But I am not giving up.

In between the class just for increasing our enthu, Mr. W clapped and asked us to take a short break and answer this question, "What is heavier? A quintal of Cotton or a quintal of steel?" And guess what. Someone shouted and answered back with tremendous enthusiasm, "A quintal of steel!" And we all had a laugh. Just FYI, the person who answered that was me. This is such a cliched trap question and I fall for it everytime. How I look at it is that I make people happy by my absent-mindedness. What say?

* *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *
By the way, there is this short story that I want to share. It is generally told at the Vipassana meditation camps, but since it is related to swimming and is such a sweet story, I thought I'll mention it here. There is this huge ship taking people from one continent to another. It has people from various cultures, societies, classes and backgrounds. Incidentally, there is a research professor who studies geology and all this weather and ocean science etc. And then there is a small sailor who gets really impressed by the knowledge of this professor. They start having this conversation.

The professor (say P), says, "So what is your education level." Sailor (say S) humbly shakes his head and says, "I have had not much education sir. I just do sailing and travel around the world and earn my livelihood." P asks, "So, since you are a sailor you must have at least studied geology?" S manages, "No sir not at all". P flabbergasted, "If you have not studied geology, then you have wasted one quarter of your whole life!" Continues, "Have you at least studied Oceanography?" S shakes again and then P, even more disappointed says, "Man! You are a sailor and you have not studied oceanography? Then you have wasted half of your life!" S looks sad and shameful now. P continues further, "Have you at least studied a bit of meteorology?" S shakes again and digs his chin into his chest, feeling really hopeless at how much he does not know. Completely taken aback at how little the sailor knows about all these important sciences, P says, "Hey man! You have wasted three quarters of your life! I feel so bad for you." The conversation breaks here.

The next day dawns. The professor is sitting proudly amidst a group of admirers boastfully telling stories of science and advancements and all that. Suddenly, there is chaos on the ship and the sailor comes running to the professor and cries, "Have you studied swimology sir?" P -"Swimology? what do you mean?" S, "Swimming sir, I mean did you learn swimming?". "No", the professor replies hastily at which S remarks, "Then professor you have wasted all your life. The ship has struck a rock and is sinking. Those who know how to swim can manage upto an island nearby , others will only die, sir. I am sorry, sir".

The relevance of this story in life (as told in Vipassana camps), is about differentiating between knowledge gained by reading/hearing/listening/rationalizing (the Intellect) and knowledge gained by experience (the wisdom). And that it is only this knowledge gained by experience (wisdom) that is superior and guides us through our tumultous times.

So, another reason for me to learn swimming! *smile* Swimology!

An update: I am still where I was a week ago in swimming. The moment I try to do the swim stroke I lose my balance. :-(

If your desires...

"If your desires are not extravagant they will be granted".
That is Orkut's prediction for me today. Read the rest to understand the irony.

Just came back from school. And currently in the To be or not to be kind of situation (append on vacation). My classes began on the 23rd of August. Most profs are so boring, they give assignments the second day. Mostly, you are given a week's time to complete them. Incidently or fortunately, I have only one course where typical assignments can be given. The others are courses that have paper presentations every other week or something like that. And there is swimming of course, which is more of a refreshment than anything.

Classes for the course which is assignment-capable are held on Mondays and Wednesdays. Last wednesday was the second wednesday since school opened and I had my fingers crossed all through the class, murmuring, "Ab to assignment milega hee" (this class, we WILL get an assignment for sure). But guess what? The prof gave us the most pleasant surprise. So there I was- a long weekend without a homework to do. Can you believe it? How relaxing can that be? If I were a teacher ever, I would always do that. Give loads of homeworks during the week and nothing for the weekend. I have had professors in the past, who have been mean enough to hold mid terms exactly the day after the fall or the spring break. What's wrong with them? Why not hold them before the break or at least 3-4 days after the break. They think we would love to study during those breaks? I think idleness is underrated. The more you would enjoy your weekends and breaks, the more fun you would have studying and the harder you would work. Isnt that a simple concept to understand and implement!

Today, that professor finally gave us our first assignment. :-( I know I should not crib. He gave us a happy long weekend. But you know, I was quietly hoping inside and wondering if a miracle would happen. All through the lecture, while he was scribbling semiconductor equations on the board trying to catch one pair of eyes which had the attention he was seeking, I was constantly dreaming about my coming weekend. How wonderful it would be if there would again be no assignment, and I could coolly go off to NY and spend the weekend there with Inder. And then I was calculating. The prof had said he would give us like 7-8 homeworks for the semester. So if he starts on coming Monday, it still gives a lot of rope for all the assignments before the semester ends. So, the possibility does not seem too less. However, in the middle of the class, the prof reshuffled his folder of notes and separated a bundle of stapled papers from it. That made the rest of the lecture a nightmare. My eyes could see that they were nothing but copies of assignment problems stacked one above another, but my mind was still wandering in the land of possibilities. "Extravagant desires" as stupid Orkut would say! A little too much to ask eh?

Now, I sit like a muddle head wondering whether I can still go to NYC as well as do my homework there - that would be a win win situation according to the clans of Steven Covey. But am I there yet?

Water

Finally, I have been wanting to write since yesterday. So first and foremost, the reason that set off the process for wanting to blog. I joined swimming guys! I am so excited! When I came back yesterday from the swimming class I was jumping with excitement and energy. And there was no one home to bump it off to. 

Part of the reason I want to learn swimming is the paradox I am in, that "I love to be in and around water, but I am also afraid of water". So, I want to get over my fear of water, so I can do the things that I do not do now because I have this abnormally huge fear of getting drowned. It's also funny how I have no fear in some situations and a lot of fear in other. For example, when we went rafting in Rishikesh, a couple of years ago, I was a little afraid but got pretty comfortable in a little while. And during that trip when we stopped by a small rocky area, the instructor announced that we are taking a break and pulled the raft on the side. Then we climbed up to a rock that was ~20-25 feet above the river and asked us if we would like to jump into the river from there. I jumped. Of course with the lifejacket on but at that time I did not even know how to float or paddle a little in water. But I was able to do that. And I was the first one in the group to do it. I am also comfortable, paddling, kayaking, cannoeing (havent done all, but really I would not be fearful trying them). Also, done parasailing above a huge water body and all is a great experience.

But there are two instances when I felt immense fear was when we got into a katamaran boat into the Indian ocean with just me and a friend and the boatman planned to row us into the deeper side of the ocean. We were supposed to have an ocean ride. He was a fisherman and this was in Kerala. But within ~300-400 feet into the ocean, I showed such an abnormal and fearful response that we came back. I did something similar when I and friends tried to take a Jet Ski in Lake Tahoe. We paid $100 for the 1 hour ride where we rented the boat and again within the same range of water, I forced everyone to come back to the beach. That was like a 5-10 min ride and we of course did not even ask for half a refund or something from them. On introspection and analysis, I think I am afraid to be in a large water body like an ocean. It suddenly makes me feel very miniscule and trivial; completely at the mercy of the vast huge universe of water that could engulf me any time. And truly, arent we all so very small in this entire existence? We must be soooooooo very illusioned.

Anyways let me not philosophise much and get back to the simple life. Well,I did learn a little bit of floating in 3-4 feet water in Delhi, before coming to US. But, that was two years ago. I probably was the oldest person learning swimming there. It was actually a Kendriya Vidyalaya whose swimming pool was open during summer for all. So, it was mostly dominated by kids in the age group 6 to 12 years and then some teens and there were a handful of youngsters in their early twenties. And here the instructor would ask us to do something and there they would do it in the first go. Like the first day I went to that pool, the instructor asked me to wade across the water and come to the other side. I was paralyzed immediately. Wade through the water? The closest I had come to water was standing in a stream with less than knee deep water or maximum sitting on a boat and throwing water at each other. And now he asks me to wade through the 3-4 feet deep water. Frankly speaking I did not know before this that it is actually possible to walk through water and whatever I saw in those movies I thought were great stunts and all. Seriously! But once he showed me how to do it, I found it really easy and did it fine the very first time. So, that was my first victory with water.

The second time I felt mentally challenged was when I was asked to dip my head inside water and breathe out. I thought I was going to die immediately. I knew people could easily do that, but I felt I would die of lack of breath. And then when I tried it a couple of times, I started loving it, because it is so much fun. I specially love the bubbles that form and the noise they make when you breathe out into water. So, I would sit in the 3 feet deep water and do that in and out. The next challenge that completely unnerved me was learning to float. The common problem with all of these challenges are that we do not believe it is possible. My instructor would repeated tell me "Just let yourself go, and you WILL float" and I just could not do that for a while. I feared I would go down into the water. But the moment you do that, victory is smiling at you again.

It is a huge learning experience. The fact that we often hang on to our beliefs so hard, that we are often not willing to try new things out. And in just a moment, you see a new wide horizon of possibilities. A lot to learn from. I think am a really slow learner though. Specially in any sports. Anyways, back to the story. So the little kids there who would almost accomplish everything the instructor asked them to do in one go, would often be found whispering amongst themselves while looking sheepishly at me, "In didi ko nahin aata" (This didi is not able to do it). And then there was one of those, 9-10 years old, smart confident kid. He came up to me and said, "Dekho didi, aise karna hai" (See didi, this is how you do it). And then he jumped into the water and swayed to the other end. I nodded and then to justify myself I added, "You know actually I joined just two days before, so I don't know how to do it yet, I will learn in a little more time, thank you". To this he proudly added, "Didi, I also joined 2 days ago". I turned slight pink for a few seconds but then I quickly regained my brown self back. I instantly remembered the truth in the saying Child is the father of man.

Will detail about my current swimming class later (which is the reason I started writing *smile*) as this is already a big blog.

Child is the father of..?

Yesterday I was at my doctor's clinic for a regular follow up check up. While I sat and waited for my turn to come, the entrance door opened and a sweet innocent looking girl around 7-8 years in age hopped in. She was accompanied by her dad. She had two little pony tails tied side to side and was wearing a beautiful pink frock with white socks and pink shoes. Her features confirmed her Asian ancestry. My cheeks automatically expanded into a big smile looking at her. She gave back her beautiful toothful smile to me. Or so I thought.

While her dad went on for the formalities, this until-now apostle of innocence walked right up to me.

She: "Hey, would you like to read out books with me?"

Me: "Of course, I would." in a sweet loving voice.

S: Brought in 2 books, "Which one would you like to read?"

M: "Any one. Which one would you like? Why don't you choose first?" again in a sweet loving voice, trying to be very nice to the sweet kid.

S: Sounding a little authoritative and intolerant, "Which one would you like to read?" as if indicating that I should hurry in choosing and not waste time.

M: I did not get it still, and I thought she was just being nice to me for letting me pick, so I repeated, "Hey why don't you choose?"

S: Staring at the books with a hands up gesture in the air indicating You are wasting my time, decide fast.

M: Oops! I started sensing the oddness now. "Alright, I 'll go for this one"

And then we read a couple of lines from those books and of course, she was bored enough. She put the book aside and went up to the rack again asking me if I would like to play puzzles with her. I said, "Sure, I would love too."

S: "Why do you like everything?"

M: !@!$@%!!!?

S: "Are you a kid that you like everything?"

M: "Uh ..." mumbling for words, not prepared for this.

Actually on second thoughts given our current relationship, it did feel like she was the authoritative parent and I the kid. I kept ignoring while just focusing on observing her and what to do to just keep this going. We went ahead and played some puzzles. She told me I was bad at them but then she added, "Or are you acting to be bad?"

M: More ^%^%&^@#???

Then she took out a drawing book from her bag. And she asked me to draw with her. I told her I was not good at drawing at all so why doesn't she just go ahead and do the drawing herself. I'll help her with the colors. She snapped, "No! You also do it along with me. All you need to know to draw is you need to be within the lines". $%$$%??!!

Finally I was called for my checkup. As I got up, I said,"Alright, will you see some time, you take care kid."

And there was another waiting for me. "I am never going to be here again. Do you think we have a chance to meet here again? Why do you say, see you again?"

I managed a meek "Alright then bye, take care". Hoping there would not be yet another waiting for me.

Dad's letters

I remember when I was in school, in my teenage years, dad had a transfer to a remote place. It was my parents decision then, that mom and I would move to Delhi for my education sake. This was a period of 4 years from my 9th grade to 12th grade. After that dad joined us in Delhi and since then we have been there. My sis was already in a medical school then.


Dad used to write letters from where ever he was. Yes, those were the days of letters. No emails. Of course he used to call, but that would be mostly once a week or something. And I loved to write detailed stuff that could never be done on the phone. Moreover, my dad is a man of a few words. So you cannot talk with him for very long.

So back to the letters. He would be extremely regular in writing. And you would always get a reply to your letter. Always. But the contents of his letter were very predictable. The letter would never be more than half a page long. Sometimes it could even be 4-5 lines. There would be a basic skeleton of the important matter that would repeat much through all the letters. If he had anything new or interesting he'd add a line or two about that. But mostly this.


Dear MyNickName,

Hope you and mom are doing well. I am doing fine too. How is your health? Hope you are eating fruits, juice, milk regularly. Do take care of your and mom's health. How are your studies going on? Work hard. You know time is very important. Put in your best effort.

Rest everything is fine. The weather here is ... I will call you on ...

[Space for anything new and interesting]

Your Papa.

So I guess it boiled down to health, studies and weather... But you know, however predictable it was, I always enjoyed it thoroughly. And he had a beautiful hand writing. He still has. Sometimes I used to play the game of guess what's written before I read the letter. Mom used to laugh at me. And hey... come to think of it, I do miss letter writing sometimes. I mean telephone and email are great, but there is something beautiful about a letter that is not there in this neo digital era of communication.

At the Charlotte Airport - I

This post is more about how and why we were at the Charlotte airport (also why long enough that I could seek it as an oppurtunity to blog). This will be followed by the post which actually is the blog I scribbled while at the airport.

My friend S was at NJ this week and since it was a long weekend and since we have a couple of close friends there, we thought it to be a good idea that I travel and spend the weekend there. So, I landed up in NJ Friday morning. We had a blast with our friends the whole weekend. I want to specifically mention that the friend's apartment we stayed at is on the 29th floor of a building located on the water front of river Hudson. So the view of the New York city across the waters is just breathtaking. You would be paying at least a $1000/- a day if you booked a hotel to get such a view. (I have posted a couple of pictures of the view I clicked last night, the first is a little hazy).


Anyways, after all the fun we had, we headed back to the Newark airport around 1:45pm. Our flight was scheduled to depart at 2:55pm. There was a 1 hour break at Charlotte where we would take the connecting flight at 5:45pm to Raleigh Durham Airport. Well, that was how a simple day would have been. But a simple day it did not have to be. So, just to make our lives interesting, our first flight got delayed by 35 minutes. Well, only as true as it was told to us. When we did board the plane by 3:30 pm and the pilot announced that we are soon going to fly, I had my doubts. And then the soon was understood when we saw 9 planes standing ahead of us waiting to take off. So it would be another some minutes before we would be in the air. The flight eventually departed at 4:45pm. Thankfully it was a short flight. As the plane prepared to land, the airhostess made an announcement informing about all the gates/terminals for the connecting flights. Ours was gate B12. Or that was what I heard.

S heard D12. So, we had a flight in 10 minutes from Charlotte and we werent together on the departure gate. Big deal, we should be able to figure that out, I assured myself. But I could already feel the butterflies in my stomach. In fact, they were growing by the number. Since I wanted to practice being calm, I tried to remember all good sayings of Stephen Covey, Gandhi, Buddha. However, as soon as we landed (and before we got off the plane) what I heard freed me of all my worries. Why you must ask? Because the Murphy's law won again. Just before our flight was about to land at about 5:33pm the airhostess made another announcement "All connecting flights through 5:45pm have departed". All my mind thought at that moment was "?@#!@#!". God solves your hassles in strange ways.

Anyways, thankfully there was another flight to RDU later in the evening (7:40pm) and happily we did manage to get the tickets for it. Of course, the seats were neither Window nor Aisle and we werent going to sit together. At least we dint had to stay the night in Charlotte was what we tried to focus on. So kinda hassle-free in some way, isnt it? Now we had a couple of hours to kill. I always love this idleness. We could do some fly-beating, yawning, watching, eating, waiting and cursing and many other things. Since I wanted to be proactive, I chose to blog (Blogging is proactive for those who do not know). I picked up a piece of paper lying in my handbag and started scribbling with a green pilot pen.

Friday suspense

Today afternoon we had an interesting experience. While I was sitting cozily on the couch close to the dining area, trying some simulations for my research, and my roommate J concentrating hard on her office laptop, we heard a subtle knock on the door. We generally do not have a lot of visitors at our place. Any friends who visit, call beforehand. Moreover, it was like 1pm in the day. Most likely some Amazon delivery I thought. After a quick glance at me (who had a lazy expectant look on her face so someone else could do the honors), J walked up to the door. I saw some two guys entering into the living room. From where I sat, I could only see the entrance door, but a part of the living room was hidden due to the kitchen wall. For a moment I felt reluctant to walk up and join them. But then for decency sake, I just put my laptop aside and walked up to the sitting area.

After doing the greetings stuff I made a quick scan of them. They both were formally dressed and half-smilingly half-seriously discussing something with J. Also, they did not sit. They were standing. It was only when I made out the shape of a holster stuck neatly at the waist belt of one of the men, I realized what kind of a matter it was! They were the police! What was police doing in our apartment? What were they talking so seriously? Of course, all this happened in a split of a second. And only then I started paying attention to the conversation.

Police man (P): "... building ....building.... board".
J: " ...."
I thought I rather get involved in the discussion.
Me: "Is there a problem?"
P: "Ma'am we have been reported that you have rice boards at your place with maps of buildings drawn over them."
Me: "Maps? buildings? What's a rice board?" I managed with some nervousness and some confusion. Actually he meant Frieze board, but in my somewhat shaky state of mind I din't quite catch him.
P: "I mean any whiteboards you have, we have been reported that there is something suspicious. As in there are maps of buildings drawn on those boards. Do you mind if we have a look?"

We agreed instantly. Anything to clear off the doubts! We had only two of them, one in the living room on which J had scribbled some to-dos around buying stuff etc. So with one small glance they looked eager to see the next one. We took them to the next which was in my bedroom. After a glance at that (which definitely had some lines drawn across horizontally and vertically with some semi circles etc here and there and arrows), one of them smiled and said, "Electronics stuff? energy band diagrams?" I nodded hard like Noddy. The whiteboard had the heading "Flash memory", it was dated 08/27/yy (never used since then eh .. what does it say of my planning/organizing rather execution capabilities?) and it had the semiconductor energy band structures and some electronic transitions marked with arrows. J smiled and added "She is studying electronics at NC State". Thankfully, they smiled and nodded along too. Then they apologized for the inconvenience caused and mentioned that they appreciated the cooperation and left.

Woah! what was that? I mean, I was a little shaken by that experience. Not from the point of view that I felt bad or humiliated. They were doing the right thing. Making sure the community (and country) was safe. Only that after this incidence, I actually realized how grave was the sense of insecurity among people post 9-11. I would not imagine a thing like a simple whiteboard with some scratched lines catching such attention. One incidence, years ago could have that impact. I have heard of various stories on TV, even from my acquaintences and friends having similar experiences. But it hits you more when it happens to you. It's a mystery though how someone actually saw that board in my bedroom, because my bedroom window is always closed. If it's open we are inside so no one can peep in. Maybe some maintenance guys who came in for pest sprays. Whatever ... But I really hope all terrorism of the world comes to an end, soon!

So much for building maps and investigations...

Just for the fun of it though, I am including the picture of my accused (but proven innocent) whiteboard, here. Please cheer it! (ps: On second thoughts, does it look like a building map from any angle or are some people really dumb?)

Epilogue: The Road Test

Happy go lucky

After the previous post on yielding and not yielding, which I have become much better at, thanks to the regular driving I have been doing, here's something I want to share about my experience of my first road test in US. Does that mean I had to give a second road test? Are you dumb? After driving for so many years in India? etc etc you would ask. Actually, it is kind of justified in the way that ... or let me put it this way. Did you know that in India I did not have to give a road test? So that way no road test in India plus two road tests in US makes it two road tests in total and two driving licenses. Fair enough, is not it? Are you still wondering how I got away without a road test in India? Well, havent you heard of the song "It happens only in India, tan tan tan, tra la la". So all I had to do was join a driving school for 10-15 days, learn to drive and then one day, the driving school gave me the license. Uh yes, authentic. Yes, it was from Delhi State Transport Authority. They had some jugaadh with each other. So that's the story. And ah yes, those were the good old days.

Okay, back to the ishtory. So I got ready early that morning (before 8) and headed for the Driving License Office. Reached within 10-15 minutes, joined the entry line and was directed to Counter no. 4. At the back of my mind I was really confident about getting the license because of previous driving experience. The only thing I felt I could do wrong was that Yield thing etc. But being with an examiner you would be so alert that the probablity of it happening was very small. So, cool and confident I headed to the counter. There was this black huge lady sitting there with thick spectacles. She asked me to sit while she checked my previous records, my social security etc. So far so good. All going well I thought.

The tryst

Then she took my driving permit from me and asked me to do something that I did not catch well because of her accent. So I said, "Sorry, what should I do?". And she snapped back at me, "I ASKED YOU TO STAND AT THE DOOR AND WAIT FOR ME!!". It wasnt just a categorically repeated statement. There was definite anger in her tone and her pitch was raised. My instant wisdom gave the signal, 'It isn't going to be an easy ride'. And yes, she could be one scary woman if she wanted to. My cool confidence dropped a little. That was a sad possibility to think about. But, I still kept my hopes high, nodded and walked up to the door. I told myself, maybe she was one of those people who are harsh on the outside but have a soft inner core. As she came along, I walked out to the parking and went close to my car. I started to open my car door, when she shouted, "STOP! Just stand there! You don't do anything till I ask you to, you understand!" (And from now on, whatever she says, read all caps) No exaggeration here. It was exactly like a cop with a gun in hand would call out at an escaping criminal. It just utterly unnerved me for a second. I think she forgot to add "Or I 'll shoot you!". That would have been more complete rather fitting. In fact, I almost heard it. You can imagine what the future holded (held held) for me (I am nervous you see).

Anyways, she asked me to turn on the indicators and the breaks so she could check they were working. Then she came over to the side of passenger door and said, "Please clean the seat!". I swear the seat just had a minuscule crumb of a biscuit which you could have seen only from very close. But only those with discerning (read discriminating or rather critical, skeptical, cynical)eyes would see it. Anyways, I said, "Oh sorry" and cleaned it fast, trying hard not to give her any other reasons to not give me a license. After sitting she gave me directions like "You need to follow my directions ... bla bla .. lets go to that road and turn right". There I thought came the moment where I could prove myself and all this bad temper stuff would become secondary. I was extra cautious letting all passers by pass, make sure no vehicles were crossing when I turned etc, telling her in my mind, see I am driving so well. I also tried to smile a lot, respond politely, trying to pacify her indirectly.

The revelations

And then it happened! As I moved on to the road, I found a huge truck driving really slowly ahead of us. It was much much below the speed limit, so I just took a decision and moved to the left lane of the road. And she shouted, "Dont move till I give you directions! You are supposed to follow directions! Just do as I tell you. You understand!" For a moment it was a little difficult to understand because it was natural for a person like me who has been driving in roads for a while now. It just comes naturally. It was like getting scolded hard by a teacher in school. It had that effect. I completely forgot that I was a 30 years old married woman. Just felt like a kid who just committed a stupid mistake in some maths problem. But I immediately apologized and waited for her instructions thereon. While all this went on, at some wierd moment, I thought there was resemblance between her and the wolf who impersonates Little Red Riding hood's grandmother in that old fairy tale. Or maybe the Cruella Devil of 101 Dalmatians. And I also got a small kick out of it. (Till then I was still hoping I would get the license).

She tested me for merging lanes, stop signs, signals, U turns. Then came the three point turn. As I made the second turn backwards, I think my car tyre moved onto the grass by like 2 cms! (the grass was on the same level as the road) And there she was starting again. Would you believe if I tell you, I still thought that she was only being very tough with me but ultimately she would give me the license. Out of the 5 stop signs that I encountered, I stopped completely at 4 and may have rolled over one at like 5 miles/hr after seeing no vehicles around. I followed all speed limits except once when while crossing a 35m/hr board, my speed was 37 which became 35 in another 5-10 meters. But she noted all little wrongdoings that I did and completely ignored what I was doing well. At the end, she told me I need to learn a lot about driving. And finally, while getting out of my car, she shouted again, "And you listen to directions!" Swear to God, only once in the beginning while taking the left lane did I defy her. When I looked at the sheet she handed over to me, she had noted that also "Does not follow directions". And then of course there were those, "Rolls over stop signs", "Does not follow speed limits", etc etc. It was a ride of a kind!

Second innings

My second driving test was a cake walk with a very cool headed, linient and rational gentleman taking my test. So I did get my license after all and it was a great moment. All regards to the old lady though. I do not mean she was a bad person, but distress me she did! And of course, I owe her this blog. Back to good old days!

My absent minded friend

My close and old time friend S was going to pick his fiancee from the Delhi Airport. She was coming back after a trip to somewhereland. It was a little rainy that day and in Delhi when its rainy it often becomes messy and muddy and foggy. Anyways, after some struggle he did make it to the airport on time. At the airport, they took a prepaid Auto for home and reached back safe and sound. Once home, he asked his mom for some change to give to the Autowalah. His mom dint have words, "Change? for what? Where is the car you took to the airport, beta?".