(Politically Correct) Seasons Greetings

Please be advised of my best wishes for an environmentally-conscious, socially-responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most joyous tradition of the religious persuasion of your choice, and with respect for the religious persuasions of others, or for their choice not to practice a religion at all.

Also please have a fiscally successful, personally-fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted calendar year 2008, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to our society have helped make our nation great, without regard to the race, creed, colour, religious or sexual orientation of those so distinguished.

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Okay, I got this off a comment on a blog of which I am a regular reader. Happy Holidays and a Wonderful Year 2008!

Getting there...

"No more talk of darkness,
forget these wide-eyed fears;
I'm here, nothing can harm you,
my words will warm and calm you.
Let me be your freedom,
let daylight dry your tears;
I'm here, with you, beside you,
to guard you and to guide you..."

Christine had it easy, didn't she? Raoul was around.

Well, I shouldn't complain. I have Ma, Paa and the Piglet - just the thought of their presence gives me the strength to fight when most of me feels like cowering under a comforter in the fetal position all day. I have Fi, who, in every action and thought for me, embodies the very spirit of Raoul's words. I have Di, who's proven herself 'family' time and again in the last few months. I have A, mom's cousin working in academics herself, who's been through the process and has looked after me through these months - and I have Pink. And a whole bunch of other family members who have registered me in their daily thoughts. Roommates can be the most tricky relations possible but mine (past and present here in Chicago) have been wonderful: J, P, K, S and the 'honorary roommate' M, who've seen me through all the almost improbably horrible tales I've fed them on, and who still provide daily mental therapy. I have friends: Ananymous, Champagne, AA. I have colleagues: my supervisor OIS and Zorro's 'Mommy', and a whole bunch of others in HR without whose guidance I would have neither the courage nor the knowledge necessary for this battle. I have my Head of Department - he's a gem - I don't know of a single other professor who would discuss Charles Dickens in the middle of a lab meeting, among other incidents that prove to me that professors can be sane people too. And, of course, I have my old advisor in Maryland, whose guidance and encouragement has meant much more than I can express. I cannot even begin to count the number of people who have given me a chance to prove myself by telling me they would be happy to have me join their lab and their research for my PhD. For me, this is a chance to realize that I really do amount to something more than nothing, and this is a chance to validate their opinion of me.

And now I have The Ideal Advisor. I was offered a position as a Research Assistant in his lab yesterday. Apparently it was a really competitive position and I was adjudged the leading candidate. Yayy! Logistics need to be ironed out a little but I hope things work out because this person is one I was trying to get on my committee earlier as well, and went to first thing after leaving the old place. If all goes well, I will be working with him on the exact area that I always intended to work in. Today, I had my first official meeting with The Ideal Advisor as My Advisor and I cannot wait to start!

I know things are still difficult. Sometimes, even with my very strong support system, I feel alone and helpless. Like this evening, when I realized once more than I have become an unfortunate pawn in the political system of this academic institution. Sometimes I don't know how to respond, or whom to trust. My experiences have shaped me such that very often I tend to suspect people I would have trusted firmly earlier. It's a little sad but, as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Hopefully my experiences have now taught me to judge people better than I would have otherwise.

I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow, going to Minneapolis and following it up with a dash to The City, where I will spend New Year's Eve. Today, when My Advisor said goodbye to me, he followed it up with "You're leaving for vacation tomorrow. I will look after any administrative glitches here, leave it to me. You go, relax. Come back refreshed. You will start in the new year with a new plan." And a New Advisor, which could only augur well.

"Real Time" Life

A few days ago, I gave my littlest roommate the DVDs of Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, and bullied her into watching them asked her to watch them one after the other. This evening, knowing she's watching them, P and I decide to 'drop in' on our littlest roommate to find out how the movies are going. We find her in front of her laptop, with the headphones in her ears, head plugged deep into the film.

Me: "Hey, J, what's up? Which one are you on?"

Silence. Then she turns her face and there, to my surprise, I find not the joy I expect, but perplexity.

Me: "What happened?"

J: "Ummm... it's a bit -- slow. Is it supposed to be that way, or is it just me?"

Me: "Well, they're 'art' films, so... I guess one may find them a little slow at times."

Then I go to the screen and actually see what she's talking of. The protagonists look like they're sitting in a drunken daze, and the old lady telling their fortunes is dancing around (talking of stardust, no less) and her voice sounds like she's on ecstasy.

Me: "Hmmm, that's not how it's supposed to be - it's definitely your system, let me try to change it."

J first makes a fuss, protesting that she'll be losing precious movie time just waiting around while I change things. Considering that the movie is going so slowly that she's taken more than an hour to watch just the first forty minutes, I rubbish her ridiculous protests and pause the film. One little change of setting later, and we are, to my relief, watching the movie in 'real time' once more.

J: (Perplexity vanishes) "Hey, thanks, Summer!"

Pause.

J: "They're talking too fast now!!!"

What makes a human being "human"?

You probably know that, long ago, the people of Sparta in Ancient Greece used to be warriors. They were highly trained in martial arts and strategy since birth. In fact, infants used to be checked for birth defects or weakness, and the "weaklings" who might have compromised the strength and endurance of this race of warriors were hurled from a cliff, to die.

All this probably seems harsh or cruel. Maybe it is cruel to distinguish on the basis of physical strength alone. So, my thought for today is, what if we did the Spartan "weeding out" but with a different characteristic? What if we chose intellect versus stupidity? (Of course, the age at which you can tell these differences changes accordingly.) No, that alone doesn't make a human human either. Or, more fundamentally, goodness versus wilful cruelty? Or meanness of mind versus strength of integrity? Or justice versus consistent injustice?

Then, my ex-advisor might not have existed.

Isn't it somewhat shocking that so many people can exist - and, worse, flourish - even while being sub-par in all the things that really make a Human Being?

150

Ok, how silly. I didn't mention my hundredth post when it happened - and I forgot to mention that the last one was my 150th. Nice, isn't it? I mean, the 150th post, not the short-term memory.

Happy Birthday, SM!

Today is the birthday of a friend from long long ago. SM and I were very close through our high-school years and we kept in touch through college, too. She was the one person that, I can say with confidence, was far crazier than I - in her ideas and in her execution. She had dreams of becoming a combination of a theoretical cosmologist and a sociobiologist, and looking for life outside the planet. And you know what? She would have been the only one to manage that sort of feat successfully! (I, on the other hand, stopped at wanting to lead the first manned trip to Mars.) She engaged people in endless debates on the "real" nature of black holes - and then she called me Albertina Einstein. She read, she wrote, she sang, she dreamed. She was the "raciest" of all of my friends at the time - nonchalantly talking of things it boggled my mind to even consider. Now, of course, having lived here for a while, it strikes me that she was just a very typical American teenager in some ways - a fairly good teen, mind - what made her racy was that she lived in India. Bombay, but nevertheless, India.

She had every institution opening doors wide for her at the end of high school. She topped every list you could think of. She struggled for a while with the chains of the Indian educational system - I guess by then we'd all realized we couldn't major in our dreams under the system - and decided to opt for medicine at a well-known Bombay college. I opted for engineering. This meant there was nearly zero overlap between our curricula and the pace of school meant we couldn't keep in touch as much as we wanted to. Still, we'd manage. In between long discussions on the nature of truth and the classes we loved, she'd managed to throw in a mention of her latest beau along with some description of goings-on. I lapped it all up - not being of the sort who got into those Mills and Boon-ish situations myself. If it was anyone else, I'd have wondered if all those stories were true but I knew SM well enough to know they were true.

As time went on, the calls got less frequent, and we lost touch. One day, a few months before I moved to the States, I got a call from another friend saying they were all meeting up and would I want to be there. I ummm...ed for a little while till she said, oh, by the way, SM will be there. Of course, I went.

We were eight of us, at Juhu beach. I think we grabbed a coffee at the nearby Barista (no Coffee Day or Cafe Mocha in those days - oh my, I'm sounding old!) and headed to the beach for a long walk. It was around six, another hour before the sun went down. It had been nearly six years since I'd seen some of them. We talked about our activities - and then SM mentioned she'd been taking vocal (western) music lessons. She needed very little urging to start off on Whitney Houston's I will Always Love You. I remember vividly the strong voice, the open environment, the light breeze, and the JW Marriott in the background. (Is it still there?) And I remember that as the last notes of the song faded away, there was tremendous applause - not only from the seven of us there, but from all the guests of the Marriott who had formed a long unbroken line along the parapet above us to listen and cheer. Then, as we broke into little groups to renew long-lost friendships, I once more found myself discussing philosophy, careers and men, in the same breath, with SM.

I feel stupid that I didn't take her email address then. Or maybe I did, and then lost it...? I don't remember. What I do remember is thinking of her, months later, in the States, and trying to get her email address so I could contact her. I believe her telephone number has changed as well. There was no way to get in touch. I got a lead, tried sending an email but apparently it wasn't the correct address. I have tried several times in the last few years but it's funny how someone so larger-than-life seems to have disappeared so completely. I tried to google her today as well... no luck. Maybe she's married and changed her last name? Doesn't sound very SM, though.

Ours is one of those friendships that didn't need constant stimulation. We could always reconnect after ages, and it would seem the same. Such relationships don't disappear completely - ever. So, I believe that, just as I think of her once in a way, she probably remembers me occasionally as well. I hope she knows that I'm thinking of her today, on her birthday, and wishing her the fulfillment of all her dreams. And I really do hope I manage to get in touch with her some day.

Diwali Treats

Diwali Treat #1: Gaajar Halwa

Diwali Treat #2: Paal Payasam (Rice Kheer)

Yes, I made both!

The World's Spinning...

Too much stuff. So here are some of my doings in point form, till I have the time and the mental peace to "get back":

*** I've got good leads and believe things will happen soon. I'm upset about being "out of work" for a month now but this time I'm willing to take it slow, to ensure I get the someone who I'd like to work with. That may take a while since My Ideal Advisor has been out this week and things will start moving next week onward, but keep your fingers crossed for me for the next two weeks or so.

*** I lost a mentor at work. He was 46 and passed away unexpectedly. I was upset because he was fairly young and seemed healthy and strong, and was a really really positive person to work with - and it's hard to imagine people like that going this way. Well, at least, it wasn't long drawn - and hopefully it was peaceful. Unfortunately, some part of me also had to deal with the anger that marked my reaction to my cousin's death earlier this year, and I had a hard time dissociating that from this incident. Somehow it all came rushing back again, evidently to remind me that I haven't grieved it all away and I still have to deal with that the next time I go home.

*** Which reminds me of an observation: Grief is an institution here. Not just an emotion. By this I mean that, along with the news of Mentor's death, we got an email stating that anyone needing counseling could go to so-and-so helplines, etc. Very soon, a memorial was set up for him online. People were imagining closed caskets and open ones, and wondering what sort of "gestures" (flowers, contributions, etc.) would be an appropriate vent to their grief. In India, I'd imagine people just huddling together, letting their "work defenses" down and having a good cry over someone's loss, and a good talk over his good (and possibly bad) points. It felt so much more 'formalized' here, so professional. I'm not trying to state that one way of handling grief is better than the other - I'm just trying to contrast them - after all, grief is handled differently in different cultures. Some part of me wants to be part of a culture that practices some version of Shiva's tandav. I could say more, but I know I have to move on... literally and figuratively.

*** Fi's parents are back in India - and from what I heard from him and Di yesterday, their one month here with him seems to have convinced them that their son needs to be sent off into the state of holy matrimony as soon as possible. My knowledge of Fi states that his ideals are stronger than his impulses - so, I'm guessing, the chief conspirator in this plan (who is my one-day-hopefully-to-be-mom-in-law) will find it a bit of a tough job to get him to let his defenses down. But, for my own sake - and if no other humans (especially the ones in his family) are hurt in any way - I'd rather bless her effort than his. Selfish? I'm not sure: I think it's time.

*** Diwali was good this year. For the first time, I did most of what I would have done if I was in India. Up with the lark - early bath - dressing up - temple - cooking good food: the whole nine yards. (No, not the sari, although I did wear one of the 'usual' sort. Ok, I'll quit the nerdy jokes for now.) And loads of pictures.

*** Speaking of Diwali, I took my littlest roommate along to the temple this year; she had particularly requested it. I've never had a better time in my life. I told her the symbolism of the lights in Diwali: not only in celebration, but to banish the darkness caused by lies, ignorance and other negative attributes of humans in their lives. I have to mention I'm not very religious - well, I probably qualify as agnostic - so when I go to the temple, my predominant "prayer" is for family at home - because they believe. So, lost in thoughts of loved ones and hoping for good health, peace, prosperity and happiness for them, I was startled to hear a voice beside me say aloud, in all earnestness, "Oh, God of Diwali, bring knowledge into my home. Oh, God of Diwali, bring truth into my home." I think I was touched then, by the depth and sincerity and simplicity of her prayer. I think some part of me realized the power of her prayer over mine, and heartily admired her for it. Of course, she redeemed her jolly self totally in my eyes when, minutes later, she insisted that "that God" (Krishna) was female because "he's got lipstick and a hairdo", and I had a hard time keeping a straight face when she went to take the teerth and saw a sign there saying "water from His Lotus Feet" or something, and said, "Summer - this is feet water! Are you drinking feet water?" She was torn between doing everything that I was doing, and not actually wanting to drink the "feet water". I had a bit of a job convincing her they hadn't actually washed anyone's feet in the water. But, kudos to her, she actually overcame her natural resistance and did it all... the praying, the silent sitting-down and reflection (some part of which probably consisted of debating on the gender of the idol and looking at the outfits of people around her), the bowing face-downward, the teerth and prasad - and the merry "Happy Diwalis" ("Summer, is it Merry Diwali or Happy Diwali?") that she scattered over everyone who turned around to look at the non-Indian celebrating beside us. I was proud of her.