Chapter 2

A lot of things going on recently. I traveled to Chicago to attend a truly international conference. Then came to California to do an internship. Experiencing new places, new people, new foods, new experiences. Office. Commute to office. California. Chicago. Long distance relationship. So many changes - so many things to write about. For a start, here some of my recent reflections/ observations/ experiences:

• Walking at night on the roads of USA, you see many cars passing by but no people.
  
• California food is good. Very good. Also Mexicans make curry very much like our mutton curry and rice pudding very much like our payesh.
  
• Some people (read 'I') unwind by talking/being with their loved ones. Not having them nearby can be tough. Different time zones can make this even more difficult. 
• Writing comes naturally in these times.
  
• In the real world (as compared to grad school), money is a big motivator. Commute-time to work is equally important.
  
• The engine of a BMW is very powerful.
  
• Driving a stick-shift is slightly more work but more fun.
  
• Some people do not like being given directions by the GPS.
  
• In Chicago, I had to search for places where I liked the food. In California, I have not yet found a place where I did not like the food.
  
• A Mexican burrito can be very different from the one we eat at Moe's.
  
• You might meet most of the first authors on the Reference list of your publication by going to an international conference.
  
• Blue Moon beer tastes good.
  
• It is great fun to sing along with someone playing the guitar to 'Hotel California' - even if you are reading the lyrics off the internet.
  
• If you get lost in USA but have a laptop, check available Wireless connections. You might get an unsecured Wireless connection.
  
• One night, in Chicago - I took a ferry ride on Lake Michigan to get a good view of the city lights. After a while, I realized that I was more attracted by a view directly opposite the city lights - the sight of the lake at night, and the dark wavy waters spreading out into a dark horizon.
  
• You got to stay at the beach if you want to enjoy the ocean. A few hours just does not cut.
  
• It is difficult to take good photographs on a rocking boat at night.
  
• Chicago (and lot of central USA) is flat. Really flat.
  
• Some people are not scared of looking down from the 110th floor of a building.
  
• Yesterday, I walked for 45 minutes along busy roads but did not get within 20ft of another individual (except for those who were in cars whizzing by).
  [Point made earlier but felt like noting it again.]
  
• The Macbook has a clamshell mode. Fortunately.
  
• TV has its attractions - after watching something on a large TV screen, difficult to go back to a small laptop screen.
• Some good TV shows  I found - Bourdain, Man vs. Food.

More later. 

Oye! Get in line.

The time is 1:50pm. 10 more minutes till school is out. As a school prefect, I have to excuse myself from class for dispersal duty.

Let me explain what dispersal duty is. When the school bell rings at 2, everyone is bound to make a mad rush to exit the school premises. This can be dangerous - so the dispersal must be done in an orderly fashion. Junior classes 6 and 7 leave first, then class 8 and so on. Dispersal duty prefects man important locations along the dispersal path - from corridors to stairways to exit door - and make sure the dispersal is carried out on in a disciplined fashion.

At almost all points, two lines come down the stairs, one from the left wing and one from the right. The prefects are usually at the middle of the two lines. To make sure that the lines remain separate and that there is not a mad scramble down the staircase - is the primary challenges.

I am in Class 8. I invariably am posted at one of the important locations. First the rush of Classes 6 and 7 come in. They come like a wave of foamy bubbles. With my height, I tower over most of them - and I easily pack these kids into proper lines. They try to escape but it is easy to push then back - seniority helps.

Then come my batchmates. They know me and even if I want to act tough - they will not let me. Some of them are pure villain - they want to piss me off intentionally. Some hoist the sentimentality flag - "Kriti, let me go yaar. You know how important it is that I get the first seat in the schoolbus". Some do not care whichever way - 5 minutes here and there do not matter.

By this time, the human wave is swelling. The height and average weight of the 'dispersees' has increased. I am pushed around. But I come back to my position and keep pushing people back into their lines. On my watch, not many people can break rules - it is an unpopular job but someone has got to do it.

And then come the seniors - classes 9 and 10. Some understand the need for maintaining lines (kudos to these compassionate souls). But for most, it is ridiculous that they have to obey orders from a Junior. They wear full trousers and Class 8 students have to wear shorts. The distinction is too much. The human wave knows no barrier now - the prefect is tossed and turned around. Seniors usually warn of extreme retaliation later on if we do not give in to them now. Some of the Class 8 prefects give in and just let the stampede pass. But many like me are stubborn. We resurface to face the challenge. It is a lost cause but nevertheless we do not give up.

After a few minutes of this frenzy, the wave subsides. What remains is just a trickle of lingerers - those who do not care when they get out of school. Then there are some who do not care whether they get out of school at all. We force these people out, and make sure the classrooms are empty.

The whole exercise works up quite an appetite. I wish my fellow prefects goodbye, and head back home for lunch.

----- o -------

A few days back, I suddenly happened to remember this. If I painted the picture right, you will realize that this daily routine was quite an ordeal. But 15 years later, it is now just another wonderful memory from my school-days.

Something, Anything.

And in the Mumbai blasts,
Did any of your kin die?
Or any for whom you would shed a tear?
Would you have to skip a meal?
Or suffer damage to property?
Or have effect on monthly wages?

Then why do you say
You are affected?

You feel angry?
Sad?
Anxious?
Threatened?
You could have been there, right?
So something must be done, you say.

You are right,
Something must be done -
But what?

You say - something. Anything.
Quick action.
Strong steps.
Ban the ***,
Hang the ***,
Raid the ***,
Kill the ***.

But then.
Hundreds die
Of floods
In Bihar every year
Or in Orissa of heat
Or in Delhi of cold
And on the day of such news
You calmly sip your morning-tea
And fold the paper
And call up your son.

What then?
Isn't it ironic
That when those people
Feel threatened
And insecure;
And some rebel outfit
Or insurgent group
Promises them security,
And they follow blindly,
You call them poor illiterates.

Come to think of it,
They too are just doing something.
Something, anything.

- Kriti Sen Sharma
Image credits: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/11/mumbai_under_attack.html
----------------------------------------------------
(Poem 1 of 2 written as a reaction to Mumbai terrror attack, November 2008. Read other poem here.)

Was asked by friend, Deepu George, to write in my reactions to the terror attack. He planned to read out such inputs on his radio show (aired on WUVT). These two poems were written as a result of Deepu's request. However, after writing the poems I felt that many people might take offense at my emotions about the attacks. Eight months later, I feel these poems can now be released.

Firstly, Switch off the TV

Those who have lost someone of their kin, or someone close to heart, or those who have suffered loss of property in the recent tragedy in Mumbai, might find the following piece offensive. The millions of other people are requested to read on.
***

First of all,
Switch off the TV.
Don't look at the papers.

Instead
Go watch a movie
Gossip about stingy relatives
Gorge on glorious food
Or shop till you drop.

Then you will realize
You have not been affected.

And then
Before you go to sleep
Think -
Can you do something
To prevent another Mumbai
And if the answer is yes,
Get up and start working on it.

Otherwise go to sleep
And remember -
Every scared and threatened mind
Is another victory in the terrorist's tally.

- Kriti Sen Sharma
(Unaffected.
But till when?)
----------------------------------------------------
Image credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/soumik/3062552427/

(Poem 2 of 2 written as a reaction to Mumbai terrror attack, November 2008. Read other poem here.)

Was asked by friend, Deepu George, to write in my reactions to the terror attack. He planned to read out such inputs on his radio show (aired on WUVT). These two poems were written as a result of Deepu's request. However, after writing the poems I felt that many people might take offense at my emotions about the attacks. Eight months later, I feel these poems can now be released.

Baa Baa Black Ship

The 2nd episode in my 3 part series on faux-pas in conversation.
(Episode 1)

At age 14 or 15

One of my first "hanging around" groups comprised a set of people much elder to me - 2 aunts, 1 uncle, 1 sister, 1 brother-in-law, my mom and my dad. Now had there been another kid of my age, I would probably have played carrom with that kid in another room. But there wasn't and so I became a regular member of their "adda" or discussion. Many a times, I contributed to their conversation and got the happy feeling that I was as old and as mature as them ¹. And then, sometimes, there were times like this one which put me where I belonged i.e. in the correct age bracket.

I was sitting next to my Mesho (maternal uncle) that day. Now Mesho was a tall man who spoke less. But when he spoke, everyone listened. The expression used to regularly describe him, a typically Bengali expression, was "Onaar khoob personality aache." which I think translates into "He has a very intimidating personality". Now, if being like one of the elders was cool, being like Mesho denoted a Nordic level of coolness. Addressing a sentence to him usually required careful consideration and thought, but my Mom presented me with such an opportunity that day, that I pounced upon it with eager glee.

The topic of discussion had veered to the subject of ships, and my Mom committed the typically Bengali error of pronouncing 'ship' as 'sheep'. My first language English education was aroused; here was an opportunity to gain some brownie points in front of the insurmountable Mesho, a pucca pundit of the British language. He undoubtably would be glad to know that I took so much care of restraining the 'e'-s in 'ship', and so I said, "Dekho Mesho, Maa'r ki baaje pronouncitation. Ship ke sheep bolche! (Just look at my Mom's poor pronounciation. She's calling a 'ship' as 'sheep'.)"

I finished my sentence and was eagerly awaiting a pat on my back for my diligence, or a commiserating sentence about the sad state of English pronunciation in Bengal. But my Mesho's face remained expressionless. I became a bit anxious. Finally, he spoke, "Pronunciation-er banaan bolo to. (Spell pronunciation.)"

I gulped. Had I goofed up somewhere? But he was asking me a sitter... I was too good at spelling to make a mistake at this one, and so I said, "P-R-O-N-O-U-N-C-I-A-T-I-O-N."

"Confident?" he asked.

I thought to myself, that's how I pronounce it when I say it, and that's the easiest way to work out spellings, so I must be correct, "Haan. Confident. (Yes. Confident.)"

Mesho smiled now, a smile which I realized was not for the reason I was hoping for, and said, "Kaal English teacher ke jigesh kore niyo. Spelling taa bhool, uccharon-taao taai bhool... Ota 'pro-NOUN-ciation' noy... ota actually 'pro-NUN-ciation'. Nijer Maa'r uccharon theek koraar aage nijer taa theek koro. (Ask your English teacher tomorrow. You spelt it incorrectly and hence your pronunciation is also incorrect. It's 'pro-NUN-ciation', not 'pro-NOUN-ciation. Son, before you correct your Mom's pronounciation, correct your own first.)"

I could find myself wanting to melt away as he spoke, but an embarrassed exit is all I managed that day.
----
¹ At age 14, kids long to grow older and be free from the shackles and rules enforced by their parents. By age 26, they learn better.

... 3rd episode coming up.
----
PS: I had been itching to put up this PJ that I came up with the other day. I would have included it here anyway. But now that I used the word 'intimidating', I get legal privilege to put up its' 'dictionary' meaning here (For those uninitiated to PJ-dom, this is no way connected with actual meaning intended in above piece.):

Intimidating:
Pronounciation: intimi-dating

The process of asking a girl out for dinner and threatening her with dire consequences if she refuses.

It's Only Words

I have to admit (with a tinge of regret) that I have had my fair share of faux-pas in conversation. In serial fashion, here is a list of 3 forgettable incidents.

1
(At age: 13 or 14)

My Dad and I were sitting side by side facing the TV - Dad reading the newspaper, I with a book in my hand. My mind was elsewhere - things at school had been a bit rough that day, thanks to the actions of one particular classmate. To lighten my load, I struck up conversation with Dad, "Baba, Rajat ke mone aache?" (Dad, do you remember Rajat?)

Dad replied, "Haan mone aache. Keno ki hoyeche or?" (Yes, what about him?)

I continue, "Kichu hobe keno? Just bolchi - o ekta real bugger. Shobai okey hate kore. Aajke jaano ki koreche - teacher homework joma newar kotha bhule gechilo. Aar amra-o decide korechilam je kicchu bolbo naa. O Beta hothat uthe bole ki naa, 'Mees, aajke homework joma neben naa?' Beta bohut jalaaton kore."
(What about him? Well only that he is a real bugger. And that's why everyone hates him. Know what he did today? Miss had very conveniently forgotten to ask for the homework, and we had got it all figured out - no one would utter a word about it. And then there was Mr Rajat, standing up to point out to his dear Miss, 'Meees. Won't you take the homework today?' Man, does he think he is Jesus Christ.")

Having thus vented my frustration on the despicable Rajat, I was feeling a little elated. However, my elation was to be short-lived. Dad, who had been patiently listening all the while, said, "Son, you're growing up. As you grow older, you will take up jobs of responsibility and meet up with people for important work."

I was getting confused. I wanted him to join me in the denunciation of Rajat Mehta, and he was talking about my future! Dad continued, "In those times, you need to remember to choose your words correctly."

Come now Dad, can't we have the vocab class later? I realized not, when Dad concluded thus, "Otherwise people might misinterpret you in a terrible fashion. I agree that the word 'bugger' seems to mean a person who disturbs you. But I promise you that if you will go and have a look at the dictionary, you will receive quite a shock."

Perplexed, I left the room. There I was thinking of ways to teach Rajat Mehta a lesson next day, and now here I was forced to go and consult the dictionary. However, after seeing the meaning, I could not enter the room again for quite some time afterwards. Rajat bashing would have to be taken up some other convenient time.

The meaning listed in the Cambridge dictionary was this:

- One who engages in sodomy, especially with animals.

... to be continued
[Image Credits: http://illustrationinfo.com/?p=77]

Sun-Catchers

Cycle wheels are usually equipped with small pieces of translucent plastic which act as reflectors. At night, when car headlights fall on these, they reflect the light and thus drivers become aware of cyclists on the road. In the daytime, if the sun's rays fall at the correct angle on these, they look like bright pieces of stained glass. I named them as sun-catchers for the context of this piece.

I noticed the beauty of sun-catchers one Saturday afternoon. I was returning home after a hearty lunch. There was not much work to be done that weekend so I had all the time in my hands. I had just missed the bus and the next bus was due in half an hour. To while away the time, I leaned on something and started admiring the beauty of nature. The weather was that of a perfectly lazy summer afternoon. I could have stayed there forever.

It was then that I saw someone riding a bike and it was on that bike that I noticed the sun-catchers.

The sun's rays happened to be at the most appropriate angle. And as the wheels of the cycle turned, the two sun-catchers captured my attention. My gaze was drawn to them and other visible features in my field of view (the rims and spokes of the wheels, the cyclist, the background) faded away. And the bright pieces of plastic seemed to be moving like Siamese twins - conjoined by some invisible force. They rolled along ever so slowly - it was as if they too felt the lull of the lazy summer afternoon.

I felt elated to observe this harmonious motion. Unfortunately such elation is not found everyday - probably the conditions for being able to find beauty in the simplest of things are very stringent.

Image Credits: anataman

Stories and Memories

Thanks to the International Friendship Program at Virginia Tech, we (my room-mate Arnab, and I) got to meet an American family. Sarah, the lady of the house and the mother of three children, is adorable just by her beautiful nature and and her excellent culinary skills. But on our second visit to her house, we got to know that she is also a beautiful story-teller. Sarah has been working in the Blacksburg court for nearly three decades now. With that experience, it is not a surprise that she is a treasure-trove of all sorts of anecdotes from the court-house.

We got to hear her stories on the second day that we visited her house. I have re-narrated some of the anecdotes that she narrated to us. But before that, I would like to mention another thing that happened that day.

Sitting outside in the porch, I was learning about American football from Sarah's son-in-law Matt. Arnab was explaining "depth-of-field" (a concept in photography) to Sarah's younger daughter. Sarah herself was busy in the kitchen. The mouth-watering aromas of her cooking, just like her good nature, seemed to permeate the whole house.

During this massive gossip and adda session, I got a moment to myself when I went to the restroom. I do not know about others but many of my deeper thoughts have come to me within the privacy of the restroom. Reflecting on the truly enjoyable time that I was having today, I was reminded of the times at my Dada-Didi's place. (Dada-Didi are a couple in their seventies, who I got to meet around two years back. Visits to their home were an infallible source of unadulterated enjoyment.) I felt that it was mighty unfair that due to my pursuing studies in the US of A, such good folks as my Dada-Didi would not be able to share similar moments of happiness with me for an indefinitely long period of time.

It was true homesickness that I felt at that time. Notably, this was another "Happy-Sad feeling" which had been evoked in me by my coming to USA.

Coming back to Sarah's stories, I have re-narrated some of the anecdotes that she narrated to us. Hope you enjoy them.

Story 1 A certain person in the county of Montgomery, Virginia was involved in the illegal activity of growing and selling marijuana. His house was full of potted plants of this "forbidden fruit".

The business was good - no one was suspicious of his activities and had things gone the way they were going, he would have lived happily ever after. However as we all know, man's mind is never at rest. This very trait of human nature made our marijuana-grower lose sleep over how to better protect his treasures. Thus he installed a state-of-the-art burglar alarm system in his house.

And true enough, one day, a burglary was attempted. As expected, an alarm was raised by the newly installed system. The sirens and lights made sure that the whole neighbourhood and the police department rushed to the site of the attempted burglary. The police were faced with a peculiar problem - they were having to arrest both the burglar, and the owner of the house which was being burgled. It was then that the marijuana-grower realised that when one is on the other side of the law, one should not be too choosy about the company he keeps.

Story 2 Then there was the other marijuana-grower who was going on vacation. He decided to keep his pot-plants in the car so that they would get ample light to live and grow. He returned to find that the plants were alive and fresh. However there was also an arrest warrant in his name.

Story 3 Then there was the time when Sarah was checking in people when they came for their drug-screening test. One day, a certain young girl was late for her test. Sarah was especially irritated by late-comers and she grimly told the girl, "I am sorry. You are late and I cannot let you take the test." The girl started pleading, in an earnest tone, "But I was late because I had cut my ear." This news surprised Sarah and she enquired as to how such a drastic event had transpired. Sarah was in for a bigger surprise when the girl replied, with a straight face, "I was running down the driveway with my chainsaw... And I tripped and fell over and cut my ear... Here have a look.", and the girl parted her side hair to show the stitches that had followed the unfortunate incident.

For a moment, Sarah was speechless. Given that the girl was in a state of mind where running with chainsaws was a normal thing, the drug test would surely come positive. Sarah was amused by the irony of the girl's earnest pleas to take the test on that day itself.