[Poetry]: Walk away

You sit in lofty seats,
Feeling like the witness as history repeats.
While on your ass, consider the misery you cause
As your judging eyes belittle the loss.

An adventurer you call yourself,
Stories are not yours, but of the books on your shelf.
Nothing you say is novel or your wisdom
Much of what is already said and you just give me the sum.

Why should I not loathe you?
Because loathing you needs energy
Because loathing you needs time
Because loathing you is such a waste, I can't even find a rhyme.

So, here oh judgmental world's being!
I dismiss your judgment of me.
I show a gesture so obscene
And walk away washing my hands clean.

[Thought]: Cabin sized home

The first time I had packed my bags to leave home was in 2002. I have lived in hostels and traveled since then. I would say I left my home in 2002, and twelve years down I am still in transit. In the twelve years, many modes of transport have happened, many kilometers have passed. Yet, I feel like I have not reached my destination.

A year and a half back my dad asked if I was considering traveling across the country. I loved the idea and hit the road. Most of my breaks from work are for travel to familiar and new places. Most of the time meeting old friends again and making new ones. I have been at it since then and I love the feeling of reaching someplace and experiencing new culture and food. More than anything I like being close to the forests and away from the city. I don't like the hustle bustle and the cacophony. I despise the addictions that technology brings us.

Again today I am packing my bag. I have my tickets and I will be away for a while. Away from where? Not from home, because living between two cities and three houses, I don't recognize a home for myself anymore. I feel like a traveler everyday and each moment. Like I am on my way home, just that I am not sure what that feels like anymore. I know the day I reach home, I will know I have come home.

I wonder if it is a physical place, or just a state of being, being home. Maybe home is made by people who love you and accept you with the quirks. Maybe home is the moment with loved ones that you are in, where you feel welcome. Maybe home is when you feel secure, and all the worries are suspended in that moment. Maybe home is just that moment of belonging to the people, the place around. However fleeting the moment might be, home is a beautiful place.

As I pack my bag, I look at the contents. Sets of clothes, brush, paste, soap, towel, shampoo. Sleeping bag, warm jacket, socks. My notebooks, my trusty umbrella and some money and ID. I know this is about all I need to live. I am sure I will survive in just these. I feel warm looking at my bag. I think it's time I painted it with my favorite fictions. I think it's time I put some familiar faces on it. It welcomes me, and I trust it not to let me down. I have memories with this bag and promises of many journeys to come. Is it possible that this is my home?

Maybe that is how travelers are, finding that home is tucked away in their bags, anywhere in the world. Right at their back, packed in small rolls, all the happiness, memories and everything they need in a cabin size pack. Truly a cabin sized home.

[Thought]: Fight to be on my feet

It must have been the bruise. As I just sat there I realized it. It was not the fall. It was never the fall.

The fall came easy. Just a little slip that cascaded into a collapse and loss of grasp in that moment. Then the inevitable fall. At the bottom I just sat. Wondering where it went all wrong. Somehow the moment is all muddled and the time is skipping ticks. The sequence is so clear and yet it is random. Did the dots ever connect or am I thinking them aligned like the constellations that never have the stars even close? It was just cause and effect, action leading to reaction leading to another reaction. It could have actually swung in many ways and I would not be here. But I am. Here, at the bottom at this moment.

But why am I still here? Because the bruises will not let me move. I am hurt, I can feel the pain. The tears roll down even when I try to control them and not show. But the hurt is real and a big part of me fights it with all strength and another is acknowledging it. The tears are hot as they roll down, not cool. They are burning my skin. They are not of pain but of anger. I am angry because I can't stand up. Maybe not because of that. But the anger is at they way I can't get up. And maybe because I can't let go. Maybe because I fell when I did not expect to fall. Maybe it's just my ego.

Yes it must be the bruise of my ego. Holding me down. The more persistent of the pains. It gnaws at my conscience.

Let go. Let it be. Stand up. Acknowledge that you had the courage to fight. Acknowledge that you had the courage to take the risk.

Stand up because you are better on your feet than watching the world pass by as you sit and nurse your ego. Stand up because there are more fights coming your way. Stand up and take the shield of courage because the world needs to be beneath your feet. Stand up because there is so much to be and so much to live. Stand up because the next fall is waiting for someone like you to take a chance. Stand up because I am better than this. And I stand up.

Yes I am afraid I will fall again. Yes I am still hurt. But, I am up. I am set to explore more. I am learning more. I am fighting harder. I am living more. I am alive and loving it!

[Poetry]: Chai ki chuskiyan (sips of tea)

This post is dedicated to all my friends who spent time with me over sips of tea. Some loved tea, some loved me and some I loved very much. But, between the sips of tea, much was discussed and nothing was discussed. Sometimes it was just tea, but each cup of tea was a moment shared and now a part of my life. 


लगता है मुद्दतों बाद आप से फ़िर मुलाकात हुई।
(Feels like its been ages since I met you)

रोज़ आपको देखतें हैं, पर आज मिलने की फुरसत हुई।
(I see you everyday, but today I had time to meet you)

कहानियाँ आये-दिनों की, कुछ बीते कल की,
(stories of  everyday, some of yesterday)

कुछ उम्मीदों और आप के सपनों के चहल पहल की।
(Some of hopes and some of the buzz of your dreams)


मौसम की सर्द सी आहों से ज़रा हट कर,
(Apart from the frigid breath of the season)

इन ऊंची इमारतों के और मोटर-गाड़ियों की कर्कश से बच कर,
(Away from the noise of the tall buildings and motor-vehicles)

चलिए उन बीती गलियों की जानी-पहचानी आवाज़  में कुछ गुफ्तगू कर लें ।
(Lets go converse amongst the familiar sounds of  the streets)

उन पुरानी बातों साथ पुराने प्यालों में यादें भर लें।
(with the old talk, in the old cups, lets fill them with memories)



आज थोड़ा बीते दिनों की, आने वाले कल की
(Today, a little of the bygone days and of tomorrow)

कुछ पुरानी यादों के सन्नाटों की, नए सपनों के कल-कल की ,
(Some silence of the old memories, the pitter-patter of new dreams)

एक, दो ऐसे ही कुछ बातें कर लें ।
(Lets talk about one, two or more of such talks)

इन चाय की  चुस्कियों के बीच कुछ खुद को ही याद कर लें
(Between the sips of tea, lets just remember some of us/me)

[Trek/Travel]: Sun,sand and waves - Gokarna trek with BTC

Some warm sun, white sands and calm cool waves. Check. Some rocky cliffs, with corals and sea shells attached. Interesting. Some muddy slopes, and loose pebbles on a steep seaward face of a hill. Challenging. A flat hill-top with mesmerizing grassland springing up as you climb behind the fort wall. Rewarding. A wash in cool sacred waters after a dip in the sea. Definitely worth it.

That is what trek was all about. But, summaries are just that, they leave out the spicy details. The rest of this article is just about the stories as I like to tell them.

I am part of a trekking club, called Bangalore trekking club (BTC as we fondly call it). From time to time, to remind myself that I am part of a much larger scheme of the universe, I am speck on a speck of sand, I go trekking. In the wild I connect with my fears and hopes. It liberates me to be away from the ho-hum of the electronics and the nitty-gritty of work and life. And this time, it was a beach trek!

Where did we go? We went from beach to beach, along the west coast of Karnataka from Kumta to Gokarna passing the Nirvana beach, paradise beach, half-moon beach and the beautiful OM beach finally reaching Gokarna beach.

A compact 20 seated accommodated the 20 of us. On teaching Kumta, we waved a last bye to all the many shops, eateries and other comforts. A quick breakfast and we geared up for the two days trek. It started on a  beautiful beach with many boats on the shore and a few fisherman still visible at the horizon. The sands were white and clean. All through the sand we could see little holes surrounded by beautiful spheres of wet sand. They looked like the diwali fireworks without the heat or light.

We reached the first hill, on top of it was a little fort ruined and watching time go by. This was a photo moment and do we pose!

Then another beach, and slowly the fun started. We crossed the longest beach in the whole trek, barefoot in the by the waves, this was Nirvana beach, long stretch of white beautiful sands. By mid-day after a decent distance covered, stomachs grumbled a bit. I think the grumble reached the trek-leader's ears too, we decided to take a small detour to a little town by the coast. Here, in a small shop, we ransacked for any eatables. We discovered the local delights. The best of which was the thirst quenching "Ragini", at least some of us thought that is what it was called. It was actually called "ragi neer" translates to the juice of ragi (a grain found in these parts). Someone made the mistake of offering home cooked rotis and tomato chutney, then some chutney-powder, bhindi (ladies finger) curry and rice rotis and the food kept coming to the table and disappearing in a blink. Then thanks to Shakti, we got to know how each one of the "Amma" cool drinks tasted. Only if wine tasting also had an extension of cool-drinks tasting, Shakti would have won many awards. To close the meal we had MTR made dal-chawal. And we started to trek again. Refreshed.

We started trekking again, and this time the terrain got interesting. The slopes were steeper and loose gravel made stepping tricky. While i fell a couple of steps behind, i found inspiration from the 11 year old who made the uphill look like a child's play. My new hero was ahead of me and i followed her stride. Slowly and steadily we reached on top of the hill, at one point we could hardly see a trail ahead. Bushes and thorny shrubs surrounded us, at the bottom white waves crashed into large black rocks. The landscape across the fort wall was completely different. The grass covered the entire floor in even golden. The mist of the morning still lingered here adding a beautiful haze. It felt like a dream.

At the end of the day we reached a small beach adjacent to a village hidden behind the trees lining the beach. The fishermen were roping in their days catch as we reached. We pitched tent and jumped into the waters.

How could we not!? After freshening up, hunger surfaced again and campfire was set. In the simmering fire, we heard the story of "Ek thi daayan" (once there was a witch) from our little story teller. I liked Bebo, the little kid in the story, but the narrator was much more mesmerizing. Then I made my first ever barbecue onion in the campfire, luck was with me and it tasted great, and we were hungry. Thanks to industrious efforts of the guys, we got cup noodles and loads of yummy MTR food again. Then the games began.

We played dumb charades, and strange facts came out. Got to learn what happens when you hug too much and that there is a phenomenon called "baba Mulayamgiri"( hermit named smooth hills). With the sound of waves we finally retired to our tents and slept, while a friend to be stood guard by my tent all night. He made sure no other dogs would disturb my sleep and only he would. In the morning we made peace and became friends.

Morning next to the beach, the memory itself refreshes me now. For some however the peace of the morning was interrupted when someone trespassed a peaceful natural call unknowingly. The said person was aloof and seemed uncomfortable for the best part  of the trek that followed. When one has to go, one has to go. We started on more rocky faces on second day. We reached a small hotel after a long trek. The hotel only served eggs and omelettes from them, for vegetarians like me, this was disappointing. To rescue the vegetarians like me, one brave girl took up the task of teaching the cook how to cook amazing Maggi. We pooled all Maggi packets and gave her, she managed the show so well. Meanwhile, idle hands were at mischief, lets say yada yada yada, and about seven of us tasted the green grass that deserved to be eaten by cows. I am still surprised how is that one has never eaten grass?!  After a while, I got a plate of the best Maggi after a tiring trek.

One more fort later, we had the view of the Om beach., shaped like the Om word in Sanskrit.

On Om beach we lounged and had lunch. Long chats about this and that. Refreshed we started on the last leg of the trek. We finally reached Gokarna and a dip in the seas and a shower in the holy waters. Just the perfect end to a trek. But, wait, there is more. Then we went and saw the temple in Gokarna. After the temple visit, we had the yummiest free food from the anna-daan (rice donations). What a fitting end!

And we returned to the same buildings and mundane lives, but the shine of the sun and the smell of the seas for two days stayed for the next few days in me. As it fades, I am preparing for my next exciting trek in the wilderness.

PS: Photos are from different people, just the memories are mine. 

[Review]: Cornerstone of neighborhood the disappearing corner-stores

He knows the exact type of chilies my mother prefers, and knows a lot more about our household than me. He also, helps my father find the neighborhood electrician. He is not Google, just the owner of a small grocery store in the neighborhood. Just until a few years back, there used to be many grocery stores like his in my neighborhood. Many have closed down. We feel slightly handicapped and miss the familiarity of the shops. The substitutes have been very bright superstores with many options and ever changing brands.

My neighborhood is unlike most of the other parts of the bustling city. It has mostly people with 9-5 jobs or retired. We don't have enormous buying powers nor do we need bulk groceries. The shopping is a part of the weekly, sometimes daily ritual in homes. I wonder why the superstores should replace the small grocery stores.

First let me cover all the emotional comments on the trend of superstores. A superstore is a big, non-personal place, with staff that hardly knows you or the store itself. The staff, I must say, look like in perpetual dread of the hovering managers. The cashier is not even looking at at the customer when billing, his worries are with the big bulky swipe machine and the many mistakes that might remove him from the job he landed in, thanks to someone who knew someone. All in all, I think a superstore is just another of the modern invention of the management chain that establishes a system removing a little of humanity from the place.

Next, I ask how and why these stores come into existence. In the 1910s, Clarence Saunders started the first self-service super store. I must say that there are many contenders to who started the first of such superstores, but this is the one link that seemed reasonable. In the 1940s, the system of superstores replaced the small focused stores with large built areas and one-stop shopping centers, thus bringing organized retail concept. Quickly US adopted the concept of box stores in the 70s. Slowly the concept took over the world. More about the super-store history can be found at groceteria and the UK story here. And the concept arrived in India in late 1990s with Big Bazaar of the Future group, and somewhere in the past few years, it creeped into my sleepy neighborhood.

Yes, the size compared to the neighborhood stores is different, but it is the target and the profit margins that truly make a difference between the types of stores. While, the corner stores intend to sell to neighborhood familiar customers for small profits in terms of quantities bought, the super-stores rely on bulk buying behavior. In such behavior the bulk expenditure is rewarded with large discounts. The target customer of the super-stores is clearly the middle-class with steady monthly incomes and a bulk grocery shopping behavior. However, about 50% of Indian workforce, urban and rural are casual laborers. So, clearly the super-stores are not aimed to reach the common man, by definition.

The super-store structure is to provide organized retailing and remove the "middle-man". There have been other models that attempted at removing the middle-man  and supplying the goods produced locally directly to the consumers. Such models are present for supplying milk in Gujrat, namely Amul. Welfare of the producer and the consumer was the key aim of the white revolution, that helped develop Amul and other organized milk supply chains in India. The affect of such a revolution is to enable the common man to become self-sufficient and also encourage entrepreneurship at an individual level.  A super-store however, is a organization led system that would curb the current entrepreneurs who own small corner-stores.

However, if the development of superstore was based on creating a sustainable growth, the results would have been different. A super-store, would have been a chain of retail that connected the producers to the consumers via small local outlets using franchises owned by individuals. This is much like the milk supply model that is working so well in our country. A bigger central store here and there would not be seen as a competition, but a welcome member in a densely populated neighborhood with larger demands.

Perhaps, this is not the era to be asking for looking at societal sustainable developments. With apartments dotting the skyline of all the big cities, a new profiting model is just around the corner. This is based on online door delivery of all goods to the tech-savvy consumer. This system completely avoids the need for high-rent shop-floor and a friendly customer service. Now, we can live nuclear and only interact with the small screen of the phones, avoiding any human interactions that might connect us to the society. Soon, the small stores will die and then the big stores will become warehouses. In this new world an individual will be completely isolated and any spirit of entrepreneurship will need a minimum technology knowledge to even start. Common Indian is well known for jugaad, it is time to see what new jugaad will result to such artificial constraints. Meanwhile, my neighborhood will continue to see the slow decline of human relationships and familiarity that came with being here for years.

[Thought]: Ode to machines.

It's most extraordinary! Somehow the first of everything, where a man could not go simply, a machine was commissioned to go. The mission to moon, the first crafts in air, space depths of oceans or into a volcano and recently Mars, all have been machines.

Machines have made human life more complicated and yet less burdensome. I know, that without the modern machines a kitchen would be a nightmare for me. Right from the lovely mixer-grinder to the coconut scraper a kitchen is a machine heaven. The washing machine liberates and let's my hands be soft and supple. Sometimes they might take a break, but the machines are always there to help out, save time, save energy and bring comfort. A machine gives me time to be.

We all love or heroes, an individual to aspire to. But we fail to see the collective and sustained efforts that go into building machines that are everyday unsung heroes. This little note is an ode and praise of the little machines, gadgets and tools that the modern technology has brought to us. Yes, I am archaic in thoughts at times and ready to defend my grandma's times, but oh! How I cheat to buy some comfort and pleasure at the touch of the button. I know my grandma would discard her ways at the drop off a hat to have one of these lovely machines.

My love to all the engineers who made all the exciting machines and gave me the chance to be modern!

[Poetry]: New stones

Just beyond the darkness, slowly it unfolds.
I hold my breath hoping to discover the story untold.
My heart beats like a million drums,
A triumphant tune I just can't stop to hum.

Just a bit more, my hands are eager.
I catch my breath, each one shallower.
I unfolded it! I see it, I see it!
Nothing so beautiful was ever, or will ever be it.

Just another stone turned.
Just another discovery made.
Something new, yet so old.
And the most exciting new story to be told.

Philadelphia is poetry

Many years ago I learnt the truth about poetry. It is an expression of unlimited beauty in limited words. A good poem can stir emotions and ideas that never existed in the mind of the reader before. I am not an avid reader of poetry, but I watch movies, a lot of them. And there is one movie that I think fits the definition of poetry.

I have found myself watching http://m.imdb.com/title/tt0107818/ , the movie that stirred the open debate about AIDS, homosexuality and discrimination on these grounds. A few decades prior to this movie America was struggling with racial discrimination and creating an equal opportunity society. A few decades later and till today most countries are still struggling with discrimination against homosexuals. Many songs like " http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hlVBg7_08n0 " by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis tries to use the media to convey the hurt that is caused by discrimination. Somewhere though this movie reigns supreme in conveying the human emotions associated with this issue. On one hand it shows the struggle of an upcoming career oriented Tom Hanks with the disease that is destroying his life one day at a time. On the other it shows Denzel Washington coming to terms with his own prejudice against homosexuals.

The backdrop is Philadelphia, where the declaration of independence was signed in US. In this backdrop a new struggle for equality is emerging, one that asks for equal treatment and not special treatment of homosexuals. The entire struggle is to happen in courtroom with the language of the law, which every now and then Denzel Washington requests to be simplified with the most famous dialogue of "explain to me like I am a 6 year old." Through the movie the decorum of the courtroom is maintained and both sides present good arguments.

But it is what happens out of the court room that always moves me. Tom Hanks is a very good son, brother and partner. His brave face and refusal to be treated differently is the driving force of the whole case. Denzel Washington is a family man too, who loves his little daughter. The bond between these characters steals the show. Denzel Washington develops respect for his colleague. He learns that more that being queer, who make him uncomfortable, Tom Hanks is human. I think there is enough initiative till here to make you at least recollect the movie or wish to watch it Ponce if you have never seen it before. The famous song " http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4z2DtNW79sQ " by Bruce Springsteen.

If this movie stirs you with any human emotion, sadness, compassion, disgust even; then it has fulfilled it's purpose. Since the purpose is to share the varied human reaction to the issue of homosexuality and AIDS and at the end the movie hopes to question the audience about their stand. It hopes to home in the realization that we are all humans and the best we can do is learn to respect other human beings. This is poetry for me. At the end of the movie, I know where I stand, rooted to earth and moved. Where do you?

Flustered consumer

It's festive season for the billion Indians. A season to celebrate with new clothes and fresh furnishing for homes. Now, this is a great opportunity for sellers to lure in customers. As the trends are changing, we find ourselves peering into the little windows of mobiles and other gadgets to find us the best buy, a better discount and the perfect gift.

Window shopping has finally transformed. And some other things have changed too. The window sizes have gotten smaller and digital. Thanks to all the efforts into  miniaturization, and the globalization, we have the world markets at our hands. Eager sellers are throwing offers upon offers to get us interested into their virtual shops. The trend of unbelievable discounts does not stop at online stores, it extends to the sale seasons too. Why are the prices dropped so much? Do we really pay three times the actual prices? Am I being robbed?!

I wondered for a while about this. Previously I thought we are moving from a repair, maintenance and commitment culture to a replace and don't bother culture. This makes me sad in some ways. I just gave my trekking shoes for repair. The company I bought it from promises a lifetime service. This makes sense to me, because I had to wear my shoes down till they fit me well and I got used to them. This is a  relationship for me, I would hesitate to move to a new pair of shoes. The comfort level is just not the same. Same is true with a well worn pair of jeans. Under what circumstance should I replace something? Time and again we have been reminded of the "don't fix if it ain't broken" law. Is there a don't replace if it works fine law? There should be. But the market compels us to do otherwise. Own more than you need and throw just because it is old. Mostly true with electrical and electronics appliances, this trend makes sense if we think of how we made things smaller. Most of the appliances we buy have a US or, now increasingly, a Chinese brand name. They are manufactured in the developing countries, and that is not India. The electronics incorporated are miniaturized. Instead of being able to replace a little burnt resistor, now a whole board would be replaced. The board unfortunately is not available locally. The import charges far exceed the cost of the board. The local production is also not an option. So, the solution is to just replace the entire machine. At exchange deals, the spare, I am hoping comes back into circulation. The other alternative is that the spare is just thrown in the dump, producing lot of electronic waste, which is terrible for the environment, mostly us, because it has lead and other poisonous chemicals that can seep into our water and soil and such resources.

Another reason to replace is, the number of design engineers and development engineers and such roles created. The  production paradigm has shifted from a constant and stable production line, to an innovation, competition driven system. The innovation could be in design, control software and so on. The focus is on having a good production chain that is changed every sprint, cycle or whatever the company calls it internally. There are no such maintenance positions anymore. To keep up with changing products, a maintenance engineer would have to be always under training. So, maintenance is not for the regular people, it is for big corporations that can afford a maintenance contract. So, we the regular people are forced to replace old-ish technology with a slightly newer version, which in most cases may not perform as well as the old. I would love to quote the degraded performance of new version of an operating system here, but I am sure a hint is sufficient to know what I am talking about.

The effect of this culture is never seen when everything is running well, may not be smooth, but running nonetheless. Once the gadget fails, the cost and the talk with the customer care is just unacceptable. It almost seems like the customer care centers are given a standard script of what our problems should be and even those are not to tackled well. How is it, that a reputed company can have such poor customer care? Slapped onto you is the fact that, if you are not buying something from them, then you are wasting their time. And for this, I need to repeat my contact information and such, that the company already had collected during the purchase. Has it lost the will to loyally serve existing customers? Imagine this happens with your bank account. "Sorry madam! We seem to have lost your record and your money, we don't know why your account number does not come up when you log in to our website. Would you mind restarting the entire business with a new and improved account? For the inconvenience caused, we will assign a personal manager who will hackle you to get new loans." Oh! Wait. That already is happening.

I don't want new trends, I don't want new things to replace things that work well anyways. I want to be able to pay the price that the product actually is worth. Why is it that everyone seems OK with being cheated like this?

Could be the attractive, may have no use in my life, discount on something I don't need, that keeps me excited and buying.

This I know, I can't replace the time wasted on the pointless sale. So, not shopping, this festive season, unless I need something, and not because it looks good.

My journey to better

It was uninteresting, repetitive and colorless. I was tired and ready to push one more item to the later not now list. I looked at the list, the length of it was very discouraging indeed.

I started to read the things I had wished to achieve one by one. Learn flute, self defense, writing as a habit, own a bike and many more items. I let myself down on so many of my dreams. And another trivial item was to become a part of this list, whose marker ink did not budge with just a duster any more.

Who was I making these promises to? What was I losing by breaking them? Why was I making the promises at all? The convoluted answers did not make sense. But one did.

I was making promises to myself. I would lose a little spirit in me that kept me ticking. I was looking at myself to be better than what I am, wanting to strive to be better. It just was me trying to be better and nothing else.

I did not push my jog on the list. I picked up my shoes and hummed the little tune that kept me going and got out. Just that step was hard, the rest was not so hard. I touched a new record against myself. I smiled and hummed out loud! My victory song. My triumph.

And thus, I started ticking off the perpetual to do list. But this time I changed its name to "my journey to better"

Fruitless prayer of a weak mind

Early in the morning, groggy from tossing in the bus trying to get some shut eye as I traveled between the cities. I thought I was imaging it, a blood soaked shirt, the colour still red, still fresh. A wound on the old man's forehead, like he had struck a stone in his fall. An uncertainty in his eyes, he was unaware of where he was. In a public bus. He asked for the ticket and the conductor made the bold move of asking how he was wounded. He said some biker hit him and fled the scene. Clearly this man was drunk, was he? Or was it concussion from a head wound. I don't know.

The bus was fully occupied and all of us were curious at this man's state. Just curiosity. I sat half way across the bus from him. I suddenly realized I had a bottle of water with me. Maybe I can offer him some and help him clean the blood off his face. I stopped this thought mid-way. Strange argument of consequences started in my mind, I am ashamed of what followed in arguments and led to my freezing in inaction.

I wondered if I could take him to the hospital, clearly he needed a bandage. I could maybe try a simple bandage. I would have to get off the bus with him, ask him if he wanted any help and offer him water and go to a medicine store and try to patch him up a bit. Why could I not ask him in the bus? Many of us were sitting and looking at him, no one offered help. Was it that we were hoping for someone else to offer help to him? Or was it that, somehow in our twisted logic we had declared that because this man is drunk he had written his own fate? No one asked him anything. Are we not humans? Am I not human? If I asked, I would become an over involved girl. I would have to see the help through. I would need to take him to the hospital and file an FIR before he gets any treatment. What a mess that would be. I thought of the cost of treatment, clearly he did not have enough money and I doubt he had any insurance. I thought if I had any insurance, I do, but it only covers me. Sad that health care is this twisted. If he was any other wounded animal like the pups in the street, Blue cross would help, sadly he was a human.

I remembered all my trivial appointments of the day and the pointless financial commitments that stem from wants and not needs. I could help this man if I wanted to. He got off the bus, and I was still rooted to me seat in conflict with myself. He started shouting on the road and I watched him as he cried about his injustice, the typical drunken speech. Drunken he maybe, but the wound on his head was real and the blood was real. I could only pray hoping he has someone at home to care for him. That was my way out, a small prayer from a frozen position.

If you have accidentally stumbled across this blog, or are following me, please let me know what you would have done. Also, I would like to know the right course of action so that next time I am more human than this.

Shreek’s guide to messing up your head and rendering yourself useless for an indefinite amount of time at the middle of your PhD + the guide to getting out of it!

    (Disclaimer: This blog entry is mostly notes to myself. However, I know many more people, other than me, are going through phases similar to mine. I only hope that this helps to see their lives in better perspective and helps them to get out of their own situations in a stronger, smarter and more resilient manner than ever before!)
      

      When the Dr. before my name, the end of stipend in another 2 years or the usual things that got me ticking earlier stopped mattering, I knew something was wrong. When my beloved setup accumulating dust in the dungeons stopped bothering me, I had hit another low. Any questions about my work that I loved to counter usually and I  enjoyed the different perspective started to annoy me, another low was hit. The final straw was probably when the excitement of figuring out how the nitty gritty things made trapping happen, died, I knew the lowest low had come. This is how the low became a rut and this is how I got stuck more and more in it.

How did I get here? Simple, by getting lost, losing hope and losing the drive to work. How did that happen? Prolonged periods of little or no results and acknowledgement of my work. Coming from a culture with appraisal cycles to a lonely place where days just roll over is not easy. The final goal seemed further and further away with the problems that were not technical at all. During this period making my system work seemed like the carrot dangling in front of me, but the hunger suddenly died and the carrot turned worthless. That meant the chase became pointless. This is where other things that I missed on the way during the chase suddenly started showing up. I missed a lot of “traditional” goals. Till now it was easy to brush these concerns aside, because I was chasing something that was important to me. But, on this day I could not remember what the important goal was anymore. Then the motivation died, drive died, enthusiasm died. I gave up the pointless fight. Like the start of decline of a relationship, I started counting the cost I had paid for this dream. Family, marriage, industry career, savings and things I did not even know I was giving up. The numbers like age that did not matter before, suddenly started to become important. First, 30, my age this year, the biological clock ticking, and before that no husband! Second, 35, the age to apply for post in the IITs for becoming a lecturer/ prof or the other government jobs that promise security. This still needs a post-doc, and with my research, a post-doc by 34-35 is a distant dream. And third, 0, the savings I will be left with when I am done with the struggle to get the degree. 0 was also the contribution I was making to the society. 0 was the number of times I stepped out of my country, it never mattered before, but now I just saw that my passport expires in 2016, and it started to become my concern. 0 the number of international conference journal papers I have. 0 is a big number, and suddenly was exponentially important in my life. The slump seemed inevitable, once the slide had begun.

Like all lows, there is always a lowest point that one hits. Once I felt I had hit it, it somehow became easier.  So, more interesting than how I got into the slump, is the story that is being written even as I write this article. I am getting out of this slump, in my own way. Everyone who has been here, somehow or the other got into the slump, but the ones who got out, always found their own way out. I am carving my own way out, in such a way that I will not see another slump for another decade at the least.

This is how I am doing it. I am answering my own doubts, one by one, I have found what is right for me and I am taking it slow and meandering my own way out of it. Starting with the 0s, here is how it will happen;

1. 0 conference and journal papers - I will make my work more visible, work to conclude the questions I am asking, ask question that are not too big to chase in 3 months’ time. One question at a time, I will build up my research.
2. 0 international travels – I will make sure that I apply to a conference where my work matters. With this I will ensure a ticket to myself by the end of this year!
3. 0 social contributions – All the children who learnt physics from me passed in science, this is significant. I am now also participating in the translator community. I can teach and increase enthusiasm in science, the way I love science, by thinking and wondering and doing it. I will find more ways to contribute back.
4. 0 savings- well this is how much I will always have J. I think money is something I will never accumulate. I will save what I make for the little luxuries that matter to me, like the book case for all the wonderful books I own. More important however is the books of all flavors that I am going to read, reading and have read. I am going to make a big balance of the experiences I am going to have in my life. I will always have the best stories to tell. And that is what I will accumulate. A lot of stories, even from the single rupee or no money that I will have.
5. 35 age limit – No government job for me. If I can finish my post-doc by 35 yrs, then it is great, else, it is fine. I will chase this dream slowly. The future will just have to sort itself out. Maybe I will create my own opportunity. The best way to do that, is to saying “yes” to any opportunity that gives me a chance to learn. Yes, 35 is actually just a number.
6. 30 clock – my husband will just have to wait to meet me, won’t he?! He better have larger dreams than mine. I can’t have someone boring to spend the rest of my life with.
7. 30 clock – No children of mine is just fine. The world has too many children anyways. I am sure not adding to the human pool is perfectly fine. I am sure I will also come across someone who needs a family as much I need one, once I am settled a bit more than this. Then we will mutually adopt each other. Phew! How much I will have to hear from society for this, a few more years on my age should help me fight this with confidence.

The big dreams always change course as life happens, but how I go about chasing them makes every day more interesting. This is what I am going to do right from this moment.

1. Love science – I love the chase to only two questions – how and why. I will chase them, learn as much as I can every day and think about the questions and answer them for myself. No doing research for goal’s sake. If the degree happens to be a consequence of it, then so be it! Till I am satisfied with how I think and how my temperament has changed, I will chase it till then and not care for anyone else’s measure of my abilities.
2. Live well – Only discipline that is really need is one that keeps me strong. So exercise, well-being and good food is now on top of my list. I will play, jog/ swim, eat well and sleep well every day. I will keep myself fit and enthusiastic with new activities that keep me healthy.
3. Find passion – I have discovered over the past year, that I love travelling. So, travel is my reward for every little feat, every month I am taking a day off around a weekend to travel/trek or just chase the clouds! I will follow 2 train trails by end of 2014, I will trek the Himalayas by 2015 and I will visit a foreign country by 2015 (this is not on my funds).
4. Spread passion – I will make sure that I give back to people. Interacting and teaching is amazing, the enthusiasm is just infectious! I will keep at it.

I know I can get a lot out of this! I am sure that I will get out this, but the trick is to get out in style, with a little of shreekiness in it!

Reason to smile

It just was so,
In her eyes, she had that look,
She did not see the drabness in front of her, she hid a smile.

While she smiled away at what she saw, nothing seemed out of place,
ordinary, very ordinary all was,
and she was looking at and away from all of it for a while.

What was it, I wondered?
Amused by something so mundane, but how?
Maybe she saw the hidden spaces, maybe she saw more colours.

It might just be that she saw time too,
Maybe she sees whats to come, what was,
And maybe she smiles, because what can be are many.

The Kodchadri Trekventure

Days after the trek I am waking upto a slow morning, an image of pure beauty flashes. 

Black rocks, lush dark green forest, water like silver falling incessantly on the rocks. As they meet, the water sculpts the rocks, and the rocks break the water into a dense mist that just hangs in the air. And through the mist is sunlight streaming through. Wherever it kisses the mist it leaves a trail of its presence for all to see.

This is the story of how I trekked to stand in this breath-taking place. I could tell you how the nine of us, the trekkers on this adventure, met and a chronological account of events, but where is the fun in that? Like all story tellers, let me start with my favourite bit.

It all ended when we got on to our respective buses and headed back to our cosy lives. Even as we said our goodbyes to each other, we were wondering when the next call of adventure would come. And the next day, as they sit at their desks staring at the monitors, for a moment they close their eyes, and they are transported back to this adventure that was. They visit their favourite moment and they smile as they open their eyes to the reality of the flickering monitor. Just a casual glance at the inbox for the next call.

On this adventure, there were nine of us. There is something amazing about that number 9. It’s the number of people apart from the driver that can fit into a rickety jeep, and still manage to reach the destination without falling off on the track. And tracks that seemed like dinosaurs had walked the mountain side, which driver casually dismissed as a good road. 9 is 3 sets of 3 girls for each tent. 9 is 4 pairs of paragliders, with one guard. Well, that is what it was, the perfect number for everything on this adventure, we loosely called a trek.

It started out innocently; even as we signed the indemnity bond we were thinking it would be just a climb here, a long walk there and some breath-taking wilderness. The bond, yes, the bond would have never prepared us for this. It lacked the phrase – “thou shall meet thy worst outdoor fear, and no animals will be harmed in this adventure”.

One thing you have to understand about Kodchadri is that it has this cloud of mist on it, in the mornings and the evenings. The mist that surrounds is actually the clouds that lay over the hills and blanket them as the hills sleep till the next sunrise. We decided to chase the sun and put the hills to sleep with the setting sun. 

This was the simple idea and with that we set out on our trek. It was an 8 km trek. We walked the country side, crops towering above our heads, fresh green plains of paddy that broke into the hills. Trees on both sides of the trail replaced the fields and the plains. All through the woods there were the funnel spiders, beautiful creatures. Soil here is red with patches of yellow like I have never seen before. The land has colour, everything is colourful and beautiful. Sun was rising and the trek left us parched. A small buttermilk stall, which also was a house that treated arca nuts was a welcome break.

After that small break, we set forth again and reached the spot that came in my dreams. After a pause here is when the real trek began. The terrain was unexpected, rocky at places, grassy at others. Dense forests gave away to the grasslands. The sun climbed and things got more adventurous. The grass lands were so steep, the trees standing on them seemed to be bent to us. Just to confirm you look away at the horizon and realize, its not the tree but the whole terrain we are standing on that is at a 60 degree slope.

We reached the peak of the first hill. After lunch here, we started the next leg of the trek. Sometimes you take the road less traveled, so instead of going over the next hill, we went around it. At this point I met my first fear, the fear of heights. This was easily an 80 degree slope with a path cut for a goat next to it. No trees no rocks around, just blades of dried grass on one side and the other had a steep fall, I would rather not describe. We got a generous drop to the temple at the Kodchadri hill’s temple. From here it was another 1.5 km trek. We raced against time to make it to the peak by sunset. At the top of this hill is a little temple. It is dedicated to the best trekker in India, Shankaracharya. Reaching here was like paying tribute to him as trekkers. He was 31 when he passed away, in the short life he had, he lived to trek. We sat where he sat and watched Kodchadri go to sleep.

We came down from the peak to the temple and watched the stars light up the night sky. The sky in the cities have just a few stars, here on the other hand, the constellations were also lost amongst the many stars. We discussed lighting bugs (I know what they are, but some people think they cause lighting) and many other interesting things about the sky here. We camped that night, probably first camp experience for most of us. 

The best adventures are always the ones with an element of surprise. Nothing gives as strong a surprise as not having it on the plan. We started the next day at the Kollur Mookambika temple. We got blessings from an elephant and a cow. When we got back to our tempo traveller, the seriousness of the day ended.

We set out for a whole new kind of adventure. And an adventure it was! We glided in the skies on parachutes manned without any controls, except the weight of the guide. He shifted his weight around to turn and sway the parachute. We were in the sky, with nothing but physics to guide us. I love physics, have faith in it, believe it completely. At this altitude though, no amount of physics and its explanations could have made me let go of the straps that tied me to the chute. I held on till my knuckles were white. Strangest thing is, all my life, I thought winds are turbulent. I was wrong. The wind is calm and amazing. Awesome! That is the word. It is awesome, because even though the straps were the only links holding me from plummeting down into water, somewhere I wanted to let go and fly. We landed. Just when my feet found the ground and got used to the 2-D space, I was crashing into the salty waves of the Arabian sea in water motorbikes at Malpe beach in Udupi. When I tried to steer the bike, it rode on water like snail with sneezing problem.

That was a topsy-turvy adventure.
On this adventure I also found my pilgrimage. On an island called St. Mary's, time is taking its own time to carve. It has rocks that look sculpted, but they are not. These were spewed up by volcanic activity long time ago. The edges are smoothed out, but the pores on these rocks tell the violent story of the volcano. The black colour of the rocks against the cream sand stand out against the green waters of the Arabian sea. On these rocks there are creatures, young corals that are opening their eyes. Slowly life will take over the bare rocks, and perhaps there is an underwater coral reef with multitude of fishes and other organisms, literally just under our feet. Yes, it is worth a pilgrimage, year after year, just to see if the corals have taken over from the sea yet.

So that was the Kodchadri Trekventure, an experience I am unlikely to forget for a long time to come.
PS: None of the photos are clicked by me. Credits go to the other 8.