Tension (Parts 1-6) is a short story I wrote during these Easter holidays. It is set in contemporary India and is about a romance between a Hindu Brahmin girl and a Christian boy - and the associated complications. Do read it and post your comments :)
January 18th, 2010
Monday
Chennai, India
“Leaving already?”, asked Aishwarya. “It’s only 5 ‘o’ clock”.
“Well, I’m just too tired. The programme is simply not working and I figured I might as well come back and try tomorrow. You know how it is with computer programmes – it is so much easier to debug them after a break”, answered Meenakshi. “But Meenakshi, the project is due at the end of the month – that is, in two weeks…”. “Oh, come off it Aish”, intervened Meenakshi impatiently, picking up her bag and making for the door. “I’ve had enough for the day, that’s all”. “Ok, see you tomorrow…”, answered Aishwarya, puzzled.
Meenakshi left IT Project Center and walked toward the Thiruvanmiyur bus-stand. She had been doing her Final year Engineering project there since September last year – developing an automated train scheduling system. She had found it interesting and challenging, but of late, progress had been slow and she had simply lost her motivation. The submission deadline was two weeks away and she didn’t know what she was going to do. Her supervisor had granted her complete freedom since she was a responsible girl. Now, she was almost definitely going to let him down. She tried not to think about it.
She arrived at the bus-stand and sat on the plastic seats, glad for the temporary respite from the scorching sun. She took her handkerchief out and wiped away the beads of perspiration on her forehead. Her bus arrived, but was very crowded – from the back door, young boys were clinging on to the side-bar, one foot on a stair, the other one hanging in mid-air for lack of space. She could hear the bus-conductor’s angry voice inside, exhorting all the free-riders to buy tickets. “Was it really any use?”, she thought to herself. “Would these young boys, who had made an art out of deceiving bus -conductors, really ever change their ways?”. She decided to wait for the next bus.
Five more minutes and another bus – less crowded. She got on and took a seat next to an old lady, on the left side of the bus – reserved for females. “Besant Nagar”, she told the conductor, giving him the money. “Eh?”, grunted the conductor, cupping his hand to his ear to hear above the noise. “Sounda payse !” (speak loudly!). “Besant Nagarrr!” she said, unable to raise her voice any further. “Ah!”, retorted the conductor, handing her the ticket.
She settled into her seat and looked around her. The bus had the familiar, unmistakeable odour of the perspiration of countless passengers, mixed together. On the left side of the bus were females and on the right were males. Most of the younger people were in the front. On the last row, on the extreme right was a lower-class drunken man, sprawled out on the seat. Just behind her, she heard an argument break out – a fat old lady was demanding that a younger girl give up her seat for her, as a mark of respect.
“Besant Nagar!”, the conductor shouted. Meenakshi got up and alighted hurriedly. She turned left and made her way to the beach, glancing at her watch.
“It was 5:45 pm. She was 15 minutes late. But she knew he’d be there. He was not fussy that way. Why, she had stood him up for over an hour before and when she had finally arrived, all he could do was beam widely”. She turned right, and started down the path leading down to the beach. At the end of the path, she stopped and looked around.
Along the periphery of the beach were numerous eateries, doing good business. All of them had outdoor seats and faced the beach, most of them had outdoor kitchens. The college crowd had started populating the far end of the beach, and the odd family was settling down on the sand. A few boys had begun to fly kites, the happy smile on their faces concealing their expertise.
“But where was Philip?” she wondered, screwing up her eyes to look further.
“Boo !”, she heard, followed by loud laughter as Philip saw her start in surprise. “Every time ! You fall for it every time !”, mocked Philip jockingly. “Cruel, that’s what you are !”, answered Meenakshi, trying to be severe. Her face broke out into a smile. “How are you?”, she asked affectionately. “Is this that new ‘beast’ you were telling me about ?”
She cast her eye over the motorbike he was sitting on – a black Bajaj Pulzar 135 LS. “Yea, got delivered just yesterday!”, beamed Philip. “Anyway, let’s go down near the water”, he said, dismounting the bike and parking it.
“Have I seen you in this chudidhar before?”, he asked, looking at the yellow ochre dress she was wearing. “She’s looking typically Meenakshi”, he thought to himself. Her hair neatly braided in one long plait, a small red pottu on her forehead combining well with those long eyelashes of hers, and of course, this elegant yellow chudidhar, setting off her figure perfectly. So traditional and so beautiful.
“Well, I’ve only worn this once before”, she answered averting her eyes and suppressing a blush as she felt his eyes on her, “…ana vaa polaam (but come, let’s go)”, she added a touch impatiently.
They walked down to the water, side-by-side, clumsily making their way through the thick sand. For a brief instant, their palms touched, before Meenakshi quickly withdrew hers. They reached the water’s edge and sat down, silently enjoying the rhythmic, calming ebb and flow of the waves.
“How is the project going?”, asked Philip. “Well…”, began Meenakshi, “today was bad. I’m finding it difficult to concentrate. The whole project seems completely meaningless to me. I mean, who wants a train scheduling system anyway ?”, she sighed, “…my mind has been on other things”.
“Ok…”, replied Philip, resisting the urge to put his arm around her, “…don’t worry, things will be fine.” He desperately wanted to know what these ‘other things’ were, but knew this was not the right time to ask.
“Anyway, this weekend is the final of the football tournament”, said Philip, changing the subject. “Do come and support us – I always play so much better when you’re around”. Meenakshi smiled. “That’s a lie – you seem to score goals at will. Aren’t you the leading goal-scorer this year?”. “Not quite. One goal this Sunday and I will be”, he grinned. “If only I was not a computer programmer, I would be playing in the English Premier League”, he declared, puffing his chest out.
“Ooh look, cotton candy!”, cried Meenakshi, seeing a man selling cotton candy on sticks, coming their way. “Two please”, she asked the seller, giving one to Philip. “How can someone your age like something so childish!”, Philip laughed. “Oh, shut up ! Look who’s talking!,” she responded, “you look like a kid in a candy store…hehehe”, she said, referring to the wisps of pink on his cheeks.
It was after 7 ‘o’ clock and the sun had set. “I had better get going”, said Meenakshi. “Appa (Father) will be starting to get worried”. “Can’t you stay for 5 minutes ? You live only one bus-stop away!”. “No Philip. I can’t afford to worry Appa (Father)”, she said, getting up and starting to walk back.
“When next?”, asked Philip, joining her. “Maybe Thursday – I’ll let you know”. “That’s a whole three days away!”, protested Philip, but strangely, Meenakshi didn’t seem to notice. “Is something wrong?” he enquired “Nothing”, she responded, avoiding his eye.
They reached the bus-stand, Meenakshi catching the bus back to her home in Adyar, Philip making his way back across the city, to his home in Anna-Nagar.
******************
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Tension (Part 2)
January 19th, 2010
Tuesday
Chennai, India
Dr. Narayan woke up and looked at the rising sun outside, stretching his arms. 6 am in the morning. He bathed and at 6:30 am, he started his Dirga Pranayama . At 7 am, Prabhavati, his wife, served him his breakfast – 4 idlis and sambhar. “Meenakshi eno endrikilaya? (Hasn’t Meenakshi woken up yet ?)”, he asked his wife. “Illai, vare vare, rhomba somberi ahra. Adhuka mella, nethu rathri sapidivai illai. Aval odai enna sairetha’nt therilai (No, she has become increasingly lazy lately. In addition, she didn’t even eat last night. I don’t know what to do with her)”, complained Prabhavati. Dr. Narayan didn’t respond.
At 7:30 am, he took his packed lunch from his wife and made his way down to his red Maruti 800 car of 10 years, to head to IIT Madras where he was Professor of Mathematics. To the casual observer, he seemed calm and poised. But today, his mind was troubled.
“This younger generation”, he kept thinking to himself. “This younger generation…when will they learn !”, as he drove slowly down Elliot’s Beach road. “It all started with those economic reforms in 1991”, he thought to himself. “That was what unleashed this beast of materialism. That was when he started noticing people buying things they had no need for. Big cars, flashy mobile phones, huge television sets…why, now, people were buying some kind of Satelitte Navigation systems to tell them how to get to places !...if they had been living in Chennai for any reasonable period of time, how could they not know the way to these places !”, he grimaced.
“Probably, the most damaging aspect of opening up our economy has been the advent of Satelitte Television”, he thought to himself as he passed the traffic lights and entered Sardar Vallabhai Patel Road. “That was what introduced these youngsters to this notion of individual freedom…the freedom to shape every aspect of one’s life according to one’s own whims and fancies!”, he snorted. “They were demanding the right to choosing their life partners now! That is what you get when you begin thinking of the individual as the basic unit in society, rather than the family – you get this romantic Western notion of marriage. Didn’t they realise that, the basic unit of society is in fact the family ? Didn’t they know it wasn’t so much about how good the two spouses were together, but about how good they were as parents ? Wasn’t it this emphasis that ensured the continuity of the species?”
“All because of blindly following Western culture”, thought Dr. Narayan, making a dismissive gesture with his hand.
Now, his brow furrowed as his thoughts became more personal. “My very own Meenakshi is seeing that Christian boy, Philip”, he thought sadly. “It will simply not do, she does not know what is good for her…”
“I have arranged for Dr. Srinivasan’s son, Ramesh, to come and meet her on Saturday. He has come down from the USA and is looking for a bride. He has a good software job back in the US, and most importantly, is a good Brahmin boy. What more could Meenakshi ask for! Admittedly, she seemed distraught when I told her about this appointment. But she is a good girl and will not go against my wishes. Eventually, she will see the wisdom of my words. Once he meets her and wants to marry her, as I’m sure he will, we can arrange for the wedding after she completes her degree this year.”, he thought satisfiedly as he turned into the vast IIT campus.
******************
Philip was tense. Something wasn’t quite right. Meenakshi hadn’t called since yesterday which was unlike her. He told his mother he was going out, went to his garage, mounted his motorbike and made his way to Saravana Bhavan (a South-Indian vegetarian restaurant) off 12th main road, Anna-nagar. He reached Roundtana and turned left, glancing up at the huge Vodafone billboard, Rahul Dravid’s image smiling back at him.
Onto the main road and into the chaos and cacophony of the traffic. He loved it like this. Expertly, he weaved his way in and out of the traffic, using his motorbike’s manouevrability to the maximum. Autorickshaws, share-autos, other motobikes, the odd bicycle, old cars, new cars, all part of his peripheral vision and then disappearing as he sped past them. It was mid-day and Anna-Nagar was packed. He impatiently rode behind a bus, before accelerating past it, sneaking through a gap between the side of the bus and the side of the road. He could hear the bus-driver swearing at him. “Man alive, I love this !”, he grinned sheepishly.
He reached Saravana Bhavan and dismounted, taking off his helmet. Up the stairs and into another self-contained world of chaos. The lunch-time rush was in full swing. The air was filled with the smell of food – food made of dough, lots of oil, onions, tomatoes, potatoes, curd, chillies and many, many spices. Two ceiling fans with 4 blades each ran at full throttle, to ventilate and to ward off flies. On the far end, a huge garlanded portrait of the restaurant’s founder hung on the wall. In the restaurant were mostly men, a few women, lower-class and middle-class, sitting, eating, shouting, ordering, sipping, burping. Since there was no space, two or more groups were sharing tables. Most of the men were dressed in simple clothing, a normal trouser and a cotton shirt, not tucked into the trouser. The women in sarees, but the inexpensive kind. The waiters ran hurriedly from table to table, now shouting out orders to the cooks, now serving a customer, now cleaning a table that had just been cleared.
Philip took an empty seat at a table being used by a pleasant-faced gray-haired man who hardly noticed the intrusion. He beckoned his waiter-friend Saravanan and ordered an onion-roast. Leaning back onto the spine of the chair, he tried to collect his thoughts. “What was it that was bothering him…”
“It isn’t so much that she hasn’t called”, he thought to himself, “but even yesterday, at the beach, she seemed pre-occupied. She mentioned that she had something on her mind…why wouldn’t she tell me what it was?...”. “Could she be seeing someone else?”, he suddenly started, then relaxed, “she wasn’t that kind of girl”.He remembered how she had told him that there could never be another guy. Another time, she had told him that her parents would want her to have an arranged marriage, but assured him that she would have none of it.
His face broke into a goofy grin as his mind wandered to the first time he had noticed her. They had been in the same class for a year, doing their Bachelor of Engineering in Information Technology, but he hadn’t taken note of her during the first year. The college granted you demerit points for talking to girls, so it was best not to even think about them. Girls and boys did talk, but it was always with a vague fear of being caught and reprimanded.The restrictions were only relaxed during college cultural festivals, when everybody had to organise the festival together. It was during the festival in the 2nd year that he had first noticed her. She had been in charge of introducing the Chief Guest, and was dressed in a green saree for the occasion. Man, how irrepressibly feminine she had looked in that saree! Those long eyelashes, her long plaited hair, but more than anything, the grace of her movements and expressions. She was in her element in that saree. She was a quintessentially Indian girl and she could only completely become herself in a quintessentially Indian dress. He had been captivated.
She completed him. He instinctively felt that she provided something that had been missing in his liberal Christian upbringing. All the other girls he knew, from his school and from his church, had been products of this liberal tradition. They were confident, fun girls, strong in their belief of equality of the sexes. But in believing this, somewhere, they had forgotten the essential complementarity of the sexes. Meenakshi hadn’t forgotten that. She was confident, progressive, modern, yet utterly and totally feminine…he loved her.
“Saar, your onion-roast is getting cold!” barked Saravanan close to Philip’s ear. “Oops! Thanks Saravanan”, responded Philip embarassedly, “I was thinking about someone..erm..something else”. Philip tore a bit of the onion-roast, dipped it in the sambhar and started thinking about applications for his M.S. degree in the US.
“I’ll apply to John Hopkins University”, he thought excitedly “Wasn’t that where Nandan Nilekani applied?”. Nandan Nilekani, CEO of Infosys, the software company, was his idol. “Imagine how much I’ll learn from there, the quality of training I’ll get!”.”Then, I’ll come back to India and start my own IT firm. I’ll be a part of the Indian growth story. But my activities won’t just be confined to IT – I’ll be an environmentalist, I’ll start a school…I’ll be an agent of change, I’ll make a difference”, he thought to himself. “When I write my autobiography, I’ll dedicate it to Meenakshi…”, his thoughts faltered as he realised how much a part of his plans Meenakshi was. He needed her more than anything else. She would be his source of support, strength, she would always be there to listen to him, chastise him when he made a mistake, counsel him, love him…”God bless Manmohan Singh”, he thought, as his thoughts gained momentum again. “Without the economic reforms he introduced in 1991, what would budding IT entrepreneurs like me do!”, he thought, finishing his roast and paying his bill.
He got on his motorbike and ran his fingers through his hair before putting his helmet on. He smiled to himself as he remembered how Meenakshi teased him about the way he ran his fingers through his hair – Rajni Kanth style she called it, referring to a famous Tamil film actor. He started his bike and headed home.
******************
Tuesday
Chennai, India
Dr. Narayan woke up and looked at the rising sun outside, stretching his arms. 6 am in the morning. He bathed and at 6:30 am, he started his Dirga Pranayama . At 7 am, Prabhavati, his wife, served him his breakfast – 4 idlis and sambhar. “Meenakshi eno endrikilaya? (Hasn’t Meenakshi woken up yet ?)”, he asked his wife. “Illai, vare vare, rhomba somberi ahra. Adhuka mella, nethu rathri sapidivai illai. Aval odai enna sairetha’nt therilai (No, she has become increasingly lazy lately. In addition, she didn’t even eat last night. I don’t know what to do with her)”, complained Prabhavati. Dr. Narayan didn’t respond.
At 7:30 am, he took his packed lunch from his wife and made his way down to his red Maruti 800 car of 10 years, to head to IIT Madras where he was Professor of Mathematics. To the casual observer, he seemed calm and poised. But today, his mind was troubled.
“This younger generation”, he kept thinking to himself. “This younger generation…when will they learn !”, as he drove slowly down Elliot’s Beach road. “It all started with those economic reforms in 1991”, he thought to himself. “That was what unleashed this beast of materialism. That was when he started noticing people buying things they had no need for. Big cars, flashy mobile phones, huge television sets…why, now, people were buying some kind of Satelitte Navigation systems to tell them how to get to places !...if they had been living in Chennai for any reasonable period of time, how could they not know the way to these places !”, he grimaced.
“Probably, the most damaging aspect of opening up our economy has been the advent of Satelitte Television”, he thought to himself as he passed the traffic lights and entered Sardar Vallabhai Patel Road. “That was what introduced these youngsters to this notion of individual freedom…the freedom to shape every aspect of one’s life according to one’s own whims and fancies!”, he snorted. “They were demanding the right to choosing their life partners now! That is what you get when you begin thinking of the individual as the basic unit in society, rather than the family – you get this romantic Western notion of marriage. Didn’t they realise that, the basic unit of society is in fact the family ? Didn’t they know it wasn’t so much about how good the two spouses were together, but about how good they were as parents ? Wasn’t it this emphasis that ensured the continuity of the species?”
“All because of blindly following Western culture”, thought Dr. Narayan, making a dismissive gesture with his hand.
Now, his brow furrowed as his thoughts became more personal. “My very own Meenakshi is seeing that Christian boy, Philip”, he thought sadly. “It will simply not do, she does not know what is good for her…”
“I have arranged for Dr. Srinivasan’s son, Ramesh, to come and meet her on Saturday. He has come down from the USA and is looking for a bride. He has a good software job back in the US, and most importantly, is a good Brahmin boy. What more could Meenakshi ask for! Admittedly, she seemed distraught when I told her about this appointment. But she is a good girl and will not go against my wishes. Eventually, she will see the wisdom of my words. Once he meets her and wants to marry her, as I’m sure he will, we can arrange for the wedding after she completes her degree this year.”, he thought satisfiedly as he turned into the vast IIT campus.
******************
Philip was tense. Something wasn’t quite right. Meenakshi hadn’t called since yesterday which was unlike her. He told his mother he was going out, went to his garage, mounted his motorbike and made his way to Saravana Bhavan (a South-Indian vegetarian restaurant) off 12th main road, Anna-nagar. He reached Roundtana and turned left, glancing up at the huge Vodafone billboard, Rahul Dravid’s image smiling back at him.
Onto the main road and into the chaos and cacophony of the traffic. He loved it like this. Expertly, he weaved his way in and out of the traffic, using his motorbike’s manouevrability to the maximum. Autorickshaws, share-autos, other motobikes, the odd bicycle, old cars, new cars, all part of his peripheral vision and then disappearing as he sped past them. It was mid-day and Anna-Nagar was packed. He impatiently rode behind a bus, before accelerating past it, sneaking through a gap between the side of the bus and the side of the road. He could hear the bus-driver swearing at him. “Man alive, I love this !”, he grinned sheepishly.
He reached Saravana Bhavan and dismounted, taking off his helmet. Up the stairs and into another self-contained world of chaos. The lunch-time rush was in full swing. The air was filled with the smell of food – food made of dough, lots of oil, onions, tomatoes, potatoes, curd, chillies and many, many spices. Two ceiling fans with 4 blades each ran at full throttle, to ventilate and to ward off flies. On the far end, a huge garlanded portrait of the restaurant’s founder hung on the wall. In the restaurant were mostly men, a few women, lower-class and middle-class, sitting, eating, shouting, ordering, sipping, burping. Since there was no space, two or more groups were sharing tables. Most of the men were dressed in simple clothing, a normal trouser and a cotton shirt, not tucked into the trouser. The women in sarees, but the inexpensive kind. The waiters ran hurriedly from table to table, now shouting out orders to the cooks, now serving a customer, now cleaning a table that had just been cleared.
Philip took an empty seat at a table being used by a pleasant-faced gray-haired man who hardly noticed the intrusion. He beckoned his waiter-friend Saravanan and ordered an onion-roast. Leaning back onto the spine of the chair, he tried to collect his thoughts. “What was it that was bothering him…”
“It isn’t so much that she hasn’t called”, he thought to himself, “but even yesterday, at the beach, she seemed pre-occupied. She mentioned that she had something on her mind…why wouldn’t she tell me what it was?...”. “Could she be seeing someone else?”, he suddenly started, then relaxed, “she wasn’t that kind of girl”.He remembered how she had told him that there could never be another guy. Another time, she had told him that her parents would want her to have an arranged marriage, but assured him that she would have none of it.
His face broke into a goofy grin as his mind wandered to the first time he had noticed her. They had been in the same class for a year, doing their Bachelor of Engineering in Information Technology, but he hadn’t taken note of her during the first year. The college granted you demerit points for talking to girls, so it was best not to even think about them. Girls and boys did talk, but it was always with a vague fear of being caught and reprimanded.The restrictions were only relaxed during college cultural festivals, when everybody had to organise the festival together. It was during the festival in the 2nd year that he had first noticed her. She had been in charge of introducing the Chief Guest, and was dressed in a green saree for the occasion. Man, how irrepressibly feminine she had looked in that saree! Those long eyelashes, her long plaited hair, but more than anything, the grace of her movements and expressions. She was in her element in that saree. She was a quintessentially Indian girl and she could only completely become herself in a quintessentially Indian dress. He had been captivated.
She completed him. He instinctively felt that she provided something that had been missing in his liberal Christian upbringing. All the other girls he knew, from his school and from his church, had been products of this liberal tradition. They were confident, fun girls, strong in their belief of equality of the sexes. But in believing this, somewhere, they had forgotten the essential complementarity of the sexes. Meenakshi hadn’t forgotten that. She was confident, progressive, modern, yet utterly and totally feminine…he loved her.
“Saar, your onion-roast is getting cold!” barked Saravanan close to Philip’s ear. “Oops! Thanks Saravanan”, responded Philip embarassedly, “I was thinking about someone..erm..something else”. Philip tore a bit of the onion-roast, dipped it in the sambhar and started thinking about applications for his M.S. degree in the US.
“I’ll apply to John Hopkins University”, he thought excitedly “Wasn’t that where Nandan Nilekani applied?”. Nandan Nilekani, CEO of Infosys, the software company, was his idol. “Imagine how much I’ll learn from there, the quality of training I’ll get!”.”Then, I’ll come back to India and start my own IT firm. I’ll be a part of the Indian growth story. But my activities won’t just be confined to IT – I’ll be an environmentalist, I’ll start a school…I’ll be an agent of change, I’ll make a difference”, he thought to himself. “When I write my autobiography, I’ll dedicate it to Meenakshi…”, his thoughts faltered as he realised how much a part of his plans Meenakshi was. He needed her more than anything else. She would be his source of support, strength, she would always be there to listen to him, chastise him when he made a mistake, counsel him, love him…”God bless Manmohan Singh”, he thought, as his thoughts gained momentum again. “Without the economic reforms he introduced in 1991, what would budding IT entrepreneurs like me do!”, he thought, finishing his roast and paying his bill.
He got on his motorbike and ran his fingers through his hair before putting his helmet on. He smiled to himself as he remembered how Meenakshi teased him about the way he ran his fingers through his hair – Rajni Kanth style she called it, referring to a famous Tamil film actor. He started his bike and headed home.
******************
Tension (Part 3)
January 20th, 2010
Wednesday
Chennai, India
“120 rupees!”, exclaimed Aishwarya, as Meenakshi paid the auto-rickshaw driver and walked toward her. “Daylight robbery!”, she continued, “these guys must be earning enough to retire at 40.” Meenakshi laughed. She enjoyed Aishwarya’s tendency toward the hyperbole. She complemented her soft nature well.
“Have you started writing up your report?”, Aishwarya enquired, as they made their way up the stairs of Spencer Plaza, the shopping mall on Mount Road. “Yes, I’ve written about 20 pages”, Meenakshi prevaricated. “What about you ?”, asked Meenakshi. “I’ve almost finished!”, Aishwarya grinned. “I should be done by the end of this week”, she added, in an innocent show of one-upmanship. Meenakshi smiled faintly. Aishwarya and she had been friends since school and they had always had a healthy competition about studies. It looked like Aishwarya was going to win the final round, but Meenakshi wasn’t too bothered. It all seemed so unimportant now.
“Shall we go to the shoe-shop first ?”, asked Aishwarya. “There is a sale on for Republic Day”. “Wherever you want”, answered Meenakshi absent-mindedly. They took the elevator to the 4th floor and stepped out. The mall was buzzing with activity – young families from lower-class backgrounds revelling in their newfound financial health, middle-class middle-aged ladies keeping an eye out for that killer sale, young couples mostly from the Arts colleges holding hands and walking along dreamily, the odd mischievious school-boy bunking school.
Shops of all types were doing brisk business, some of them selling small plastic Republic Day flags for the approaching holiday on 26th January. Each shop occupied a relatively small space, with its painted name on top often merging into the painted name of the shop next door. Most shops had a small colour television, tuned onto the ongoing India vs Australia cricket match – watched by the shop’s proprietor and a few distracted customers. Each shop had a few workers who attended to the customers. Some shops had a worker standing outside, actively canvassing their respective shops to prospective customers, only stopping to stare open-mouthed at a beautiful girl walking by.
“Meenakshi, look at that pair of slippers”, pointed Aishwarya excitedly, at a pair of dark brown Kolawari slippers. “Yea, they’re beautiful!”, responded Meenakshi, “you should get them”. “But they’re 400 rupees! I was looking for something around 300”, complained Aishwarya. “I’ll give you the extra 100 rupees, just a gift from me”, offered Meenakshi. Aishwarya’s eyes brightened. “You’re the best”, she beamed. Meenakshi smiled, looking away. She had offered Aishwarya the money because she adored her, but also to make up for being so enigmatic lately. For the past two weeks, she had been distant, non-committal, absent-minded, even rude, but Aishwarya had just accepted her happily. She hadn’t even told Aishwarya what the matter was, but she knew Aishwarya knew something was wrong.
They bought the shoes and went to the Food-Court for lunch. “Meenakshi, you havn’t been yourself lately. What is the matter?”, asked Aishwarya. “You don’t even look yourself – your eyes have black circles around them, your cheeks are sunken…you have to tell me what the matter is.” “I’ll tell you when the time is right”, answered Meenakshi firmly. Aishwarya didn’t answer. She knew how stubborn Meenakshi could be sometimes, so she decided not to pursue the matter further.
They ate in silence for a while, Meenakshi eating quickly, like she was in a hurry. “Shall we check out the new clothes store after lunch?”, asked Aishwarya expectantly. Meenakshi’s eyes fell. “Aishwarya, I’m not feeling very well. I know we had planned to spend the whole day here, but I think I should go back home after lunch. I’m very sorry. I promise to make it up to you soon. Do understand”. “It isn’t a problem,” answered Aishwarya, her face unable to conceal her disappointment. “Let’s call for the bill…waiter!”, Aishwarya called.
They paid the bill and left. Down the elevator and out onto Mount Road, Meenakshi returning by auto-rickshaw and Aishwarya by bus.
******************
Meenakshi’s mind was in turmoil. She got home at 2:30 pm, went straight to her room, got onto her bed and slept till 5:30 pm. She just wanted to hide away from the world, if only for 3 hours. She woke up, went to the living room and switched on the TV. Restlessly, she switched channels – every single programme on every single channel seemed abominable. Every word spoken by the characters seemed so irrelevant, so insubstantial. She sat absent-mindedly watching the BBC News, her mind racing, the words of the newsreader merely bouncing off her ears. She switched off the television and went back to her room.
She turned on her computer and attempted to begin writing her report. With a massive effort of will, she marshalled her thoughts and composed a paragraph before she gave up exhausted. She went and sat on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Memories of Philip came flooding into her mind. That first day during the college festival when he had come up and spoken to her. He had been so awkward and yet so confident. The period after that when they used to meet outside of college, in particularly crowded places so that they would seem less conspicuous. The late night phone calls, potent with the thrill of speaking to him, but also the fear of being caught by her father. Why had she fallen in love with him ? It wasn’t just that he was a decent, good-natured boy –she knew many boys like that. She even knew boys more disciplined than him, more hard-working than him, even more confident than him. She had fallen for his dynamism – his passion to make a difference, to change the world around him.
He completed her. She felt that he provided something that had been lacking in her conservative upbringing. All her life, she had known men of thought – her father and his friends. Deeply philosophical men, who thought clearly about life and organised themselves according to life’s patterns. They organised their societies to ensure longevity, they organised their own families to ensure stability. They organised their personal lives to ensure an optimal use of resources. They knew there were 24 hours in a day and ensured that they used it as best they could. They knew money was not infinite and develop ways of using it wisely. They reflected on life and developed general rules for good living – they reduced life to a formula.
But in all this, they did not take account of individuality. In trying to frame general rules, they had lost sight of the uniqueness of every individual. In trying to organise society to ensure longevity, they had completely ignored each individual’s agency. Because of this, Meenakshi had sometimes felt a certain passiveness, a certain static-ness, a certain suppression of individual enterprise, in her culture.
Her father was a product of this culture, as were her relatives. All the other boys she knew were also more-or-less like this. Philip was completely different. He was the consummate individual. He had a happy confidence that he was completely justified in pursuing his own happiness. He was bursting with energy, enthusiasm, enterprise; he breathed the air of freedom. She found it irrestible...she loved him.
She loved him! She felt completed by him, protected by him, loved by him and loved him in return. He was a part of her – how could she be estranged from him? She felt connected to him in spirit. She needed him, just as he needed her. He knew her more intimately than anyone else. She loved him. Her father would not understand, it was totally different from his way of thinking, but she knew she loved him – really, definitely, undeniably.
Meenakshi’s eyes drooped; she was emotionally drained. She had got into her bed and had covered herself with a bed-sheet. “But Appa (Father) will never understand”, she thought as her shoulders sunk lower onto the bed. “It would hurt him more than anything to see me marry a non-Brahmin. It would be his worst nightmare”, she thought, her heart wrenching from the pain. She winced. “He would feel defeated, betrayed, humiliated. His very own Meenakshi, turning her back on him. It would be a personal failure, his biggest failure…he thinks marriage is all about parenthood, and this would be a monumental failure of parenting. I can’t do that to him. I can’t go against his wishes. Anything is better than devastating him”, she thought, lifting herself with her hands, to sit upright. “I just couldn’t”.
“But, how can I forsake Philip! How can I ever be happy with anyone else? Impossible!”, she thought angrily, as her eyes filled with tears. She got out of her bed and went to her mirror. Besides her sunken cheeks and black rings around her eyes, she noticed her face had become a lifeless pale. There were clear lines where tears had streamed down her face.
She went back to her bed and went to sleep.
That night, she had a nightmare. A thick, long rope and one team holding each end, in a tug-of-war. One team was dressed in saffron, the other was dressed in white. Gritted teeth. Both teams pulled and pulled, not giving an inch. The rope tore. She saw the orange team celebrating and noticed that they had gotten a longer portion of the rope. She woke up, turned over and went back to sleep.
******************
Wednesday
Chennai, India
“120 rupees!”, exclaimed Aishwarya, as Meenakshi paid the auto-rickshaw driver and walked toward her. “Daylight robbery!”, she continued, “these guys must be earning enough to retire at 40.” Meenakshi laughed. She enjoyed Aishwarya’s tendency toward the hyperbole. She complemented her soft nature well.
“Have you started writing up your report?”, Aishwarya enquired, as they made their way up the stairs of Spencer Plaza, the shopping mall on Mount Road. “Yes, I’ve written about 20 pages”, Meenakshi prevaricated. “What about you ?”, asked Meenakshi. “I’ve almost finished!”, Aishwarya grinned. “I should be done by the end of this week”, she added, in an innocent show of one-upmanship. Meenakshi smiled faintly. Aishwarya and she had been friends since school and they had always had a healthy competition about studies. It looked like Aishwarya was going to win the final round, but Meenakshi wasn’t too bothered. It all seemed so unimportant now.
“Shall we go to the shoe-shop first ?”, asked Aishwarya. “There is a sale on for Republic Day”. “Wherever you want”, answered Meenakshi absent-mindedly. They took the elevator to the 4th floor and stepped out. The mall was buzzing with activity – young families from lower-class backgrounds revelling in their newfound financial health, middle-class middle-aged ladies keeping an eye out for that killer sale, young couples mostly from the Arts colleges holding hands and walking along dreamily, the odd mischievious school-boy bunking school.
Shops of all types were doing brisk business, some of them selling small plastic Republic Day flags for the approaching holiday on 26th January. Each shop occupied a relatively small space, with its painted name on top often merging into the painted name of the shop next door. Most shops had a small colour television, tuned onto the ongoing India vs Australia cricket match – watched by the shop’s proprietor and a few distracted customers. Each shop had a few workers who attended to the customers. Some shops had a worker standing outside, actively canvassing their respective shops to prospective customers, only stopping to stare open-mouthed at a beautiful girl walking by.
“Meenakshi, look at that pair of slippers”, pointed Aishwarya excitedly, at a pair of dark brown Kolawari slippers. “Yea, they’re beautiful!”, responded Meenakshi, “you should get them”. “But they’re 400 rupees! I was looking for something around 300”, complained Aishwarya. “I’ll give you the extra 100 rupees, just a gift from me”, offered Meenakshi. Aishwarya’s eyes brightened. “You’re the best”, she beamed. Meenakshi smiled, looking away. She had offered Aishwarya the money because she adored her, but also to make up for being so enigmatic lately. For the past two weeks, she had been distant, non-committal, absent-minded, even rude, but Aishwarya had just accepted her happily. She hadn’t even told Aishwarya what the matter was, but she knew Aishwarya knew something was wrong.
They bought the shoes and went to the Food-Court for lunch. “Meenakshi, you havn’t been yourself lately. What is the matter?”, asked Aishwarya. “You don’t even look yourself – your eyes have black circles around them, your cheeks are sunken…you have to tell me what the matter is.” “I’ll tell you when the time is right”, answered Meenakshi firmly. Aishwarya didn’t answer. She knew how stubborn Meenakshi could be sometimes, so she decided not to pursue the matter further.
They ate in silence for a while, Meenakshi eating quickly, like she was in a hurry. “Shall we check out the new clothes store after lunch?”, asked Aishwarya expectantly. Meenakshi’s eyes fell. “Aishwarya, I’m not feeling very well. I know we had planned to spend the whole day here, but I think I should go back home after lunch. I’m very sorry. I promise to make it up to you soon. Do understand”. “It isn’t a problem,” answered Aishwarya, her face unable to conceal her disappointment. “Let’s call for the bill…waiter!”, Aishwarya called.
They paid the bill and left. Down the elevator and out onto Mount Road, Meenakshi returning by auto-rickshaw and Aishwarya by bus.
******************
Meenakshi’s mind was in turmoil. She got home at 2:30 pm, went straight to her room, got onto her bed and slept till 5:30 pm. She just wanted to hide away from the world, if only for 3 hours. She woke up, went to the living room and switched on the TV. Restlessly, she switched channels – every single programme on every single channel seemed abominable. Every word spoken by the characters seemed so irrelevant, so insubstantial. She sat absent-mindedly watching the BBC News, her mind racing, the words of the newsreader merely bouncing off her ears. She switched off the television and went back to her room.
She turned on her computer and attempted to begin writing her report. With a massive effort of will, she marshalled her thoughts and composed a paragraph before she gave up exhausted. She went and sat on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Memories of Philip came flooding into her mind. That first day during the college festival when he had come up and spoken to her. He had been so awkward and yet so confident. The period after that when they used to meet outside of college, in particularly crowded places so that they would seem less conspicuous. The late night phone calls, potent with the thrill of speaking to him, but also the fear of being caught by her father. Why had she fallen in love with him ? It wasn’t just that he was a decent, good-natured boy –she knew many boys like that. She even knew boys more disciplined than him, more hard-working than him, even more confident than him. She had fallen for his dynamism – his passion to make a difference, to change the world around him.
He completed her. She felt that he provided something that had been lacking in her conservative upbringing. All her life, she had known men of thought – her father and his friends. Deeply philosophical men, who thought clearly about life and organised themselves according to life’s patterns. They organised their societies to ensure longevity, they organised their own families to ensure stability. They organised their personal lives to ensure an optimal use of resources. They knew there were 24 hours in a day and ensured that they used it as best they could. They knew money was not infinite and develop ways of using it wisely. They reflected on life and developed general rules for good living – they reduced life to a formula.
But in all this, they did not take account of individuality. In trying to frame general rules, they had lost sight of the uniqueness of every individual. In trying to organise society to ensure longevity, they had completely ignored each individual’s agency. Because of this, Meenakshi had sometimes felt a certain passiveness, a certain static-ness, a certain suppression of individual enterprise, in her culture.
Her father was a product of this culture, as were her relatives. All the other boys she knew were also more-or-less like this. Philip was completely different. He was the consummate individual. He had a happy confidence that he was completely justified in pursuing his own happiness. He was bursting with energy, enthusiasm, enterprise; he breathed the air of freedom. She found it irrestible...she loved him.
She loved him! She felt completed by him, protected by him, loved by him and loved him in return. He was a part of her – how could she be estranged from him? She felt connected to him in spirit. She needed him, just as he needed her. He knew her more intimately than anyone else. She loved him. Her father would not understand, it was totally different from his way of thinking, but she knew she loved him – really, definitely, undeniably.
Meenakshi’s eyes drooped; she was emotionally drained. She had got into her bed and had covered herself with a bed-sheet. “But Appa (Father) will never understand”, she thought as her shoulders sunk lower onto the bed. “It would hurt him more than anything to see me marry a non-Brahmin. It would be his worst nightmare”, she thought, her heart wrenching from the pain. She winced. “He would feel defeated, betrayed, humiliated. His very own Meenakshi, turning her back on him. It would be a personal failure, his biggest failure…he thinks marriage is all about parenthood, and this would be a monumental failure of parenting. I can’t do that to him. I can’t go against his wishes. Anything is better than devastating him”, she thought, lifting herself with her hands, to sit upright. “I just couldn’t”.
“But, how can I forsake Philip! How can I ever be happy with anyone else? Impossible!”, she thought angrily, as her eyes filled with tears. She got out of her bed and went to her mirror. Besides her sunken cheeks and black rings around her eyes, she noticed her face had become a lifeless pale. There were clear lines where tears had streamed down her face.
She went back to her bed and went to sleep.
That night, she had a nightmare. A thick, long rope and one team holding each end, in a tug-of-war. One team was dressed in saffron, the other was dressed in white. Gritted teeth. Both teams pulled and pulled, not giving an inch. The rope tore. She saw the orange team celebrating and noticed that they had gotten a longer portion of the rope. She woke up, turned over and went back to sleep.
******************
Tension (Part 4)
January 21st, 2010
Thursday
Chennai, India
Nervously, Philip put on a T-shirt and adjusted his jeans. Meenakshi had finally called. She had asked him to meet her at Burma Bazaar in George Town at 5:30 pm. He had been confused and alarmed by the abrupt, impatient tone of her voice. Something was definitely wrong, that much he knew. He put on his shoes and made his way downstairs and out of the door. Into his garage, onto his motorbike and away.
It was close to peak hour and traffic was heavy. He waited patiently and slowly crawled along toward George Town. He reached at 5:20 pm, dismounted his bike and made his way to their usual meeting place. Burma Bazaar was situated in one of the less affluent areas in Chennai and was a thriving market for smuggled electronic goods, CDs, watches and perfumes. The shops were mere stalls lined one against another, on either side of the road. Competition among shop-keepers was fierce because of the similarity of goods on sale, and the quoted price of an item was usually about three times what it was finally sold for. On the left side of the road, between one line of shops and another, was a slum area. This is where Philip and Meenakshi had met often – the poor nature of the neighbourhood reduced the likelihood of being spotted by anybody they knew. Also, the hustle and bustle of the market allowed them to pass unnoticed, except by the children in the slum.
Philip walked down the first line of shops and turned left. Meenakshi was already there, leaning against a wall covered with garish film posters. She saw him, acknowleged him with a faint smile and continued looking down at the ground. Her posture, her expression, her movements, all spoke of resignation. Philip went up to her and she moved away imperceptibly. “Thanks for coming”, she said, continuing to look down at the ground. Philip didn’t know how to respond. “I wanted to tell you something important”, she continued, her voice quivering. “On Saturday, my father has arranged for a guy to come and meet me, with a view toward getting married. Father would dearly like me to marry him. So, I probably will. If not him, I will marry some other Brahmin boy. I can’t go against my father’s wishes.”, she paused for breath and tried to look up at Philip. For a brief instant, their eyes met, “Philip, we can’t see each other again”.
She turned and walked away. Philip saw her flagging down an auto-rickshaw, getting in and going away. He vividly felt a rush of blood to his head, throbbing at his temples. For a minute, he leant against the wall, then he sat down on a rock. A child from the slum was playing just next to him. A dog was eating some garbage to his left. Slowly, excrutiatingly, he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.
“It can’t be”, he thought. “did she say she never wants to see me again? How can that be possible? It simply can’t be”, he decided. “But it is true. She is going to marry a Brahmin boy.”, he realised. He felt like a gong had hit him in the head. His head reeled. He could hear a loud clanging in his ears. Deafening.
“What was there to live for now”, he thought desperately, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. He felt like he was in a vacuum, falling down, flailing for something to cling on to. “How can life go on? What life is there anymore?”. He sat there, collapsed against the wall till dark. Then, he made his way up, walking to his motor-bike. He mounted his bike and noticed his hands shaking violently. He dismounted and wheeled his motor-bike home.
******************
Meenakshi returned home at 6 pm. She went up to her room. She half-closed her door, switched off the light and sat on her bed with her back against the wall. She drew her legs close to her, hugging them close to her chest. She had exhausted her tears, she didn’t feel anything anymore. Aimlessly, she stared ahead. In this position, she stayed for close to five hours.
At 10:57 pm, Aishwarya called her on her mobile phone. Meenakshi picked it up. “Hi Meenakshi”, Aishwarya said cheerfully. “Hi”, responded Meenakshi in a dull monotone. “Listen Meenakshi, I called to ask what the matter is”, said Aishwarya. A pause. “You picked the right time to call”, murmered Meenakshi. “There isn’t a problem anymore. I can tell you everything”. Episode by episode, she narrated everything, Aishwarya listening avidly. “…and so today, I told him we can never see each other again”, she ended bravely. Talking about it had made her feel better. Aishwarya picked her words carefully. “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing. Your father’s wishes are definitely more important”, said Aishwarya. “Definitely”, responded Meenakshi. “I’m sure this Brahmin boy will take good care of you”, continued Aishwarya. “I’m sure he will”, replied Meenakshi. “…and you’ll live happily ever after!”, concluded Aishwarya cheerily. A long pause. “Meenakshi?”, called Aishwarya. “…but Aish, what about Philip?”, she burst out, her voice acquiring a controlled passion. “It is him that I love, him that is a part of me, him that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else even comes close. Don’t you understand?” Pause. “I do”, answered Aishwarya. “It’s no use talking about it now. You should go and sleep now, I’ll call tomorrow morning. Goodnight”. “Goodnight”, sighed Meenakshi, switching the phone off and collapsing into bed.
******************
It was past midnight and Dr. Narayan was pacing up and down the living room. “Could there be something to it?”, he kept muttering to himself, “could there actually be something to it?.”
Since Meenakshi had left her door half-open, he had inadvertently heard Meenakshi’s side of her conversation with Aishwarya. For the past 3 days, he had watched with concern at his daughter’s deteriorating physical appearance. She seemed distraught, torn; it pained him. But his will had held firm. He wasn’t going to change his plans. Until today. A phrase that Meenakshi had said kept echoing in his mind. “…it is him that I love”, she had said, “nobody else even comes close, don’t you understand?”. It had pierced him. There had been a seething, primal sincerity in her voice. For an instant, he had been able to see clearly the strength, the power, the beauty of her relationship with Philip. He didn’t know what to think of it, how to react to it.
Or had he just been carried away? Was it just the passion of infatuation as he had always suspected?
For many years, Dr. Narayan had been in control of life. For long, he had not questioned his paradigms, his beliefs, his assumptions – he had not had reason to. Now, he found himself groping, confused, for the first time in a long time. He found it uncomfortable, loathsome even – he didn’t like not knowing what to do. But, he knew he had to deal with it.
He loved his daughter dearly, she was his pride and joy. He only wanted what was best for her. He thought he knew what was best for her, but in this case, did he? Or did she know better?
“Could there be something to it?”, he muttered under his breath, “could there actually be something to it?.”
******************
Thursday
Chennai, India
Nervously, Philip put on a T-shirt and adjusted his jeans. Meenakshi had finally called. She had asked him to meet her at Burma Bazaar in George Town at 5:30 pm. He had been confused and alarmed by the abrupt, impatient tone of her voice. Something was definitely wrong, that much he knew. He put on his shoes and made his way downstairs and out of the door. Into his garage, onto his motorbike and away.
It was close to peak hour and traffic was heavy. He waited patiently and slowly crawled along toward George Town. He reached at 5:20 pm, dismounted his bike and made his way to their usual meeting place. Burma Bazaar was situated in one of the less affluent areas in Chennai and was a thriving market for smuggled electronic goods, CDs, watches and perfumes. The shops were mere stalls lined one against another, on either side of the road. Competition among shop-keepers was fierce because of the similarity of goods on sale, and the quoted price of an item was usually about three times what it was finally sold for. On the left side of the road, between one line of shops and another, was a slum area. This is where Philip and Meenakshi had met often – the poor nature of the neighbourhood reduced the likelihood of being spotted by anybody they knew. Also, the hustle and bustle of the market allowed them to pass unnoticed, except by the children in the slum.
Philip walked down the first line of shops and turned left. Meenakshi was already there, leaning against a wall covered with garish film posters. She saw him, acknowleged him with a faint smile and continued looking down at the ground. Her posture, her expression, her movements, all spoke of resignation. Philip went up to her and she moved away imperceptibly. “Thanks for coming”, she said, continuing to look down at the ground. Philip didn’t know how to respond. “I wanted to tell you something important”, she continued, her voice quivering. “On Saturday, my father has arranged for a guy to come and meet me, with a view toward getting married. Father would dearly like me to marry him. So, I probably will. If not him, I will marry some other Brahmin boy. I can’t go against my father’s wishes.”, she paused for breath and tried to look up at Philip. For a brief instant, their eyes met, “Philip, we can’t see each other again”.
She turned and walked away. Philip saw her flagging down an auto-rickshaw, getting in and going away. He vividly felt a rush of blood to his head, throbbing at his temples. For a minute, he leant against the wall, then he sat down on a rock. A child from the slum was playing just next to him. A dog was eating some garbage to his left. Slowly, excrutiatingly, he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.
“It can’t be”, he thought. “did she say she never wants to see me again? How can that be possible? It simply can’t be”, he decided. “But it is true. She is going to marry a Brahmin boy.”, he realised. He felt like a gong had hit him in the head. His head reeled. He could hear a loud clanging in his ears. Deafening.
“What was there to live for now”, he thought desperately, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. He felt like he was in a vacuum, falling down, flailing for something to cling on to. “How can life go on? What life is there anymore?”. He sat there, collapsed against the wall till dark. Then, he made his way up, walking to his motor-bike. He mounted his bike and noticed his hands shaking violently. He dismounted and wheeled his motor-bike home.
******************
Meenakshi returned home at 6 pm. She went up to her room. She half-closed her door, switched off the light and sat on her bed with her back against the wall. She drew her legs close to her, hugging them close to her chest. She had exhausted her tears, she didn’t feel anything anymore. Aimlessly, she stared ahead. In this position, she stayed for close to five hours.
At 10:57 pm, Aishwarya called her on her mobile phone. Meenakshi picked it up. “Hi Meenakshi”, Aishwarya said cheerfully. “Hi”, responded Meenakshi in a dull monotone. “Listen Meenakshi, I called to ask what the matter is”, said Aishwarya. A pause. “You picked the right time to call”, murmered Meenakshi. “There isn’t a problem anymore. I can tell you everything”. Episode by episode, she narrated everything, Aishwarya listening avidly. “…and so today, I told him we can never see each other again”, she ended bravely. Talking about it had made her feel better. Aishwarya picked her words carefully. “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing. Your father’s wishes are definitely more important”, said Aishwarya. “Definitely”, responded Meenakshi. “I’m sure this Brahmin boy will take good care of you”, continued Aishwarya. “I’m sure he will”, replied Meenakshi. “…and you’ll live happily ever after!”, concluded Aishwarya cheerily. A long pause. “Meenakshi?”, called Aishwarya. “…but Aish, what about Philip?”, she burst out, her voice acquiring a controlled passion. “It is him that I love, him that is a part of me, him that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else even comes close. Don’t you understand?” Pause. “I do”, answered Aishwarya. “It’s no use talking about it now. You should go and sleep now, I’ll call tomorrow morning. Goodnight”. “Goodnight”, sighed Meenakshi, switching the phone off and collapsing into bed.
******************
It was past midnight and Dr. Narayan was pacing up and down the living room. “Could there be something to it?”, he kept muttering to himself, “could there actually be something to it?.”
Since Meenakshi had left her door half-open, he had inadvertently heard Meenakshi’s side of her conversation with Aishwarya. For the past 3 days, he had watched with concern at his daughter’s deteriorating physical appearance. She seemed distraught, torn; it pained him. But his will had held firm. He wasn’t going to change his plans. Until today. A phrase that Meenakshi had said kept echoing in his mind. “…it is him that I love”, she had said, “nobody else even comes close, don’t you understand?”. It had pierced him. There had been a seething, primal sincerity in her voice. For an instant, he had been able to see clearly the strength, the power, the beauty of her relationship with Philip. He didn’t know what to think of it, how to react to it.
Or had he just been carried away? Was it just the passion of infatuation as he had always suspected?
For many years, Dr. Narayan had been in control of life. For long, he had not questioned his paradigms, his beliefs, his assumptions – he had not had reason to. Now, he found himself groping, confused, for the first time in a long time. He found it uncomfortable, loathsome even – he didn’t like not knowing what to do. But, he knew he had to deal with it.
He loved his daughter dearly, she was his pride and joy. He only wanted what was best for her. He thought he knew what was best for her, but in this case, did he? Or did she know better?
“Could there be something to it?”, he muttered under his breath, “could there actually be something to it?.”
******************
Tension (Part 5)
January 22nd, 2010
Friday
Chennai, India
On Friday 22nd January, Dr. Narayan made two phone calls. One phone call lasted 33 seconds. The other phone-call lasted 22 minutes and 33 seconds. He made the short phone-call after he made the long phone-call.
******************
Friday
Chennai, India
On Friday 22nd January, Dr. Narayan made two phone calls. One phone call lasted 33 seconds. The other phone-call lasted 22 minutes and 33 seconds. He made the short phone-call after he made the long phone-call.
******************
Tension (Part 6)
January 23rd, 2010
Saturday
Chennai, India
Meenakshi woke up and looked at the clock, yawning. 8 am. That boy Ramesh would be arriving at 10 am. She went and had a bath, came back and carefully tied a deep red saree. She plaited her hair and placed a bunch of malli-poo (jasmine flower) on it. Skilfully, she lined her eyes with eye-liner and placed a new pottu on her forehead. Looking at the mirror, she practised a smile.
At 9:30 am, she went out to have breakfast and was greeted by her father’s approving smile at her dress. As she was finishing her breakfast, at 9:55 am, she heard a motor-bike’s roar. “That must be Ramesh – how curious that he should come to see me in a motor-bike”, she thought. Cautiously, she got up and went to look out of the window.
There was a young man. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through it. Meenakshi squinted. Wait a minute. That wasn’t Ramesh. She was almost sure it was Philip. What was he doing here? “Oh my God, it is Philip!”, she thought fearfully as he walked up to the door beaming. Dr. Narayan opened the door and greeted Philip, asking him inside. Meenakshi was confused. Incredulously, she looked from Philip to her father and her father to Philip. Both of them were smiling widely.
“Meenakshi, this is the boy I want you to marry”, announced Dr. Narayan.
******************
Saturday
Chennai, India
Meenakshi woke up and looked at the clock, yawning. 8 am. That boy Ramesh would be arriving at 10 am. She went and had a bath, came back and carefully tied a deep red saree. She plaited her hair and placed a bunch of malli-poo (jasmine flower) on it. Skilfully, she lined her eyes with eye-liner and placed a new pottu on her forehead. Looking at the mirror, she practised a smile.
At 9:30 am, she went out to have breakfast and was greeted by her father’s approving smile at her dress. As she was finishing her breakfast, at 9:55 am, she heard a motor-bike’s roar. “That must be Ramesh – how curious that he should come to see me in a motor-bike”, she thought. Cautiously, she got up and went to look out of the window.
There was a young man. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through it. Meenakshi squinted. Wait a minute. That wasn’t Ramesh. She was almost sure it was Philip. What was he doing here? “Oh my God, it is Philip!”, she thought fearfully as he walked up to the door beaming. Dr. Narayan opened the door and greeted Philip, asking him inside. Meenakshi was confused. Incredulously, she looked from Philip to her father and her father to Philip. Both of them were smiling widely.
“Meenakshi, this is the boy I want you to marry”, announced Dr. Narayan.
******************
Saturday, 24 October 2009
2 days in Denmark
"buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz", the alarm on my mobile phone goes off..."buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"...I pick it up, switch off the alarm and look at the time...11am...good, that means I've slept for 4 hours for the second consecutive day...7 am is when I hit the sack last night (or this morning?)...I had been preparing my presentations for the tutorial I was giving at the Danish Neuroscience Center, Aarhus, Denmark on "advanced methods of EEG analysis"...I had prepared the outline on Sunday and expected to have prepared the presentations by Tuesday night...instead, I still had stuff to finish this morning, Wednesday, and I had a flight to catch at 7:45 pm ! I wake up, stretch myself, take my towel and go down to bathe...
come back up, change, go down and make myself a cereal-breakfast...I usually also have an orange juice if I'm running on time, but not today...get my Denmark clothes out, give it to the nearby ironing place and ask to have it ready by 2:30 pm...make my way to the University...I reach at 12 noon, Lizz is already in the office when I enter, she seems surprised to see me...I have about 3 hours to finish my work...any longer would put me in danger of missing my flight...start working...the brain is surprisingly fresh, the concepts clear, but progress is slow...as usual, I've underestimated the amount I had to do...I focus, trying to find a balance between quality and speed...the clock ticks past 3 pm, still work to do...no option but to finish it...4 pm and I finally finish...copy everything onto a memory stick, print out my boarding passes, check my passport is with me, say bye to Lizz and rush out...
pick up my clothes...the ironing guy rolls his eyes at my late-ness...get to the house, pack and call for a taxi...the taxi driver is a friend, we happily chat on the way and we reach the train station...byes and up the stairs, buy the ticket and get on the train to London...reach London at 5:30 pm, get to Liverpool Street by 6 pm and take the train to London Stansted...7:05 pm is the cut-off time to reach the baggage check-in at Stansted, I'm confident I'll reach in time...6:30 pm... 6:45 pm and the train stops at a station...well in time...not so soon ! it isn't Stansted yet, Stansted is two stations away!...the train starts again...for the first time, it dawns on me that I'm in serious danger of missing my flight...what would my supervisor say ?? will he ever fund me a trip again ?? will I be able to get a refund on my tickets ?? 6:55 pm, 7:00...the train pulls up...Stansted ! I run out, into the airport, into the departure lounge...all baggage check-in counters closed, except for one...I rush in and hand my baggage in, apologising...checked-in...I have 7 minutes to make it to the boarding gate...I run, without my bag this time, a small boy in front hears my rapid steps and alerts his Mom to get out of the way, the escalator is full, so I tear up the stairs...my gate is no. 44, there are 99 gates in all....7:10...up the stairs and down the gangway...gate 40, 42, 44...phew ! its 7:14 and people have already started queueing to get into the flight...I fall into line...
into the flight, first time I'm flying on one of these budget airlines...looks more comfortable than I expected...I get a window-seat...am joined by a Danish guy presently...written right across his T-shirt is, "God is great, give glory to Him"...no problems with starting a conversation...he's friendly, earnest and encourages me to go all out for God...we chat and I sleep..."We are now approaching Aarhus" declares the captain on the loud-speaker...get out, get my bag and go into the arrival lounge...there's my supervisor, Doug and there's his friend...how good of them to come receive me :)...not sure whether to shake hands with Doug or hug him, we shake hands...am introduced to Doug's friend, Prof. Sten Vikner from the Linguistics Department...take an instant liking to him...a gentle, smiling, lean, intelligent, cultured man...
we start the drive back...the steering wheel is on the left...conversation is about how Aarhus is the perennial younger brother to the capital, Copenhagen, in all matters...we reach the city and I peer out...yellow-brick buildings, wide clean roads, neatly lined with trees...the traffic moves slowly and orderly-ly...but its dark and I can't see much more...we reach my guest house, they show me to my room and leave...
the room has a large oval-window looking out into a larger part of Aarhus, the room is clean, comfortable, well-equipped and has that 'quality' feel to it...I make my bed and settle down to sleep, feeling fortunate for even having gotten this far...I'll have to wake up the next morning and mentally rehearse the first of my presentations...
"buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"...its 7:30 am, get into the bathroom and have trouble squeezing toothpaste out of my almost-empty toothpaste tube...am I going to have enough to last the next two days ? finish my stuff and come out...its 8:30...need to be downstairs by 9:15...the rehearsal doesn't take long and I feel confident about the presentation, in fact, more confident than I've ever felt...
get picked up by Doug and go to the Centre...classy centre...everything is new and everything is spacious, white and tasteful...what fun it must be to work here ! they even have a place that serves breakfast...go down and get breakfast...maaaaan, what a spread ! pastries galore and bacon and ham and some other unknown forms of meat...I take a little bit of everything, some yoghurt and some fruit juice...I'm usually at my most uninhibited in my first few moments in a new place, this was one of those times...one by one, I finish off the stuff....the best breakfast I've had in a long time :)
upstairs and to the seminar room where we're running the workshop...the people start filing in, 14 in all...different kinds...some Americans, some Mexicans, mostly Danish....Doug is on first, I'm doing the first session in the afternoon...Doug starts and in his own style, weaves a story of the brain, different scales of studying it, different methodologies for studying it, and why ERPs are a useful methodology...impressive stuff...I remember how much in awe I was when I first heard it...a master-class on ERPs, but also a master-class on how to construct a presentation...
we go down to lunch and I'm a bit tense...I'm on next...how's it going to go ?? finish lunch and head back up...I'm on...I feel the expectant eyes on me and I start...from initially being relaxed, my brain goes into mildly-agitated mode...thoughts in the head are not fuzzy but they're not clear either, the delivery is not mixed-up but its not clear and precise either...and the odd stutter happens...I talk fast, for some reason thinking I have less time than I do...and do not feel like I have my students 'with me'...the presentation is well-constructed and neat and I had prepared my delivery, so the general impression is fair, but this is not how I had intended it to go...I havn't properly managed to illumine the relevant concepts :(
I finish and try to sense the the general mood...decidedly neutral...Doug seems fairly happy but is he just faking it ? I have a chance to make amends tomorrow...tomorrow's are the really important presentations anyway...but I'm not a happy camper...
I attend a guest lecture in the Centre for Semiotics....the lecture was supposed to be on 'meaning', but the speaker decided at the last-minute, to change it to 'consciousness as it relates to cognition' ! only in academia...
interesting lecture, lots of speculative theories, lots of familiar ideas repackaged as new, but consciousness has been studied for so long that recycled ideas are inevitable...the speaker made a particularly interesting point that I hadn't thought of in that way...that just as the brain can be considered a network of lower-level networks, society can be viewed as a network of brains, just one level up in the hierarchy of networks...a whole new way of understanding collective intelligence...
the guest lecture finishes and we go out to dinner...Doug, Sten, Tomas (Sten's son), Ken,myself and two others...the restaurant is beautiful...the bricks on the walls visible, low music, dim lighting...the waiter comes up and suggests a two-course meal, full of French-sounding names, all delicious, we accept without hesitation...the food arrives...salmon, beef, venison, a dish that looks like pizza but tastes much better, delicious gravies...and that's just the first course ! we eat to our heart's content, comfortable conversation, and leave...
we come out onto the street...a cobbled street, the street lamps are elegantly designed and give off a warm yellow glow, at the end of the street is a tall Cathedral with two moss-green spires...on the left is the Arts Centre, people just going into it for the last performance of the day...a cyclist passes by...I feel the unmistakeable charm of a small European town...full of culture and taste, the people having known nothing but the highest standards of living and order and politeness and efficiency, a society which has figured out what it wants and has collectively achieved it...a rich, varied and healthy life...
I get dropped back to my guest-room and go to bed...decide to wake up early the next morning to give myself enough time to mentally rehearse the presentations...wake up, go to the bathroom and this time, the toothpaste tube does put up a fight...I decide to attack from the bottom...slowly and systematically, I push any paste from the bottom of the tube to the top, using my index fingers to hold the tube and my thumbs to push the paste up...success ! a blob falls out onto the toothbrush...what am I going to do tomorrow ??
come out and look at the presentation...today's presentation is a hard one, many difficult concepts to explain, I decide to just focus on talkly slowly and clearly...look at the time, its 9:30 am ! the presentation starts at 10:15 am and I have to get there myself today...I take the map and start out, reach the Centre about 9:55 am, but can't find the elusive entrance because it shares a building with the Hospital...20 minutes to go...I frantically search, asking people, but nobody seems to know....one of the Hospital watchmen points me to the hospital EEG facility...no!...its 10 am..."ahoy there !", I hear somebody call...its one of the students from yesterday, smiling at me :)...he can see I'm lost...he points me in the right direction and says he'll join me in a while...I go up and Doug is waiting for me worried, I hurriedly apologise, load my presentation and get ready, a little out of breath....
the students arrive and its time to start...Doug had finished his presentations yesterday, so its going to be me the whole day today...Doug hands me control of the lap-top...here goes...I start and start well...the breathing is slow and I'm able to relax, the thoughts are clear and the speech is precise and measured...I come to the difficult part of the presentation, slow down even more and invest effort into explaining it, I'm rewarded by the light of comprehension in quite a few eyes...they can see how the method works, how cool it is and what cool things they can do with it ! I can also feel Doug's approbation...I continue talking for 2 hours and we split for lunch...Doug comes up and tells me I did a 'good job' :)...yesss ! after lunch, the plan is to demonstrate conducting a real EEG experiment after which the plan is to demonstrate some data analysis...the EEG experiment goes smoothly and then, its onto the data analysis...we open up MATLAB, project it on the big screen and after getting over some hassles with importing the data, I do some MATLAB programming and analysis on the lap-top, while everything I'm typing and all the graphs I'm inspecting, are being watched by 14 pairs of eyes on the big-screen...thankfully, there are no slip-ups and the results of the analysis are decidedly impressive....I can feel the general mood of the audience turn from appreciation to admiration...we've impressed...
its 4 'o' clock, the end of the workshop, Doug gives some closing comments...and then, we get a spontaneous round of applause...it was spontaneous because it started simultaneously and went on for longer than it would have, if it was polite applause...Doug and I look at each other and smile :)
students come up and tell us how much they enjoyed the workshop, and Doug, me and Ken chat about the past two days and other things...I'm quite talkative, mainly from the pressure release and the satisfaction of having done something well...it makes suchhhh a difference...we go to Sten's office and decide to go shopping, then dinner and head home...
we visit a mall...I buy a key-ring for a friend and a top for my sister...and find a Chinese restaurant to eat at...an all-you-can-eat-buffet...conversation is relaxed...Sten and Doug have known each since their PhD days at MIT 22 years ago...they tease each other, pull each other's legs and argue about linguistic anomalies...beneath all this banter, it is also easy to sense the mutual respect and affection of a genuine friendship...when I'm their age, those are the kind of friendships I want to have built up...
I get dropped off at home in a decidedly euphoric mood...the workshop has gone well, my supervisor is happy with me, some of the students in the Centre want to collaborate with us because of our analysis expertise...a couple in the guest-room next to mine are having a shouting match but it hardly makes a difference to my frame-of-mind :)...I pick up the Bible and turn to a page randomly...
Psalm 128
A song of ascents.
1 Blessed are all who fear the LORD, who walk in his ways.
2 You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours.
3 Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your sons will be like olive shoots around your table.
4 Thus is the man blessed who fears the LORD.
5 May the LORD bless you from Zion all the days of your life; may you see the prosperity of Jerusalem,
6 and may you live to see your children's children. Peace be upon Israel.
I'm not one for dramatic Biblical moments...I like to think of myself as relying more on the God-instituted means of hard-work and perseverance rather than relying on his miraculous intervention in my life on a daily basis...but in this case, I did feel like I had turned onto a page that was meant for me to read...and felt that God was simply saying that, as long as I fear Him and walk in His ways, everything will be fine :)...family life, professional life, everything...but only if I fear Him and walk in His ways
I read a bit of Discovery of India by Jawaharlal Nehru, and go to sleep...wake up the next morning...we're leaving at 1:30 and they're picking me up at 11 am... go to the bathroom and its time for the final battle in the toothpaste war...I roll up my sleeves, look hard at the tube, and start pushing paste upwards from the bottom...no result...could it be that there is absolutely no paste left in the tube ? and could it be that I will have to travel today without brushing my teeth ? it wouldn't be a first, I have visited the House of Commons without brushing my teeth...I decide on a different strategy...I fold the tube along its longitudinal axis, and push the paste upward...Hercules couldn't have expended more energy when he was holding the earth above his shoulders....then, I hold the neck of the tube like a syringe and try to squirt the paste out...a bit of paste bobs its head out and bobs back into the tube...hope ! ...I place the toothbrush directly below and squirt hard again....a massive blob comes and lands on the brush...at Aarhus, Denmark, I gave a tutorial on EEG analysis for 2 days and coaxed toothpaste out of an empty tube for 3 days :)
I finish and come out...pack up, eat the grapes Doug bought me for breakfast, clean the room and go out to wait for Doug and Sten...they arrive presently and we begin the drive to the airport...Doug and Sten in the front, chatting away happily, me in the back, listening to them and also looking at the beautiful bright autumn colours of the leaves...we enter the countryside and I start reflecting on the trip...what have I learnt ? on a professional level, I've learnt how important it is to talk slowly and clearly while giving presentations....on a personal level, I've learnt a lot about how to conduct genuine relationships and live enjoyable middle-class lives, by watching Doug and Sten....on a spiritual level, I've learnt that it is the most important thing to fear God and do what is right in His eyes, and everything else will fall into place...just as they always have.
Amen.
come back up, change, go down and make myself a cereal-breakfast...I usually also have an orange juice if I'm running on time, but not today...get my Denmark clothes out, give it to the nearby ironing place and ask to have it ready by 2:30 pm...make my way to the University...I reach at 12 noon, Lizz is already in the office when I enter, she seems surprised to see me...I have about 3 hours to finish my work...any longer would put me in danger of missing my flight...start working...the brain is surprisingly fresh, the concepts clear, but progress is slow...as usual, I've underestimated the amount I had to do...I focus, trying to find a balance between quality and speed...the clock ticks past 3 pm, still work to do...no option but to finish it...4 pm and I finally finish...copy everything onto a memory stick, print out my boarding passes, check my passport is with me, say bye to Lizz and rush out...
pick up my clothes...the ironing guy rolls his eyes at my late-ness...get to the house, pack and call for a taxi...the taxi driver is a friend, we happily chat on the way and we reach the train station...byes and up the stairs, buy the ticket and get on the train to London...reach London at 5:30 pm, get to Liverpool Street by 6 pm and take the train to London Stansted...7:05 pm is the cut-off time to reach the baggage check-in at Stansted, I'm confident I'll reach in time...6:30 pm... 6:45 pm and the train stops at a station...well in time...not so soon ! it isn't Stansted yet, Stansted is two stations away!...the train starts again...for the first time, it dawns on me that I'm in serious danger of missing my flight...what would my supervisor say ?? will he ever fund me a trip again ?? will I be able to get a refund on my tickets ?? 6:55 pm, 7:00...the train pulls up...Stansted ! I run out, into the airport, into the departure lounge...all baggage check-in counters closed, except for one...I rush in and hand my baggage in, apologising...checked-in...I have 7 minutes to make it to the boarding gate...I run, without my bag this time, a small boy in front hears my rapid steps and alerts his Mom to get out of the way, the escalator is full, so I tear up the stairs...my gate is no. 44, there are 99 gates in all....7:10...up the stairs and down the gangway...gate 40, 42, 44...phew ! its 7:14 and people have already started queueing to get into the flight...I fall into line...
into the flight, first time I'm flying on one of these budget airlines...looks more comfortable than I expected...I get a window-seat...am joined by a Danish guy presently...written right across his T-shirt is, "God is great, give glory to Him"...no problems with starting a conversation...he's friendly, earnest and encourages me to go all out for God...we chat and I sleep..."We are now approaching Aarhus" declares the captain on the loud-speaker...get out, get my bag and go into the arrival lounge...there's my supervisor, Doug and there's his friend...how good of them to come receive me :)...not sure whether to shake hands with Doug or hug him, we shake hands...am introduced to Doug's friend, Prof. Sten Vikner from the Linguistics Department...take an instant liking to him...a gentle, smiling, lean, intelligent, cultured man...
we start the drive back...the steering wheel is on the left...conversation is about how Aarhus is the perennial younger brother to the capital, Copenhagen, in all matters...we reach the city and I peer out...yellow-brick buildings, wide clean roads, neatly lined with trees...the traffic moves slowly and orderly-ly...but its dark and I can't see much more...we reach my guest house, they show me to my room and leave...
the room has a large oval-window looking out into a larger part of Aarhus, the room is clean, comfortable, well-equipped and has that 'quality' feel to it...I make my bed and settle down to sleep, feeling fortunate for even having gotten this far...I'll have to wake up the next morning and mentally rehearse the first of my presentations...
"buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"...its 7:30 am, get into the bathroom and have trouble squeezing toothpaste out of my almost-empty toothpaste tube...am I going to have enough to last the next two days ? finish my stuff and come out...its 8:30...need to be downstairs by 9:15...the rehearsal doesn't take long and I feel confident about the presentation, in fact, more confident than I've ever felt...
get picked up by Doug and go to the Centre...classy centre...everything is new and everything is spacious, white and tasteful...what fun it must be to work here ! they even have a place that serves breakfast...go down and get breakfast...maaaaan, what a spread ! pastries galore and bacon and ham and some other unknown forms of meat...I take a little bit of everything, some yoghurt and some fruit juice...I'm usually at my most uninhibited in my first few moments in a new place, this was one of those times...one by one, I finish off the stuff....the best breakfast I've had in a long time :)
upstairs and to the seminar room where we're running the workshop...the people start filing in, 14 in all...different kinds...some Americans, some Mexicans, mostly Danish....Doug is on first, I'm doing the first session in the afternoon...Doug starts and in his own style, weaves a story of the brain, different scales of studying it, different methodologies for studying it, and why ERPs are a useful methodology...impressive stuff...I remember how much in awe I was when I first heard it...a master-class on ERPs, but also a master-class on how to construct a presentation...
we go down to lunch and I'm a bit tense...I'm on next...how's it going to go ?? finish lunch and head back up...I'm on...I feel the expectant eyes on me and I start...from initially being relaxed, my brain goes into mildly-agitated mode...thoughts in the head are not fuzzy but they're not clear either, the delivery is not mixed-up but its not clear and precise either...and the odd stutter happens...I talk fast, for some reason thinking I have less time than I do...and do not feel like I have my students 'with me'...the presentation is well-constructed and neat and I had prepared my delivery, so the general impression is fair, but this is not how I had intended it to go...I havn't properly managed to illumine the relevant concepts :(
I finish and try to sense the the general mood...decidedly neutral...Doug seems fairly happy but is he just faking it ? I have a chance to make amends tomorrow...tomorrow's are the really important presentations anyway...but I'm not a happy camper...
I attend a guest lecture in the Centre for Semiotics....the lecture was supposed to be on 'meaning', but the speaker decided at the last-minute, to change it to 'consciousness as it relates to cognition' ! only in academia...
interesting lecture, lots of speculative theories, lots of familiar ideas repackaged as new, but consciousness has been studied for so long that recycled ideas are inevitable...the speaker made a particularly interesting point that I hadn't thought of in that way...that just as the brain can be considered a network of lower-level networks, society can be viewed as a network of brains, just one level up in the hierarchy of networks...a whole new way of understanding collective intelligence...
the guest lecture finishes and we go out to dinner...Doug, Sten, Tomas (Sten's son), Ken,myself and two others...the restaurant is beautiful...the bricks on the walls visible, low music, dim lighting...the waiter comes up and suggests a two-course meal, full of French-sounding names, all delicious, we accept without hesitation...the food arrives...salmon, beef, venison, a dish that looks like pizza but tastes much better, delicious gravies...and that's just the first course ! we eat to our heart's content, comfortable conversation, and leave...
we come out onto the street...a cobbled street, the street lamps are elegantly designed and give off a warm yellow glow, at the end of the street is a tall Cathedral with two moss-green spires...on the left is the Arts Centre, people just going into it for the last performance of the day...a cyclist passes by...I feel the unmistakeable charm of a small European town...full of culture and taste, the people having known nothing but the highest standards of living and order and politeness and efficiency, a society which has figured out what it wants and has collectively achieved it...a rich, varied and healthy life...
I get dropped back to my guest-room and go to bed...decide to wake up early the next morning to give myself enough time to mentally rehearse the presentations...wake up, go to the bathroom and this time, the toothpaste tube does put up a fight...I decide to attack from the bottom...slowly and systematically, I push any paste from the bottom of the tube to the top, using my index fingers to hold the tube and my thumbs to push the paste up...success ! a blob falls out onto the toothbrush...what am I going to do tomorrow ??
come out and look at the presentation...today's presentation is a hard one, many difficult concepts to explain, I decide to just focus on talkly slowly and clearly...look at the time, its 9:30 am ! the presentation starts at 10:15 am and I have to get there myself today...I take the map and start out, reach the Centre about 9:55 am, but can't find the elusive entrance because it shares a building with the Hospital...20 minutes to go...I frantically search, asking people, but nobody seems to know....one of the Hospital watchmen points me to the hospital EEG facility...no!...its 10 am..."ahoy there !", I hear somebody call...its one of the students from yesterday, smiling at me :)...he can see I'm lost...he points me in the right direction and says he'll join me in a while...I go up and Doug is waiting for me worried, I hurriedly apologise, load my presentation and get ready, a little out of breath....
the students arrive and its time to start...Doug had finished his presentations yesterday, so its going to be me the whole day today...Doug hands me control of the lap-top...here goes...I start and start well...the breathing is slow and I'm able to relax, the thoughts are clear and the speech is precise and measured...I come to the difficult part of the presentation, slow down even more and invest effort into explaining it, I'm rewarded by the light of comprehension in quite a few eyes...they can see how the method works, how cool it is and what cool things they can do with it ! I can also feel Doug's approbation...I continue talking for 2 hours and we split for lunch...Doug comes up and tells me I did a 'good job' :)...yesss ! after lunch, the plan is to demonstrate conducting a real EEG experiment after which the plan is to demonstrate some data analysis...the EEG experiment goes smoothly and then, its onto the data analysis...we open up MATLAB, project it on the big screen and after getting over some hassles with importing the data, I do some MATLAB programming and analysis on the lap-top, while everything I'm typing and all the graphs I'm inspecting, are being watched by 14 pairs of eyes on the big-screen...thankfully, there are no slip-ups and the results of the analysis are decidedly impressive....I can feel the general mood of the audience turn from appreciation to admiration...we've impressed...
its 4 'o' clock, the end of the workshop, Doug gives some closing comments...and then, we get a spontaneous round of applause...it was spontaneous because it started simultaneously and went on for longer than it would have, if it was polite applause...Doug and I look at each other and smile :)
students come up and tell us how much they enjoyed the workshop, and Doug, me and Ken chat about the past two days and other things...I'm quite talkative, mainly from the pressure release and the satisfaction of having done something well...it makes suchhhh a difference...we go to Sten's office and decide to go shopping, then dinner and head home...
we visit a mall...I buy a key-ring for a friend and a top for my sister...and find a Chinese restaurant to eat at...an all-you-can-eat-buffet...conversation is relaxed...Sten and Doug have known each since their PhD days at MIT 22 years ago...they tease each other, pull each other's legs and argue about linguistic anomalies...beneath all this banter, it is also easy to sense the mutual respect and affection of a genuine friendship...when I'm their age, those are the kind of friendships I want to have built up...
I get dropped off at home in a decidedly euphoric mood...the workshop has gone well, my supervisor is happy with me, some of the students in the Centre want to collaborate with us because of our analysis expertise...a couple in the guest-room next to mine are having a shouting match but it hardly makes a difference to my frame-of-mind :)...I pick up the Bible and turn to a page randomly...
Psalm 128
A song of ascents.
1 Blessed are all who fear the LORD, who walk in his ways.
2 You will eat the fruit of your labor; blessings and prosperity will be yours.
3 Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your sons will be like olive shoots around your table.
4 Thus is the man blessed who fears the LORD.
5 May the LORD bless you from Zion all the days of your life; may you see the prosperity of Jerusalem,
6 and may you live to see your children's children. Peace be upon Israel.
I'm not one for dramatic Biblical moments...I like to think of myself as relying more on the God-instituted means of hard-work and perseverance rather than relying on his miraculous intervention in my life on a daily basis...but in this case, I did feel like I had turned onto a page that was meant for me to read...and felt that God was simply saying that, as long as I fear Him and walk in His ways, everything will be fine :)...family life, professional life, everything...but only if I fear Him and walk in His ways
I read a bit of Discovery of India by Jawaharlal Nehru, and go to sleep...wake up the next morning...we're leaving at 1:30 and they're picking me up at 11 am... go to the bathroom and its time for the final battle in the toothpaste war...I roll up my sleeves, look hard at the tube, and start pushing paste upwards from the bottom...no result...could it be that there is absolutely no paste left in the tube ? and could it be that I will have to travel today without brushing my teeth ? it wouldn't be a first, I have visited the House of Commons without brushing my teeth...I decide on a different strategy...I fold the tube along its longitudinal axis, and push the paste upward...Hercules couldn't have expended more energy when he was holding the earth above his shoulders....then, I hold the neck of the tube like a syringe and try to squirt the paste out...a bit of paste bobs its head out and bobs back into the tube...hope ! ...I place the toothbrush directly below and squirt hard again....a massive blob comes and lands on the brush...at Aarhus, Denmark, I gave a tutorial on EEG analysis for 2 days and coaxed toothpaste out of an empty tube for 3 days :)
I finish and come out...pack up, eat the grapes Doug bought me for breakfast, clean the room and go out to wait for Doug and Sten...they arrive presently and we begin the drive to the airport...Doug and Sten in the front, chatting away happily, me in the back, listening to them and also looking at the beautiful bright autumn colours of the leaves...we enter the countryside and I start reflecting on the trip...what have I learnt ? on a professional level, I've learnt how important it is to talk slowly and clearly while giving presentations....on a personal level, I've learnt a lot about how to conduct genuine relationships and live enjoyable middle-class lives, by watching Doug and Sten....on a spiritual level, I've learnt that it is the most important thing to fear God and do what is right in His eyes, and everything else will fall into place...just as they always have.
Amen.
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