Deadlines

I recently came across this picture on Facebook and let out a loud gasp. What a perfect way of depiction, I thought!

Deadline. One of the nastiest words ever invented and the most-frequently-used word I have come across in the last two years of my PhD life. From paper submissions to conference registrations, from assignment correction to course enrollment, this one word has been the be-all-and-end all of my existance. No wonder the office wall (now and forever) overflows with deadline notices, twenty notifications on the notice board stare back, conversations with colleagues almost always revolve around it, and I question myself for the umpteenth time what made me lose my sanity and decide to go into research!

When I started my PhD, two things amazed me to no extent. The #1 was seeing people talking about work and more work during lunch, dinner meets, social gatherings, parties, football matches, concerts and what not. I often wondered if they were crazy nerds whose lives always revolved around work and therefore they had nothing else to talk about or if they really enjoyed talking about work. The #2 was finding people never even caring about those well defined '9-6' office hours and sitting in their offices almost the entire day. Again, I thought of the same two reasons as I did for the first observation. People would often tell me that I would never know when I would start doing the same, and it'd made me laugh. After being in research for almost two years, I now know how absolutely right they were and how ignorant I was. Also, I have realized that there exists a third reason that surpasses the first two in terms of importance- the inability to abide by deadlines, and therefore compelled to #1 and #2.

From my experience, the entire before and after process of 'please-submit/register-by-#date-midnight' has been pretty simple and patterned. Ten days before the deadline, you are as relaxed as a multimillionaire cruising the Atlantic with beer in one hand and a gorgeous woman on the other. Five days before, you are as relaxed as an on-budget traveler traveling across Europe while calculating the daily expenses every minute. One day before, you are as relaxed as a minister the night before the election. You forget to eat, miss phone calls, check the watch every two seconds and panic every second while hoping against hope that everything will work out. You see the office lights of colleagues switched on till almost midnight (and ofcourse also your own), you hear the brewing sound of the coffee machine at wee hours, you get Skype messages from other ill-fated PhD students about why one should never do a PhD, you realize your heart rate going sky-high ten minutes before midnight, you curse yourself for wasting so much time during the day/week/month/year, you swear to God to finish pending work a week before the deadline from next time, and when nothing works, you cry in frustration. Then, if magically you somehow manage to submit/register before the deadline, you feel a strange calmness caressing you and paralyzing you for the next thirty days, until the next deadline arrives. And the process starts all over again.

When Ma used to lecture me on my inability to be disciplined and be on-time, I would always tell her that these things would normalize automatically when I grow up, claiming as if being older and wiser were correlated with being disciplined. Now when I see myself braving those innumerable panic attacks as I did a decade ago, albeit now on a bigger scale, I tell myself that these things would normalize automatically when I would really grow up, always knowing in my heart that one grows up by choice, and not by chance!

Kicker-ed!

When introduced to Kicker (the German name for table-Football) a couple of years ago, I knew I would be disappointed. It was quite an obvious inference given the fact that I found Football to be the ever-most boring game on earth and was often considered a 'let-down' by my Football-fanatic family. After coming to Germany, I figured that Football (or Fußball in German) here was almost synonymous to religion and there wasn't a single person who shared my opinion. So, as a perfect newcomer desperate to please the hosts, I feigned interest for as long as I could, while being absolutely clueless and uninterested in the game itself.

Then one day, God decided to punish me! We were at a farewell party of a colleague at a night-club and there was this huge colorful table in the middle of the room. To be honest, I was pretty impressed by the sight, but still had no clue about what it was. A couple of friends saw me ogling the table, misread my (poker-faced) expressions and decided to introduce me to Kicker. I was devastated when I learnt that it was a mini version of the game I hated most, but decided to play along. Thankfully, I have not regretted the decision ever since.

It is one of the most interesting table games I have ever played. Ideally, it is a 4-person game, two in each team,and the team that scores the maximum number of goals, wins. As one can see in the picture, each player has to use the figures to move the ball, and there are again a set of rules about how to use these figures. In general, the rules are pretty understandable and very much like real Football. When I first started playing, I loathed it with all my heart. Maybe I was way too biased and told myself that anything associated with Football was not for me. But then, without even realizing, I fell in love with it. I realized that it was not, afterall, about players trying just to put a ball in the goal. It was, infact, much more than that! I started learning the nuances of the game, found myself watching Kicker videos on YouTube, and most importantly, respecting the larger version for the first time in life. (Not to mention that the love was fueled by people telling me that I was quite a 'natural' at the game!) ;-)

Long story short, I now consider myself a Kicker-enthusiast who can't wait to lay her hands on the miniature figures whenever she is at a Kicker-party. Agreed, that I play surprisingly well only when under the spell of alcohol, but I do believe that I enjoy it to the fullest even without alcohol! Friends tell me that I become hyper-energetic when I play, shouting and screaming at the misses, overjoyed at the goals and I realize that, in the end, Football and I may not be at loggerheads afterall! :-)

The third eye

I have known her for ages; when we were still wearing pleated uniforms, tied our hair in braids on two sides, when men still hadn't made an entry into our conversations, when it was all about being naive and dreamy-eyed. I have known her since then. She always came across as a fun (and overweight, if I were to mention her statistics) girl, a girl who talked incessantly, was always up for some mischief, good at studies although she claimed she hardly ever studied which I never believed, had a great interest in drawing which was pretty evident from our Biology or Geography assignments, and who was someone whom I considered a very close friend. We both were in the same section for most part of our school lives, which was the third most important reason for our closeness, the first being our mutual hatred for our Bengali teacher and the second being our mutual love for food. After finishing school, we went our separate ways but still managed pretty much to stay in touch. We made sure to meet atleast once every six months, over fried chicken legs, icecream, gossip and those never-ending discussions on our infinite crushes! We hardly every discussed about the men in our lives, which was strange given that we were pretty good friends and talked about almost everything. 

Then one day she told me that she was dating a guy from college since the past two years. It wasn't surprising, given that she always had been very friendly and quite interactive with guys. It seemed they were very much in love, and were quite serious about each other. Once, I also met the guy. He seemed decent enough, skinny, but a super-chyangra like her! The entire time that we three were there, they pulled each others legs, fought like kids, made fun of each other and laughed and laughed. What a perfect match, I had thought! Then we both got busy with our lives, studies, future plans and met less often. However, we still managed to know what's going on in each others' lives. I was by then nursing a broken heart and trying to finish my studies, and she was preparing to go abroad for her higher studies. The guy I mentioned was also studying somewhere outside the city and was also planning to go abroad. The next time I met her, the guy had already gone abroad and she was still in the city, working. She looked sad, but full of energy, as always and we talked about heartbreaks, long distance relationship, old friends and food! Ten years, and how much our conversations had changed! She told me about the arguments and fights she was having, and I tried to offer suggestions and opinions, always realizing how much she still was in love. We started going out more often, with other friends and acquaintances. She had by then made many new friends and I too, although this was never a concern for either of us. I got to know some of her friends, a guy friend in particular, whom she was very close to and whom I was later introduced to as well. He was supposedly her FPG and someone she considered her best friend, her sink. Seldom had I seen such friendship, such compatibility, such closeness. How jealous I was!

She went abroad a few months later, and I started working in a new city. This time our conversation had one more thing in common- the pain of staying away from home. During those conversations, I got to know a lot more about her life than I did before. She was in a mess, as far as her personal life was concerned. I tried to offer suggestions, opinions, comfort, sympathy, but nothing seemed to work. I blamed her for not listening to my earlier suggestions, for not realizing the subtle changes in relationships and for keeping too high expectations. But then she always had been a head-strong girl, who believed in learning a lesson on her own than on advice. We talked on and off, her mood always fluctuating like sine waves, and my mood always stuck at being pathetic for own reasons. And then, all of a sudden, we grew up. We stopped complaining, accepted things more easily and learnt to be happy in small accomplishments. In a matter of months, I was talking about my new-found love in a new man and she was talking about her new-found love in her old man. We felt happier, calmer, lighter.

So much has changed since then; our lives, our priorities, our dreams, our conversations, everything. Through her, I have realized many emotions, shortcomings and characteristics in me I never knew existed. In teaching her small nuances of life and to let go of her fears, I have taught myself to let go of my fears. I feel happy atlast, for myself, for her, and for the biggest lesson life taught us!

Left behind

Thirty-five days. A presence. A house that so quickly turned into home. Nights that were no longer lonely. Mornings that were filled with conversations. Days that were blissful. Memories galore. Happiness that knew no bounds. And then they left.

An agonizing night followed. A painful week awaits. The room smells of them, the kitchen smells of her excessive use of 'panch foron', the bathroom smells of his body-oil and my eyes swell with tears.

Jena is never going to be the same anymore. I hear voices when I get up in the morning, expect a cup of coffee beside my bed-side table, that oh-so-familiar-female-voice asking what I would like to have for breakfast, to switch onto a Bengali channel on YouTube, or that I should start eating properly; that oh-so-familiar-male-voice asking me to work harder and waste less time, to help connect the long-distance calls or the borrowed TV. Every thing reminds me of them. The air-bed, the utensils, the refrigerator which still has left-overs from yesterday, the towels in the bathroom, the balcony, the perfectly-cleaned wardrobe, the stack of medicines, the ear-buds, the TV, the supermarkets, the ticket machine in the bus, city-center, the narrow lanes, the innumerable shops that were browsed through, cafes and what not. I search for familiar faces in the crowd at the market-place when I take the bus. I almost ring the bell at home and await a smiling face on the other side. I turn on one side in bed and try to cuddle her. I put on the ear-buds to get respite from his loud snoring. But there's nothing, only emptiness. That's how I feel too.

Being left behind hurts, it hurts big time. I thought I was familiar with the feeling. But I realized that it is impossible to be familiarized with loneliness. I complained to anyone who would listen that I was being pampered like hell, even spoiled for that matter. I now wish I was spoiled for one more day, just one more day. I wish I could see them, touch them, smell them, be angry at them and bask in their happiness for one more day. Pangs! Pangs that refuse to leave me alone.

The only solace, is that I have been able to plan and more importantly execute a vacation for them. Nothing has given me more satisfation than to have shown them around, bits and pieces of Europe, suggesting the local cuisines and drinks, taking long walks and river-cruise rides, explaining extensive details about each place, and, living a dream with them. What more can one ask for. 

I desperately try to get back to old routines, ignore the occassional lumps in the throat and do justice to the innumerable attempts made to cheer me up. I tell myself that it's just a matter of half a year until I see them again. Half a year, it seems like ages. I wait.

Of places and people

'Traveling'. A word I was introduced to long before I could properly speak (I made my first trip when I was a toddler, and had a brother who still hadn't seen the light of the world at that time). I remember nothing about that trip; except that it was in Nainital, we went there with thousand other relatives who adored me and never let me down from their laps and that somehow I was made to believe that if I did not sleep, a certain 'Hirimba' would come down from those dark mountains and eat me or take me away with her! Till date, my relatives laugh about what effect that mere sentence used to have on me :D That was my first trip ever, with which I was introduced to a world I now consider a major part of my growing up. I have been to innumerable trips since then, having been blessed with a father who loved to travel and a mother who was equally enthusiastic. Somehow they made me believe that traveling is as essential as eating and sleeping, and that it should be counted as one of the basic requirements for survival. Maybe this is the reason why I have grown into a travel-fanatic (if at all there is such a word for people who love to travel to death) and consider this a major constituent of my happiness index!

I am sure there are million other people in the world who think like me on this particular aspect, maybe million times more passionate than me, people who have spent all their lives exploring places, knowing people, learning new things everyday and living a life I envy. But, that has not let me feel any less content with my own life and experiences. I have traveled extensively, covered many places in India, in a couple of neighbouring countries and in Europe. Some I don't remember anymore, some I remember partially, for some I remember certain incidents and for some I remember almost everything. However, even though I no longer remember details of all places I have traveled to, I can for sure remember which places had/have impressed me the most. Now when I look back, I realize that all these places had only one thing in common- they breathed!

I went to Rajasthan for the first time when I was a kid, a mere 8-9 years old. I remember nothing from that trip, which maybe was the sole reason why baba decided to take us to Rajasthan again ten years later. I fell in love with the place the moment I set foot in Jaipur, and the love hasn't reduced an inch since then. I loved everything about it, the super enthusiastic people who chewed paan (and spitted on the road :() all the time, the funny accents of the locals, the rustic touch that is so very unique, the rajasthani music that we often heard from our rooms, the hot sands that burned our feet in Jaisalmer, the frightening camel rides, the setting sun across the yellow sands, the thali that we gorged on each night, the lassi and home-made desserts and the warmth of the people. The place breathed, of colors and life.

While Rajasthan is an exception, my first love has always been the mountains and places that are in the mountains. So be it the Himalayas, and subsequently, places like Mussorie (ah, it was heaven), Kullu, Manali, Shimla, Shillong, Gangtok, Kalimpong, Darjeeling (another of my all time favorite places, very typical Bengali I think :P), Kedarnath-Badrinath (these two need a post of their own), some parts in Southern India somewhere around Kanyakumari, or in Nepal or Bhutan, like Pokhra and Kathmandu, or the Swiss Alps, in Interlaken and Geneva, or those small mountains adorning parts of central France, like in Annecy. While some of these places have carved a permanent place in my heart with their beauty, some have made me realize that I no longer need to see Paradise. Manali-Mussorie was one such. Annecy was one such. Interlaken was one such. Agreed, all these places had disappointed me with their ever-changing weather, all my plans of taking in their beauties in perfectly sunny/less windy/less cold (as applicable) weather were destroyed, thereby making me feel that mountains and myself can never be a happy couple. However, inspite of our constant disagreements, these places have made me fall in love with them. The reason for this blind love? Simply that paradise, even when wrapped in a blanket of fog, dark clouds, rain and gloominess, still remains a paradise. One just needs a different pair of eyes (and the right companions) to see and feel it. Once done, the small little cottages on the hills even on a gloomy afternoon are found to have a life of their own :)

However, what has impressed me beyond words from my most recent trips has been the hospitality and warmth the locals have embraced us with! Wikipedia gives you every little detail about a particular place, from itinerary to food to lodging to safety, to what not. However, it doesn't tell you about the people; people who despite language barriers, welcome you to their land with so much love and affection. Who says that the world is a selfish place and that there is no hope for humanity? While most of it is true, it is far from being the ultimate truth. Places do breathe; they smell too. They smell of happiness, of colors, and, of goodness of people. This realization I have brought back with myself, along with the innumerable memories and a hope that many more of such wonderful experiences await me :) 

**This post has been written for the I AM EXPLORER contest hosted by IndiBlogger**

Thoughts

Day 1: 

A hot summer afternoon, plenty of sunshine, noises coming from the construction work going on outside and the strong smell of molten pitch. Perfect day to sit in a cool cafe and have a chilled ice-coffee. Instead, forced to sit in the office, without a cooler or even a fan and, worse, to work on course assignments. While the subconscious mind wanders to unchartered territory, the conscious part tries hard to concentrate on the work at hand, and fails. The thoughts vary from what-am-i-doing-with-my-life to how-does-my-future-look, from i-feel-lonely-and-depressed to i-feel-loved-and-cared-for, from nothing-seems-to-work to everything-is-perfect and so on. The human mind! 

Day 2:

Smell of molten pitch replaced by the smell of rain, torrential downpour, sight of everything getting drenched, black clouds hovering overhead, a big cup of cappuccino in front, and thoughts running wild. Strangely, the thoughts are distinctively different from Day 1. All complicated, feeling-lost thoughts gone, and replaced by a strong feeling of satisfaction, content, happiness. Also, deeper concentration on the work at hand. Is it the rain? The smell of rain? The cool refreshing breeze caressing the face? The rainbow that has just appeared? Who knows :) Ah the human mind!

Two different scenarios, two different thought processes and a sole realization that human mind is the ever-most complicated thing in the universe; and controlling it, the second most :(

Conversations

When asked to define happiness, one could think of a lot of things. Good health, prosperity, satisfactory personal and professional relationships, fulfillment of basic expectations and needs and so on. However, I define happiness a bit differently. Ofcourse the above mentioned things are absolutely necessary to be happy, but I find happiness in smaller, more simpler things. One is, for example, good food. As already mentioned in one of my last posts, I am a food fanatic and proudly so. Food, and necessarily good food, gives me immense happiness and satisfaction beyond words. The mere thought of indulging in yummy cheeses (for the information, I now know the names of all famous cheeses in the world :D), mouth-watering desserts, chocolate fudges, brownies and cookies gives me goosebumps (well, almost). Another would be traveling- getting to see new places, knowing new cultures, new living habits, feeling lost in a web of unknown languages and accents but still enjoying every bit of it, and meeting interesting people. One more thing that has recently found its way into my happiness-index is taking pictures. I never thought I would be so much interested in photography, but strangely I now see myself enjoying taking pictures and dreaming of buying a DSLR someday :) Later when I go through these pictures (the same also applies to old albums, old G-talk chats, emails and letters) and try to remember the exact moments, I get a feeling that there isn't anything more blissful than this!

However, an important constituent of my happiness-index has still not been mentioned so far, which was practically the reason why I started writing this post in the first place. In the last few days, there hasn't been anyone who has not told me that I look happy.  Added to that, I also feel a strange energy in my voice which was distinctively absent in the last few months. I don't remember when was the last time I looked, or felt, relaxed and less irritated. This is actually a far cry from what I feel and look on most days- tired, or sleepy, or over-worked. I have tried to think of reasons; maybe the lower workload now that I have postponed my yearly presentation, maybe I feel rejuvenated and motivated after traveling for two weeks, the fact that my parents are going to be here soon, that the weather is so warm and nice. While all these have definitely played a role in making me look less grumpy; there is one more reason, a very important one indeed, which I have realized has never failed to lift up my mood in a jiffy. Conversations. Nice, heart-warming and colorful conversations :)

How much strange it may sound, conversations do make me happy. Conversations about nothing in particular, or conversations about things in particular; either way they give me unparalleled satisfaction. Being a self-proclaimed garrulous person who talks incessantly, I am capable of continuing a conversation for hours. However, I fail at initiating good conversations, which thankfully, has never been an issue given the large number of natural-conversation-starters around me. When asked what I found most attractive in a man, I would say that my man should be good looking in an intellectual way, with eyes full of life (the ever-most important criterion I judge a person by), and a good talker. True to that, I have always found myself attracted to people who are good at  striking up interesting conversations; over coffees, wines and beers, in the balcony of guest houses on the hills, during afternoon walks along empty roads, in crowded metros, in parks on rainy days, late into the night while resting the head on the shoulders, staring at the ceiling on a stormy night, in the sheer darkness with distant traffic sounds, or through virtual devices. Talking about childhood, growing up, past incidents, habits and interests, experiences, perspectives, family and life in general, excite me beyond words. It is like getting a part of the person; what they feel and think, felt and thought, how they perceive a situation, what they have experienced in life; and being able to keep that part forever with yourself, never fearing to give it up. Ever.

In the last couple of years that I have lived alone and spent a lot of time thinking, I have realized that there are just a handful of people who have been able to give me happiness this way. Maybe this is also the reason I find myself happier in the company of these few people, while I talk to hundred others daily. Maybe this is also the reason for me being and looking happy in the past weeks (definitely conditioned upon less workload), with a big grin on my face 24*7 and singing often in the office corridors during office hours! Peaceful conversations :)