It's snowing! It's snowing!
Another first for me...
The snow is one month ahead of schedule I think... this is going to be one bad winter...
It's so beautiful outside. Like one of those shimmering paintings. I think I'll go make a snowman. One with a long nose.
Who's ready for a snowball fight?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Brrrrrrrrrr
The temperature today dropped below 37 F. Thats about 3 C. Which is officially the coldest temperature I have ever experienced. I could actually see my breath turn into mist in front of my eyes. And it's not even November yet.
My friends assure me that by the time January arrives, I will be begging the devil to take me to hell, if only for the fact that it will be warmer there.
*sigh* From Chennai to Northern USA... half a world of difference... my mind knew it, but now my body knows it.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr
My friends assure me that by the time January arrives, I will be begging the devil to take me to hell, if only for the fact that it will be warmer there.
*sigh* From Chennai to Northern USA... half a world of difference... my mind knew it, but now my body knows it.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Waking up...
About half an hour ago, I woke up with a start. I must have had an unpleasant dream. Still groggy and confused, the room around me slammed into focus.
In that fraction of a second, I felt the shock of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? What is this mess beside me? I would never allow my hostel room, leave alone my bedroom, to be in such disarray, that too near the beginning of a semster (in a corner of my mind I knew it was near the beginning of the semester). I should be seeing the shelf of my hostel room, or the window of my bedroom...
Just for a fraction of a second. As soon as my eyes focussed, I knew where I was. Of course there was a mess. I've not yet gotten around to buying shelves or racks for organizing anything.
I closed my eyes in near physical pain. Two months of waking up in this room; yet, I do not hold it a shred of affection to even think of calling it "home".
Strange how the mind works. I think I had some kind of nightmare, and unconsciously, I groped for the loved and the familiar.
I shuddered, but it was not from the cold.
Give it time.
Give it time.
I chanted in my mind, in a vain attempt to employ the calming meditation exercises that I'd learnt as a child, and forgotten and left by the side of the road of life, one among a million other things I've left behind while growing up.
When I first joined IIT, it took me 4 months to bring myself to accept the unfamiliar hostel life and stop myself from running back home the moment I felt like it. Why should it be any different here? It is in my nature to take time to adjust to any change.
Of course, now I can't just get on my motorbike and ride across the Atlantic Ocean, can I? I don't even have a motorbike now.
I tottered to my feet and from some hidden well of strength, forced myself into the calm mental bubble that is my shield.
And here I am, blogging. Don't worry, guys. I have endured worse.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
In that fraction of a second, I felt the shock of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? What is this mess beside me? I would never allow my hostel room, leave alone my bedroom, to be in such disarray, that too near the beginning of a semster (in a corner of my mind I knew it was near the beginning of the semester). I should be seeing the shelf of my hostel room, or the window of my bedroom...
Just for a fraction of a second. As soon as my eyes focussed, I knew where I was. Of course there was a mess. I've not yet gotten around to buying shelves or racks for organizing anything.
I closed my eyes in near physical pain. Two months of waking up in this room; yet, I do not hold it a shred of affection to even think of calling it "home".
Strange how the mind works. I think I had some kind of nightmare, and unconsciously, I groped for the loved and the familiar.
I shuddered, but it was not from the cold.
Give it time.
Give it time.
I chanted in my mind, in a vain attempt to employ the calming meditation exercises that I'd learnt as a child, and forgotten and left by the side of the road of life, one among a million other things I've left behind while growing up.
When I first joined IIT, it took me 4 months to bring myself to accept the unfamiliar hostel life and stop myself from running back home the moment I felt like it. Why should it be any different here? It is in my nature to take time to adjust to any change.
Of course, now I can't just get on my motorbike and ride across the Atlantic Ocean, can I? I don't even have a motorbike now.
I tottered to my feet and from some hidden well of strength, forced myself into the calm mental bubble that is my shield.
And here I am, blogging. Don't worry, guys. I have endured worse.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Chauvinists?
I would have gladly ignored the comments on the previous post and proceeded to talk about some entirely different topic; but then I read this post on Divya's blog and it sparked off memories of past conversations with girls. What I have to say here is on somewhat different lines, though.
I cannot claim to understand women. Do you think I am saying it because it is something every man has attempted since creation and not been succesful at? No. I say it because it implicitly stereotypes women. And minds are like snowflakes: for all the underlying similarities, no two are alike. In knowing one, you cannot claim to know any more by virtue of that knowledge.
Yet, after centuries of Indian culture and tradition imposed upon them, it seems to me that there seems to be some sort of consensus between women regarding the world around us, and towards men in general. It is so subtle, so tacit and implicit that no woman from another culture and no man at all can hope to understand it fully. But perhaps in the trying of that very understanding lies our salvation.
It seems to me that Men, by default, are guilty of Male Chauvinism in the eyes of women until proven innocent. Perhaps the degree of the initial "judgement" varies with the person; but most women start off by assuming that a man considers women to be inferior to men in some way. After careful consideration I have come to believe that the statistics prove this to be the correct assumption. There is no harm in saying that women are physically weaker than men, because it seems to me plain fact. Here I support the army generals who oppose the creation of female squadrons, because it often results in a relaxing of physical standards and leaves them with a smaller chance of survival on even ground with men in a true battle.
However, I think most men also feel that women are intellectually inferior, and this I oppose. While I was growing up in school, I topped the class "because of my intelligence", but if a girl topped a test it was "because she is good at mugging and remembering". As a child I grew up to believe it as irrefutable, universal truth. Fortunately, there was some truth in me being intelligent and I gradually learnt to judge people impartially. But how many boys grew out of it as completely as I did?
The t-shirt of the girls' hostel in my college read "The world is unfair. In our favour." Most women become indignant at the hint of allegation that they did not deserve to reach the position they did. But among men, it is commonplace knowledge that it is easier for a woman to get a job than a man with the same qualifications. Or an admit to a reputed university. Or that nice project that will make a vital addition to your resume. Here I do not disagree. Usually the reason is as simple as the fact that the ratio of men to women at a workplace or university must be maintained at a optimum level, and there are always a lot more men applying than women.
But this is not because women are intellectually inferior in any way to men, but because of a simple lack of equal opportunity. In principle, there may be equal opportunity for all who apply to a job. But think about the underlying social structure. Don't you agree that a person from a poor family finds it difficult to obtain resources for his own growth? Obviously those who have little money do not have equal opportunity as the relatively well off. The next time someone tells you that the IIT-JEE is a purely merit-based exam, remind him that a less intelligent person may get in thanks to better training facilities available to him, and like all exams, preparation is as vital as basic intelligence.
In the same way, women are expected to do certain duties. They must learn to be good housekeepers. And cooks. And raise the children. And a lot of other things. It may seem to be a fair division of labour for the men to go to work everyday and come back exhausted and find that their house is clean, the children are taken care of, and there is good, warm food on the table. But who made the decision for that particular division of labour? Not the women.
Yet another factor is simply in the basic predilections of people. It occurs to me that the reason why there so few women in fields like engineering is simply because they prefer something else. Arts. Music. Literature. The fairer sex find different things interesting than us men. Unfortunately, in India, such things are disdainfully considered as less than appropriate professions. Hence, there seem to be less women around in the professional circles.
Do read this post of mine. The invisible weight of centuries of custom and tradition bends today's woman into continuing to give priority to housekeeping rather than professional life. For if they do not take care of the home and children, who will?
Yet, change augurs a better future. In the past, women might have been considered more as objects than people. But every successive generation is more open minded than the previous. If today, I swear that I will try to share the cooking duties equally with my wife, tomorrow a man might say, "Wife! You go to office. I will do a part time job and raise the kids."
Well, maybe not tomorrow, but perhaps some day!
Cheers,
Prashanth.
I cannot claim to understand women. Do you think I am saying it because it is something every man has attempted since creation and not been succesful at? No. I say it because it implicitly stereotypes women. And minds are like snowflakes: for all the underlying similarities, no two are alike. In knowing one, you cannot claim to know any more by virtue of that knowledge.
Yet, after centuries of Indian culture and tradition imposed upon them, it seems to me that there seems to be some sort of consensus between women regarding the world around us, and towards men in general. It is so subtle, so tacit and implicit that no woman from another culture and no man at all can hope to understand it fully. But perhaps in the trying of that very understanding lies our salvation.
It seems to me that Men, by default, are guilty of Male Chauvinism in the eyes of women until proven innocent. Perhaps the degree of the initial "judgement" varies with the person; but most women start off by assuming that a man considers women to be inferior to men in some way. After careful consideration I have come to believe that the statistics prove this to be the correct assumption. There is no harm in saying that women are physically weaker than men, because it seems to me plain fact. Here I support the army generals who oppose the creation of female squadrons, because it often results in a relaxing of physical standards and leaves them with a smaller chance of survival on even ground with men in a true battle.
However, I think most men also feel that women are intellectually inferior, and this I oppose. While I was growing up in school, I topped the class "because of my intelligence", but if a girl topped a test it was "because she is good at mugging and remembering". As a child I grew up to believe it as irrefutable, universal truth. Fortunately, there was some truth in me being intelligent and I gradually learnt to judge people impartially. But how many boys grew out of it as completely as I did?
The t-shirt of the girls' hostel in my college read "The world is unfair. In our favour." Most women become indignant at the hint of allegation that they did not deserve to reach the position they did. But among men, it is commonplace knowledge that it is easier for a woman to get a job than a man with the same qualifications. Or an admit to a reputed university. Or that nice project that will make a vital addition to your resume. Here I do not disagree. Usually the reason is as simple as the fact that the ratio of men to women at a workplace or university must be maintained at a optimum level, and there are always a lot more men applying than women.
But this is not because women are intellectually inferior in any way to men, but because of a simple lack of equal opportunity. In principle, there may be equal opportunity for all who apply to a job. But think about the underlying social structure. Don't you agree that a person from a poor family finds it difficult to obtain resources for his own growth? Obviously those who have little money do not have equal opportunity as the relatively well off. The next time someone tells you that the IIT-JEE is a purely merit-based exam, remind him that a less intelligent person may get in thanks to better training facilities available to him, and like all exams, preparation is as vital as basic intelligence.
In the same way, women are expected to do certain duties. They must learn to be good housekeepers. And cooks. And raise the children. And a lot of other things. It may seem to be a fair division of labour for the men to go to work everyday and come back exhausted and find that their house is clean, the children are taken care of, and there is good, warm food on the table. But who made the decision for that particular division of labour? Not the women.
Yet another factor is simply in the basic predilections of people. It occurs to me that the reason why there so few women in fields like engineering is simply because they prefer something else. Arts. Music. Literature. The fairer sex find different things interesting than us men. Unfortunately, in India, such things are disdainfully considered as less than appropriate professions. Hence, there seem to be less women around in the professional circles.
Do read this post of mine. The invisible weight of centuries of custom and tradition bends today's woman into continuing to give priority to housekeeping rather than professional life. For if they do not take care of the home and children, who will?
Yet, change augurs a better future. In the past, women might have been considered more as objects than people. But every successive generation is more open minded than the previous. If today, I swear that I will try to share the cooking duties equally with my wife, tomorrow a man might say, "Wife! You go to office. I will do a part time job and raise the kids."
Well, maybe not tomorrow, but perhaps some day!
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Freedom
If I could put my finger on the one thing that I liked best about my life in IIT, it was my freedom. As opposed to the leave home - go to college - come back home life of my other friends, the life where Mom will always ask you where you are going if you go out, and worry if you come back late, life in an IIT hostel is a quantum jump in terms of what you can do with your time.
I had the freedom to eat and sleep when I wished. The freedom to talk to whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and for however long I wanted. The freedom to explore new hobbies. The freedom to study when and how I wished. The freedom to go when and where I wished. The freedom to organize my time in anyway I wanted. The freedom to drink or smoke or dope, if ever I wished such things. I had the freedom to lead my life the way I wanted.
Nobody can ever claim to have done only the right things with their freedom. Living free is a constant learning experience. I like to think that freedom is just like any other power. You can use or misuse it. If you are smart enough, you will learn how to handle it and do great things with it. If not, you will come to gravely regret your actions in the future. But freedom is a necessary thing. Nothing is ever gained in life without risk.
I recognize the wonderful gift that freedom is. My way of showing my love to my girlfriend / wife / children will be through freedom, and not by possessiveness or protectiveness. Temper freedom with guidance, not with rules.
Life in the US is a higher realization of the same freedom. I doubt if many of them even understand what a gift they hold in their palms, or what they can do with it. Friday and Saturday nights in the downtown area reveals a side of the American culture that I find inexplicable. Their definition of having fun or "Partying" seems to be getting drunk, talking lewd, hooting, squealing, and craziness in general. What satisfaction can a person derive from that? It seems like a temporary letting off of steam from the rigours of daily work. It rings a phoney note.
I was even more surprised to see some of my own friends doing things they wouldn't dare to do back in India. This Friday night a bunch of them set out with the sole intent of getting fully drunk. One guy threw up outside a bar and had an unpleasant episode with the cops. One other came back home and then threw up. I'm censoring a lot of stuff here, mind you, out of respect for them. They are, after all, my friends.
Yet, I feel no bitterness, no rancour, no anger, no hate, not even disgust at the behaviour I see around me. Instead, I feel a distinct sense of sadness. And pity. If they but had true love in their lives, they would see the hollowness of their actions.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
I had the freedom to eat and sleep when I wished. The freedom to talk to whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and for however long I wanted. The freedom to explore new hobbies. The freedom to study when and how I wished. The freedom to go when and where I wished. The freedom to organize my time in anyway I wanted. The freedom to drink or smoke or dope, if ever I wished such things. I had the freedom to lead my life the way I wanted.
Nobody can ever claim to have done only the right things with their freedom. Living free is a constant learning experience. I like to think that freedom is just like any other power. You can use or misuse it. If you are smart enough, you will learn how to handle it and do great things with it. If not, you will come to gravely regret your actions in the future. But freedom is a necessary thing. Nothing is ever gained in life without risk.
I recognize the wonderful gift that freedom is. My way of showing my love to my girlfriend / wife / children will be through freedom, and not by possessiveness or protectiveness. Temper freedom with guidance, not with rules.
Life in the US is a higher realization of the same freedom. I doubt if many of them even understand what a gift they hold in their palms, or what they can do with it. Friday and Saturday nights in the downtown area reveals a side of the American culture that I find inexplicable. Their definition of having fun or "Partying" seems to be getting drunk, talking lewd, hooting, squealing, and craziness in general. What satisfaction can a person derive from that? It seems like a temporary letting off of steam from the rigours of daily work. It rings a phoney note.
I was even more surprised to see some of my own friends doing things they wouldn't dare to do back in India. This Friday night a bunch of them set out with the sole intent of getting fully drunk. One guy threw up outside a bar and had an unpleasant episode with the cops. One other came back home and then threw up. I'm censoring a lot of stuff here, mind you, out of respect for them. They are, after all, my friends.
Yet, I feel no bitterness, no rancour, no anger, no hate, not even disgust at the behaviour I see around me. Instead, I feel a distinct sense of sadness. And pity. If they but had true love in their lives, they would see the hollowness of their actions.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Change
While browsing the wealth of books at the public library, I came across, by chance, upon a series of three novels by Roger MacBride Allen which are sequels to the Star Wars storyline, set about 14 years after Episode 6. I was highly amused to find them, because about 7 years ago, I had read the first two and I loved them, but never could find the third, concluding novel. So, I took all three books and read them, so that I could refresh my memory of the first two novels before reading the third.
I was infinitely more amused to discover that I now find these books fairly childish. They were good, make no mistake, but clearly meant for kids in their early or mid teens. Amusement gave way to no small degree of discomfiture on realizing that this means that I've grown up. More than the fact that I'm living with roommates a million miles away from family, more than the fact that I have a Bachelor's and a Master's degree and am working through a Doctorate, more than the fact that I've celebrated four birthdays after my eighteenth, this realization struck much farther, much deeper.
I am now a responsible adult. It's so eminently laughable that all my cousins and old friends will be rolling on the ground and clutching their stomachs in laughter if they heard me make that statement as a flat out, matter of fact statement.
Of all things to bring the realization home, it had to be a novel. Perhaps I am as incorrigible as people say.
In what other ways have I changed from the 15 year old kid who read the Star Wars novel and thought, "Whoa! This is cool!"? Perhaps I am a lot less naive. Perhaps I've gotten over my shyness and unwillingness to talk to unfamiliar people. Perhaps I now consider academic performance as a smaller priority in comparison other areas of self-improvement. Perhaps I've found some new hobbies. Perhaps I now carry the subtle influences of my friends over the years, that have changed my outlook towards life in more ways than one. Perhaps I now know more truly the meaning of love, of compassion, of fear, of anguish. Perhaps I have gained confidence in some ways, and lost confidence, in other ways.
But at the core, am I not the same? Am I still not naive by the world's standards? Am I still not the kid who delights in poems and fantastic stories, in creative weavings of words and tales? Do I still not hold the same principles and scruples that guide my life, the simple guidelines of "Be nice. Be good. After all, that is how you would like others to be."?
I asked myself these questions once before, when I came out of a difficult time in a relationship. For in my pride, I believed that one place where the old me could never go wrong was in friendship. Hence I kept trying to figure out how I'd changed, that I could bring pain to a dear friend.
But now I know the answer to that question. I have changed on the surface, but I am still me. The one thing I do not have is an identity crisis. I know who and what I am. Things go wrong, and it may or may not be my fault, but in intent, I cannot go wrong. I learnt to forgive others long ago, for the most despicable of actions, for the most grievous of sins, for I believe in giving another chance for any person to become better. What I've learnt now is that I should learn to forgive myself, for I have trust in myself. The key to improving things is not a guilty conscience but a free one.
I think I can finally lay old demons to rest and walk with a lighter step.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
I was infinitely more amused to discover that I now find these books fairly childish. They were good, make no mistake, but clearly meant for kids in their early or mid teens. Amusement gave way to no small degree of discomfiture on realizing that this means that I've grown up. More than the fact that I'm living with roommates a million miles away from family, more than the fact that I have a Bachelor's and a Master's degree and am working through a Doctorate, more than the fact that I've celebrated four birthdays after my eighteenth, this realization struck much farther, much deeper.
I am now a responsible adult. It's so eminently laughable that all my cousins and old friends will be rolling on the ground and clutching their stomachs in laughter if they heard me make that statement as a flat out, matter of fact statement.
Of all things to bring the realization home, it had to be a novel. Perhaps I am as incorrigible as people say.
In what other ways have I changed from the 15 year old kid who read the Star Wars novel and thought, "Whoa! This is cool!"? Perhaps I am a lot less naive. Perhaps I've gotten over my shyness and unwillingness to talk to unfamiliar people. Perhaps I now consider academic performance as a smaller priority in comparison other areas of self-improvement. Perhaps I've found some new hobbies. Perhaps I now carry the subtle influences of my friends over the years, that have changed my outlook towards life in more ways than one. Perhaps I now know more truly the meaning of love, of compassion, of fear, of anguish. Perhaps I have gained confidence in some ways, and lost confidence, in other ways.
But at the core, am I not the same? Am I still not naive by the world's standards? Am I still not the kid who delights in poems and fantastic stories, in creative weavings of words and tales? Do I still not hold the same principles and scruples that guide my life, the simple guidelines of "Be nice. Be good. After all, that is how you would like others to be."?
I asked myself these questions once before, when I came out of a difficult time in a relationship. For in my pride, I believed that one place where the old me could never go wrong was in friendship. Hence I kept trying to figure out how I'd changed, that I could bring pain to a dear friend.
But now I know the answer to that question. I have changed on the surface, but I am still me. The one thing I do not have is an identity crisis. I know who and what I am. Things go wrong, and it may or may not be my fault, but in intent, I cannot go wrong. I learnt to forgive others long ago, for the most despicable of actions, for the most grievous of sins, for I believe in giving another chance for any person to become better. What I've learnt now is that I should learn to forgive myself, for I have trust in myself. The key to improving things is not a guilty conscience but a free one.
I think I can finally lay old demons to rest and walk with a lighter step.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Four Seasons
What colours would you find on a tree? Why, green leaves and brown bark, of course. And a lawn? Green grass and brown earth, of course.
So much for all the things that were "of course" back in India. As autumn takes hold here, slowly but surely, the world transforms around me. The ground and the trees form a delightful, motley tapestry of gold, orange, red, yellow, green and brown. So this is what they mean by autumn! The wonders of a temperate climate! Art seems no longer the realm of Man, but of God.
Think further, for when winter bites with icy grip, the same trees will be covered with shiny white snow; and when spring arrives, the barren trees will magically be re-endowed with green leaves. We know all this; yet the fact that I learnt it in 4th grade geography does not lessen the child-like wonder it instills in me.
I'm reminded, immediately, of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, a powerful violin-based musical composition that captures the emotions, the soul of the changing seasons. Playful spring, angry summer; wistful autumn, sorrowful winter. I do not know if those were indeed the emotions he intended to portray, yet I would swear that those are emotions the music invokes in me. Not just the music; from what I've seen of nature here in summer and autumn, it seems to be an accurate portrayal of Mother Nature's feelings, which, in turn, percolate down to me as I pull up a chair to watch the skies and the trees.
Wistful, of splendour lost; sorrowful, in the wake of the loss; playful, with the return of strength and hope; angry, with the pride and vanity of regained strength.
Sounds too similar to the life of humans, for my comfort.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
So much for all the things that were "of course" back in India. As autumn takes hold here, slowly but surely, the world transforms around me. The ground and the trees form a delightful, motley tapestry of gold, orange, red, yellow, green and brown. So this is what they mean by autumn! The wonders of a temperate climate! Art seems no longer the realm of Man, but of God.
Think further, for when winter bites with icy grip, the same trees will be covered with shiny white snow; and when spring arrives, the barren trees will magically be re-endowed with green leaves. We know all this; yet the fact that I learnt it in 4th grade geography does not lessen the child-like wonder it instills in me.
I'm reminded, immediately, of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, a powerful violin-based musical composition that captures the emotions, the soul of the changing seasons. Playful spring, angry summer; wistful autumn, sorrowful winter. I do not know if those were indeed the emotions he intended to portray, yet I would swear that those are emotions the music invokes in me. Not just the music; from what I've seen of nature here in summer and autumn, it seems to be an accurate portrayal of Mother Nature's feelings, which, in turn, percolate down to me as I pull up a chair to watch the skies and the trees.
Wistful, of splendour lost; sorrowful, in the wake of the loss; playful, with the return of strength and hope; angry, with the pride and vanity of regained strength.
Sounds too similar to the life of humans, for my comfort.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Invisible lines
I wondered why it takes so long to make new friends; good friends. I also wondered why it is that very few people find that special place in your heart; there are friends, and then there the people who you will consider as close friends your whole life.
I think it is because we all have a tendency to draw invisible lines between ourselves and other people; the thickness of the line being dependent upon our impression of the person involved! Since this works both ways, you make a close friend only when both of you hold no barriers against each other.
Initially, in a new place, you are bound to be guarded; then, you start thinking, "I like this person a lot; that person is okay; that other person I don't like." It's not merely a matter of who is the nicer person; it's a matter of who you like better, based on things perhaps as tenuous as someone's manner of speaking and body language. Over a period of time, you thaw towards some people; and if vice versa happens as well, a lasting friendship is born! If it happens to a smaller extent, you make a friend, but there will always be some distance, some invisible barrier that cannot be breached that keeps the friendship at a lower level of intimacy.
Here, halfway across the globe from India, I derive a weird sense of satisfaction from the fact that my two best friends are missing me as much as I am missing them. One guy, who, like me, is incapable of articulating his innermost feelings, even though I can read him like a book, said, "... that letter you wrote to my parents, especially that line about you missing me, was touchy. What can I say? There is nobody here to understand why Lady Galadriel is so hi-funda, or why Baldur's Gate 2 is the world's best computer game..." Translation: "That was a really touching letter. I miss you too; not a soul here speaks our language of fantasy and strategy, and can understand things we always took for granted between us."
The other "best" friend, a girl, makes international calls to me every alternate day at her company's expense, and refuses to put down the phone for at least 20 minutes even when I admonish her for misusing company resources. This, in spite of the fact that I call her up myself once a week.
Let me raise a toast, then, to lasting friendships. May we all find more such people to enrich our lives.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
I think it is because we all have a tendency to draw invisible lines between ourselves and other people; the thickness of the line being dependent upon our impression of the person involved! Since this works both ways, you make a close friend only when both of you hold no barriers against each other.
Initially, in a new place, you are bound to be guarded; then, you start thinking, "I like this person a lot; that person is okay; that other person I don't like." It's not merely a matter of who is the nicer person; it's a matter of who you like better, based on things perhaps as tenuous as someone's manner of speaking and body language. Over a period of time, you thaw towards some people; and if vice versa happens as well, a lasting friendship is born! If it happens to a smaller extent, you make a friend, but there will always be some distance, some invisible barrier that cannot be breached that keeps the friendship at a lower level of intimacy.
Here, halfway across the globe from India, I derive a weird sense of satisfaction from the fact that my two best friends are missing me as much as I am missing them. One guy, who, like me, is incapable of articulating his innermost feelings, even though I can read him like a book, said, "... that letter you wrote to my parents, especially that line about you missing me, was touchy. What can I say? There is nobody here to understand why Lady Galadriel is so hi-funda, or why Baldur's Gate 2 is the world's best computer game..." Translation: "That was a really touching letter. I miss you too; not a soul here speaks our language of fantasy and strategy, and can understand things we always took for granted between us."
The other "best" friend, a girl, makes international calls to me every alternate day at her company's expense, and refuses to put down the phone for at least 20 minutes even when I admonish her for misusing company resources. This, in spite of the fact that I call her up myself once a week.
Let me raise a toast, then, to lasting friendships. May we all find more such people to enrich our lives.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
