Saturday, March 03, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
When words are no good
If I have to select a favourite among my cousins, it would probably be her. Slightly younger than me; pretty and ready with a smile and a teasing rejoinder for everything. At every family event - like weddings - she would try to pull in my brother and I into a game of Anthakshari with the rest of our cousins. Us sober folk, of course, would never join in... listening to me trying to sing would be like listening to a donkey giving an opera.
About two years ago, she got married, a very good alliance for them: the groom's family lived in australia and were doing well for themselves. They chose this little (yeah, to me all my female cousins are little because they are so short!) girl from that little town partly because they had some mutual acquaintances, and partly because the groom wanted a "housewife" wife - someone who would be great at running the household and taking care of him and his parents. Something for which she was perfect for. And of course, he probably fell for her smile the moment he saw her photograph - or so we teased her.
She has a one-year old kid now, and a couple of months ago she came back home with her husband and the baby to visit her family. Everybody was so happy.
It began innocuously, with a toothache. He went to the dentist, who recommended that the tooth be pulled out as soon as possible. And so, he did. We will never know what went wrong with the simple procedure. Or perhaps it was not related at all. But, the next day, he complained of dizzy spells, like he felt like fainting. The day after that, he did faint - while climbing a flight of stairs - and fell unconscious ten feet to the ground from the first floor railing.
The small town hospital was not equipped for this. They rushed him to a good hospital in the nearest city. They said he had a clot in the brain, and he had gone into a coma, and his life was in serious danger. I'm not sure how many days he lasted in the ICU, but he died. Leaving behind a grieving 23-year old widow with an infant, and two shattered families.
What can one say in the face of such senseless, mind-numbing tragedy? Nothing. Nothing you say can ever be good enough to mean anything. The cousin who was always ready with a laugh, a smile and a tease - now I wonder if I will ever see her smile again.
As if to say, this can happen to anyone, even you, the dead man's name was Prashanth.
It almost seems selfish to think of one's own troubles when such things happen in this world. Take back this one thought with you today: it could happen to anybody, even you. Do not turn away from tragedy and into the comfortable shell of your life, thinking, "This has nothing to do with me," for it could easily have been you. Open yourself up to all things happening out there in the world - good and bad - and feel. For others.
For if it ever happens to you, would you want others to shudder, turn their backs and say, "I'm glad it has nothing to do with me"?
Sorry, I'm disabling comments on this post. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.
About two years ago, she got married, a very good alliance for them: the groom's family lived in australia and were doing well for themselves. They chose this little (yeah, to me all my female cousins are little because they are so short!) girl from that little town partly because they had some mutual acquaintances, and partly because the groom wanted a "housewife" wife - someone who would be great at running the household and taking care of him and his parents. Something for which she was perfect for. And of course, he probably fell for her smile the moment he saw her photograph - or so we teased her.
She has a one-year old kid now, and a couple of months ago she came back home with her husband and the baby to visit her family. Everybody was so happy.
It began innocuously, with a toothache. He went to the dentist, who recommended that the tooth be pulled out as soon as possible. And so, he did. We will never know what went wrong with the simple procedure. Or perhaps it was not related at all. But, the next day, he complained of dizzy spells, like he felt like fainting. The day after that, he did faint - while climbing a flight of stairs - and fell unconscious ten feet to the ground from the first floor railing.
The small town hospital was not equipped for this. They rushed him to a good hospital in the nearest city. They said he had a clot in the brain, and he had gone into a coma, and his life was in serious danger. I'm not sure how many days he lasted in the ICU, but he died. Leaving behind a grieving 23-year old widow with an infant, and two shattered families.
What can one say in the face of such senseless, mind-numbing tragedy? Nothing. Nothing you say can ever be good enough to mean anything. The cousin who was always ready with a laugh, a smile and a tease - now I wonder if I will ever see her smile again.
As if to say, this can happen to anyone, even you, the dead man's name was Prashanth.
It almost seems selfish to think of one's own troubles when such things happen in this world. Take back this one thought with you today: it could happen to anybody, even you. Do not turn away from tragedy and into the comfortable shell of your life, thinking, "This has nothing to do with me," for it could easily have been you. Open yourself up to all things happening out there in the world - good and bad - and feel. For others.
For if it ever happens to you, would you want others to shudder, turn their backs and say, "I'm glad it has nothing to do with me"?
Sorry, I'm disabling comments on this post. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
When it's hard to be indignant...
"... but she thinks he's a bit of a snob, and she asked me how I can stand sitting next to him and working with him everyday."
"Yeah, actually, when he started working here, I thought he was a snob as well..."
No, I'm not pouting inane watercooler gossip here on my blog. That was the conversation between two of my friends. About me. With me standing next to them. Wearing a dumbfounded expression on my face while they continued talking that way - in all seriousness, at that!
I tried gasping and spluttering for a few seconds, but heck, all I could really do was smile. This is where the "Frankly, this is what I think, but I don't have the time or inclination to talk about this further, so bye" attitude really backfires. I mean, an opinion expressed is not a positive contribution unless you stand around for a painfully detailed argument. Fortunately for me, at least my friends don't think I'm that much of a snob any more... they know that it's simply the way I am. I speak bluntly - "Abrasively," as my advisor himself put it - and don't know how to sugar-coat my messages.
When is it hard to be indignant? When the accusation's true, no matter what the justifications, mitigating factors and extenuating circumstances. I guess when people get to know you well, they understand that that's just the way you are, and you're not being condescending... just... self-centred. But why are people so afraid of being judged, that they end up judging others?
Cheers,
Prashanth.
"Yeah, actually, when he started working here, I thought he was a snob as well..."
No, I'm not pouting inane watercooler gossip here on my blog. That was the conversation between two of my friends. About me. With me standing next to them. Wearing a dumbfounded expression on my face while they continued talking that way - in all seriousness, at that!
I tried gasping and spluttering for a few seconds, but heck, all I could really do was smile. This is where the "Frankly, this is what I think, but I don't have the time or inclination to talk about this further, so bye" attitude really backfires. I mean, an opinion expressed is not a positive contribution unless you stand around for a painfully detailed argument. Fortunately for me, at least my friends don't think I'm that much of a snob any more... they know that it's simply the way I am. I speak bluntly - "Abrasively," as my advisor himself put it - and don't know how to sugar-coat my messages.
When is it hard to be indignant? When the accusation's true, no matter what the justifications, mitigating factors and extenuating circumstances. I guess when people get to know you well, they understand that that's just the way you are, and you're not being condescending... just... self-centred. But why are people so afraid of being judged, that they end up judging others?
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Talk to your neighbour
I'm normally a pretty quiet chap when I'm traveling alone - be it by bus, train or air. I assume that people like to sit back and relax, rather than be bothered by some random stranger sitting next to you. But times change, and I'm not averse to conversations with random people these days. On one of the flights I took to come to India this december, for instance, I had a somewhat unusual experience with my neighbour.
The woman sitting next to me introduced herself as I sat down, and even recognized the authors on the book I was reading (that's a rather unusual occurrence, given my reading taste), saying that she'd read some of their other books. Then we made small talk regarding where we live and what we do. She was returning to Naples for work, after spending two weeks with her family in the US for christmas. I noticed that she had difficulty keeping still: she would constantly tap her feet or stroke her hair or something like that. When I asked her about it, she admitted that she was high-strung, and was missing her cigarettes, which would normally relax her. She was afraid of flying, especially over water; and she'd had a rough week, including a close call in catching her flight.
I automatically went into lecture mode. I explained to her that flying was safer than driving, and flying over water was safer than flying over land. I scolded her for being a chain-smoker and a chain-drinker of coffee; I told her how both those things are extremely unhealthy and contribute to nervousness. I even told her about how Yoga and Meditation would provide a long-term solution in helping to relax.
Then I asked her why she was so nervous when she'd just finished a two week vacation at home. She grimaced and said that spending time at home was no vacation for her; and then she promptly broke into tears!
And so I found myself holding a weeping thirty year old stranger's hand, somewhere in the stratosphere over the atlantic ocean. To make her feel better, I told her some of my own troubles, ending with a philosophical "Everyone has problems: it's how we face them that's important."
We became more friendly over the rest of the flight, and we wore genuine smiles as we bade each other goodbye, knowing that we would never see each other again. I often wonder, if anything I said helped, or if she took it as the usual inscrutable eastern mumbo-jumbo. I like to think that I made a difference. Vain, I know.
Since then, I resolved to be less taciturn than my usual self while traveling. I think I made a friend on my flight back to the US, a computer science grad from bangalore. At the very least, I made one person's flight less lonely. That's the crux of it, isn't it? In the old days, I liked to be alone, and I assumed everyone felt the same way. These days, I don't mind being alone, but I've come to appreciate the value of good company.
May your future travels be less lonely. Talk to your neighbour!
Cheers,
Prashanth.
The woman sitting next to me introduced herself as I sat down, and even recognized the authors on the book I was reading (that's a rather unusual occurrence, given my reading taste), saying that she'd read some of their other books. Then we made small talk regarding where we live and what we do. She was returning to Naples for work, after spending two weeks with her family in the US for christmas. I noticed that she had difficulty keeping still: she would constantly tap her feet or stroke her hair or something like that. When I asked her about it, she admitted that she was high-strung, and was missing her cigarettes, which would normally relax her. She was afraid of flying, especially over water; and she'd had a rough week, including a close call in catching her flight.
I automatically went into lecture mode. I explained to her that flying was safer than driving, and flying over water was safer than flying over land. I scolded her for being a chain-smoker and a chain-drinker of coffee; I told her how both those things are extremely unhealthy and contribute to nervousness. I even told her about how Yoga and Meditation would provide a long-term solution in helping to relax.
Then I asked her why she was so nervous when she'd just finished a two week vacation at home. She grimaced and said that spending time at home was no vacation for her; and then she promptly broke into tears!
And so I found myself holding a weeping thirty year old stranger's hand, somewhere in the stratosphere over the atlantic ocean. To make her feel better, I told her some of my own troubles, ending with a philosophical "Everyone has problems: it's how we face them that's important."
We became more friendly over the rest of the flight, and we wore genuine smiles as we bade each other goodbye, knowing that we would never see each other again. I often wonder, if anything I said helped, or if she took it as the usual inscrutable eastern mumbo-jumbo. I like to think that I made a difference. Vain, I know.
Since then, I resolved to be less taciturn than my usual self while traveling. I think I made a friend on my flight back to the US, a computer science grad from bangalore. At the very least, I made one person's flight less lonely. That's the crux of it, isn't it? In the old days, I liked to be alone, and I assumed everyone felt the same way. These days, I don't mind being alone, but I've come to appreciate the value of good company.
May your future travels be less lonely. Talk to your neighbour!
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Approaching normalcy...
After surviving exams, surgery, the Charles De Gaulle airport, and a horde of relatives saying, "Oh my child! How thin you've become!", my life is slowly coming back to normal. Until I'm back at my desk in Penn State at the end of this month, though, I'll continue to be a little detached from the online world.
The solution to life, the universe and everything does not appear to be 42, but a series of little 42s. For instance, look at the trials I mentioned above. Exams? Attend classes more regularly and pay better attention. The Charles De Gaulle airport? Never fly Air France again. Being thin? Er... regain those lost pounds (somebody tell me how!) and don't give my relatives an opportunity to make such statements. I feel like I'm in one of Nissim Ezekiel's poems... the cosmos conspiring to keep me thin, and my own negligence making it worse.
And of course, there are the unavoidables. What was the surgery for? I can hardly spell it. What was the cause? Even the doctors aren't sure. At least they knew how to treat it, I should be grateful for that. I feel a little vexed that this prevented me from having fun for a while - couldn't meet up with my good ol' pals or play at the local bridge clubs, but I tell myself, it could have been a lot worse. I did get to read a ton of books, so I had something to occupy me, even if I've been reduced to reading masala authors like Clive Cussler.
The leap from epic fantasy to pulp fiction is rather painful, and I'm itching to get back to the public library in State College, but hey, I'm in one piece, in reasonably good health, and the future is worth looking forward to.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
The solution to life, the universe and everything does not appear to be 42, but a series of little 42s. For instance, look at the trials I mentioned above. Exams? Attend classes more regularly and pay better attention. The Charles De Gaulle airport? Never fly Air France again. Being thin? Er... regain those lost pounds (somebody tell me how!) and don't give my relatives an opportunity to make such statements. I feel like I'm in one of Nissim Ezekiel's poems... the cosmos conspiring to keep me thin, and my own negligence making it worse.
And of course, there are the unavoidables. What was the surgery for? I can hardly spell it. What was the cause? Even the doctors aren't sure. At least they knew how to treat it, I should be grateful for that. I feel a little vexed that this prevented me from having fun for a while - couldn't meet up with my good ol' pals or play at the local bridge clubs, but I tell myself, it could have been a lot worse. I did get to read a ton of books, so I had something to occupy me, even if I've been reduced to reading masala authors like Clive Cussler.
The leap from epic fantasy to pulp fiction is rather painful, and I'm itching to get back to the public library in State College, but hey, I'm in one piece, in reasonably good health, and the future is worth looking forward to.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Too much....
I have too much on my plate at the moment. It must be obvious to the few people who read this blog that I haven't been around much on blogger the past month or so. It's going to continue this way for a couple of weeks more, until things cool down around here. I haven't really lost interest in blogging, it's just that blogging has to take a back seat to real life.
My rambling mind makes a weird connection to this: when I play bridge, I get awarded masterpoints for good finishes. As I gain more points, my ACBL ranking improves. Initially I would keep track of such things, but in the past few months I realized the futility and vaingloriousness of it all. There are a lot of important things in life. Things like bridge and blogging may be fun pastimes, but they don't come under the category of important things to deal with. They are things to do when one has leisure time, which for me has been increasingly at a premium.
At present, I'm sitting at one of those cusps in life when everything can change; in another year or so, my life might be unrecognizable from what it is today. I'll be back to the blog world after two weeks. In the meantime, wish me luck.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
My rambling mind makes a weird connection to this: when I play bridge, I get awarded masterpoints for good finishes. As I gain more points, my ACBL ranking improves. Initially I would keep track of such things, but in the past few months I realized the futility and vaingloriousness of it all. There are a lot of important things in life. Things like bridge and blogging may be fun pastimes, but they don't come under the category of important things to deal with. They are things to do when one has leisure time, which for me has been increasingly at a premium.
At present, I'm sitting at one of those cusps in life when everything can change; in another year or so, my life might be unrecognizable from what it is today. I'll be back to the blog world after two weeks. In the meantime, wish me luck.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Degrees of Freedom
It's a rather stupid pun, actually. That the more degrees you study, the more degrees of freedom your career has.
Education may not be necessary for making a good career for yourself, but it certainly helps. For all the people who roll their eyes at grad students and claim that a bachelor's degree is more than enough to start you off and the rest is up to your ingenuity, I feel only pity. Not everyone has a love of learning, but at least be smart enough to acknowledge that having an additional degree to your name will take your farther in your career.
The thing is, I am considering extending my Ph.D. by a year to get a masters in math. If I do that, I'll be qualified as a mechanical engineer, manufacturing engineer, industrial engineer, operations researcher and a mathematician, all before my 27th birthday! Strangely, I do not think any part of that education is wasted. As a matter of fact, I do not think any education at all is wasted. Education is the one of the few things that nobody can take away from you. It is a source of respect, from the self and from others.
Now, I feel that the more diverse your education is, the more breadth of problem solving methods you can bring to bear on your work. I have made it a point to take courses from fields as diverse as electrical engineering and chemical engineering, and I am constantly surprised by how useful it would be to approach a problem in my field (er... fields, if you prefer) from their perspective. It's so interesting, sometimes I think I could do another couple of degrees after this one.... kidding! Three is enough... a fourth I am considering. End of story :)
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Education may not be necessary for making a good career for yourself, but it certainly helps. For all the people who roll their eyes at grad students and claim that a bachelor's degree is more than enough to start you off and the rest is up to your ingenuity, I feel only pity. Not everyone has a love of learning, but at least be smart enough to acknowledge that having an additional degree to your name will take your farther in your career.
The thing is, I am considering extending my Ph.D. by a year to get a masters in math. If I do that, I'll be qualified as a mechanical engineer, manufacturing engineer, industrial engineer, operations researcher and a mathematician, all before my 27th birthday! Strangely, I do not think any part of that education is wasted. As a matter of fact, I do not think any education at all is wasted. Education is the one of the few things that nobody can take away from you. It is a source of respect, from the self and from others.
Now, I feel that the more diverse your education is, the more breadth of problem solving methods you can bring to bear on your work. I have made it a point to take courses from fields as diverse as electrical engineering and chemical engineering, and I am constantly surprised by how useful it would be to approach a problem in my field (er... fields, if you prefer) from their perspective. It's so interesting, sometimes I think I could do another couple of degrees after this one.... kidding! Three is enough... a fourth I am considering. End of story :)
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
