One year in United States..

It all started last year, roughly at around 11.30pm on last eve of 2010. While passing through the check-posts at the Delhi International airport, a thought came to my mind: where this coming year would take me? Pretty unsure of the new land where i was heading to. I had managed to get an insight into the behavior and cultural changes, which soon would engulf me too. After handing over some papers to the immigration officer, i had little time for introspection. Working in an Indian firm for almost three years fulfilled all my dreams till then, yet i resigned from it a week ago looking for a destiny about which even i was not sure of. I had managed to settle down well in that big city of Delhi, but the fear of an insecure future was eating away all my confidence. I admit future is and will remain unsure forever, no matter how much you've achieved so far. That's why its called future. Then what forced me to quit job and i landed up in United States? The continuous fear of a stagnant growth in my professional life, a ghost i was not able get rid of. I attempted CAT, GRE, TOEFL all in one year, after an unsuccessful attempt for GATE too.  After a long struggle for six more months, i got few acceptances from universities without any funding and still a long wait for the CAT results. In last week of November 2010, i got the much awaited visa and funding for the higher studies. And here i was almost ready to board the plane for the first time in my life.

The first funny thing i got to know was about the currency of US. All notes (notes are called bills here) were of same size but on every bill different personalities were engraved, unlike India, where you could see only MK Gandhi on every bill. Yes, the plane was huge but still i was unsure how this big thing could manage to fly for hours to take me to the other side of world. I was little nervous, but then all those other folks were not foolish enough to stake their lives for few thousand dollars. I buckled up my seat belt and soon i could see that wonderful view of the capital city. The long journey ended when i got out of 30-seater plane to reach the destination at 11pm on first January. The chilling winds and an uncomfortable dizziness welcomed me to US. Nobody was there to pick me up, as most of  students had been to New York for celebrating new year and the rest were not so interested in helping me out. It was totally deserted outside the airport at mid night. A couple of other passengers had someone to pick them up at airport. I looked out for a cab and found one standing at a lonely end of road. A fat white guy was sitting inside, somehow i gathered the courage to ask him to drop me. It was a cold dark night with -18 degrees and white snow sparkling all around the place. For the first time, i had seen the snow in such abundance and it looked lovely. Then started the journey to my friend's place from the airport. Those lonely roads with not even a single car, different sign boards hanging, huge stores and coffee bars on roadsides looked very similar to what i had seen so far in Hollywood movies. Finally moving into the darker ends with just a road driving me through woods and a complete stranger was accompanying me. I had no other option, but to trust him. After one hour drive from airport, he pointed out to a house and said," gentleman, here's your destination". Far away from those coffee bars and huge stores, it was a totally deserted place with snow on rooftops, on roads, windowpanes.  As far as my eyes could see, it was all snow.

I saw the Indian guy, whom i had talked to over phone, coming out. He was expecting me too. He showed me the room to stay there for few days till i find my own accommodation. The room was a dungeon cell, and i never expected that people stay here in such a manner which i couldn't even imagine. Though it was totally carpeted floor, well ventilated, but it was nowhere closer to my expectations. I made the resolution that i would move out from this place as soon as i get a better place. It was almost mid night, and i had one black coffee and a sand-witch since morning. The other guy pointed towards the kitchen. Kitchen was stinking, and yet there was nothing cooked inside it. Two plain bread toasts and lots of water was all i ate before sleeping that night. Though i always thanked that guy who helped me voluntarily with no intentions of getting any favor from my side. The night passed without any further troubles, and helped me to relax after the long journey of 33 hours.

Next day i went to meet my professor and it was probably the first instance when i felt better after arriving in US. The university was huge, and my department had every kind of advanced tools which one could ask for in Electrical engineering.  The first few weeks were little different, i used to talk less but people were really friendly. Soon i found a new apartment with an american friend and life started becoming smoother with passing of each day. During first semester, life was all about studying and making food. It ended on a high note with two straight A's in both courses and few food recipes which i had mastered so far.  Then came the summers and i saw the snow melting unleashing the beautiful grass beneath it. I saw the beautiful greenery at a place, where i thought none other than snow can ever exist. Time was spent luxuriously making trips to Boston, New York and Salt lake city. One more semester came, and i passed it again without a single B this time too.

During all these wonderful times, hidden were some dark times. The times when i used to felt so lonely, days passed by without talking to a single person in real. Phone and internet accompanied my loneliness. So many festivals came and left without getting noticed. Diwali was spent studying for the tests, while others just lasted like status update on Facebook. This one year brought so much change in me, i value every act how-so-ever small it may be. I cherish every moment spent with my loved ones, times may not remain the same forever. I love to eat my own cooked food, and have stopped complaining about it. Human species is same everywhere, every mother in this world cares for her child. Everyone wants to be loved and every heart regrets the feelings of hatred.

The life made me learn these lessons in hard way, while rewarding me for the patience which i kept in my heart always. It's 7pm in evening, not sure about my plans for tonight. I might end up cooking food, then eating it and hoping that One day this too shall pass..

The Japanese Wife

While surfing internet after getting home in evening, a line caught my eye," I couldn't stop crying after watching this movie. The epic since Pather Panchali 15 years ago". The heading was written in English and Bengali in an old-fashioned manner of british times. I didn't expect it to be updated, as kolkata is still struggling to free itself from the shackles of British rule. Those out-dates modest lines were written for a movie, "The Japanese Wife". Though i always wanted to see Pather Panchali, which is considered to be the best piece ever created in Bengal, the land of intelectuals, but i never got the chance to see it.

I haven't read much about Bengal history. Moreover born and brought up in Northern part, Bengal, to me, is as far as any other middle east country. Once the famous capital of India before the British rule, a city known for its trade and European architecture buildings, is still reeling under the wrath of union groups and worker strikes. One could hear the outcry over outdated infrastructure and politics around every corner of street.  I'll be happy to get any updates on this issue. The movie starts with flowing waters of river malta along the banks of an old town Sunderban. A mediocre house in a dilapidated condition in which an old bengali women cladded in a white sari is cleaning the kitchen. Rahul Bose rides a bi-cycle back to home.

Wearing the traditional Bengali dress, He talks very less but in a very polite manner in Bengali and his tone gets even more polite while talking in English. As the name suggests, he's been married to a Japanese women, whom he has never seen. On the other side of world his wife resides in a small village near Yokohama, Japan. A young Japanese girl with small eyes and fair skin, staying with her ailing mother. They both are just pen friends. They have been sending letters to each other for last fifteen years. He sends her the bangles on their marriage anniversary, and she sends him the kites made by her.  Her only wish is to see his husband before her life ends. She hopes one day her mom will recover from her illness and then she can go to stay with her husband. Her husband is tied with the responsibilities of widow (Riya Sen, wife of Rahul Bose's friend) and his late mother's sister, whom he calls maushi. They talk with each other through letters, almost once a week. Half of Rahul Bose savings goes into writing the letters to this wife. She sends him a camera from Japan, so that he can send her the pictures of his house and his maushi too. He tells her the reasons why a Bengali women have to shave her head and  wear a white sari after her husband dies.

 A few weeks passed by and her mom dies leaving her in the world with a hope that she'll meet her husband one day. That day of hope when she'll have enough money to go to India and see her husband for the first time in life. The story unfolds into the dark when she is informed by her doctor that she's also suffering from a rare generic cancer.. She still hopes for the best and share this sad news with her husband. One can see Rahul Bose's emotions falling apart upon reading the letter of his wife in which she informes of her rare cancer disease. Rahul Bose feels helpless tied with the responsibilities of his family, and can't let his wife to die fighting lonely. He convinces himself that he has a duty towards his wife too. He tries whatever he can to support her cancer-stricken wife in Japan. He goes to Kolkata, the biggest city near his town to get some suggestions from the reputed doctors. But even doctors deny to prescribe any medicine without the medical check-up of patient. He asks various homeopathic and ayurveda specialists and sends the medicines to his wife in Yokohama. One could feel the pain of this Bengali man, in his mid forties walking on the slippery mud at the bank of river malta in deep thought on what he should do to save his wife. Despite all his efforts, her health is deteorating with every passing day. He tries to call and talk to her though a phone booth in Kolkata, but ends up paying 500 rs for a wrong connection. He makes trips to various doctors and specialists to get any help for her wife, but all in vain.

This poor man walking across the doors of hospital has already experienced so many hard-ships in his life. The monsoon season starts and all the bus service and boat service are halted for an indefinite period. Rahul Bose decides to go to Kolkata to meet another doctor, and while coming back he catches the pneomonia. One week in bed and still no letter or telegram from his wife. One night he himself passes away. The message is conveyed to his wife through a telegram, who herself is too frail to write a letter to her husband.

The weeks and months pass by. The widow Riya Sen and Maushi are staying in the same hut. The Japanese lady gets off the boat at the bank of malta river and asks a guy to help her find the address of Rahul Bose's house. She is wearing a white sari and her head is shaven, just like a Bengali widow. She has finally reached to her own house, where she always wanted to come, but only to see her letters and gifts packed in a corner of a dark room with a framed photograph of her husband.

Diwali day..

The nip in the air says it all. When the aroma of coffee enchants you more than a cold coffee shake, it's time to convince your heart not to wear half tees anymore. The warmth of sun pleases you more than the irritation of sun-burn. All these nostalgic feelings can sum up Diwali for anyone who has spent his years in north India. I've spent almost my entire life growing up in the chilled winters of Amritsar, some pleasant ones of Patiala and few romantic yet busy seasons in Delhi too.

Like every year this time too, i was excited for Diwali. The story is not the same like the past. A test on Wednesday, followed by submission of two assignments on Friday, that's all this week has in store for me. Pretty busy week, yet I've to find time to enjoy or at-least see others enjoying the most-awaited festival.  My nocturnal eyes can tell you the story of not getting enough sleep for last two days. Waking up late on Wednesday at around 8am to get ready for test, I was excited. The reason was not the test but Diwali. I was already looking forward to hear the sounds of crackers while talking at my home through skype. I finished the test by 12 noon and came back home. Although the bustling of crackers was almost over by the time i started talking at home; 01.00 pm in ET means 10.30pm in IST. Yet could hear or see some crackers dropping from the above sky leaving a trail of light. I saw all the pictures of evening, puja, lighting of candles and crackers. I relived my own past through those captured moments. For a moment, i couldn't even realize that I am not even closer to this pleasant reality. It was fun, at last it wasn't that bad to be in US as much as i was expecting it to be. Even the thought of sitting in lab whole day and making some food in dinner and eating it while reading some paper online, is pathetic.

The day was not over yet. After finishing talking at home, i thought of surfing for some religious prayers which i could play on YouTube.  It all ended watching the movie "Silence of lambs". Knowing the fact that next two days would be really hectic catching up with the assignments, i just wanted to enjoy the day, which every Indian has enjoyed once in his/her life. I managed to watch some religious songs before it was time for dinner. Sitting on computer for past five hours had made me lazy, so i decided to make maggi for dinner. In India, we have so many delicious foods to eat and taste on Diwali, how could i be so mean to my stomach? Finally made matar-paneer along with chapati. I don't want to indulge into the difficulties of making it, so let's move ahead. The food was eaten, a feeling contentment took over my mind (and stomach too).

I almost enjoyed the day like a holiday only. The only wish not fulfilled yet was to see the live aarti or prayers offered to God. I had my test, while all the prayers were performed in India. And this wish was fulfilled when my uncle called me up in evening to wish Diwali. He was still getting ready for the Diwali party at his place, so i told him to put me live on webcam so that i could also see the puja.  All such little wishes which means a lot to me were fulfilled by God. God never discriminate with the people far away from their lands :P

Now it's almost quarter to 2am here, i have some plans of calling my friends back home wishing them diwali before signing off only to realize that tomorrow won't be as lovely as it is today. Happy Diwali :)

October musings

Nothing makes my heart sink to the bottom as much when i see these lovely evenings. It brings back those lovely moments which I've cherished every year till now. Settling sun's rays passing through the layers of thick fog and clouds, the wind catching up with the chilling waves and festive season of Diwali round the corner. I'm still not able to digest that I'll be away from my home this Diwali this year. I have never imagined not being there on Diwali, never even thought about it. As if it's in my destiny to be there every Diwali. Those pleasured moments of packed bags over the weekend, buying gifts for everyone, the soft touch of wool are still livid in my mind.

Since childhood, it's the first time i'll be miss the cool breeze under the settling dusk of sun. Nothing looks more lovely than the beginning of winters in Northern India. Walking through the district center at Janakpuri, when you can see everyone wrapped in the fresh light wool of winters. I wish i could be there to have few mugs of barista coffee in such a weather.The memories of walking though the busy CP circle in the evening, looking for the gifts seems like yesterday only. The shops full of sweets and wrapped gifts, those sights will never fade. The hope i'll live it once again keeps me alive. This hope still keeps me alive, the desire to see the beautiful evenings once again. Will walk through those busy malls once again in my life, will live these moments once again in my life. I'll love every single bit of bit, without complaining for the minor chaos. I want to live my own profound memories once again, in this gifted life.

Life is worth spending this fabulous month of October in India. October will come and go, but this heart will always crave for your musings.  God, I'll ask for my chance to relive this month of october next year. I don't want this to ever fade from my memories. If never possible again, at least i'll be content with a mere thought that I've spent some of the happiest moments of my life in India.

The beautiful Maine..

Really busy these days, caught up with the load of assignments and mid terms. The weather couldn't be more beautiful than this ever. I wonder why God is so biased to gift all the serenity and peace to US, or is it the wonder of man-made technology. I am sure India has got the serenity, just that we can't explore those areas as those are still not accessible through roads. The beauty of nature lies in those places, which are yet not accessible by technology.

One more dream added, to visit the best places of India before...

I never wanted to do..part 2

How many times have you been caught under such circumstances? Doing something a moment, and start regretting right away the next moment.

In a class, everybody has something to boast about. Some boast of their dad's money, some for their crooked joks, some about the marks and some about the punishments. Isn't it cool that while whole class was crying after being punished by the class teacher, i stood like a rock never perturbed or hurt. These teachers can't even hurt me even in my dreams. If teacher asks you to get out of the class; some will stand and walk as if going to receive the award and some as if will be shot with a gun. If you are thinking is it about me walking across the class with shame in eyes and heart, there's nothing like it.

My class teacher in fifth grade was impressed with me. And i enjoyed every bit of attention which i got. Just like everyone else, I have some friends good in studies and some good in sports too. Some studying in my class, some seniors, a bunch of juniors. In whole, those were the good times of my school life. We used to talk about bad teachers, bursting into laughter over the silly jokes. Sometimes it was about sharing the moment of sorrows of failing in an exam or celebrating the success of it, we were together in all those times. Life was running smooth enjoying the attention of teachers and company of good friends during lunch-time. One day just before the lecture was going to end, my class teacher came into our class and asked me to accompany her to 8th class. On the previous day only, i got the highest marks in a test taken by that teacher. So while walking down the corridor, I was sure it was going to be something good for me in-store. I saw some familiar faces standing outside the 8th class with arms up into the sky. The seniors with whom i play cricket under those shady trees during recess. I tried to ignore them to lessen their embarrassment of standing outside the class. I kept walking passed them with eyes concentrating on the cemented floor. The teacher leading me turned right into the door of 8th class and without saying a word, I did exactly the same. The queue standing outside were asked to come into the room and here it started the real trauma. The teacher started it with a heavy pat on back and continued, " You should learn from this kid who's attentive in class with all homework done, but you guys will never understand unless you're given a real lesson by this kid. Aseem, Hit everyone of them two tight slaps on their faces." Totally shocked my legs froze there only. Next few moments were challenging and most embarrasing for them who were standing in front of me.

[Some tight slaps for the few unlucky ones and a reason of laughter for the rest of class]

Next few days were little hard. Those seniors were little embarrassed while i was struggling with a fear of revenge. But none was to blame except that strict teacher and we all realized it soon. We were back to routine soon. Same game of cricket was played in recess (lunch-time) everyday. I was happy that those seniors were really stubborn and did learn nothing from those tight slaps. The life was good there-after too.

Five things I never wanted to do..part 1

Why only five, yes the list can be extended to thousands of such incidents and this post will cease to end. I've to put some stop somewhere, that's why i'll mention those five which are still as vivid in my memory as if these incidents have happened just yesterday.

Starting with the first and oldest of these -

I was in fourth standard, and doing nothing much just little work and some play. I had a good old company of my friends. My school was also not so far from my village and i always took special interest in listening to the complaints of my fellow friends at village who used to go to schools in the city. I hated to be a narrator of sad stories, though i always had some but i never told anyone about those.

Someone has rightly said

"Times will never remain the same, and nor thou will remain same ever."

Now it was my time to move into such a school about which those guys used to complaint.  Always pretending to and trying to be a happy lad, i never wanted to go to that school which would take one hour to reach. I was not afraid to travel two hours daily in commuting, but i never wanted to give my friends a reason to laugh at me the same way i had done to them till that time. My parents had already chosen a good school for me, far away from village. Some schools always had a reputation to stand out apart in reputation with a bunch of strict teachers and a flock of intelligent students. And I was very afraid of both of them.

But i was none to decide as decision was already taken that I would be giving the entrance exam next week. I was told that it would not be that easy to get through the entrance test, as thousands of students from Amritsar and nearby villages would be trying their luck to get into that reputed school. I prepared well for two months for that test, yet i was scared in my mind of losing this flock of dear friends in this lovely school, which was neither much reputed nor so far from my home.

One more reason (which i think was more considerate) was that i never wanted to lose my position of class topper which i had earned in this previous school for last five consecutive years (since KG till 4th). In my village, it was a matter of pride and people do looked upon me with high opinion and also had high expectations from me. Before the test i was pretty confident to clear this obstacle with some luck and hard-work, but somehow i wanted to remain in the same surroundings.

The day came and i was nervous just like any other day when i had exams. I never wanted to hurt my own ego [and of many others too] that i couldn't make it to that reputed school. I wish there could be someway that i would pass this test yet couldn't make it to that school. Alas, but things were pretty straight forward at those times. I was confused about how to attempt the test. I entered the hall which was already packed with so many other students and got my seat. I was handed over the question paper by a lady teacher [she looked so similar to those unkind and strict teachers who would first insult and humiliate the student in front of whole class and then reporting it to the parents too]. One hour went and i was lost writing answers to the questions. I was happily running my pencil over the answer sheet almost done with first half of questions and hadn't missed any question. I was pretty sure by that time of making it into that school and then i stood up from my seat. I handed over the answer sheet to the teacher. I attempted first five questions out of ten, out of which two were of mathematics and two punjabi and one of science.  The teacher gave me a hard look through her spectacles and then turned her face towards the class. I came out from the class little confused whether i had done something wrong or not.

It was time for a result which was [at least] known to me already. I knew next few days would be hard trying to answer everyone what really went wrong and then again back to the same school as a class topper. It did hurt my ego a little bit whenever i had to face someone who was studying in that school. But again same sad stories of those big schools and my heart went merry-go-round. I was still sure if i had attempted the whole paper, i would have got admitted there. But that's how i wanted the things to be and it went my way. Even now when i think about it, it perplexes me which way should have been the ideal one. I never know and will never get to know what difference it would have made in my life.

One more year passed happily, again topped the exams [and time for same rounds of celebrations again]. Yet i don't regret my decision, as next year i got into a big reputed school of same category.

Initial first month was horrible as i used to count numbers of hours left before i could go home and met those friends again. Later on, those guys who supported me during those tough times became good friends. I don't know what i lost in that one year, but i do admit i earned that one more year of happiness by attempting half-heartedly in that test !!!

Tata's cheapest car

Many visionaries have put forward their opinion that India will outperform US in 2030 as the next democratic Superpower (China ignored). I've read a few out of these and I am sure many of those reading this post are also aware of US losing its sheen in financial meltdown of its economy. Just like any other Indian citizen, I was also proud of the fact to see my country a superpower ignoring the grey shade that still more than half the population of this fast developing country resides in rural areas with no access to basic amenities of living, yet reading those articles in top-notch journals made me believe that our country would become a super power in two decades.  Some of those articles which i could briefly mention in this post-

" India is an emerging geek superpower - Angela Saini, Guardian "

" With more than half of Indian entrepreneur and managers believe that India will become superpower by 2030, and every four out of five support the fact that India is going in right direction " quoted another article in an online forum. The idea of this post is not to compare the stark resemblance or ambiguity in thoughts and reality and I am no-one to judge the criteria which highly complex and deceptive in nature. Since I have spent this little time in US, i came to know a little about the economy of this country. What I've sensed here is quite amusing, and is far away from what is depicted in the articles back home. This country is known as "The land of Abundance" and yes, it is indeed. It's not a tough task to determine the attitude of common citizens of this country, and it's pretty similar to any other human being across this land on earth. All one needs is a home, a secure future for one's child and some money to enjoy the life and fulfill the timely needs. I've tried to understand how the citizens here think about their country and economy, and to be disgust, they are not much bothered unless they are getting paid well to enjoy a vacation in Miami or Florida in summers. To my utter surprise, last week i read an article that this summers only half of the population have enough money to enjoy a vacation abroad, rest staging a protest against the economy for low salaries. How many in India do have this privilege of spending summers abroad without worrying about work? Unless people don't have sufficient balance in their bank accounts, they don't bother at all about the ruined economy or war against Afghanistan. This little insight into the minds of local citizens must have given you a fair idea about fun-loving and lavish life-style of people here. With no intentions of criticizing the locals, all i want to express is my independent opinion about this country which had once tamed the world economy with its technological and managerial advancements. Till now I've been to few places here and it fascinates me to see the long-term planning and vision for future so vivid in terms of infrastructure. The planned highways, inter-state US highways, parking lots, postal system are few of the examples, where US led firms are far ahead.

A major chunk of US budget goes in medical insurance of each and every citizen of US. The first and foremost right of every human being is to get the basic medical facility. Before a home to live, a meal to eat and imparting education to judge what's good or bad, one's health is of utmost importance. If you remove this one point from US annual budget, it is still roaring high with a GDP rate of over fifteen percent. But i agree in terms of economy, the GDP is always gross taking into account all the budget deficits and surplus to calculate the GDP growth. Among over hundred countries surveyed for the annual budget deficit for the year 2010, US ranked lowest with India at third lowest. It clearly describes the correlation between these two gigantic economies of world. India surely is trying to buffer its economic system from the tight constraints from outer world and have succeeded to quite an extent too. A country still known for its poverty rather than growth, known for its caste and reservation system rather than meritocracy in technology; my professor asked me expecting me to answer his question,

"Do everybody in India now owns a car since Tata's have launched their cheapest family car only for two thousand dollars?"

I wish I could have an answer..or at least own the same car  to answer myself on this front..

Identity crisis

Human identity is the most fragile thing that we have,and it's often only found in moments of truth - Alan Rudolph

~~~~~~~~~

This definition has kept changing throughout my life. Since my childhood days, I've been trying to keep my identity unique. Everybody wants to be different, wants to look different, to think different, to speak different, even to the extent of being completely different from the own surroundings.

The more you run from your values and culture, more they'll haunt you. And once you embrace your values close to your heart, all looks so serene and peaceful.

I am no different from others in this respect. When i used to go to school, I had some values which marked me different from others while some values resembles too. Born and brought up in a village, it became a matter of continuous struggle for me to prove others wrong that villagers were not illiterate.  First thought that may come to your mind at this stage or may not, but it used to be the stereotypical expression of the most that I would quit the school soon after my fifth grade. At least that was how my friends had thought about me and put me in a position to always defend my identity as a school-going kid; not a dropout working in a paddy field. Circumstances changed and brought a change to my thinking too when i left that school after tenth grade to take non medical stream for higher education. Some looked upon me with sympathy for coming to tutions from so far in chilled january mornings and some were just amused to see a kid from a village. I am right now and have been pretty sure during all these years that i look no different from other boys in my surroundings. I used to wear the same clothes as other boys, same colors like others did with some subtle differences in my accent of dialogues.

My introduction to others also keep changing with every step ahead in my life. When i joined college for my bachelors, it changed to the city Amritsar. Now i was not a big-headed fool from a village anymore. Except a very few friends, for the most I was guy just like others from Amritsar, with a little accent in their Punjabi and fond of kulchas. Those four years were different because some looked upon me with envy because of so many coaching centers in our city, which according to them helped me secured a seat in electrical stream. Yet I was just another guy from a good city for the most of the flock. It all changed again when it came to introduce myself again in New Delhi. A good part of my team was constituted by the southerners, so Punjab was enough to distinguish me from the group. Time went well for me and i made a good reputation in my small group. That reputation built up the perception for others from my state or city to be good in work too. Lived few years with reputed perception and moved on for more.

Becoming a mask for a country with more than a billion population wasn't very exciting. The identity of my village, the city and the state were long and far gone, it became a matter of country. The luck was favoring me this time, the once called big-headed fool from a village was paid all the attention being an international student from a country, known for her dominance in producing the most sharp brains and geeks in world. I enjoyed every bit of attention, but sometimes it's too heavy to keep it on your shoulders all the time. Some moments spent shrugging off this burden were memorable, doing the things not so methodically as were expected from you had given me some joyous moments. Now since I have left my previous identities far behind, sometimes i miss them. A simple student in college from yet another city, a simple kid in school trying to fight for an identity crisis which had never existed anyway and so much more of nostalgia is attached to these souvenirs from the past.

Yet it had been a good journey always being in a majority with very few moments facing the wrath of isolation. Everyone has to climb up this arduous path to bring glory to yourself and to your identity. Your identity never meant being an individual, it means a lot more than you. An identity is a mask of whole community and your actions are perceived as the cultural values of your community. Those who are wise enough never fell into this trap created by the society, rather they look for wisdom in their own thoughts to mock an individual or the whole society for one's actions.

Being wheatish..

The first thought that comes to your mind will be is this post related to color, caste or race. A straight NO should fit perfectly in your mind, as this post has nothing to do with such things. Weekend was here and i wanted to make something special to eat. Weekends are always special here with all the work related worries gone for a moment. I always look forward for this lovely weekends to try some new dish, and this time it was 'ROTI'. You got it very right, the same roti which is mentioned for so many various purposes. For a larger proportion, it's a simple mean of eating a meal to satisfy their physical needs. Others use it as a propaganda for their political motives, some use it to attract the middle class for Bollywood by inserting this word in various dialogues, songs and movies (Remember "roti kapada aur makaan" or  "do waqt ki roti"). Though these days even lower middle class is not very reciprocative to this filthy slang. Reverting our attention on the heading again, i was not trying to make some extra-unique dish with roti. To accept the fact, I haven't eaten a simple wheat roti for last five months and eighteen days. Yes, the same tasteless roti which you might be munching right now reading this post (I wish your screen breaks apart into pieces if you're doing so).

To make this dream of eating roti this weekend, i pulled out the bag of wheat flour from the bottom racks. I remember not so vividly though, i had got this bag for $10 from the gorcery store within first week after arriving to US. A new place, new habits of eating pastas, salads, pizzas, burgers and loads of rice with my Indian friends. Most of the Indians here are from the southern part of India so it's not very unusual eating rice in almost every meal. After that I got busy with my course work and other office chors that i almost forgot about this pile of flour in the kitchen rack. A thin layer of dust had deposited over the bag, i did little dusting before opening it with the knife, the smell and stuff looked so familiar. It brought back those memories of complaining while eating this same wheat everyday, a place where rice were used to be cooked only on special occasions and burgers were not eaten more than twice in a year (birthdays and school result's celebrations :-P )

Yellow daal was to be served with the roti, so i managed to put the daal for cooking in a pressure cooker (Hawkins, exported from India, is the only brand you could see in every south asian student's place). Splashing the flour over the table while making it ready for cooking, it filled me with a sense of excitement. I was actually excited to eat a roti for the first time in this not-so-short span of 24 years or so. I had seen countless times at my home, that hot stream of air coming out of cooked wheat flour and was expecting the same while cooking it. I put it on flame for around a minute, yet no air came out and it was still sticking to the flame. I put the other side on flame just to see the front side giving brownish fumes, extra heating could a a reason, i guess. Somehow i managed not to overcook the other side as well. Finally i was ready to eat this roti with one side over-cooked and other half cooked. Luckily daal didn't spoil the party-mood and came out as expected with little less salt. When i tried to pluck one part of roti, the inner portion got exposed and it didn't take much time for me to understand that the sticky flour inside was not cooked properly. I managed to eat it without any delay, because i didn't want it lose its little softness getting dried up. The tongue's bud has enough of this wheat, making me realize its the same tasteless wheat roti. Eating it after such a long time, after dozens of frozen paranthas, few dried tortillas, frozen wheat stuff, it is undoubtedly the best chunk i have ever eaten in last six months. I sit down on my chair, relaxing eating and enjoying every bit of it. Just finished eating my first roti in last six months.

The first moment when after eating this tasteless wheat, I am actually feeling "Happy"..

"S" making a buzz !!

Few days ago, i was fed up with my routine of attending my lab for most of the day and rest spent in sleeping. So badly i wanted to change it that i would do anything for the sake of 'change'. I paid up for the charges apart from tuition fees last week, and was regretting to pay $100 for the recreation center which would not be visited more than once in a week. My friend suggested," Why don't you accompany me for swimming since i am going to start practicing from the tomorrow." To be frank, swimming was never made for me and to me, it was god's gift to very few who could swim in those deep waters. I was rather content watching it on National Geography than to experience it myself. I nodded to the plan and brought the swimming glasses next evening. I never knew chlorinated waters could be so harmful for the eyes. I was amazed to see the count of young girls and boys at the pool center, yet reluctantly i entered one empty lane of pool which was 5 feet deep. Few tips were already passed on to me. First day as always was different, i couldn't learn much as expected from me though i have erased the term hydrophobia from my dictionary.

After practicing for 45 minutes, i (with my friend) went to the "whirlpool". It was a pool with flowing currents of water in a circular manner, so if anybody know swimming, all you need is to float and rotating waters will take you with the stream. Guys were really enjoying there and sure it was a fun to dive into the rotating stream trying to float. It was followed by a shower in giant tub of hot water spring and then "sauna". This word i heard it for the first time ever. With nice tracks played in the background, a sea built indoor with every imagined pool, big heaters warming up the place all the time, splashing of water in the pool-volleyball; May be that's the reason why they call it a land of abundance. Even on a weekend, when very few would come for the swimming, you could see those warm currents of water, splashing whirlpool with nobody there. I feel sorry for this nation for wasting so much energy in this leisurely acts, at a time when rest of the world (including US) is running out of resources.

Getting up early so as to reach lab in time, working till 5pm and then rushing to the recreation center. Nothing really happening over my research project these days, these are the moments i look forward to, else in a routine not worth-mentioning. I am sure with my previous experiences of fun-frolic days that it won't last so long. After few days, the fun-factor would be missing, still i'll continue for leaning.

For the time being, Study>>Swimming>>Sauna>>Sleep>>Study and so on...

Social media; a fad or revolution?

Social media has expanded its network in no-time and has outreached the capacity of any imaginative thinking. It started almost a decade ago with few networking sites launching their platforms on internet for ordinary people to interact in a more casual manner than e-mails. Among those few remained a hit while others were wiped out in this giant wave of social networking. In terms of real success, Orkut was the first networking site though it took sometime to mark its presence in the new roaring age of internet. Personally too, it was my first experience of being in this new lime-light of social media, where you can reach far out to the outer world. I made the most of it by opening account on it, later shifting to the blogger to give a vent to my feelings into the outer world. I still remember refreshing my homepage again and again to see some new update on my scrapbook, roaming on to the scrapbooks of others; some were clapping with happiness while others fuming with disappointment. It looked as if everyone had got in a relationship with the social media, a personal space of your anonymity expressing your thoughts in your very own way, giving a very little importance to what others would think of you. It became a voice for voiceless, a source of power for the weak and backbone for the spineless human.

When some thought it might be the end for this new fad of social media, networking sites like Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn gave it a new meaning. It explored a new dimension of people, a new media to interact for all levels of communication, It suited every age-group; from a teenager looking for his/her crush to older ones trying to reunite with their batch-mates and family spread across the world. With six months,the number of Facebook users surpassed the population of majority of nations. It became a new tool for the industries to market their product and giving the real insight to the reviews of same product for the consumer market as well. A brand become a synonym to one's lifestyle and showing off your new gadget could set you apart from the bunch of ordinary men and women. With the expansion of this era, more companies started pouring in this new business with a wide set of ideas and culture values. Invention of new applications converged all sources of information to just few websites. Surfing on these websites for few hours will make you feel like visiting some community fair, discussing and exchanging your ideas with people from entirely different backgrounds. To listen to some song, i prefer surfing Facebook rather than YouTube. Companies who couldn't afford a separate chain for marketing their products got a new media much more efficient and powerful than its outdated counter-part. Some firms made millions of dollar using it wisely by reaching out to its customers while others were dusted from the market for not giving due attention to its customer-care chain.

The author has put it so lucidly to define its importance in present marketing world : From Social Media to Social Strategy.

Blog shifted to new website

Hello Guys,

The blog has been shifted to a new website i.e http://aseemrambani.org/.

Hope you will like it.

Thanks.

Aseem Rambani

Baba: the black sheep?

Swami Ramdev has taken over the command from Anna Hazare to continue the protest againt corruption. The Indian economy has been reeling under this monstrous corruption since british left it in 1947 following the financial losses incurred by UK in second world war. Everybody had a dream to live, to breathe, to rejoice in a fresh air free from all the impurities. Before we realized, this monster had taken charge over the minds of many, that very few were left to fight against this corruption. Many generations came and went unnoticed, some tried to wipe it out but before they could contribute a little to their sacred land, it was time to leave.

Anna hazare got the limelight when he started his fast till death to pass Jan lokpal bill in Indian constitution. People got an opportunity to raise their voice in an unequivocal manner against corruption, and it succeeded to some extent as well. A swami famous for his yoga teachings cured many of his followers from ailing and chronic diseases. People worshiped him for saving their lives all across the land. In a corner, he was also watching all this drama getting unfold and thought why not contribute his part to this crusading protest against corruption. People unaware of his little political understanding started following him without giving any real thought to its aftermath. The problem arose due to the complications in a democratic world where the laws are meant to be passed through the cabinet, but not through blackmail-ism by some ordinary men. He thought of taking undue advantage of his iconic stature to address some real issues in a deplorable manner.  Nevertheless his fan following rose to higher levels with each passing moment. At the same time, he was also criticized for his uncanny and arrogant manners towards his disciples. Foul-mouthed swami asked for banning 500-1000 rupee notes, proposing the education model should be in regional language taking away the only reason (English language) of unity among all citizens. With some more hatred speeches against government, he asked for making a militia of armed men.

Is it really justified for a yoga teacher to talk about militia of armed men? Even he felt helpless so he went against his own words very next day. A school drop-out (8th grade, to be exact) is asking the countrymen to follow him for passing the political laws to save the country from corruption. The governments over the past few decades has left no chance for ordinary and uneducated icons of our country, but to rise against this evil practice. The cause is genuine, very honest and purposeful but the means are as impure as this practice of corruption. Please think about it before joining this mass protest, whether your voice against the government is putting the individual freedom and democratic rights in a jeopardy or not?

A call from Chandigarh

The slow instrumental national anthem started playing with the blinking red LED, the calling number, though unexpected, was quite familiar with the initial code of 0172 (Chandigarh's STD code). I was surrounded with two lab mates, both Americans, so i didn't show even a little hesitation in answering the call as the next some talks would be either in hindi or punjabi language. From the other side came a swift "Hello (with that accented sign of exclamation after it), I am John calling from Credit union bank to serve you in a better way." I was moved by the unexpected tone, i pushed my chair a bit towards the window pane the leaves were fresh after the last night's rain, reminding me of beautiful weather of Chandigarh. Next few minutes went talking just like conversing to some monotonous machine. I randomly asked if he could mail me the statements for past week. He nodded affirmative before putting my call on hold to grab a pencil to note down the email id. "Oye pencil sutt de idhar ek, Sir, would you mind repeating your mail id again", said in a single tone and i was mesmerized. I asked," bhaji mil gayi pencil ?". There was a reason to laugh for both of us.

A call from Chandigarh

The slow instrumental national anthem started playing with the blinking red LED, the calling number, though unexpected, was quite familiar with the initial code of 0172 (Chandigarh's STD code). I was surrounded with two lab mates, both Americans, so i didn't show even a little hesitation in answering the call as the next some talks would be either in hindi or punjabi language. From the other side came a swift "Hello (with that accented sign of exclamation after it), I am John calling from Credit union bank to serve you in a better way." I was moved by the unexpected tone, i pushed my chair a bit towards the window pane the leaves were fresh after the last night's rain, reminding me of beautiful weather of Chandigarh. Next few minutes went talking just like conversing to some monotonous machine. I randomly asked if he could mail me the statements for past week. He nodded affirmative before putting my call on hold to grab a pencil to note down the email id. "Oye pencil sutt de idhar ek, Sir, would you mind repeating your mail id again", said in a single tone and i was mesmerized. I asked," bhaji mil gayi pencil ?". There was a reason to laugh for both of us.

The race of the wisest species

The life has certainly taken a leap forward, from those muddy roads to clean paved paths, a place where every second counts and punctuality is the new motto of life. From a place of saints and humans, to the new world of machines. Machines are directed to behave politely, neither they ever cheat nor they are corrupted.

Life is smooth, as smooth as the melting butter over a hot non-sticky pan. The day i came here and now, looking past in these five months fills me with little optimism but more of regression. During all these different years, i had learnt one thing. That phase when you tried with the best of your will, with the grit, that phase which was most gruesome yet you never said no to your efforts, that phase when hope was replaced with despair and light was taken its place with darkness of failure yet you were hopeful for the sunny days, that was the finest hour of my life. The reason i believe in it is because those efforts in unyielding circumstances brings the best out of you. The glorious moments are the result of many painful and struggling nights. This one motto kept me alive during all those long nights, that one day the sun would be brighter than my little success and my friends and family would bask in the sun of happiness. This part of my glory is called happiness, not few pennies of money nor a lavish golf course. A company of few closed ones and an excuse to be happy. It may not last so long before the next task, but such excuses keeps you moving in this long and everlasting run. Last five months, as i expected them to be the most enduring, the months when i would have tried real hard yet they were none. The life is smooth and as smooth as it was five months ago.

I came here filled with some sense of responsibility towards my family, for some promises i made leaving the land where i had my most cherished memories. A new land where every face speaks a unique tongue, every eye sparkles with a unique glitter and midst all of them was me. That starting of year was also unique, sitting in the plane looking through the aisle window for those unreachable stars. The time will remain same, just like after every night the credibility of shining sun. I convinced my heart that either that motto will come handy for the coming next two years or it will be the result of enduring efforts i put in during some finest past years. I was never sure of the upcoming surprises in this new year, but this coming year had already taken from me some of the most precious moments of my life. It had already taken back those eventful journeys back to my home for which i had always looked with utmost anxiousness. It had already taken back those beautiful mornings spend going to the office in metro and looking at all those so-familiar faces everytime. It had already taken back so much from me that one day i would complain you the lord about all my grief, unless my dreams would be fulfilled. Those dreams which sure would be more eventful than those journeys, the dreams more beautiful than those rush-hour morning. The truth of the moment lies in the fact that neither those eventful journeys nor the beautiful mornings will ever come, time once gone will never come back. Nobody has ever got hold over this mischievous running time. When the eventful journeys and mornings were there, I always asked the lord for more. I asked for the change, or in true words i craved for the change yet always enjoyed my life to the fullest; when gifted with the change i always asked for, it filled me with uncertainty. I was reluctant to take this one more step into the new world and bring one more reason to smile for me and my loved ones.

Either god has made this wisest species of human beings so foolish or is it just me?

The race of the wisest species

The life has certainly taken a leap forward, from those muddy roads to clean paved paths, a place where every second counts and punctuality is the new motto of life. From a place of saints and humans, to the new world of machines. Machines are directed to behave politely, neither they ever cheat nor they are corrupted.

Life is smooth, as smooth as the melting butter over a hot non-sticky pan. The day i came here and now, looking past in these five months fills me with little optimism but more of regression. During all these different years, i had learnt one thing. That phase when you tried with the best of your will, with the grit, that phase which was most gruesome yet you never said no to your efforts, that phase when hope was replaced with despair and light was taken its place with darkness of failure yet you were hopeful for the sunny days, that was the finest hour of my life. The reason i believe in it is because those efforts in unyielding circumstances brings the best out of you. The glorious moments are the result of many painful and struggling nights. This one motto kept me alive during all those long nights, that one day the sun would be brighter than my little success and my friends and family would bask in the sun of happiness. This part of my glory is called happiness, not few pennies of money nor a lavish golf course. A company of few closed ones and an excuse to be happy. It may not last so long before the next task, but such excuses keeps you moving in this long and everlasting run. Last five months, as i expected them to be the most enduring, the months when i would have tried real hard yet they were none. The life is smooth and as smooth as it was five months ago.

I came here filled with some sense of responsibility towards my family, for some promises i made leaving the land where i had my most cherished memories. A new land where every face speaks a unique tongue, every eye sparkles with a unique glitter and midst all of them was me. That starting of year was also unique, sitting in the plane looking through the aisle window for those unreachable stars. The time will remain same, just like after every night the credibility of shining sun. I convinced my heart that either that motto will come handy for the coming next two years or it will be the result of enduring efforts i put in during some finest past years. I was never sure of the upcoming surprises in this new year, but this coming year had already taken from me some of the most precious moments of my life. It had already taken back those eventful journeys back to my home for which i had always looked with utmost anxiousness. It had already taken back those beautiful mornings spend going to the office in metro and looking at all those so-familiar faces everytime. It had already taken back so much from me that one day i would complain you the lord about all my grief, unless my dreams would be fulfilled. Those dreams which sure would be more eventful than those journeys, the dreams more beautiful than those rush-hour morning. The truth of the moment lies in the fact that neither those eventful journeys nor the beautiful mornings will ever come, time once gone will never come back. Nobody has ever got hold over this mischievous running time. When the eventful journeys and mornings were there, I always asked the lord for more. I asked for the change, or in true words i craved for the change yet always enjoyed my life to the fullest; when gifted with the change i always asked for, it filled me with uncertainty. I was reluctant to take this one more step into the new world and bring one more reason to smile for me and my loved ones.

Either god has made this wisest species of human beings so foolish or is it just me?

English language

In scorching heat of summers, auto rickshaw driver was even more intolerable. Paving his path slowly and steadily, it used to take him forty five minutes to cover ten miles. and i used to imitate my English teacher, opening up my course book rhyming in a loud tone. Sometimes found the words too tough to grasp, and many times just skipping it ignoring the fact of my poor vocabulary.

Those were the momentous times when i used to adore this language english more than anything else on this diversified world. Imitating my English teacher, hoping that one day i would be able to speak in such a lucid manner. Repeating it for hours, imagining how life would be conversing with each other in English language. I used to imagine that even sobering in front of class, mumbling bad words in English felt so good. Ask for anything, may it be for lunch or for an extra pile of bread; this world seemed perfect to me painted in English. Such was the euphoria for this language, tried many times to understand some English song but failed (I never pushed too hard to get the lyrics might be the reason). My crush for this language went berserk in 8th grade, when my English teacher came and his grammatically pure english made him my role model. Eyes twinkled to see him talking in english, it felt this person had the pleasure of life in his tales of English novels and books.

The college came and gave me the much awaited chance and the exotic platform to connect to fellow bloggers, explore this outer world through the medium, best suited for me . I felt envious reading and learning their heart-throbbing skills of written English, which still continues even till now; I do feel that magical touch in blogs. I read every line and try to conceive the revolving, ever changing meanings of words in numerous ways. Alas !! the craze has diminished; since talking and writing all day in this once-a-dream language has taken apart that feeling which nurtured for so many years reading one of the best phrases ever written in English. One may like or doesn't like my posts, unmoved from all the critics, I enjoy reading and writing (and now of course conversing) in this language.

English language

In scorching heat of summers, auto rickshaw driver was even more intolerable. Paving his path slowly and steadily, it used to take him forty five minutes to cover ten miles. and i used to imitate my English teacher, opening up my course book rhyming in a loud tone. Sometimes found the words too tough to grasp, and many times just skipping it ignoring the fact of my poor vocabulary.

Those were the momentous times when i used to adore this language english more than anything else on this diversified world. Imitating my English teacher, hoping that one day i would be able to speak in such a lucid manner. Repeating it for hours, imagining how life would be conversing with each other in English language. I used to imagine that even sobering in front of class, mumbling bad words in English felt so good. Ask for anything, may it be for lunch or for an extra pile of bread; this world seemed perfect to me painted in English. Such was the euphoria for this language, tried many times to understand some English song but failed (I never pushed too hard to get the lyrics might be the reason). My crush for this language went berserk in 8th grade, when my English teacher came and his grammatically pure english made him my role model. Eyes twinkled to see him talking in english, it felt this person had the pleasure of life in his tales of English novels and books.

The college came and gave me the much awaited chance and the exotic platform to connect to fellow bloggers, explore this outer world through the medium, best suited for me . I felt envious reading and learning their heart-throbbing skills of written English, which still continues even till now; I do feel that magical touch in blogs. I read every line and try to conceive the revolving, ever changing meanings of words in numerous ways. Alas !! the craze has diminished; since talking and writing all day in this once-a-dream language has taken apart that feeling which nurtured for so many years reading one of the best phrases ever written in English. One may like or doesn't like my posts, unmoved from all the critics, I enjoy reading and writing (and now of course conversing) in this language.

the awakening dream..

I called my younger brother in a huskiness tone to put the cycle off the stand, so that we can go to temple. In the meantime, i put those two small aluminum wrapped paranthas in my jeans pockets and started running towards the outer gate. The weather couldn't be better, with minute particles of dust dancing in the settling light of sun, eyes trying to focus on ground envying the brightness of sun. Same street patterned in most haphazard manner with bricks pointing out of the plane, yet the tires of the cycle refrain ourselves from the bumps. I had already put enough food in my pockets yet was little gleeful about the hanging packet with some sweets over the handle of cycle. I never wanted to eat more pizzas, vegetable rice had replaced water from its place (consuming more rice than water in a day); never wanted to get away with chance of eating home cooked food.

Driving through the mud slopes of open road, noise of peddles tearing the greased hook of chain and we reached the temple. It felt god has given me one more chance to cherish these wonderful summers of my childhood. Watching the water pumping out from the big nozzle of tap, reserved in a pond and it was more clear and serene than my soul ever was. Dipping my feet into the pond brought respite to my scratched mind, much required at the moment. Even the water felt so sweet, much sweeter than what i used there in a far-away land. In short, I was lucky to be home from thousand miles of strange world. It was getting dark, yet the path was same upon which i had traversed for millions of time. Splashing water with my feet felt much better than those ruffled feet in white snow. Eyes were sparkling with those few lamp shades hanging outside the houses, could hear the cries of infants asking for food, smoke coming out of the chimneys in kitchen making my eyes sparkle even more, thinking about the days where this smoke was hard to see after eating dozens of plates of burgers.

I missed these long prayers, which i heard early in morning. Cushioning the pillow over the face to avoid the voices made me think of the days where there was no one to fulfill my longings to hear some unwanted voices. Alarms were ringing, could hear the chatters of my cousins getting ready for school, milkman banging the door despite telling him the door-bell hanging on the right side. Life was getting back to normal, and i got up. Looking out of the window, through the white lifeless snow made me realized, it was just a dream !!!

the awakening dream..

I called my younger brother in a huskiness tone to put the cycle off the stand, so that we can go to temple. In the meantime, i put those two small aluminum wrapped paranthas in my jeans pockets and started running towards the outer gate. The weather couldn't be better, with minute particles of dust dancing in the settling light of sun, eyes trying to focus on ground envying the brightness of sun. Same street patterned in most haphazard manner with bricks pointing out of the plane, yet the tires of the cycle refrain ourselves from the bumps. I had already put enough food in my pockets yet was little gleeful about the hanging packet with some sweets over the handle of cycle. I never wanted to eat more pizzas, vegetable rice had replaced water from its place (consuming more rice than water in a day); never wanted to get away with chance of eating home cooked food.

Driving through the mud slopes of open road, noise of peddles tearing the greased hook of chain and we reached the temple. It felt god has given me one more chance to cherish these wonderful summers of my childhood. Watching the water pumping out from the big nozzle of tap, reserved in a pond and it was more clear and serene than my soul ever was. Dipping my feet into the pond brought respite to my scratched mind, much required at the moment. Even the water felt so sweet, much sweeter than what i used there in a far-away land. In short, I was lucky to be home from thousand miles of strange world. It was getting dark, yet the path was same upon which i had traversed for millions of time. Splashing water with my feet felt much better than those ruffled feet in white snow. Eyes were sparkling with those few lamp shades hanging outside the houses, could hear the cries of infants asking for food, smoke coming out of the chimneys in kitchen making my eyes sparkle even more, thinking about the days where this smoke was hard to see after eating dozens of plates of burgers.

I missed these long prayers, which i heard early in morning. Cushioning the pillow over the face to avoid the voices made me think of the days where there was no one to fulfill my longings to hear some unwanted voices. Alarms were ringing, could hear the chatters of my cousins getting ready for school, milkman banging the door despite telling him the door-bell hanging on the right side. Life was getting back to normal, and i got up. Looking out of the window, through the white lifeless snow made me realized, it was just a dream !!!