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New post updated on my blog at http://aseemrambani.org/

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Spring 2012

Waiting for the start of a new dawn. A new beginning, a new semester, some new courses, but i promise not to let down the expectations of few, not to deter by the obstacles, the zeal and vigor will never lessen. Probably experiencing these harsh winters for the last time, no more lonely walks in these woods and cravings to talk to a person in real. I had chatted with my room for hours, snow had danced in front of my eyes till they were tired watching it.

Time will change and will change for good. It always reminds me of a poem which Robert Frost wrote and i read it during my bachelors. The two lines touched my heart nothing less than any magical chord-

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I-- -- I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference..

But i never had an option to choose the one less traveled by. Some mightier and stronger can do so, but meant nothing for the ones with a mellow heart. Time never remains the same, it has changed. From those silent nights under the vast open sky to the hustle and bustle of a big city, the destiny has taken me to a point from where two roads diverge. And i'll take the one less traveled by and Shall it make all the difference.

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.