Oh so confused!!

I am going through a very confusing time and I noticed that writing down my feelings sometime make me feel better. So this is going to be a very personal post and quite irrelevant to anybody other than my closest friends.

Well, some six years back I left my country and came here for graduate studies. I was very happy to join an Ivy league university and I was confused to leave my country and my boyfriend. But I did make the move because I did not want to compromise and my priorities were different and at the back of my mind I had the belief that this was temporary and I could go back anytime. The move was not smooth. I was unhappy in a strange land with no friends. But, I made amazing friends who stood by me through thick and thin for the only reason that they are amazing human beings. I adjusted slowly, very slowly. I finished my PhD, moved to do a postdoc for the only reason that I could stay with my husband. At that time, I was quite upset with the academic profession and was tired of it, but I decided to give it a last try. And it is then that I saw that I was not incompetent, that the profession could be better than what I thought. And I do know that I love research.

Now I am standing in the juncture where I have to decide whether to stay here or go back to my country. What to expect from my life and I wish I had two lives. It is a much more difficult decision than coming here because this decision is going to be permanent, or almost. There will be no getting out of it, whichever way I decide. So what has changed in this. Well for one thing, I am older and my priorities have changed. I am not as single-mindedly career oriented as I used to be. I have a family and I would like to be able to continue having one. I have also gotten used to the ways of the academics here and do not have too much idea about back home. I am reasonably confident of the support I will receive over here and am not sure about back home.

So why am I thinking of back home? Because it is home. No other place will ever be that. And the weird thing is I am not too attached to home. It is just the country. I cannot quite imagine staying back in a different country. How can I not try to go back to the country where I went to college at the ridiculously subsidized tuition of $2 per year!!! Some tax payer money taught me throughout my higher education. How can I forget that? How?

Also I do realize the very small number of female academicians in my country and I want to change it, if only by trying to be successful there. But, what if I cannot make it there and just go on to re-inforce the existing stereotype. And what reason do I have that I will even get a job there? I do not even remember the way academics work there! What if this reasoning is just an empty dream and I am just not that capable?

What makes this decision more confusing is that if I decide to go back (and that is what I have been favoring till now), I will have to find a job in a place close to my husband and what if my career completely takes a back seat, since that is what EVERYBODY will be forcing me to do. I have been a renegade and a rebel, but how much longer can I rebel, especially when I see that it makes everybody around me so very unhappy. I guess, my staying or going back is becoming more than just a career move or a place to stay. It carries with it the weight of my principles and the happiness of my loved ones and that is where it is terrifying. And the worst part is it is not clear which route will actually be favoring my principles. As high sounding and ridiculous it might sound, I want to make a difference and I want to make it a bit easier for the next generation women in my country, I do not want them to hear things like "Why will a woman have to travel for career?", "Why will a woman be 'wasting' a seat at a premier institute?", "educated/careerist women cannot have a family" and so on. And if I look closer into which of these questions I refute by making either decision. Well, for one thing if I am successful anywhere, I have stopped the question of 'wasting' a seat. But, there is that "if"! I am not aware of the academic scenerio back home. What if I am totally brushed aside as my husbands "better half". He is quite capable and a good researcher, but I do not want my career to be tied to his name because in that case whatever I achieve will be thought of as due to him! I believe that my career, however good bad or ugly, can stand up on its own. Will I be able to establish that if I go back? On the other hand, if I don't go back, I am just another hypocrite. I am not making any change, however tiny. Of course, the other myth of educated women making lousy wives is even harder to break. I have tried and tried and tried and I think I need super human strength and 48 hours a day to make it happen. And I do go away for conferences. I have a life outside home and I know that if and when I decide to have a family (in a more strict sense), I will have to compromise and whatever compromise I make, I will feel guilty towards my family and my work. There is this notion ingrained in my mind (however liberal I might try to proclaim myself) that the household duties are mine and it is difficult to act otherwise. It is also impossible to do all the household work and then be competent at work. Which till now I am managing but at the cost of being completely tired, spent and burnt out on a regular basis. Well, I am kind of straying from the main issue which is I am not sure which route will be true to my principles. And if at all my principles make sense in this world. Sometimes I feel so bitter and lost. I believe I have been one of the luckiest in everything and still at times I feel completely defeated by the struggle between my principles and my ingrained notions.

After all this there is the issue of my real love for work, for science. This I still believe can be fulfilled in both places although everybody around me are convinced it is not so. Well, they have a point. If one has better exposure, funding and peer-pressure, it does make one work better. But, I believe that I can make up for the lack of it, by my own passion for science and will to succeed. Succeed, not in the traditional sense of having prestige, money and awards (although I have to agree they make one feel much better and positive), but in my sense of achieving and discovering new things. The reason why I started this painstaking and bitter journey in the first place.

Notice, I am not mentioning money, standard of life and recognition. They are the things I can live without and is not even playing a part in this confusion. The battle between the idealist and the realist is raging on and sometimes they are confused which side they are on! Am I a mess, or what? :)

Power of social networking

While Anna Hazare the 72 year campaigner continues with his fast against corruption in Indian government, we kept seeing facebook posts supporting him. We had the option of "like"ing and "comment"ing on such posts. And then came a few facebook posts pointing out the irony of the situation! Yes, it is a bit ironic that while this dedicated campaigner did something real, we only had the option to go viral in the internet and do something as insignificant as "like" other such posts.

But, surpassing this irony I really felt the power of social network and thought about it for the first time. Here I should mention that I am not terribly active in the network. I do check my facebook page once or twice a day but do not post trivial comments about the insignificant and irrelevant details about what I am doing at every single moment of my life. And I have been rather skeptical of the real consequence and benefits of interactions over the internet.
These posts about "Anti-corruption fast" as well as the previous posts on "Dandi march" and "Dr. Binayak Sen release" changed my views quite completely.

These "ironic" and "insignificant" posts are not all that insignificant after all. How else would I, not living in India at the moment and not very politically aware, have known about "Anna Hazare" or "Jan Lokpal bill"? I would have read about the corruption scandals and just been saddened by it for the next 10 seconds and maybe discussed it over coffee with some other folks and that would be the end of it. How else would so many people have known about the Dandi march that happened here in California and joined it?

I am completely awestruck by the power of social network. While it has the rather unnecessary effect that I will get to know about the boring facts of somebody else's day to day life, it does have the power to motivate a lot of people from all over the world for a just cause. It does make us aware of the many very important news and also people's reaction to it. Many of these movements would have gone un-noticed not just by non-resident folks but been drowned in the n-th page of a newspaper or 2 lines of a newscast for those back home. Without social networking, we would have known about the scandals and we would feel helpless and not even try to change a thing. However, now thanks to social networking we do feel empowered. We do see how "we" can make a difference. Maybe by as small a response as clicking "like" or posting a news. But, this action however trivial does move the news forward and build support. People might find this action ironic and hypocritical but at the end of the day if one more person comes to know about a movement for a just cause, we have increased the support by one person and the chain reaction goes on. And little as it may seem this increases the pressure on the people and the government to do the right thing. Most importantly it makes a common citizen feel empowered and makes us feel that democracy is not just a hypothesis. We as citizens matter. And we as citizens can make a difference. It gives us the optimism that I saw was lacking even a few years back!

I don't have too much more to express. Except that I am liking this change. And it is filling me up with optimism and the despair to not be able to make a difference might soon be a thing of past. Social networking is truly making us global citizens. No matter where our home is, no matter where we live, we can support just causes and do our little bit to change the world.

Bangalore ... what the place means to me

I have always been more attached to places than people. Not a nice trait many would say. But then that is how I am. So, here is what I have thought of one of the best places I lived in.

Bangalore... It all started when I got admitted into IISc for the Integrated PhD program. I had truly wanted to stay in India and be a scientist. I did not quite know what scientist meant but I was awed and inspired by it and as most people would agree IISc was the place to be. It would have been an understatement if I said that I was deliriously happy and proud to be part of such a great institute. So, I packed all my belongings in 2 rather small bags and left my home to come to Bangalore. My parents came with me to help me settle in. And then they left. I was all alone. I had always thought that I was not very attached to my family but this was the first time I really missed everybody. I was lonely and scared. Helpless. Come to think of it I was not all that young. I was 20.

Luckily I had friends from college who also came to join the same program. But somehow I was not too out-going, not too friendly in college and I could not expect them to suddenly come and stand by my sides. That night I took a very long bicycle ride in the campus. In the most remote parts of the campus, from where I could not see the gates that lead to the outside, to the train station and then back to my home (some 2000 kms away). I was completely exhausted when I came back.

This was my first day in IISc. The next few days weren't that much better. One of my good friends left IISc and went back to Calcutta. I hated the dim yellow lights that lit up the streets. The campus induced claustrophobia in me.

But something happened. So gradually that I did not notice. But, I surely knew that somethings have changed on my birthday. About 2 months had passed. I was getting used to the campus and all the people in it. But, the thought of spending my birthday away from home made me quite upset. Strangely so. Because my birthday was not celebrated with any pomp and glory at home. But anyway, I was sad and decided to not come back to my hostel room till very late in the night, till I was too tired to be sad that is. I walked in to my room and put the lights on only to see my room completely decked up with streamers and balloons. I heard the complete Int Phd girl's gang singing "Happy Birthday" with a cake and all. The complete shabang. I tell you that was the best birthday I ever had and if you ask me that was the day that I started feeling at home in Bangalore.

I lived in Bangalore for 3 years. Only 3 years. But, those were 3 golden years. I cannot pin-point any one reason why it is so precious to me. I joined the Natok (bengali drama) group and that definitely became like a family to me. Although going on stage was so much fun, it was the group aDDas that mattered the most. The Int Phd girl's gang (only 7 of us), all of us so different from each other became the best of friends. I don't know how that happened. We had fun, we chatted till 4 am and was named the notorious noise makers in the hostel, we celebrated birthdays and V-days and just days, we cried on each others shoulders and occasionally bitched about each other. And amidst all this confusion, we started trusting each other. Then there was a famous trio of friends that I was a part of. I cannot count the number of hours we have spent in TMSC or mess or Gymcafe yakking about everything and nothing. This trio grew into the Hoihoi Sangha with its weekend trips and mess aDDa and numerous Tea board trips throughout the day. The Saturday night Shreyas aDDa which culminated in the night long discussion on life, universe and everything outside the Gymkhana.

This was really the place that made me what I am today. It taught me the real meaning of freedom and the responsibilities that come with it. To be anything I want to be. To be completely self-sufficient. To have dreams. It also taught me the real meaning of friendship and gave me amazing friends that I will always treasure and miss. The strength to miss a lot of things and still move on. The strength to stand up to people and do the right things. It also showed me why I tend to miss places and not people. Because what we think of as places are really the intersection of many people all at the same time and place. And Bangalore gave me the opportunity to interact with the perfect medley of people. It gave me a place to form my own views and the confidence to express them.

In Bangalore, I do not see the glitter of MG Road, I see the quiet shades of the trees in IISc. I do not see the hep IT crowd, I see my friends in their tattered jeans and T-shirts, poor in their attire but not in their dreams. The cool coffee shops and restaurants give way to the coffee board and Tea board and mess with its quite atrocious food.

If Durgapur was the place that nurtured the little girl in me, Bangalore was the place that made me the human being I am.

Women's reservation bill and all the controversy

I was going through the BBC blog on the bill for reservation of seats for women in the parliament.

Firstly, let me make my point of view clear. I am against most reservations. Because I think reservations while giving the illusion of growth actually stymies it. There is a certain stigma attached to a person's attitude towards anybody who has come to a position with the help of reservation and not on his/her merit alone. I think that stigma in itself is detrimental to growth. But, then again when airing this view I have been asked about what I feel about the reserved seats or compartments in the local transportations in the Indian cities or suburbs. I am always a bit pained at what the answer to this question is. I have faced the perils that a young girl undergoes everyday when commuting to and from work/schools/colleges and I have to agree that this reservation is a "necessary evil". Now that I have sort of cleared my point of view with regard to general reservation, let me make some comments on the reservation of parliamentary seats. This reservation is in some way more crucial than reservation of seats in a bus or seats in an educational institution for that matter. There are definitely two sides to this reservation. It is my belief (and in no way is it supported by any statistical analysis) that inclusion of women in the legislative system might lead to increase in importance given to certain issues that are most crucial for women and may otherwise be overlooked by men. However, I seriously doubt the statement (in the BBC blog) that women are less prone to be corrupt than men. There has been the added concern aired that this reservation might lead to women being elected who would be puppets in the hand of their male relatives. While this situation might indeed happen, this is no different than the 'male relatives' actually in the government and should not be an added concern. Even if a certain percentage of women are able to make decisions on their own that is a positive step. Overall this bill might have some positive effects on the lives of women in India.

However, this bill is only the first baby step towards betterment of the condition of the women in India. For the real improvement, there is need for all round socio-economic development and better education and awareness among the women. The bill in itself is no reason for rejoicing. It is the effect of the bill and the way it is implemented that could potentially be a cause for celebration.

As an after thought I was going over the various comments to the blog. That is where I was surprised --- in both good and bad way! I found many well meant comments both for and against the bill but recognizing the condition of women in India and the need for improvement. I did not think so many people (especially men) realized and felt for women. And I found people who refused to even believe that women are treated unfairly.

There was few comments noting that not everybody in India treats women in a derogatory manner. While this is true the broad general statement that Indian women are treated unfairly and with derogation is a truth that can hardly be argued. People also tend to compare the situation of women in India and the west. The argument put forward is always that we had a woman prime minister. I, myself am not under an illusion that women are treated equally anywhere. But there is a varying degree of equality and fairness. And while we have had a woman prime minister, the average Indian woman is still treated much much more unfairly than in the west. Women foeticide is still a common practice as well as dowry. Even in the urban areas and among educated people dowry and preferential treatment of male child is predominant. Women while they can work for a living are still expected to do all the house chores by themselves. This leads to a woman having to choose between work and home. The women who choose to stay at home and look after the household duties are left at the mercy of her male relatives (and made to be thoroughly aware of her precarious predicament) and the national per capita income does not show her as earning even if she does some part-time job from home.

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This was a post I had started writing a few months ago and got too agitated to see it to its completion. But, anyway I will keep hoping that someday women in India and everywhere else are treated with respect and viewed as equal to men.

Forest music

Yesterday I heard a small essay on the forest music. I had some constructive criticism to put in. That got me thinking. What would I have written?! Here it should be pointed out. I have never really been to a forest. I have always wanted to. But, I can always imagine. I can always dream...

Let me dream ....

I woke up when the first rays of sunlight touched the soft green leaves of the trees all around me. The birds and insects were already up. They were busily going about with their daily life. I heard the birds twittering as they flew out to maybe find food. It was a November morning. Just starting to get colder. The time of the year when you can smell the air getting cooler and the plants starting to look forward to all the flowers that are going to bloom. It always smells of anticipation during this time of the year in the tropics. I could see the red rays of the morning sun through the leaves of the trees forming strange patterns, crisscrossing on the ground. Beams of light coming through the foliage and when I stood under it, I felt like I was on a stage with the spotlights on. Did I tell you, when I was young I used to be mystified by the morning rays of the sun as it came through the window? I wanted to hold it in my hand. Later on, I learnt that what I saw was not the sun ray but the dust particles. But, in my mind today I could again see the shimmering bits of dust as the little bits of sun rays frolicking on me. And I saw butterflies. In myriad colours. And I saw birds.

As the day got older, the suns rays got more even. The whole forest was lighted up with an even but not too strong light. I could hear lots of forest sound. The screeching calls of the animals. The rustle on the leaves as they moved. Maybe I saw a monkey or two. Maybe I imagined seeing a few more animals of unknown origin. And all the while I looked out of my little balcony into the forest. Then came the noon time somnolence. It seemed to have captured the forest. The forest rested. And I heard the distant soft sound of water flowing through a narrow stream. I had seen the stream the other day. It was a tiny rivulet. Not very remarkable.

The noon day siesta was over. I was sitting on my balcony looking at the wee hours of twilight. There is something strange about this time. Maybe it is rightly called the witching hours. I always feel a little melancholy at this time. Maybe the forest felt it too. The birds were flying back. They were talking to each other about their day. Maybe sternly telling their little ones to behave as the little ones all too excited to see their parents were scrambling for attention and also food. It was the family reunion time. And then slowly the birds fell silently to sleep and the crickets took on the forest. It was getting increasingly dark. The shrubs looked like tiny monsters and the huge trees loomed over everything ominously. I felt a small shiver run down my spine. The fear of the unknown took over. The only things other than the indistinct outline of trees were the fireflies and maybe the eyes of animals looking up at me. Hungrily? Fiercely? All I could hear was the indistinct rustle of leaves as some animals or rodents moved on them and the monotonous drone of the crickets. Some times a stray animal call. I felt like in an island.

And then I looked up into the sky. I saw stars. Like I have never seen them before. I saw the whole milky way looking at me. It was the most intricate diamond necklace that man could imagine. It was the most beautiful thing that god had created! I felt tiny. I felt insignificant. And then I felt one with the stars. I felt like the universe. It was breathtaking. A stray droplet of tear coursed down my cheek as I payed homage to the star-studded sky.

Ballygunge Court, the movie

I finished watching the movie Ballygunge Court. It is a movie by Pinaki Chaudhari about the tragic lives of a few elderly couples in a Calcutta based multi-storeyed apartment complex called Ballygunge court.

Although the setting and circumstances look real enough, the movie can be at best called mediocre and weak. Assuming the Pinaki Chaudhari wanted to depict the plight of the modern senior citizen plight in Calcutta, I do not understand why he had to show it in such a negative light. Surely, the senior citizens deserve more dignity than this.

The movie starts with a middle-class elderly (?) house-wife being driven out of her home by her alcoholic husband being accidentally run-over by a car and the husband beating himself up while their son dumps the blame of her mothers death on his father and going abroad. Then we get acquainted with all the other couples in that complex. Sabyasyachi Chatterjee, the real cool dad. Soumitra Chatterjee who does not allow his son to move abroad and Mamata Shankar the understanding mother. Monoj Mitra, the lonely father who takes resort in gardening etc. And the oldest couple, the Hirani's who get murdered.

The movie has some good acting by Sabyasachi Chatterjee, Soumitra Chatterjee and Mamata Sankar and good music by Pt. Ajay Chakraborty.

But, other than that it is too slow and long drawn. And at times very self-contradictory. In the movie, Sabyasachi Chatterjee's daughter Begum goes away to Mumbai to join fashion designing school and with lot of guilt for that (shown in negative light) whereas the security guard of the building Rudy has left his cancer ailing mother in his village (shown in positive light) while it looks like the relative distance of Calcutta to the village is a couple of hours and that of Mumbai and Calcutta too is just a couple of hours by people who can afford to fly which surely Begum can.

Other such contradictory points are more evident. Like the fact that Soumitra and Mamata had been abroad busy earning money and fame while their son stayed in hostels but when they get old, it seems like suddenly all the equations get reversed and the son has to give up his life to stay and take care of his parents who by the way are neither senile nor incapacitated in any way. And even Soumitra is selfish enough to ask what his daughter-in-law would do in her parents' place for a week! That was ridiculous! Just because she is a good wife and good daughter-in-law and just because he is used to her being around does not mean that her own parents do not mean anything to her! I found it a bit harrowing that she had to ask permission to go to her place and really beg and cajole. And also the logic of the daughter-in-laws sister was infallible in a way that when she comes back home for holiday from UK she will spend all the time with her parents unlike her sister, the perfect wife and daughter-in-law who cannot take care of her parents that way. The fallible part of her logic according to me is that she thought she would be able to come back for 5-7 weeks. That kind of holiday is unthinkable.

What amazes me even more is that all the parents wanted to keep their sons and daughters back so that they could take care of their parents, but never came up with the term 'brain drain'. Never asked them to stay back because of their country. Because of what they owed to the country. And the question of how Soumitra's daughet-in-law almost never visited her parents came into the equation.

There were however strong points that the Hirani's kept trying to get through to their son and hit the unbudging wall of the answering machine. It was heartless of their son to leave behind two very old and helpless people behind without bothering to ask after them or take care of their well-being.

But, these well-made points are few and far between. Mostly it turns out to be a tale of selfishness of everybody, young and old and the general indignity of the senior citizens and the changing family structure in urban India. Of the age old Bengali emotional blackmail.

robibar (my first bengali blog)

baire theke ek chilte roddur eshe bole dilo bhor hoechhe… tobuo bichhanar opor arekbar gorie nilam… tarpor mone porlo aj robibar… tai abar balish Ta ke jorie dhorlam…

Baire theke pasher barir unon dhoranor gondho ashchhe… ki porichito gondho… tobu majhemajhe eto bhalo laage… ei gondoTai bujhi paoa jae kolkatar snetapora golir majhe… jekhane konodino rod Dhoke na… naki seta purono barir gondho?! Jaihok shue shuei shunte pachchhi baire corporation er kole koekjon mukh dhuchchhe… robibarer alshemite e baranda theke o barandae ekTu golpo gachha… robibarer alshemi kaTie rickshaw r awaj… amader shamner rasta Ta boro bhanga chora tai kono gari gele, emonki rickshaw geleo awaj hoe… ar oi to shona jachchhe rojkar moto Thakurer naam gaan korte korte ganga snan e cholechhen ke ekjon… enake roji gaite shuni, dekhini konodin i…

Aste aste diner byastota arombho hochchhe… baire onek hnakDak kotha batra… ar amar janla diye asha ek chilte roddur ekhon sara ghor bhorie diyechhe…

uThlam… uThe janlar pordar fnak diye dekhlam… shudhui shada borof… ar mon kharap kora akash… kuashae prae Dhaka ekTa enkebenke chola rasta…

tai aage ja ja bollam se shob ghoTchhe hajar hajar mile dure… aami majhemajhei bujhte pari na aami kothae aachhi… roddur ar mon kharap akash Ta milemishe ekakar hoe jae… pine gachher gondher shonge mishe jae shei kotodurer dhnoyar gondho… kuasha keTe giye dekhi hajar mile durer sonali roddur eshe porechhe sada borof e…

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e shobi banano kotha... ashole shokkal bela uThei janlar fnak diye meghla akash Ta dekhe chokh bondho kore bhablam amar hajar mile durer roddurer deshe... bairer nishabdo rasta Ta ke bhablam amar parar bhanga mukhor rasta... mile er por mile pore thaka shada borof e ekTu ronger chhnoa anlam...