Driving Forces

Learning to drive is my new thing. Like that guy from modern family: I'm a cool dad, that's my thang... (like he's the one who decides these things). When I say new thing, I do not mean that it is something I am doing. Rather, it is something I want to do sometime in the near future. Making it my "thing" is my way of putting somewhere near the top of my agenda. (If you've noticed all the words starting with 'some' in the last two lines, it should give you an idea of how soon I am going to put my words into action). You know, when my friends watch videos titled "10 worst parking errors" and laugh uncontrollably, I think to myself, you people just wait till I start. I'm sure to put the rest of the public out of contention.

Dedicated readers would remember how I was worried about not knowing to cook. Well, I am educating myself in the culinary arts now (necessity being the step-mother of all bad invention) and have found that there is fine line between cooking and cooking well. Wait, that didn't sound quite right. There is an ocean of difference between the two. Of course, being an engineer, I'm not planning to give up so soon. Going to build a bridge between these two long-lost brothers (you know, 'cooking' and 'cooking well'). I know I am not the kind of engineer that builds bridges but... (I've already used the necessity excuse once, and can't think of a better one, so here goes)... but somebody's gotta do it. One of the facebook quizzes I had taken a while ago told me that I was born to be a hero :)

Alienated

When I find words like 'alien' on official forms, I am reluctant to put a tick mark next to it. It's like I am betraying my basic human nature. The word 'alien' brings to my mind a picture of a green face with big spiderman-like eyes. Yes, even I wondered, why that particular picture. One of my friends had set an alienware logo as his profile picture, and seeing it every day for more than a year has made me associate the picture with the word.

Ok, now I can't decide which train of thought to follow. I think I will do both, one at a time. First of all, alien? There has to be a better term. How about, say, "non-citizen+non-resident"? "from another country"? "not from here"? "away-from-home dawg"? People who set standards for political correctness should be notified of this. We need swift action to prevent further alienation of already homesick (and oversensitive, it must be said) whiners like myself.

About associating words with pictures, or vice versa, let's do a quick test. Ice cream, holiday, school, butterfly, MJ. I am pretty sure you got at least a few pictures in your head. (If you didn't, do let me know, I might just need to get my head examined). Hmm... Insane or Alien... I wonder which is worse...

The Plan

So I am planning to get a doctorate. I have done crazier things in life. Like, you ask? Well, let's see.. like falling off a bike (not that I planned that one), running 10km before breakfast (good work if you caught me out on that white lie/ pachha kallam, whichever way you want to look at it based on your language/colour/level of accuracy preference). Oh I have a good example- taking a 16-hour flight... ok, no, that was a direct consequence of the plan that prompted this discussion, hence does not count... hmm, looks like a change of opinion is in order here. I have Never done anything crazier than than this in all my life. What can I say? Wild is my new middle name.

Just this afternoon, I found one thing I liked about being in the US- macaroni and cheese. So much better than what our sup-dup wallah used to make. Those who went to college with me would have vivid memories of what I am talking about. Other than that, I have no views to share about this place. Not making the same mistake that frog (protagonist of the 'frog in the well' story) made.

However, there is one thing that cracks me up every time- the culture differences. The respect factor is so ingrained in all of us who studied in India that every time a professor walks into class, I find myself standing up. Unfortunately, on occasions like these, I am generally the only student standing. Then I go through an elaborate act to make sure no one suspects what I was really up to: I turn around, frown at my chair like there's something on it (still perfecting that look), then shake my head and sit down. After three weeks I've managed to discipline myself to the point where I get to only a half standing position, where it might look like I was about to get up and leave the class, but thought better of it. You know, like being a good sport, giving the old professor a chance...

Ah, haven't even mentioned any research yet, have I? Well that stuff's happening too. Didn't want my comeback post to be about that. We have lots of time. Somewhere during these 4 years when I run out of stories (as if!), I might consider it. And yes, the blog and I are still alive, thanks for your concern. I hope I have given you ample proof of our existence. Will keep writing, and I promise to keep my promises from now on :)

My Idle Mind

They say an idle mind is a devil's workshop. I was standing outside the embassy for my visa interview yesterday, prepared for a long wait. After my recent passport experience, I have developed a distaste for all forms of waiting around. To keep myself entertained, I keep up a steady monologue inside my head, which on this occasion went something like this:
Hey, that man standing in front of me has a photo album. I like photo albums. Maybe he'll let me have a look. But how do I ask? Hmm.. I remember reading in the application form that an entire wedding album was one of the requirements for a certain class of visa. I don't really see how that's relevent or why they need the entire album. Maybe they just like looking at photographs, like me.
A lady came and stood behind me. She instantly struck up a conversation in Tamil. I nodded politely at whatever she was saying, till it became apparent that she expected a reply, which was when I used my broken tamil to tell her I didn't speak the language. She had very few teeth, nearly toothless lady.. probably a distant relative of Nearly Headless Nick of Gryffindor (Harry Potter's house).
I looked at the people queued up in front of me and thought about an elective I had studied in college; it included a chapter on queue theory. Some of the terms had struck me as funny then. One of these, reneging, crossed my mind for an instant but I dismissed it. Nearly toothless lady then moved forward and stood to my right. I wondered if they had a term for this kind of queue (assuming that other people would follow her lead). 90 degree line? Right angle line? Right line? Nothing seemed appropriate.
Soon I got to the front of the queue and a lady ran a metal detector over me. She had on a blue uniform with a red border, the exact colour of the Club HP board across the road. After having my papers checked, I sat waiting on a chair for my interview. There was a flashing screen giving out instructions like 'Please help us to serve you better'...(how?)..'by maintaining silence'. That was easy. I sealed my already closed lips for their benefit.
While I was sitting there helping them serve me better, my neighbour started a conversation about student visas. I listened and replied whenever necessary. I have a bad memory for faces. Wouldn't remember this one after leaving this building. Memory made me think of an Indian movie, Ghajini. Dad is fond of saying things like "I think I'll do a Ghajini and forget this ever happenend". I had seen the Tamil version in college, but my Tamil being as bad as it is, I didn't realize that Ghajini was actually the villain's name. How many Indian movies are named after villains? Not many, I should think. Mogambo would have been a good name for a movie. I thought of Hollywood movies named after villians for about 10 seconds and the best I could come up with were Anaconda and Godzilla, but those weren't the kind of villains I had in mind.
Around this time, after playing a slow version of musical chairs, it was time for my interview. That took all of 2 minutes and I was out in the open at 8:55 am, less than an hour after I had entered.

Growing up

Two events that occurred during this past week have led me to believe that I have (finally) become a full-fledged adult. Now, the reason I felt so insecure about this (i.e., my "adult-ness"- that, by the way, should be a word) is that I am not in a regular job. Grad school is fine because you do make enough money to live, but when people ask what you do, and you say you are studying, they instantly jump to the conclusion that you are in high school or something and treat you like a baby. Not that high-schoolers deserve to be treated like babies.. anyway, I was talking about the two events.
The first happened in the beginning of the week. One kid, who we will call Kid, to protect his identity (not to mention his pride and self-esteem) screamed for me to chase away a moth that had settled on the wall, and I did it without hesitation. That probably doesn't sound like much of an 'event' to you, but for someone like me who is used to calling parents or grandparents or sometimes even roommate to do insect-chasing work, it was quite an achievement to be entrusted with a responsibility of this magnitude, and actually completing the task with minimal fussing and squealing.
The second was having my marriage fixed. This, however, quite apart from being a reminder of how much I have grown, was more like a wake up call. I have so much more growing up to do. For instance, how many grown women do you know who haven't cooked a complete meal in their life? Unless people have started considering 'kanji' a complete meal, I am in real trouble. My husband-to-be is trying to ease my fears, or maybe just trying to be funny, by offering to get me a "cooking for dummies" book. I am pretty positive that no such book exists, but if there is, or if any of you are planning to write one, I really would like a copy. I could, at the very least, familiarize myself with the theory...
PS: In all this excitement, I forgot to mention that I got my passport on Thursday, so that's one activity that I'm dropping from my vacation activity list. Yay!

Killing Serials

Now that I have got my reading, tennis and passport-chasing under control (if case you are interested in the details... reading: a book in 2 days, tennis: 3 hours a day, passport chasing: completely on hold except for 3 phonecalls a day which are never answered anyway) I finally have time for other leisurely pursuits like talking to my family, reading the newspaper and feigning an interest in prime time television (local channels only).
When Grandma was here on a visit, I noticed that the title of one of the serials she watches translates to 'Bhamini never loses'. I don't know if it's just me, but I can't help wondering why anyone would want to watch something so predictable? In fact, someone should go have a talk about this with Federer the next time he plays a Wimbledon final against Andy Roddick. No, I haven't gotten over that. Deep wounds like these take time to heal.
While I am voicing theories, here's another far-fetched one, this one also about tennis. Now there are a bunch of tennis players from Serbia, not just any players, but players in the world top 20, who claim they learned to play tennis in a swimming pool drained of water. I can just imagine what an Indian, especially in this season, would be tempted to say: When I was younger, I waited for the monsoons so that my coach could dig up a tennis court for me to practice my freestyle swimming. That was how I became a swimming sensation. I dedicate this victory to the rain gods and that tennis court we destroyed to build my swimming pool.
I'm feeling really sleepy now, so this post will have to end here. But don't worry, faithful readers. Now that I've got my activities under control (yes, yes, I am very proud of that achievement) I will be writing regularly from here on in. Although exactly how regular "regularly" is, is open to speculation.

The Waiting (aka bureaucrazzy, the sequel)

To continue from where I had left off, when the report finally arrived, I came bright and early with my bundle number and stood in queue at the information counter for another hour where the nice lady gave me a note so that I could go upstairs and meet the PA to the great man himself, the RPO. The PA asked me to wait, and that was what I did till 1. Then he asked me to return after the lunch break for more waiting. By 3:30, when I was bored out of my wits, he called me and told me that my file hadn't been found and that I should call him the next day and come. I did call him and he told me to call him again at 2. Instead I went in person at 2 and upon checking the data on his computer, he confirmed that the file had been found and asked me to go downstairs and get a token for the next round of running around.

However, the token could not be issued because it was past the token issuing hours. I went home to return again the next day. Unfortunately, the queue at the information counter was much longer because one of the clerks was on leave. To make matters worse, it was drizzling and I had to stick to the wall to avoid getting wet. This time though, I had brought a book. I immersed myself in the story to keep the monotony of the stagnant queue from getting to me. It was 2 hours and 126 pages later that I finally reached the front of the queue where I was issued the token that would take me to the office of the RPO. The book I had with me was 'Morning, noon and night'. Quite appropriate, under the circumstances.

But the waiting did not end there. They had to first find my file, pass it on to the person responsible and then direct me to the location. Again, there was a lunch break, and by 3pm, I was starting to feel that I should have brought a few more books and newspapers to keep me occupied. Finally they did call my number and after a few mistakes I finally found the person with my file. But, wait. It doesn't end here either. They discovered that there was another form they wanted me to fill up and another certificate I had to present in duplicate. Another emergency phonecall and hurried trip later, when I was thinking of giving up this quest entirely, they finally felt they had all the papers they needed to issue my passport. I thanked the lady and asked her when I could have it. I was prepared to come and get it the minute it was ready, but she would have none of that. She said she would give orders for it to be despatched by speed post and that I would receive it sometime next week. I would have liked to collect the passport personally, but it didn't look like there was any way I could change her mind about that. The only consolation is that I will not have to go back there (till Thursday, at least). All in all, if I never see the passport office again in my life it will be too soon.

Note: All credit to the staff though. They really do the best they can. And they've completely stopped the practice of standing in lines stretching to the road. It happened sometime after my first visit there. Apparently, a visit by a minister can do wonders for the system.