Rediscovering the joy in the dismay

I just saw Andy Roddick dump Marat Safin out of the Australian Open in the 3rd round in 4 sets, including 2 tie-breakers. The match ran over 3 hours, and the quality of tennis was outstanding from both players. I've always had a soft corner for the temperamental types of players and teams (somebody did some research on this...I'll try and dig up that article in another post), and Marat has been one of my favourites ever since he dismantled Sampras in that amazing US Open final in 2000.

But going into his 28th year now, he's proven himself to be an underachiever of colossal proportions. Even before Federer came around and started winning everything, Safin was playing hide-and-seek with himself and with his fans, squandering his career away, while winning over hearts wherever he went with his supremely uncomplicated and unconquered nature. He turns 27 on January 27, and he will have, to show for nearly a decade of efforts, 15 titles, including 2 Grand Slams, which is both surprising, and not-so-surprising.

Today, he produced some enthralling tennis, but was defeated by a player whose combination of skill and method proved too good for his largely inspired, yet inconsistent, performance. It was the second tennis match that I watched live on TV after arriving in the US (the first being Federer's dismissal of Blake in Shanghai), and the moment of my favourite's loss brought with it feelings very familiar, which had been lost somewhere for the past few months.

Back in college, competing with a pack of guys who were very nearly at the same level as me, victory and defeat were regular ingredients of a memorable period of my life. I've not been a good loser, ever, in the sense that I lacked the desirable calmness and stoicism in the hour of defeat, even though I never retained even a smidgen of ill-will against anybody I lost to, and generally recovered well after a loss. However, the flood of self-reproach and dismay made THAT moment a very hard one to live through.

Since joining grad school, I haven't been involved in any competitive activity outside academics, and those days had receded into the distant past. I've often wondered at the emotional changes I've undergone, some of which I may not even be aware of. An existence devoid of any strong emotions doesn't feel like me at all. And it took Marat's defeat to awaken me to this realization. It feels so good to experience the upwelling of blood in the veins and tears in the eyes.

To rehash a cliche, I feel alive again!

Update to the previous post

The decision has come quickly, and Herschelle Gibbs has paid the price for, what is in my view, indiscretion and simple bad luck: http://content-usa.cricinfo.com/rsavpak/content/current/story/276497.html

I don't mean to justify what he did, and apparently some of the things that he had said were too bad to be even hinted at in print. Saurabh had this to say about my earlier post, wherein I think he has raised the larger issue of the ghost inside the machine, rather than just the accident caused by a combination of circumstances. He says,

"..are the ideas of right and wrong based upon locality and convenience? the remarks - whatever they were - were found to be offensive by the committee. now, to say that "they were not meant for the public, but for the team"... doesn't make then right anymore."

I agree that the fact that Gibbs was caught mouthing whatever he was mouthing indicates something beneath the surface, namely the presence of some deep-rooted contempt and derision for Asian people. What surprises me is that Gibbs should be the one implicated, because he has, for a long time, been an automatic selection in the team along with Makhaya Ntini. Both these players have surpassed expectations in SA colours, while also making the stated agenda of including coloured players an easy one to implement.

Coming back to the point that I was trying to impress earlier, I'm less than enamoured with the idea that Gibbs deserved censure for what his opinions were, rather than that he was caught expressing them. It's not the politically correct thing to say, but I think it is fair to say that most, nay all, of us go through entire lifetimes addled with unreasonable and (at times) unfounded opinions on people and their philosophies. It's just that nobody comes asking us what we think, and most of us would rather keep our mouths shut than go and stick up for our trenchant views against people who differ.

Within the rules of the game, Gibbs got his just desserts, and in the future, I'm sure we won't hear any such chit-chat from him, but hey, he can always find ways to beat the microphone.

Adios!

"What is said on the field should stay on the field."

The First Test between Pakistan and South Africa is being played at Centurion, and I found this article as I was burrowing through Cricinfo for the latest: http://content-usa.cricinfo.com/rsavpak/content/current/story/276456.html

The gist of the article is this:
"...South African officials are investigating an incident during the fourth day of the first Test against Pakistan in which an unnamed South African allegedly made an insulting remark which was heard by television viewers around the world.

"They're like animals," was the comment picked up by a stump microphone which apparently had not been turned off as normally happens soon after a ball has been bowled..."

SA coach Mickey Arthur was understandably displeased about the whole affair, and he clarified that the comment was not made at any Pakistan player, though he stopped short of saying exactly whom one of his players thought were like animals :)

It seems that SA left-armer Paul Harris was abused by some Pakistan supporters while he was fielding at the boundary, and the people in question were ejected from the stadium. While the comment itself leaves much to the imagination, I guess I would not buy the idea so easily that it was an insult aimed at a player. The test has been played in good spirit, and as I write this a somewhat interesting final day remains to be played out. However, several people don't believe so, and Arthur revealed that he had received complaining emails from Pakistan!

The whole incident is, on the surface, thoroughly hilarious, as far as I'm concerned. It is one thing to heap the responsibility of being politically correct, humane and compassionate human beings on prominent sportsmen, given the amount of spotlight they are in, and it is yet another thing to expect them to be gentlemen even on the field, EVEN when they are speaking among themselves!

Let us say that Mr. JH Kallis thinks that XYZ resembles some kind of animal, and he says so to Mr. HH Gibbs, in a perfectly amiable conversation, and they share a snigger at a men's joke. But that becomes a problem for a guy sitting 5,000 miles away, and armed with a deep distrust of the South African psyche with regards to racial issues, he gets incensed and addresses his grievances to the SA coach.

Really, I can't imagine how Arthur would have reacted to the first sight of such a complaint!

There are other things to think about as well. For the sake of raising questions, here I go:

One: Is calling someone an animal serious enough for Match Referees to get involved, as Chris Broad might do?
Two: How useful are the on-field microphones? Are they creating more chaos than the benefits they provide?
Three: Should the live feed be made accessible to television viewers, when there is no monitoring of the same?
Four: Was it right for the SA player in question to call the unruly spectators 'animals'? (assuming they were the ones being referred to)
Five: Are subcontinental viewers more touchy than they should be when it comes to racial issues?
Six: The SA players see as much sledging from the crowd in Australia, as a pig sees mud. Would Aussie supporters have been called 'animals'? (I don't imply that those folks would have been invited for drinks, but would the terms of endearment be any different?)
Seven: Which type of animal, Mr. SA player? Pleaeeeeeeeeeese! I SO want to know how good your zoology is!

:D

Adios!

The Last About Me I'm ever going to write on Orkut :D

Take a picture
Or take two, if you should.
Give me an excuse
To never forget where we stood.

But for all you know
Even though I'll save
What I wanted to remain,
I might also feel
What I ne'er wanted to feel again...

-----------------------------------

Deviance....without defiance.

-----------------------------------

TO ANYBODY....who has played sports or has felt as one in heart and soul with the tennis player who hits that last forehand into the net after a gruelling 5-setter to signal his defeat......the basketballer who goes for that three-pointer with one second remaining on the clock, and misses it......the marathon runner who strains every muscle, every neuron, every bead of sweat on his body on the home stretch, only to see himself overtaken by a fitter or possibly smarter rival........the footballer who finds himself with the ball staving off an attack on his own goal, with his team a goal down and with 10 seconds to play......the fielder who makes an acrobatic pick up and throw, knocks the stumps down, but cannot stop the batsmen from stealing the winning run.

TO EVERY ONE of you out there who knows what it feels like to be beaten , and to hate yourself for it. Not because you didn't give it all you had, but because it was all you had, and no more.

TO ALL THOSE who didn't allow this to break them down, or push them over....you are my heroes.

-----------------------------------

PAINT your favourite smile on your face, clothe yourself in your best suit of irreverence, and be prepared to turn a sneering, insolent face to all that life throws at you. Even if it means telling lies to those who will be the most pained to see you in pain, even if it means forgetting how close you are to being somewhere you don't want to be, even if it means being misunderstood and criticized for trying to shield those you care for from the heat of your own sorrows.

IF THAT is what it takes to keep the world around you moving, then do it. Who knows how many people out there are seeing the world from your broad shoulders?

-----------------------------------

THE BIGGEST challenge in life is to be able to live with who you are, what you have, what you want and whether all these put together make sense or not.

THE NEXT hardest thing to do is to have the courage to ask yourself these questions, and actually try to answer them.

I hope to be able to do both these things by the time I'm through with my life.

-----------------------------------

(copied from my Orkut homepage on Jan. 13, 1954 hrs)

Self-improvement

I've never been a huge fan of the self-help genre of books, primarily due to 2 reasons: one, I am too entrenched in my own set of beliefs to yield to any external pressure, and two, they have this tendency to further their cause by propagating the idea that there is definitely something wrong with you and that the way to change that is ridiculously simple. The catch is that you are probably not smart enough to figure it out by yourself. Hence you need help, you need sugar-coated words of consolation, you need elaborate thought channels wherein you delude yourself with some peculiar thoughts, all in the name of healing and improvement.

As I grow older, and with my relocation to the US, I've become more aware of the weaknesses in people's mental make-up that these works target. As long as you're in a close-knit society of any sort, be it your group of friends in class, your mates in the hostel, or best of all, in a caring, understanding family, you get to observe people at very close quarters, and for considerable lengths of time. You get to appreciate the goodness in them, but more importantly, you regularly come face-to-face with the fact that nobody is even close to perfect.

It seems to alleviate the frustration that builds up inside at your own shortcomings, and you take a more realistic look at yourself. What's more, you don't spend hours mulling over these things and feeling a growing sense of desperation at the state of affairs in your life.

If I were to make a list of the things that I would like to remove from my psychology, then it would undoubtedly make very gloomy reading. And in my case, the step up to the next level of education has been accompanied by more isolation, which is partly due to circumstances, and partly due to the time it takes to adjust oneself to the new circumstances, provided an adjustment is possible, and you want to make it.

In such a scenario, I've fallen into the trap of excessive introspection more than once, and knowing how useless it is, I guess it should be unlikely that I would walk down the same road again. But the point is that, sometimes you are so fed up with trying to work out things by yourself, that you wish there were easy answers. That feeling is impressed further when you look around and see people ostensibly happy, occupied and leading 'normal' lives. And you ask, is there something drastically wrong with me?

Truth is, there probably isn't. You are no more sad, or confused, or weird, or crazy than the next person. But how do you know that with certainty? You don't, because you don't spend enough time in the company of people to be wiser. You end up feeling despondent, and it's something that arises out of almost nothing tangible. It's considerably worse if you have a slightly dim opinion of your abilities and your skills, because low self-esteem makes you feel like you're slowly sinking into anonymity, nothingness. Nobody cares for you, and even if you were to scream out in panic, you wouldn't be heard.

It's here that self-help gurus step in, and give you what seem to be the elixir: personalized solutions to all your issues. Prioritizing the scattered elements which sting like the thorns in a bush. Most of the people I'm in touch with seem to be affected by a pervasive loneliness. People look for support and attention from complete strangers, while traveling in a bus or at some get-together. It might even be possible that they speak to folks they don't know, more than they speak to people they do know. There are scores of general courtesies which the average person observes, such as saying thank you at every possible instance, or wishing each other a good day and many more. But I have no doubt that inspite of these gestures of civility, they can never make one feel at home or wanted in a way that our people in India can.

It is ironic that while you won't have any interaction with a person performing a certain function on a daily basis In India, as compared to that with his counterpart in the US, but still, the forced smiles and machine-like sweet nothings, thrust your own loneliness in your face. I concede that it's not the only factor that makes one feel a certain way, but it is so glaring, that I couldn't help noticing it, like most of the other Indians I've spoken to.

So! Are we all destined to finding all our solutions in the proverbial teacup? The cup with the magic concoction that cures all ills? I would like to think not. I'm still going to heal myself with the magic mixture of a willingness to fight the odds, and plain, simple, effective passage of time.

Adios!

That song you played for me...

....transported me back in time, to a moment when I was someone else, when I thought differently, when I knew different people. Nothing remains the same, yet it seems so much so...the quickeming of the pulse, the desire to block everything out, the wanderings away from the path we travelled a thousand times....without ever getting anywhere.

Sometimes, when I hear that song again, I don't know how to think. Should I benumb my mind to its effect, so that I'll never feel like this ever again? It seems like a good idea. Face your demons and remove them once and for all. You can do it. But then, it doesn't feel like such a brainwave any more. I want to remember those things, because today, when I remember them, they give me the confidence in myself that I sorely need.

Do we cease to remain who we are, if we don't have our memories with us? Of course, if you agree that the real "you" was the one you saw in the mirror yesterday. But was it? Which leads me to conclude that there is probably no well defined being such as "Me".

In my case, I just look back over my shoulder and see my shadow following me. It has no face, and no colour, no expression. I paint it as I feel then and there, and that becomes the "Me" that may or mayn't exist.

Funny, isn't it?

But what about the songs of the days when I was blissfully ignorant? Oh...I so want to be there again...

Your Fortune Today

You will write a blog entry today.





Ha!


Sucker!!!

Look Me in the Eye...

It's fun
Being the Sun

Being Today's light
Not knowing the Darkness
Of Tomorrow's fright

Being The Warmth
Good enough for me
Or You, or for Both

Then at Night
You think I'm gone
Putting the Shadows away
Turning off the Furnace
While You hide in the Dark
Thankful to escape the Heat

But where is the Shade
For Me?
But where is the Breeze
For Me?

Lonely Sun
Contrary Sun

Shining On
Burning On

You know why?

Because
The best way to dodge
A peering gaze
A deceitful gaze
Isn't a curtain
Isn't a smokescreen
Isn't a maze

When you're the Sun
It is
The ability to say
"Look Me in the Eye"

About Adjectives

Even though I can use my fair share of adjectives pretty well, I'm not a great fan of theirs. Using adjectives is like indulging in self-pity...once you don't do it, you feel you'd be better off doing it, and once you've gone and cried your heart out, you find that nothing's changed, and that you could've done better.

When I use adjectives, words to describe things, or people, or feelings, I feel a great thrill of having so many arrows in my quiver, and I spare no effort to try and use the most apt words in my collection. But somehow, especially in the case of people, and of natural beauty, the harder I try, the more dissatisfied I feel.

I remember that when I was about 8 or 9 years old, we had to mug up what we called 'anek shabdon ke liye ek shabd' in Hindi. It was one of the easiest parts of the syllabus, because when I sat with my Mum before the exam, and she helped me revise, it was perhaps the only type of question in which she had to speak more than I did while answering! :)

I remember taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in being able to use these words-standing-for-oh-so-long-phrases. At that time, it felt very good that I was able to cheat my way out of writing long sentences. Just like everybody likes long mathematical expressions to reduce to concise LH and RH sides! However, with time, as I began to write more, to write better, not just in my own opinion, but in everybody's, I found these abridgements of expression to be very suffocating. What was worse, every one used them!

It was no longer a big deal to call a scenery 'pristine' or 'enchanting' or any of the umpteen shortcuts there exist to disguise the fact that, even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to much justice to the object of your fascination. It was then, that I decided that I had to unlearn some things. Even if it were to come at the cost of not being lazy!

It's taken me some time to gather the courage to avoid using adjectives when I really, really want to do a good job of describing something very moving, or very beautiful or very exciting. I've moved away from the adjective as a descriptive tool, towards the analogy, or even towards a more visceral, blow-by-blow account of the way I have felt at those times when I felt overwhelmed by what I experienced.

By this, I mean that I've tried to link experiences in one panorama, to those in another. And believe me, the similarities are striking, and very thrilling to discover. Too often, we condense our emotions into cliches and banalities, rather than try and express the feelings as they came, one following the other, like a river through its meanders. The start and the end may not be very far apart, but the beauty of the landform lies in the circuitousness of the path.

It's hard sometimes to simultaneously experience, and to record, the cascade of feelings that you go through. But for a few blissful moments after the experience has passed, you can still see those sights, hear those sounds and feel that touch, as if it were still there. Realization dawns slowly, and if you're really serious about capturing the essence of the moment, that's the time for you. And you know as well as I do, that that feeling is not a combination of adjectives. It's like a seasonal river in flood, breaking down the dams that strive in vain to hold it within its banks.

You are certain to be washed away, but the day you learn how to keep your eyes open even while your helpless little skiff is at the mercy of the torrent, you'll know exactly what I mean.

Motive Force, Idleness Threshold and Relapse Resistance

The first pushes you over the second and you have the third if you don't tend to fall back.


I'm not talking about myself. This is the way a disgruntled tech guy sounds.

And I guess I've already admitted I'm disgruntled.

Zephyr in the Woods

(Reproduced from an older blog of mine...I am rather hazy about what I was thinking when I wrote it, though [ :( ])


A grey sky
A desolate landscape
An empty horizon
A deathly silence....or is it?

When the eyes have given up
looking out for the elusive sign
When the hands reach out
for a feel that's no longer there
When the ears strain to catch
notes that once filled space

My face feels it...
slow, gentle, deliberate
or can I call it afraid?
Flowing through the leaves
Brushing the trunks
Kissing the wild flowers
And...

Maybe there's a word from someone afar
Maybe there's a feeling waiting to be felt
Maybe it's the last there ever will be
Maybe it's now or never

Grappling with a trepidation
The solace of arrival may well be
Overwhelmed by the loneliness of parting
Welcome it with open arms, if you must
But know that you will never hold it for ever
Enticement; entrapment; what punishment!
But then...
It may all be nothing
Or it may hold a storm in its wake
What do you have for me?
O zephyr in the woods...

Stills (or should they be called blurs!) from The American Experience...

...have been uploaded here, and more will follow soon.

Hope you like them!
Adios!

Weaknesses galore!

Tomorrow, it will be exactly a month since my arrival in Philly, and I can't help marvelling at the two mutually contradictory feelings I'm experiencing. While it's hard to believe on one hand, that just a month has passed, considering how much water seems to have flowed under the bridge, there is a certain amount of dissatisfaction at the time it's taking me to settle into a routine.

The workload is considerable, which isn't really a talking point, because all folks I know in their first semesters have said the same. Then I am really suffering because of my bad sleeping habits, which means that I sleep around 6 hours a night, in general from 3:30 am to 9:30 am. To boot, I still haven't got internet at home, which makes a fellow like me stay till late in the Engineering building, accumulating tiring hours on a chair, when I can be far more comfortable on my bed at home. Then, there is the small issue of food. Eating out is interesting in the sense that you get to try out lots of new dishes and cuisines, but somehow, unless you pay a visit to the Indian restaurants in the vicinity, which offer sizeable meals in the form of buffets (albeit at somewhat high prices), you never get the feeling that you stuffed yourself till you could eat no more! Then we have the devil of free calling within the US after 9 PM. This implies that I am spending approximately 1.5 hours (eeek!!!) a night talking to friends, especially at the time when I think I am at my productive best (granted that it's not as if I move mountains when I'm productive, but still...), and there is usually so much to talk about that if you happen to get started, it's tough to look at your watch and say: Hoi! I have to get back to work!!!

But this post isn't for the purpose for whining about my troubles. The damnable thing about the situation is that I don't feel bad, in general, but I surely feel the pinch, when I am running out of time, trying to get an assignment in, on time, or when I have to skip a class, because I feel like I simply have to sleep, or when I wake up and have to walk to campus with no breakfast in my tummy because I missed the last shuttle.

Ah well! Not many options exist. So I might as well stop griping, and get on with the job. However, I would really appreciate it, if somebody could make me believe that a month is really too small a length of time for hardened procrastinators like me to be able to mend their ways!

Hope to have more cheerful things to tell you about, next time!

Alarms!!! (not clocks, though!)

Spruce Street, between approximately 39th to 45th Streets, is a great residential neighbourhood. It's clean, inhabited by nice people (like me!), has quaint buildings, and is supposed to look good in the Fall (coming up!). Basically, the only complaint I have is that it's 20 minutes on foot to Towne Building, which houses the MEAM department, and that means ooh-ah-ouch in the winters. Pretty good, no?

NO.

DEFINITELY NOT!

Right at the end of Spruce Street, is the University of Pennsylvania Health System's main operations, which comprises the Hospital of the University (it has the cute acronym HUP...huppp!! haha!!). And in an infamous city like Philadelphia, which has a number of assorted law-breakers (Nipun says: Texas is very law abiding!), the personnel and their ambulances have their hands full. Spruce Street happens to be one of their favoured roads, and if you are in the middle of a potentially bad dream, then the ambulance may be thrown into it, as it is passing by my window, just to make matters more serious...

Well, no problem. Let's just say I am glad not to be in one of those ambulances.

See you!

An Addendum to the previous post

It was somehow fitting that while watching the movie, I kept hearing these lines again and again:
(Maybe I've watched this film too many times...)

"...And that's the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in..."

That's right...'American Beauty' again.

I somehow feel that Mendes and Cinematographer Conrad Hall just managed to make me feel like MY heart was going to cave in...thanks to them both for such an enthralling exhibition of beauty!

Now...

When am I going to buy that digital camera??

Hmmmmmmmmmmm....truth be told, I can't wait!

An Unintended Review: Road to Perdition

I had latched on to 'Road of Perdition' at the very mention of director Sam Mendes' name, whose 'American Beauty' is one of my favourite movies. I was lucky enough to get it from the Van Pelt Library's video collection today, it having been listed as Checked Out last night, because the guy who had borrowed it happened to be in front of me in the line!

I've just finished watching the film, and while I will leave it to you to form your own opinions on the storytelling, the acting and the characters, I couldn't help being awestruck by the visual impact of the film; in particular the locales, the angles and the harmony between colours, and even more so between shades. It also helped to have a number of striking looking people in the cast, including Paul Newman, a spine-tingling Jude Law (creepy is more like it...), the craggy Daniel Craig (Pierce Brosnan's successor as Bond...James Bond!) and even the young Tyler Hoechlin as Tom Hanks' son.

As far as I know, some of the scenery in the father-son duo's drives are from the Prairies of the American Midwest (even if they aren't, who cares?), and the desolation, coupled with the stunning colours and grandly manoeuvered angles, make for an unforgettable viewing experience. Set in the winter of 1931, the quaint automobiles, oil lamps, elegant homes and refreshingly open streets (now this may not be due to the cinematographer's genius; I have a soft corner for empty streets!) provide a wonderful backdrop to the story. It also happened to be my first experience of a widescreen DVD, and I am sure I can never forgive the ordinary prints for being ordinary again!

In particular there is a street shooting scene at night, in the rain, with men in overcoats and hats, and a particular sequence in the scene of Hanks walking into the background. I think I'll try and put it on my desktop as a wallpaper, even though it means absolutely nothing, except that its visual appeal is irresistible.

Do watch the movie folks...and if you have any other tips for films with great cinematography, please do let me know. Next on my list is Clint Eastwood's 'The Bridges of Madison County'!

See you around!

The Compulsive Blogger

...is what I am not. In fact, I realize with some disappointment that one of the foremost reasons I started to blog in the first place was because I had nothing to do. This further implies that I was doing nothing that people might want to know about. Now, I am busy. I have, what can really be termed a 'life' (yes folks, staying at home and enjoying the holidays does not qualify as 'life'.) And so, now I have a lot of stuff to share with people who scrap me on Orkut asking me how I find it here. But I don't have the time to talk about it any more. Paradox!!

I have, thus far, been shortchanging everybody with the same 'trying to get settled' crap, which is perfectly true and absolutely useless to a well-wisher. But, as I said, I am not a man who blogs due to an inner urge. So, I'll try to write about some oddities of Penn and Philly, as I keep on encoutering them. Now, as I had just reiterated, I am not a compulsive blogger (haha...I love doing this!!), so I think this suffices as a post in itself, and I will end it right here. Oh, and maybe you should know that we (Roomie and Me) need to cook dinner now, and (here I go again!!) I am not a compulsive blogger (!!!!!). So I'll take your leave for the moment.

See you around!

PS: Before I go, Oddity number one: I solved an entire tutorial assignment by myself yesterday. Don't recall the last time I came even close...

Post One from the First Capital

So, finally in Philly!

Folks, this place is good, and I am really, really apologetic about presenting such a useless assessment of this place's charms, but it's next to impossible to do better right now. The sheer volume of input is quite overwhelming, really. The only consolation is that my mental bandwidth is completely occupied, so I am thinking of nothing which even remotely approaches philosophy. And I am thankful for it. Today, I'll move into my apartment, which is anice piece of realestate at just over 500 dollars per head of rent. Will update you later on the ghosts in the closets!

More coming up very soon. Thanks again for your concern and best wishes.

Ready to roll?

By all appearances, yes. The calendar says the same. It's August 28, 2k6, the date I've repeated a million times to people who probably wanted me off this country's territory as soon as possible. It's now 0242 hrs. My bags are packed, and save for the small matters of couriering a CD to Doski, and faxing a form to Penn, I should be ready to shift base.

The lead up to this day has been full of an exaggerated normalcy, which settled in with surprising ease among all the restlessness that pervades a household which is about to bid its elder son goodbye for a substantial period of time, for the first time. Everyday, for the past two weeks, I've woken up at 11 am, eaten a cold breakfast, spent the day hiding from the Sun, and playing tennis in the evening with such a suggestion of routine, that a few alarmed folks thought I had chickened out of going to the US of A (or that they had told me to sit at home...whatever...some strange panic-inducing thought, for sure...)

And, now in the last 24 hours of stay at home, I find myself weighing the price of numbness and indifference to this change of seismic proportions in my life. But, I have nothing to say for the moment.

Maybe the impact will hit me suddenly when I step out at Philly International, which will look nothing like Roorkee...or IGI, Delhi...or India...

Ah well, if it doesn't happen, then maybe I'll be a little guilty about not mirroring the emotions at home.

I still hope to be OK. You'll know in the next post. Thanks for your good wishes, and support. Goodbye for now!

If you want to see the stars....don't be afraid to step into the night...

Never knew that caring
Could be so hard
Never knew that oblivion
Could be so guiltless

Never knew that silence
Could tell me so much
Never knew that words, even actions
Could be so futile

Never knew that ordinariness
Could be so heartening
Never knew that being different
Could deny me my mould

Never knew that
I never knew all that

Don't venture out of the house
And you'll never be lost
Do you love to read maps?
I do.
And so
Here I go
Getting lost again...