Day Two and Three: Shillong

Since I love this dictum of Show-rather-than-tell, I am going to simply upload my Cherrapunji/Sohra pictures on facebook and not write about it.

Waterfalls at Cherrapunji, Meghalaya

The awful part of the trip was realizing how fragile my health is. First I was complaining of giddiness because of my low blood sugar, then I started feeling breathless because of the heights, then I said I was cold, and then, I refused to enter the caves there saying I was claustrophobic and on the way back, I broke out into rashes because of msg allergy. Wow! Nobody complained really, but trust me, I wasn’t overdoing anything. And this is the first time I’ve felt so weak in all my life. I just pray that such a lot of symptoms don’t rush in the next time I plan a trip to anywhere. On the way back that was the only appeal on my lips–God, please, please, please let me live. I am so far away from family should I die now.

We were back by round 1pm (we had started around 5am), and that was the evening of my reading. I skipped lunch, took avil and eno and lots and lots of water. That helped. That, and the fact that I love my life the best when i am actually reading before an audience. The NEHU girls were just brilliant and their reactions were spontaneous and everyone loved everything I read and that sort of cured me. That’s another kind of elation, really.

Enough abt me. Of those who read with me, I loved the poetry of  Nabaneeta Konungo, S.Joseph and Ravi Dravida. I hope Google directs you to some of their best poems.

Got back to the guesthouse, where I slept for a long time. Then, joined in a conversation about migrants in India, and Indian perceptions of the northeast, and integration and so on. Some insights were startling, as were some stereotypes. Will write on that later, in this blog.

Day Three: Said goodbye to all everyone around. I was leaving because otherwise the next available flight was only on June 6th and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. So I and Joseph reach the Shillong airport two hours in advance, and begin waiting for our ATR flight to Kolkata that should supposedly take off at 1335 hours. It comes at 1835 hours. I already know that my connecting flight to Chennai has left. I reach Kolkata late at night, and begin begging the Air India guys to do something about me. I am joined by a bunch of Tamil men who threaten to sue the company, stage an agitation, and so on, if they are not sent back to Chennai immediately. The last flights to Chennai have left Kolkata, so we are told to leave the next day, by the late evening flight. No one agrees. The men seek a total refund. The men want to be booked on other airlines. I lack all energy to fight. The men give up on me. They leave me alone, make inquiries and realize there’s a Jet Airways flight early the next day to Chennai. There are 6 vacant seats and 4 of them manage to book themselves on it. Air India agrees to pay their fare. They come to me and boast about their victories, and say that if I had spoken up they would have done me the favour of booking me in with them. Honestly, I have no mood to fight. Besides, I can never act like that bunch of men: “We have an urgent meeting tomorrow. Our presence is highly important. What do you think you are doing? We want damages”

I find another non-confrontational soul. An Anupam Kher lookalike who missed his flight to Mumbai. Air India decides to put us both together to Mumbai, and then books me on a Mumbai-Chennai flight. I think my friends who fought arrived about 15 minutes earlier than me, that’s all.

Thanks to Air India, I get an All India flight. Shillong-Jorhat-Kolkata-Mumbai-Chennai.

On the plus side, Mumbai was the only airport I hadn’t seen so far, and thanks to all this drama, I am there. It is love at first sight with that airport. I want to visit that city just for the sake of that airport  : )

On the down side, this delay means that I keep sitting for 35 hours or longer. No stretching my legs, no sleeping. That kind of wrecked me even more, but I am not going to complain.

Genuineness IS NOT EQUAL TO Authenticity

And this is something I had to relearn from ELT. Soon, I think I will even be capable of telling apart midnight from 12.00 a.m. and so on. In the past 24 hours, I have slept for some 10 hours. And in he remaining time, read 4 books. Where I pick up such absolutely true, and mostly useless bits of information. Though, in some corner of my mind, I love critical theory, I love Friere and hooks and all. But that is not what my research is totally about. They are just a tiny part of it.

I think I need to read about 50 more books. In fact, not everything is a fresh reading, some of these titles have to be reread. And then, I have to reread about a 120 research papers. And all this just to write the two chapters: Review of Literature, and Background to the Study. After that, I can shut out all the external world, analyze just my research and be done with everything.

I wrote my 12000 word MPhil thesis in a week’s time. So, this shouldn’t be difficult in the end, but the process is such a damn pain. The list of unreplied emails is continuing to grow. But, the mails are mostly uninteresting. Somehow, the world seems to know that this woman is not someone who will write back immediately, and so it decides to remain silent. I really don’t know.

How am I battling with my two biggest distractions? Regarding elections, I decided not to vote. In spite of all the ToI campaigns. No one’s even visited our ward. Everyone I know is against the Congress and want that party to be shown the door because of what’s happening in Sri Lanka. India supplying radars and arms and training and what not. But, I can’t think of any other party as an alternative at the Central Government. The thought of BJP getting to rule India is like a nightmare, and asked to choose between these evils, I will go for the Congress. I hate the external affairs policy of the Congress with respect to Eelam, but then the BJP is no different on that stand. Which means, I have to judge the parties based on domestic issues. And here, Congress fares a little better. At least, no state-sponsored pogroms against minorities. Of course, in my constituency it is a straight fight between the DMK and the ADMK. And I will go with the DMK. Amma is another face of Hindutva, another face of casteism. Still, I don’t think I am going to go and vote. (Well I will not go on about this).

The next distraction is the cellphone. I put in the silent mode and put it out of sight. Every caller gets angry, but after a point of time, everyone gives up. I think, if I ever finish my Ph.D. I might have to do a lot of apologizing to all my friends. More later.

Piled Higher And Deeper (the first in the series of blogs where I rant about the process of writing my thesis)

Since I don’t have anywhere else to offload my angst, I shall torture this poor blog of mine. Ever since 2009 started, my dad has been *extremely* worried as to whether I will complete my PhD at all. Before I launch head-on into things, let me make some of the background clear. My dad is my “manager” of sorts–I know this sounds actress-y, but hell, this is the truth. I do most of what I want to do, but then, he decides what I should not do. (And believe me, his rules are really ruthless, sometimes. Never amenable to reason, or requests or anything). Doesn’t mean I love him any less (he’s my dad, no one else is devoting so much of time and affection on me). Most of the time, I sort of blame it on his background, his immaturity and his many (always unfounded) fears. Things are much more complicated. But, this post is not about my dad. I use him as a point of reference just to say: He’s never doubted my ABILITY to do something. He’s always sure his girl will do what she wants to (even when he’s downright discouraging). So, (and here’s where the story gets into focus) when he told me yesterday that he had serious doubts whether I will complete my PhD at all, I was lost.

Why do my parents who believe that I am capable of doing anything, have fears whether I will write a 300-page thesis? They have this fear that I will never be Dr.__ in my life (which both of them are) and that I would be left out. For sometime I kept fighting with them, saying stuff like trust me and so on. Now, I have stopped saying. Why? Because I have started having the same doubts.

I have tried my best to keep myself distraction free. I have quit surfing the net (other than for research), Orkut, Facebook, replying emails, calling up friends, everything that was taking my time. Even let go of a couple of opportunities (teaching at a writing workshop, reviewing books) since I didn’t want to get into other stuff and lose focus. But, I am disturbed because ever so often I check the news. I am worried about what’s happening in Sri Lanka, I am worried about how people here are reacting. And then, there’s the election fever. For the first time, I don’t want to vote. That doesn’t make me any less hungry for news though. May be I should pack my bags and go to my dad’s village and sit and write out this thesis, but it is not feasible. Which means, I have to sit in this grumpy merciless Chennai weather and write. And write something that’s not beautiful.

Of course, I do plan to make my thesis hard-hitting. But then, the rules of academia in my part of the world prevent me from making it a lovely read. So, I am writing what seems like unreadable prose, and I am just letting it stay. And do you know how I console myself: Yesterday I read that nobody other than a researcher in the same topic as yours is going to read beyond the first three pages of your thesis. Which is really amazing. I finish my thesis, then I start convincing the world that there are really better things to research!

(By the way, this long post should be enough of stress-shedding for a week. I don’t want to add blogging to the list of my distractions. And, I want to be done with all the writing by June-end and the revising by mid-July, so that I don’t have to continue teaching next year. One year and done. That’s the way I want my career as a lecturer to be.)

The lunatic, the lover and the poet

I will not do a lot of theorizing, but instead just share an excerpt from a text which rankled me quite a bit. I was reading this journal article, it even had a good title (Every Poem Breaks a Silence That Had to be Overcome: The Therapeutic Power of Poetry Writing), but this particular idea was hard to handle. 

Poetry writing is particularly appropriate for the depressed, the anxious, or those suffering from certain illnesses, physical or psychological. [... in this she speaks about an anthology of poetry by people with psychiatric problems...] The poet-editors of this anthology refer to research which says that “poets are thirty times more likely to undergo a depressive illness than the rest of the population.” It is beyond the scope of this paper to address whether this means that poetry drives us insane or that a very large number of mentally ill people turn to poetry writing; but I would incline towards the latter. This is an under-researched area which deserves more scrutiny. 

Emphasis mine. I have nothing against mental illness, insanity, or madness. Personally. But if it is going to be associated with poetry, that sort of prolonged linking will certainly cause potentially damaging stereotypes. In the manner in which poets are viewed. Eccentric, alright. But, disturbed? May be. But research of this kind, which tries to bracket a profession/ artistic endeavour with insanity is quite over-the-top in my opinion. 

Next time, if somebody suggests that I have” bipolar disorder,” (or some other medical jargon that I often keep hearing) I am going to try and find out if they are aware of the fact that I am a poet! ; )

Despite all my cribbing, some part of me knows how easy, and how escapist madness is. Given the fact that we are living in such troubled times. . .  Last week, I was talking to a colleague and she quoted Shakespeare’s lines “The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact” and I told her, “ma’am what happens if someone happens to be a lunatic and a lover and a poet–and far worse, that someone is me!” (I am pretty sure of the lover and the poet bits. Lunatic? Well, not yet, at least!!)

What else?

Hey, I am feeling a bit guilty about bloggin after so long. And there’s so much I want to write about: the BSP in Tamil Nadu, Antulay’s right to raise doubts, my visit to Hyderabad, and even my new year resolutions. I will save that up for a later post coz it’s 2 a.m. here.

The Semester’s Come to An End

After what seemed like ages, really! Now, the next set of classes begins only on Jan. 5 and till then I can pursue other dreams (which might not be so dreamy at all, such as, writing a research paper, my half-yearly report, and a long-pending translation work)..  Today, the students of the batch that I handle took their final exams, and I am relieved. The central evaluation is a few days away, and in spite of the boredom that I expect, I am happy. 

Teaching alone is not so tiring, actually. I was volunteering (which is a very polished word to use to describe a state into which you are pushed) with the exam department, and I had to work, on some days from eight in the morning to eight at night. Which took a toll on my health (something which I am too young to care about), and on my life in general. I was not in touch with friends, loved ones, and I missed out lots more. 

This is just a little note to say that in case you haven’t heard from me in a long while (or at least in the characteristic long-winded fashion), don’t take it to heart. I have been too upset to take notice of the damage I have been doing. Forgive me.

A return to blogging

After an immensely long, intensely painful gap. So, drop all your expectations of coherency and reason, and if you really care, just listen to me.

a) Was really, really expecting, and then excited over, the Obama win. I am still happy, and like the rest of India, want his success to be replicated by Dalit leaders. (Although I am still a little spiked over the fact that in Tamil Nadu, everyone of every hue (Vaiko, Vijayakanth et al) claims to “do” an Obama. Which isn’t wrong, but then, I am skeptical. And what do I dream from Obama? (I don’t have the right to expectations, yet I am writing this) I know he will do the greatest things for his nation, he’s proved himself even before he’s started. I just really wish that he will modify America where it matters most: foreign affairs. I know that to dream of the absence of American imperialism is just a wistful, wishful day-dream, but that doesn’t prevent me from dreaming.

b) The students movement for Eelam Tamils is going fine. Expect that everyone is busy with their exams till November end, and this isn’t the time to disturb them. Yet, lots of stuff needs to be done. Right now, I am in the midst of preparing a couple of well-reasoned pamphlets to distribute all over Tamilnadu. What we need right now is a better understanding of the Tamil issue. From all my interactions, I have seen that it appears to be a very emotional issue (people hate the idea of Tamil self-determination in Eelam, or they would die for it: no middle-of-the-road approach so far). I think December could get much more hectic, because we will be organizing meetings then.  

c) A close relative was very ill, and is now recovering and had to spend a lot of time. In taking care, in travelling. In the end, it left me with very little time to read, write, call.

d) Sheher will have to be out by the year-end. Believe me, this isn’t intentional. It is just that I got into issues that were of more immediate concern.

e) I will do a longer-post with more personal, professional updates shortly. As of now, I am in too many places: very fragmented, much more vulnerable. And here’s to those who haven’t seen me on email or gtalk: SORRY.

A blogging award

So, a couple of days before Meena Vathyam (yes, we namesakes do love each other), who blogs at Musings of a Lost Explorer decided to give me a blog-award. I do feel really elated (given that my blog is one of the most-ignored aspects of my life), and I do want to do better. So, thank you Meena.  

And here are the rules for this award:

This award is for blogs whose content and/or design are brilliant as well as creative.
The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere.

1. When you receive the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back
2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’
4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
5. And then we pass it on!

And I am so happy that this is an award that actually lets you give it to others, here is my list of seven. I haven’t met, or even known most of them, but then, I love their blogs/ or at least, it sets me thinking, and so I love it. I want to give reasons, but if you have stayed long enough of on my blog, you will clearly know why I dig these blogs. So, here we go… 

1. Anon and on
2. Arasu Balraj
3. Dalit India
4. Kufr
5. Monica Mody
6. Tamil Bodhi
7. The Chasing Iamb

Forgive me if there are any famous omissions… I want to give this award to everyone on my links page…

: )

Some not-so-interesting details

• I just realized that I was totally capable of losing myself even within the university campus. Yes, this is a huge campus, and one building with a construction site nearby, looks like another, but all said and done, I suddenly found myself on the Sardar Patel Road stretch. And two other lost souls, who were looking for a centre that awards transcripts guided me back into my University…
• I discovered that eating out of a tiffin box is quite a miserable thing, irrespective of whatever it contains. All through my school years, I used to walk home to eat food from proper plates, and my only fantasy then was to pack lunch to school and eat from lunch-boxes. My childhood fantasy has turned real now (I have stopped relying on the canteen) and I find this very boring.
• I have figured out that if I have to at least reply to my emails, I need to avoid hanging around with other teachers, gossiping, or whatever.
• And finally, nothing is as thrilling as typing a blog post like this when my battery is dying out.

Does teaching have to be so tiring?

I have been asked to handle a class of 80+ students. Can’t even put into words how tired I feel at the end of the day. And though I take my laptop to the university, I am not sure I get into the necessary frame of mind to blog. I have turned into one hell of a mechanical mess, but believe me, I will break through this barrier too…

It is just a question of time, I guess.