The thing about "Knowing"

I am an Indian so I take pride for the wrong reasons like Satya Nadella becoming the CEO of Microsoft or over the alleged news that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie were supposed to get married in Rajasthan, "India". I am also a yet-to-be MBA graduate, so that means I must take pride in knowing almost everything and try to be interested in knowing what I don't know. I am glad my MBA gives me the opportunity to travel abroad and understand where I really stand. In this journey I discovered that we aren't the only ones taking pride over the little we know.

Among the myriad things one must know nowadays to have a decent conversation or for that matter to sound smart is insane. One must know what North Kardashian wore while playing in the garden and must keep up with ( no not the Kardashians!) what Malala Yousafzai is doing this very second. I don't know either, so I am ignorant! However it's a much safer place to be. Among all the pseudo intellectuals Internet procreates every millisecond I stand last. I do take pride in that *Ting*!

I don't loathe internet, it's great for a zillion reasons but not for claiming your knowledge's worth. I understand competition to the extent that my parents wanted me to crack IIT JEE and then lowered their expectation to AIEEE and then settled for me attending MGIT. However I don't understand the competition wherein everybody is supposed to know everything. It's sad to see people around me develop an evolved taste for popular hobbies and match lack of interest with lack of knowledge. Along the same lines its disturbing to see pseudo concerns and pseudo contributions to grave causes. Internet allows that sarcastically and we buy it.

The new normal is different and it's all about being different. In other words Lady Gaga is the new normal, no wait I take that back...she is back to normal. Damn!

It's too much to keep up with and we instead of admitting to the inability of pacing upto it, we take a flight to the destination, in-cognizant of  the nuances of the beauty lined up along the road. However our previous generations are immune to this epidemic. I am glad to have mentors both in my work space and personal life who don't understand and celebrate the 'know-it-all' trend. I have the freedom to pick up the phone and ask the most dumbest questions in all seriousness to them without being judged and making them fall in love with me all over again.

If everything were to be this tamed then what about Wiz Khalifa! *Ting*

Being or Beautiful

The description of the place where I come from is enough feed for people to guess the way I look and I for one Love IT! No I don't louuuuu the way I look nor do I hate it, I love the fact that people can create a mental picture of me uglier than I already am. My family never let me bother about things like beauty and weight and in fact they provoked me to be uglier ( pun intended). They always encouraged me to be the best I could be and have been beyond supportive in whatever I chose. However being a South Indian in the North Indian space alienates one to a different orbit unintentionally. No the kids weren't mean to me nor did I lose a crush because of my color but certainly there was an unintentional demarcation.

Being around the world ( just USA and Europe, or so I say to impress myself ) enough to understand different people I realized the importance of looking a certain way among my gender. It wasn't particularly disturbing but it's concerning, given its shallowness and lack of importance towards one's personality. I have never understood the art of make-up out of my laziness and my mom's prettiness. Her gorgeousness doesn't need supplement and she just decided mine doesn't either. Recently however I entered the space of make-up and was lost and disinterested. When I asked my friends why they chose to buy them, they replied in all honesty " It makes us confident". That's the second saddest thing I've heard in a long long time given I am from India where the news is filled with my gender serving victims with or without confidence. If confidence were to come from the way you can make yourself look and not from the way you look, it's time to take a second look at many things.

I see animated drawings and paintings on faces which only begin to show the effort they put in. Lashes are replaced by bushes, brows lined using a sketch pen and lips drawn beyond their outlines. Hair is a mystery as they themselves can't trace back what the original color was to begin with. Nails are heavier as they are laded with another. I must take a pause to explain that I don't condemn all of this. I just implore to not draw a relation in which being confident is directly proportional to the way you look.

To this extent I would blame the other gender of holding expectations based on false images, images which are fabricated in every sense, botox, surgeries, make-up, lighting, implants, bleaches, tans etc etc. Man' listing that was tiring! Moving on, when did men start doing all of these too? Third saddest thing I've heard. I look good twice a year precisely when I put an hour effort and a weeks gym to fit into an outfit and mind you all that is FOR ME! No it doesn't make me confident and I was born confident.

I've had some amazing girls around me telling me how beautiful I am in the sense that matters to me. I've had my brother remind me how no one will marry me given my ugliness and then I have my parents who think Aishwarya Rai is yet to watch out for me. Among this spectrum of opinions that matter I chose to be happy the way I look. It works!

Day 6- Unintentional Bitterness

I must elaborate that sometimes things just don't work out, despite it being no one's fault. It might appear as a lame attempt to split the blame or flush the blame completely but I am convinced it's unfortunately one way things pans out. I can swear by the intentions I held before moving into the Host house, I had no prejudices against the process. Neither did I ever gauge how much it is important to both parties.

I just decided to move out and explained different reasons to different parties to mitigate the bitterness. All in vain. I think my host family understands I didn't like the place enough to stay for long. I did not. They are a small happy self-sufficient family. They did everything they could in their capacity to accommodate me. However it wasn't justifying the rent and I have my reasons to choose a different space.

So I just broke the news to my host mother and she wasn't pleased. One week was enough to figure out that the family depended ( atleast a little ) on the rent as part of their income. She smirked to hide her disappointment and me trying to comfort her by lying that she could expect a new student didn't help. Right at the moment , she received a call from the university breaking to her the same news that I did , however informing her that I was leaving as I found the rent to be expensive. This reached her the wrong way. It reached her husband in a much worse way. He took offence. Mariano ( the husband) is not much of a talker or a pleaser, infact he appears to be a genuine gentleman. I respect him. Over lunch, the vibe was different and tense. It was obvious but unspoken. One question over the dish was enough to turn the spark into fire. However the fire manifested itself in bitterness and words and also in spanish. I understand now I am no longer a good person to them in some capacity. I understand they needed this. But its hard to communicate that I never wanted this to end this way either.

A part of me is heavy and restless at how this turned out but the whole of me is sure that this is the right thing to do. I never usually insist on being liked ( infact I pride on being hated) but this is the one time I wish they hated me less and knew my intentions were right. I know I have disappointed them. 

Day 4- Hungry and Awkward

For an overtly simplistic and forever hungry existant, its only fair to expect atleast 3 meals a day if not more but when you chose a host family to understand your needs, you realize how you are your own nemesis.

Day 1, as soon as I reached home, I requested my host for a cup of milk, to quickly pour down my throat and gift myself some sleep. I was given quarter of a cup milk, my brain didn't bother to processes any of it due to exhaustion. When dinner was announced, I disappointed my host by informing her I don't eat fish which she prepared with much effort and warmth. I was given a bowl of soup made of three ingredients - water, salt and potato, it tasted good and I couldn't ask for anything warmer and better. I was glad.

Day 2 I dont remember what I was provided for breakfast, but I am sure it was something negligible as I didnt register what it was.  For lunch I was given spaghetti, it was so bland that the Indian ketchup I carried along to Spain couldn't make it taste any better.

Here's the catch. My host always provide me some kind of meal and prefer to cook something else for themselves. This is not the part I ever had a problem with. My only concern is I never know whether I am done or not. I understood the basics of a meal only to the extent that it always includes a soup. Calling it soup would be unfair to the word for its just water , salt and some kind of dried-all-purpose-flour. Initially I understood it as 'the' meal. I even got up with my bowl thinking to myself this it. She later told me there is a sandwich to this meal. It was a toast with butter with a slice of cheese. I was sure if I should even bother eating it or just announce I am done as it wouldn't make any difference to my appetite.

Day 3 I was to myself and I gifted myself Maggi and cornflakes both of which I carried to Spain.

Day 4 My host decided we must go out for shopping and take advantage of the sale. I woke at 8:00 AM out of hunger and waiting till 10:30 expecting breakfast.  I had no clue the day didn't have breakfast to itself, but a late lunch alone. The lunch included quintessential bowl of water+salt+semolina followed by a spoonful of boiled beans.

The awkwardness begins when I am not sure if that was it. Today there was something else cooked on the table but I wasn't served that , not because I wasn't supposed to , but because they thought I am full. I sat there awkward not sure if what they were eating was ham or beef. I got up to end the confusion and currently I am not sure whether I should even bother eating meals.

Its almost the first experience in my life to be fed meagerly and may be now I will respect food more in the sense of a commodity that provides nutrition if not as delicacies.

Forever hungry....

Day 1- Real is what you get!

Watching Madrid up from above the skies lit up like every building had a Diwali celebration over its rooftop was the last piece of relaxed breathe I had since two days. You see and imagine that when you take a trip to an exotic place ( Whatever that means!)  for a vacation or education purposes, it would be a certain way, you would smile a certain way, flounder a certain way for that matter fumble or go wrong certain way. None of it happens.

What you get in fact is the most unthought of, physically tiring and mentally draining experience which breaks you in and out the next day. The only hope you could tease yourself with could be a better tomorrow. While I failed to understand the math behind why I was charged 2 Euros when I already had the ticket ( a more expensive one) and followed by another billing of 2 Euros for taking a train believed to have been free of charge, I broke. Yes such a small thing as this broke me for I could see the further days of paying in this denomination will not go well with me.

Once I managed to get to the right station, I was counting on the only thing most tourists and foreigners count on, the art of seeking help and information. It didn't go well for it there was no one in sight on the station were I was dropped. The ones that got down in the station with me hurried their way past without taking a moment to catch a breathe. I cursed myself with two heavy suitcases and it showed. Tumbling them down the dirty stairs in extreme cold is a memory engraved. My hands are sour now and I am only glad its over.

Upon spotting a person, a person whose occupation is to help people with information, I walked up to her to ask for directions, she took 30 seconds to say her part and then vanished behind the wall. What's spooky was that she watched me from behind only to see me standing there confused. 15 seconds later she came and shouted on me saying "Take the bloody exit and move" and disappeared the wall again only to observe me. There I was still standing confused with no clue. She appeared again 15 seconds later for one last shout at me, literally shooing me away as she would do to a dog. This is my first experience of bitterness on the land. How I got into the right train from Madrid to Salamanca is a chapter in itself. I observed there is not one face you could spot in a train station or train who you could comfortably ask for a piece of information. (However, at this point I must really be thankful to the person who helped me get my suitcases on board.)

Skipping right to the wait for my host ( this is funniest thing that could happen)- I was squatting on the floor waiting for my host. I saw her from afar approaching the station with her husband. I was elated to see a car ( for my luggage) than to see her. She kissed her husband goodbye and her husband disappeared. I believed he would turn around to take us home only to be left disappointed that we were taking the bus instead as he had to leave for work. Waiting at the bus stop my brain was processing the cost of the ticket when somebody standing next to us (me and my host) announced that the bus would arrive in 2 hours. I , mind you , I volunteered to walk to her place in exhaustion to get it over with once she told me it was just a 20 min walk. Well, it was a 40 min walk with two heavy suitcases to be dragged along. We managed to communicated during the walk, I wasn't sure what is more tiring, trying to speak in Spanish or dragging the two suitcases along.

The best was yet to come ( I had no clue), there was no lift. We had to drag the suitcases up to the third floor. At this point my brain decided not to process further out of exhaustion.

My host family was warm and kind enough to tell me they weren't expecting me to drop in early on the 2nd and anticipated my arrival around the 7th after their festival. Keeping up with the warmth they prepared an elaborate dinner only for me to pass as they cooked fish. I was served a hot soup of boiled potatoes ( boy! it tasted like the best thing ever or was it just me happy that something warm was finally going down my throat.) She ( host, Rosa) was kind enough to arrange for wifi and adapter within few hours of my settling.

The cold here makes one non-functional in every sense, No, I was overconfident enough to not anticipate this cold. The morning light blesses this land only after 9:00 AM and until then you are forced to wait.

With my fingers imploring me to stop typing and requesting me to keep them warm, I end this post abruptly.

Search and Suffer

Man's Suffering whether caused by himself or by others has intrigued the most vulnerable chords within me to understand how complicated we are as humans. To have a mind to think and a heart to love was presumed to differentiate us from other animals sharing this planet with us, but the suffering we go through and put one to, I think, differentiates us better as worse.

When Hitler chose to put his will above lives, I wonder what his thought process was. When the captives were put to extreme suffering I wonder how their brain accommodated to the sudden change of events which they were not responsible or prepared for. My brother gave me the first peak into understanding this behavioural adaptation by suggesting me 'Man's search for meaning' by Viktor E. Frankl. His account of the event and his mind and most importantly of the feelings of people surrounding him , both victims and the military convinces me that Man has the amazing ability to surrender beyond his imagination. He seeks revelation in nothing when he surrenders to the fact that he can't change it.

Suffering can manifest itself in a million ways. It could tease you by forcing one to discover their sexuality fighting the more than convinced society. It could seek pleasure in sexually assaulting either gender to prove one's mettle. It could be self-inflicted in situations where one finds refuge in putting themselves to pain. It could be encouraged by an unreasonable will to possess material things. Strangely sometimes men choose to put others to suffering under a command. 'Battle of Algiers' is one account of such suffering. Its hard to comprehend how one can put a man to suffering under someone's command and execute it as a duty. I must digress to understand what brought us here?

Till I explore further.....

Save what you lived

I am returning to you after 4 years and things have changed beyond what I set out to accommodate for. I just watched an interview of a famous actor ( who shall remain nameless), she inspires me each time with her "acceptance" of circumstances. (I believe and agree that "actor" is a unisex term.)

Oceans apart from my family, things demand me to be stronger than I want to. It's a luxury to be held when you are down or be a call away from people who can take care of things you've ruined. Allow me to digress into the emotional whirlwind one faces each day but are oblivious of it and live in denial when with others. To be able to attend to your emotional needs is the biggest freedom one can have. Let me explain....

I remember breaking down during my exams years ago ( and now) and wanting to vent my anxiety through tears, but then I would remind myself I don't have time for it then. This precisely is not only harmful but robs you of the opportunity to attend to yourself.

Now I understand. I respect the lows. I respect the rejections. I respect things not working out. I respect the importance of being knocked hard enough. Now I give myself the time to absorb, swallow, drink a glass of water and be normal. I stop questioning the distress and instead help myself organically ( my new favorite word!) live and win out of it.

The actress mentions the sporadic motivations that got her where is she is, and the importance of hitting the rock bottom periodically, She explains how the problems are never big but reactions dramatized. The calmness with which she narrates her way up makes us judge her testing times to be less challenging.

I am easily excitable ( news flash!) and react to happiness and sadness in extremes. The interview inspired me to cherish the extremes and celebrate or detest it with self on a milder note. Arch explained me and I weave them into words " we are the choices we make" , now I weave what my mother has been trying to explain " learnings from your experience are pure, don't share, be judged and pollute".