The Clarity of Confusion

Reading books authored by my professors here, or around here is extremely satisfying. Before I begin to even elaborate my thoughts further, I must already acknowledge my insufficiency in my own written expression. The reasons are as latent as they seem obvious. If only English wasn't the universally accepted language of expression of thoughts and transaction of knowledge, I could have been better at this post. My expression is divided between English and Hindi because I think partly in both languages. I write in English, but I don't think in the same language. I thus fear to lay claim on either of the languages because my familiarity with the both of them is equally "weak". I mean to say that I am at equal proximities of comfort (or discomfort) in using English, or Hindi (or my mother tongue). This incapability of being able to think coherently in one language, therefore express as beautifully as the people whom I read (mostly British, or American), whose first language is English (the language in which they think as well as express), shall probably make this post as insufficient. However, I am still going to go ahead and attempt articulating out my thoughts.

I feel almost overjoyed, like anyone else, to read something that has been expressed exactly in the way one's mind perceives a situation. To perceive a situation is necessarily abstract, and to express the reality of situation through the channel of language requires a mental effort of translation of thoughts into words. Translation will almost always be incapable of encapsulating the exact feeling of an idea that you want to convey to an audience. There will only be affinities, or likeness to what your mind actually thinks, with what you express through the medium of words. 

There are two issues I want to introduce with the idea of expression of thought. The first is to be able to articulate a thought in words, while the second is to be able to have a discourse around it. These two processes feed into each other. I am going to quickly contextualize these two claims for my purpose and this post. The context I am talking about is the world I come from - Here the notion of the "world" is to be understood as a space of "meaning" that a human being inhabits. This space of meaning is created by several vectors of people, places and the exposure of the reality opened through them. 

In this sense, my world would be constituted through my 28 years of interactions, exposures and dialogues with people, places and things around me. Now that I have very feebly described my context, I must give away the reasons that compelled me to turn to writing this out. I was in the process of reading a book which contemplates upon a subject that is very close to me not only academically, but also personally. The author is a well known theorist, Susan Sontag, writing broadly on the subject of "perception of images." I was almost struck by the clarity through which she articulates the confusion of interpreting images, and the ethical moral dilemmas of understanding any subject, in her writing. The phrase "clarity of confusion" may seem utterly paradoxical, but that is infact the reason that I chose to write this post. 

Coming largely from a society (world) that privileges clarity over confusion - be it family, school, everyday discussion, etc., the reading of the above text allowed me to believe in legitimizing my confusion. That confusion can be a productive process through which subjects can be explored, was hard to come to terms to in my world. I had to almost navigate my confusion on my own terms - be it academic, personal or professional. "Confusions" in my world were certainly not considered to be a motor force of life. Infact, one was always questioned: "Why are you so confused?" And there lies a double paradox in that question - firstly, that it often discards "confusion" as lack of focus or eventually a product of over-thinking, and secondly it attempts to erase it through bringing "clarity". Infact, "confusion" may be results of sharpening your focus to observe the details through which you confront the unknown, or they may be thought processes through which you may attempt to gain firmer control over a situation.

I began to become more confident with my confusions after my undergraduate thesis work (Cinema for the Blind) was nationally acknowledged. It gave me a chance to assert my confusions, and on bringing them out, I realized that perhaps the whole world was as confused,  they merely didn't want to talk about it. Rather, the whole world wants to evade the thought of "being confused" - since it may not conventionally be an attribute that may help you further your perceived goals in a society driven by social and moral codes of capitalism. (But at the same time, I must admit that unfortunately attuning to these social-moral codings become essential for survival.) 

My choice to enter academia was a choice chiseled through my confusion. It was the academia where I was able to engage with my confusion, although merely with my students. I met very few fellow teachers who embraced "confusion" as a driving part of the school I primarily taught in. This ceased to spur any discourses in the kind of questions I wanted to raise for the discipline of architecture - that relating to issues of images. Thus I come to my second point following on the expression of thought. Having spent four years struggling to discuss the questions of my interest in the field of architecture with anyone, the thoughts have only imploded within myself. Implosions are terrible because they manifest through languages that are sometimes unknown even to the author. In such situations, when important works come out, they almost feel authorless, anonymous. 

The accumulated implosions within my mind find words through the authors I read now, or the people whose classes I take at Yale - all that was unavailable to me back home. Imagine wanting to talk about an issue, yet having neither an appropriate 'language' nor an audience to get a feedback such that  you could develop your thought. I found discourse on my subject here. While attending to such discourses in lectures or books, the implosions manifest like internal tickles. I often unexpectedly smile wildly on agreement to a point a professor  makes in the classes I take, or feel to jump when I come across a reading that resonates with my thoughts - merely because they give legitimacy to my own thoughts hadn't been able to take legitimate expression. This brings more confidence to my confusions, and thus make me more clear with them.

Yet, I am not able to bring these confusions out as beautifully as those described by these wonderful authors. The reasons as I have explained - primarily because perhaps my vocabulary is limited to a sort-of-hybrid thinking (a mix of English-Hindi) that fragments my expression; and the other of not being able to talk about these things with anyone so as to expand, contemplate, think, broaden, bring forth and push the boundaries of thinking.

I was a bit worried today to think that this would be my last semester at Yale - or my last opportunity to closely interact with people who probably think like me - or whom I think like! But wasn't I "thinking" like thus even without them, back home? Wasn't then my thought original? Yes, it was, but only in thought. I could never express my ideas in written or verbally - maybe because of hesitation, because of lack of encouragement, or merely absence of a discursive space or loss of appropriate language tools. People I met here were able to overcome all of the above and transcribe their thoughts into words. I will not be completely wrong in believing that such expression would come more naturally and easily for people here for a host of reasons - for they think in the same language as their expression, for the availability of discursive space, for being in an advanced society that has the time and space to ponder over mind's confusion and therefore have a legitimate practice of contemplation...There are many more, but if I begin to list more, I may almost sound like I am blaming them, or myself for the pros and cons we have respectively. But i also know I am binarizing the two worlds here. It probably isn't a question of 'here' and 'there'!

But these are the worlds we occupy - quite different from each other. Although, what when the mind of one world suddenly begins to feel comfortable in the mind of another? However, we are talking only about the mental spaces of two worlds - we still live the world through our bodies, and what when the body wants to live a world different from that of the mind? I think most of us are split like thus today. I wonder if this split widens once I am back to my world, or shall it unite the mind and body? The answer shall never be easy neither immediate, but now is that a legitimate confusion?

First Experience of a Five Star Hotel

An edited portion from my master's thesis. The account recalls my first experience of a five star hotel environment. The writing acknowledges the assimilation of circulating images, ideas and cultures within the Indian built space. The thesis understands five star hotels as the means as well as product of such intensified circulation in the global world.

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Five star hotels were always far fetched territories to experience within the city I lived in. As a simple middle class city dweller, I could not afford the luxuries of five star hotels. One of my first experiences of a five star hotel was when my to-be-brother-in-law invited us for a breakfast in one of the hotels he was staying in, while visitng our city for a business meeting. This was Tulip Star (?). Along with my sister, we chanced upon this opportunity of visiting the five star hotel. My interest was not as much in the breakfast, as much as a legitimate excuse to enter the confines of a five star hotel. I was more excited to find out if such spaces were as grand as their entrances. I was curious to find out what these fortress-like buildings contained within them. What existed behind these seemingly large, elusive backgrounds?

Most five star hotels within the city set themselves back from the main street frontages as much as possible. The entrance to them is highly curated, taking a person through trees, bushes and foliage that are framed through extremely large doors that already announce their grandeur. They almost harbour a sense of surprise that we may encounter leading through colonial classical pathways or driveways that take you to a “drop off” point covered generally by a huge canopy. These canopies are essentially as large to take about 5 rows of cars together, where escorts then take you and your vehicle over.

In such a setting, it almost seemed awkward to enter the premises of a five star hotel to merely visit it, since neither did we own a car, not could anyone amongst us drive. (There were no rent-a-car systems in cities either, and borrowing a car from a friend was pointless given our incapability to drive). We simply took an auto rickshaw to visit the place thus, in our best possible attires. Shoes, it seemed, were an important element of the dress code (not flip-flops or sandals, that are typical to the tropics). Naturally then, formal outfits to suit the shoes became obligatory.

Within the hotel, everything was double or even quadruple the size of a typical setting. The staircases hovered within such grand volumes connecting levels containing different activities, and were coupled with escalators. There were water fountains and even plants as large as trees inside the halls. I wondered if they were real or fake. Reading some directions, we arrived at the information counter and spoke to the receptionist to communicate our arrival to our guest, who was also the host. At the reception, we were greeted by a young lady – wearing semi-western clothes. She looked unnaturally fair, and the make up on her face was evident. “Good Morning, How may I help you?” she spoke in English. Although my sister communicated on behalf of us, it was one of the first times that I felt my English medium education would get put to use thus! It secretly pumped my ego.

The receptionist made a call to the room through the intercom, and asked us to wait, pointing us to the lobby. We promptly moved to a family-style seating arrangement with extremely comfortable sofas. Thinking back, these sofas opened up our otherwise contracting bodies – we stretched our arms to rest them on their arm-rests. Although the seating made us face each other, our gazes were distracted – we looked all around us – noticing the height, volume and space of the surroundings. All of us carefully looked at the minute details of furniture, lighting, cushions and the fountains that lay around. Foreign magazines from different countries were placed on the table. The plants were definitely not Indian – orchids, and exotic flowers were carefully placed within containers that adorned the interiors. Seemingly expensive artworks hung on the walls.

We were soon greeted by our guest and taken to a large breakfast hall. The arrangement was a buffet style organization where one could pick a plate and choose one’s breakfast – certainly quite contrary to what one would have at home – one kind of dish in everyone’s plate; or in a small restaurant – where a couple of items would be ordered and shared. The buffet style made our choices highly individualized. Here, there were choices ranging from various types of milk to breads from different continents. There was butter, cheeses, sprouts, fruits from different continents, along with Indian snacks. In another section, were hybrids: French samosas, American sandwiches, Mexican burgers, Italian idlis, cocktails, and so on...

We had to constantly keep on reading up the names of cuisines and their ingredients to make sure that we weren’t picking up anything non-vegetarian (we being vegetarians). By the end of our rounds, all of us had different things on our plates, nevertheless with some safe choices like bread and butter with mixed-fruit jams! Over the table, we discussed our impressions of each of our dishes, speculating the proportion and mix of ingredients, tastes and textures as well as the way in which they were made. We did multiple rounds of the buffet to experiment with cross-suggestions based on everyone else’s opinions on the various items on the menu. It was almost afternoon by the time we finished our breakfast. “I will have to skip my lunch now” I said. “That’s why it’s called brunch,” my sister informed. I learnt a new word, rather a new concept – that which is in-between breakfast and lunch, morning and afternoon, and perhaps also the East and the West?

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I was too young then. I believed that one could only enjoy the conveniences of a five star hotel if one is living there. That the hotels within the five stars were open to cater to the public, and anyone with spending potential could access them did not occur to me. However, as I grew up, five star hotels opened themselves up to the public in more ways than above. 

Of Unknown Imagic Realities 4

When I entered the room, I saw my mother was bathing a tiger-head in milk. I was surprised, shocked and tried questioning my mother. The act was almost ritualisitic, as if she was worshipping the tiger. On a closer observation, I realized that it was just the head, there was no body. The Head rested in a steel bowl (like a Shiva lingam which I usually used to worship back home), on which she kept pouring milk. She merely smiled and continued to perform this ritual.
--

We were driving in a car on a very steep hill. It must almost be a slope of 75 degrees and I constantly feared if we would fall back. The ride was really dangerous since it demanded a lot of control and I wondered how the driver managed it. We passed through residential neighbourhoods laid on this slope, and for some reason, my mind wants to believe that we were in Delhi, or the hill was in Delhi. We finally reach up and park  the car besides a temple. I am relieved to get off the car. As I go inside the temple, I see my maternal grandfather (deceased) sitting as the priest to this Shiva temple. He doesnot talk to me, but quietly continues to worship the diety. The temple is small, dark and simple. Things are quiet and there is no dialogue. I look at him, but he perhaps doesnot. I know him, but he doesnot convince me that he knows me. Our relationship was non existent. The setting seemed to draw attention to the act of worship, while my mind kept be distracted with observing everything else.
--

Knowing the World

These days I remain split between whether I should write (my experiences here on my blog) or whether I must read (articles to enrich my understanding of the world at large). For some time, I was wondering if I had run out of things to write about? However, it's not that I don't have any thing to write, rather I tend to think if the same time was invested in reading (for example the world news, books, novels, academic texts, etc.), would my view of the world be different? It ofcourse will be. But do I want to affect my view of the world through these mediations? This is a hard one to resolve.

I took two courses this semester - one on media theory and the other on globalization space - both taught by important theorists within their domain (Francesco Casetti and Keller Easterling, respectively). Through the Theory of Media course, I have come to understand further how media is 'scripting' our lives. In simpler terms, we start imagining the world in terms of media, in forms of media. Thus the medium becomes the message! Too simplistically put here, but I will not dwell on this idea here, rather go back to my questions I raised before!

The other one "globalization space" got me introduced to so much that is happening around me. There is so much happening around the world that would probably interest me. If I was a traveler, I would go mad absorbing all the information that was coming in front of my eyes and into my brain. But the unfamiliarity to all of it is what made be a bit nervous about myself. Today, as all the students taking the course (who came from different parts of the world and studying different disciplines at Yale) presented their observations in the form of a Pecha Kucha presentation, I found it a bit difficult to understand, rather contextualize much of the information that was displayed. They spoke about concerns from their own homelands - all related to globalization. It was hard for me to absorb the material. Not that I could not have grasped, but it was hard to put them in the already formed large categories in my head. For a moment, I wondered if this must be attributed to my lack of general knowledge about the world.

To talk in my favour to some extent, I do look the format as a hurdle. The content presented in 15 slides scrolling each for 15 seconds with a densely packed background commentary is hard to digest in the duration of 3 minutes. I wonder if it was the as difficult for others in the audience. For that matter, I can not understand any thing that I do not spend sufficient time with. I am anyway not so good at small talk, and I can not talk about things merely on their surface. I have a compulsive habit of either getting to the root of the discussion, or just leaving it there, untouched.

Thus my experience of this Pecha Kucha for the class was a mixed one. I would have loved to know more about a lot of the presentation contents, but now, I remain at the risk of forgetting all of them since I could not penetrate them further beyond the screen shots that lasted for 15 seconds! Such unrest made me dig into the Times of India online immediately after I came back to my desk after the session. I looked up headlines on Mumbai Mirror, Rediff and so on to perhaps try and make myself upto date with my own hometown, or country. Ironically, no news fascinated me. this was largely because I could not place them in their own histories (which is also supposed to be mine), and secondly because I could not relate them to my own personal history, of how they affect me!

I am certain they do intersect in some way. It was evident when  I clicked by the small converter within the online newspaper website: "Find out how much is 100 rupees in US dollars today?" I was captivated, and  got pulled into it instantly, at once realizing the importance of world economic dynamics and the way it affected my own journey. But I still can not fathom the amount of information existing in the world. Some people are extremely good at accumulating a gist of everything around themselves. I wonder if they are living scripted lives (imbricated by the media!)? Many people are well traveled, many of them are well read, many are further informed by the media they have consumed. I seem to be lacking on all fronts, yet trying to find my confidence in my own limited view of the world!

How relevant is it then, to know the world? Or how do we make it relevant? Or rather, do we try to make everything relevant to us once we have consumed it, only because we have consumed it? It is human nature to force connections into whatever is there in our heads. We connect all dots, like we make constellations out of starts that are so distant from each other in the void of the sky! We connect everything, such that it becomes meaningful to us. Meaning thus, is constructed out of relationships to other things happening around us. In other words, meaning is merely a relative act of understanding. Yet, meaning is so important to exist. But can meaning be self-referential? Can the orientation of meaning be inside-out rather than outside-in? To word it simply, does the world become what we make of it, or do we become what the world wants us to be?

I know these are hard questions. We construct our lives within the dialectic of this 'inside' and 'outside'. But this is an interesting contradiction between the two courses I took this semester, rather I must say courses through which I look at life. Media and the global - as much as they split each other, they also bind. As much as they set apart, they bring the places close.

Probably this will be a lifelong struggle. I can never make up my mind about "how much one should know?" Aren't the definitions of "intelligence", "wise", "smart" - in other words, all socially acceptable, morally positive codes of behaviour scripted within that question? Sometimes I feel more knowledge makes us dumb, since it makes us behave in a more and more scripted behaviour. Scripted behaviour, to understand simply, is a behaviour that is not natural to you or your bodily existence - it is something that the world wants you to behave like!

I think the American short answer to this question would be: "F*** the world!"

Let's accept it for the time being.

Second Birthday in Yale

At 12 am, they sneaked into the main door of my building - I don't know how? They all tried to fool me saying that Mitalee, who was at my home some time ago, stole the key to my apartment - something I fell for initially, but later just didnot make sense - it was lying exactly where it was supposed to be (and also I dropped Mitalee to the shuttle that came to pick her up, after which I couldn't have entered my house back without keys in my hand!). However, they left the answer lingering. Banging, clanging my door at night, Shashi, Anwar, Mitalee, Mansi and Keerthi surprised me on my birthday!

"Dhokla kahaan hai?" everyone squeaked immediately! I had invited them earlier that day since I had made dhoklas that turned out to be awesome - Mitalee had her share of it! Mansi escaped out in the end saying she had too much work to complete. Others hadn't replied. Clearly they were planning to surprise. So as soon as they arrived, I had to rush into the kitchen to make the dhoklas for them - 12.15 am at night! While i prepared for them, they prepared for me...Tiramitsu that they had got! While I mixed and prepared my makeshift "contraption" for steaming the dhoklas in the pan, they were ready with the candles dotting a smiley on the sweet they had got!

While the dhoklas steamed for 15 minutes, I celebrated my birthday! With one tiramitsu over my face, Mansi saved one out of the remaining 4 (before others finished it) for me! The dhoklas were almost ready until I washed my face off the cream...Mansi gave the lovely sponge a cut over which I poured the sugared tadka! And eventually it was ready to eat. I relished the tiramitsu as much as they liked the dhokla! Then I slept!

The day was bright and happy. Sun was out in the clear sky and it wasn't freezing to death. The air had a resonance which kept me lifted!

My phone was undergoing a cathartic experience. Messages simultaneously from Facebook, Gmail, Skype, Whatsapp and phone-calls were jamming my phone time and again. I think every possible application was busy delivering me birthday wishes. I restarted my phone multiple times to relieve it of its diarrhoea. I wonder how much microwave that the device purged, made way into my body yesterday!

In the evening, my program mate Brent gave me a lovely little drawing for my birthday - something that I had asked him for long time ago. It was a post-it-size sketch of the Rudolph Hall - beautifully rendered. Later that evening, I decided to craft a wood-project in the workshop - a phone stand for resting my phone over video calls. The project didnot turn out as I expected it to be, and I gave up too soon, since I had a session to attend (the PhD Dialogue, seminar series). The Dialogues were too intellectual, and I merely enjoyed the illustrations and debates that went on in the room.

Later that evening I went to attend a concert in which my friend Reena's composition (who is pursuing her PhD at the Yale school of Music) was going to take place. I thoroughly enjoyed her composition. I came home and prepared some quick food. Decided to go to bed early after the late night surprise the earlier day.

This morning, as I reached my studio, two things happened: I received an autographed catalogue from Barry Bergdoll (former chief curator, MOMA, Architecture & Design Dept), something I had left at MoMA for him to sign. Secondly, Brent had corrected the wood work of my project and kept a nicely chiseled phone-stand on my table. It look perfect!

And thus, everything around the birthday seemed perfect. The pleasant weather continues meanwhile.

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Thank you all for making this day special!

And meanwhile - I still wonder how these people got into my house :P

A New House

Three weeks ago, I moved yet again in New Haven, this being my 4th house in this town. And this time, I am almost located back where I started - downtown! Why I am shifting will constitute an altogether new post, but here I want to talk about my current state of mind, anticipations and expectations from the new place!

Before I go on to explaining the situation at present, I must briefly describe my experience of house hunting! I adopted 3 modes of references: 

1. Asking friends to see if they or their friends needed roommates!

2. Asking friends if they were looking for someone to occupy a vacant room

3. Craigslist and other internet groups 

The three channels above took me to various kinds of people, various kinds of places. There were so many factors in the head while selecting a house. While the physical condition of the room is one aspect, the other important criteria was to find a decent roommate. There were expectations that one could move with a culturally similar person, from South Asia. I had an added boundary of my 'vegetarianism'. But I allowed to let that go pretty easily. The other aspects to choose were the distance of the place from my school, the budget (ofcourse) and the area in which it was located, given the notoriety of New Haven with relation to crimes. Being in the north east, everyone goes through pain of finding about added utilities of heating and electricity - whether the house is gas heated, or electric heated! This is the most important concern given the extreme winters that long till March. 

However, most of the times, I was able to decide whether to move in a place or not by its smell! I have realized how important smell is for a place to be adapted to. For me, the room had to smell acceptable. The ideal would be a neutral air, but I witnessed all kinds of smells - rooms with Chinese spice aromas, to food stuff rotting since days, to refrigerators leaking out smells of overloaded meat, to smell of dampness and darkness, airconditioning, of deoderents,  and so on. The only way I used to test was to ask myself whether the new room would be able to take my smell -  or in other words, if I would be able to change the smell of the space as I move in.

I finally decided upon a room here given the amount of detachment it offered me from my roommate, the budget and the amount of freedom it gave me to project myself on it. My new room is a small one, brightly lit by two large windows with white, translucent curtains. The room is bright and white painted - everything in the room is white, like an untouched white canvas. It smells of some weird medicine, which I think will be overcome-able!  The apartment has another bedroom occupied by another girl. The only common space is the kitchen & a large bathroom which will be shared by both. 

And so this new place gave me an opportunity to think about ways of domesticating it. Trying out moving scarce furniture from one corner to the other, I have finally rested upon a layout. Other things got worked out interestingly - I got a foldable sofa bed from someone who was selling it for cheap and it perfectly suited the small nature of my room. So I now have enough floor space for myself since I can fold the bed into a sofa! Further, I got a small lamp (given that there was no light in the room) - and I luckily found one as simple as a white cylinder! I played with its position for a week and I have realized how important it is to avoid movement to switch off lights just when you are about to sleep. That one moment when you get up between finally pulling over your blanket and switching of the light can ruin the sublime experience of transitioning from your conscious to your unconscious moment.

Similarly, it is so important to have your alarm in close vicinity to you in the morning - such that your reverse transition from sleep to awake is smoother. Since I use my mobile as my alarm clock, I also need to have a charging point closer. And since most of the times, the last thing I work on is my laptop, I prefer to have all its assemblage (the charger, mouse, hard drive, etc) to lay as it is around - where everything can be disconnected merely by one single plug! With all these factors in mind, I think I needed to just pull up an extension board with control for all electrical devices at one place! (I also realize how electricity now puts us to, and wakes us up from our sleep)!

Keeping the room like a white canvas is as compelling as the desire to fill up with one's idiosyncrasies. Sometimes I wish I had the money to build my own kind of furniture according to my collection such that this could truly represent me! But it is here that I realize how architects can be so imposing - in a way that we never get into people's archives to structure furniture according to what they would like to have on the walls, shelfs or show cases. Interior design is always about making a space that can be published in a design magazine or architecture blog! But there is joy in keeping one's room "messy" - only in comparison to what the architects would call "clean". But the messy tells much more about life than the clean. Rather, messy is life, and clean is just sterile.

The Gravy Train

Surprises are nice. But it is almost always assumed that surprises are going to be positive. How does it happen that this word by the virtue of its disposition carry a positive charge? Essentially, surprises are just events that happen without your knowledge. But to consider that these events would bring you happiness may not always be a good idea. Things happen to us, and most of us slot them as good or bad, knowing that looking back, these 'labels' for events would change. A news that seemingly seems to make you the happiest person today may evolve into the dullest of your memories, while what appears to be the worst times of your life could prove to the best in your hindsight.

How does one then make sense of things that happen? No moment is static, everything is changing. How relevant is it to be happy for something today or sad for something that occurs now? And yet, inspite of knowing this, how can one be happy about everything that happens to oneself? And can one really be neutral? And being neutral kills the idea of surprise...

May be it is better to look at events as friction. Friction allows us to leave your current position, it gives us the feeling that we have moved, or are moving. It makes us realize that what was yesterday is not today - that we have moved in some direction (even if unknown). It is like emerging out from the old skin into new. Is this emergence not a surprise? We seldom surprise ourselves when we have moved - because we dont realize that we have moved until we look back objectively. And moments when we feel we are just not moving are so laborious. It is so hard to think that we are moving all the time.

It is exactly like sitting in a running train and thinking that we are just sitting, immobile. But infact, we have moved, and we realize that only when contexts change; when the train has transported us into a new place...And what if you realize that neither did you own a ticket and nor did you know your destination before getting on to the train? Then we only look behind. Since there is no forward. What looks like a path is only a hint of a landmark. The train may not take you there. And it's funny to think about this: that if the train ever takes you to the landmark, you feel no surprise, since you knew you would reach there. And if you don't reach, you still remain unsurprised because you knew that the train is going to decide its own course.

When old memories erupt

When I see films that I was first exposed to as a kid, I realize their potency and value much intrinsically that I ever did. A lot of films that used to be screened on Doordarshan were perhaps some of the best that Indian cinema has produced; or perhaps something that was considered to be of utmost importance to be screened on 'national television'. I am referring to films like Masoom (Shekhar Kapur), Umrao Jaan (Muzaffar Ali), Jaane Bhi do Yaaron (Kundan Shah), Rudali  (Kalpana Lajmi) and so on, that used to be frequently aired on Doordarshan. Songs of these films erupt like sediments of memory, once in a while. Some remains that were impressioned in my young mind when perhaps we didnot even understand the films, their meanings, or their lyrics. But the tunes remained.

I remember often asking my parents, about the point of the above films. They tried to explain, but could seldom express. I wouldn't understand, or sometimes would feel how pointless of those people to make a film without any conclusive end! But as one grows older, one collects life. Age brings you to so many crossroads where you make choices unaware of what results they will fetch you. Choices made not only by you, but even others for you. Of you have no control over so many aspects of this ambiguous journey.

Today when I listen to songs that I memorized as tunes, the once meaningless words take form. It is then, when my childhood reorients. One realizes what the young mind was trying to grasp - something that even the film makers struggled to portray. Those difficulties of being human. Lumps of ambiguities. Never resolvable. I listen to one particular song over and over again, from Umrao Jaan - 'Yeh, kya jagah hai doston...' It has given me new questions, as well as opened me up to new answers every time I have pursued it seriously. It still leaves me questioning - the same feeling you get when standing at the edge of the cliff - where mind is tensioned equally between the ground and the sky. Where you know that the feeling of a free fall will be absolutely great, but it may cost you your life. I could describe that song multiple times, still finding myself with a question.

Sometimes I find myself fortunate to have been systematically exposed to a rich variety of cinema throught he controlled channel of Doordarshan. My exposure during the 1990s was limited to two channels over the television inspite of the economic liberalization that facilitated the introduction of an array of other private channels - another phenomena that affected me later in ways quite different - to which I tend to react today through  my work. However, had it not been for this, my focus would have diluted.

Perhaps it works best when one is able to transcend their lives into their works. There is surely space for meaning to be created around it by a huge mass of people, sooner or later.

Life Update

In the past few days, I have had a lot of conversations and I have learnt a lot. Although much of it evaporates from my head, but generally I hear a lot.

My temporary roommate Prashant gives me a lot of information on Indian politics and he has charged me to understand the entire scenario of the political issues at the moment. At the same time, I am beginning to understand the structure of Indian politics at a very basic level. It will still take me enough time to give informed opinion on any of the political conundrum happening in India. The recent Modi-congress tussle is giving me an opportunity to get into some more political history and their linkages with the current issues. I generally feel concerned about the political scenario now. I make a fool out of myself when I talk to Prashant about all the topics since he has facts on his fingers while I am a man of ideas...so I always voluntarily give up.

Perhaps the concern comes with time and age. In addition, perspectives change when one starts earning, and becoming financially independent in life. Economics changes the way in which we live and conduct our lives. It makes us more sensitive to politics, since you know that you are contributing to the overall governance by paying, if not by real help.

I am fortunate enough to meet so many people here who are motivated, energetic. From here, one sees so many possibilities to do things - rather so many things have been implemented here. But Prashant always says - that you are able to see so many things from here because your basic needs (mool-bhoot suvidhaayein) are fulfilled here, you dont need to think about them, and hence you can concentrate on other larger things.

It's almost time to leave New York in 2 weeks and I am partly excited and partly sad to get back to New Haven and leave back New York respectively. While New York made life mechanical in very few days, it always gave fresh outlets to venture out to satisfy my curiosity. New Haven on the other hand, has quietitude, tangibility. Of how much ever you explore New York, it is less. There is so much to still see - I gave up by the 3rd week itself. But each facet of this city has its own charm. There is so much to experience. A series of writings on New York are due. I have built them up thematically in my head. May be I will use the quietness of New Haven to elaborate them out.

I spent my entire summer thinking about Mumbai. Quite literally longing for it. Reminding myself that it will be a year away from home and thinking about how much it must have changed, people must have changed and things must have progressed. At the same time, I feel nothing much of anything must have happened. Although talking to friends back home has been reassuring. And it seems that everyone is in a state as unstable as me. So we end up giving and drawing some strengths from each other. Don't know how would one get a grip of situation once back?

And such has been the past one and a half month. Narratives of travels were written in the head; caught up with friends in the geography of New York, still remembering Mumbai...And yes, missed watching the senseless TV serials that fill up the empty space in the head with non-sense - So important to engage in it. Especially when you are in a city and you don't grasp the city culture which is so immensely informed by media. Because it is only this morning I thought - how long does it take for any thing to become / finally be accepted as "culture"?

No title

Being detached with any kind of popular media from India makes me realize how much it constructs us. I am talking about the television serials, soaps, films, newspapers, magazines or any such sources that mediate reality for us, make it ready for us to be consumed. It constructs us as much as we construct it. When our thoughts become real, the do not necessarily represent us completely. they are always fragments. When mediated (read realized in media), they are available for us to pass our judgments, critique and critically look back at what has been said and done. They are available for consumption, to take on identities, to define ourselves and to thus make up our own image.

Meanwhile there is nothing really to look forward to. Thus I save a lot of time thinking about many other things that I once used to think of. A huge repository of material that generally irritates us, but also gives us some common ground to talk about, creating some kind of space of dialogue, debate and general discussion. I wonder how much time does it take to absorb and be able to comment about a new culture? And would it be even appropriate to talk or pass opinions about a culture that one is not brought up in?

It was funny, today I saw a child (perhaps 7-8 year old boy) playing around the MoMA courtyard where a number of sculptures are placed. One of them is that of a lady almost in a falling position abutting the shallow pool. The sculpture is made up in black stone (perhaps), the lady is naked. The child goes to it and in amusement, looks at the naked sculpture. He soon explores it from all sides, and points out funnily, the ass hole of the lady to his sister. I dont know what exactly he felt - he laughed in amusement, perhaps finding it erotic, yet funny. He then pointed it to his mother, sharply laughing by now. The mother laughed too, that was her only response!

I wondered how would this incident take place in India? Would the reactions of the child and the parent be the same? We do have our temples filled with erotic sculptures. Would our parents sit and discuss them with us?

Anyway, I think I have digressed, but the this whole thing of lack of cultural understanding doesnot allow me to talk - I may be voicing a wrong opinion all the time in here, so I keep questioning and doubting myself when I talk about America. But all one can do is compare - being detached gives a perspective. Difference in everyday practices makes us experience the extent of deviation of doing things. Analysis of this deviation helps us to understand the way in which this society functions, thinks. All of these operations or thoughts are embedded in histories. And much of history is mediated - in which we believe, revel and find ourselves.

Being away from home is thus difficult. It limits your sphere of operation, but at the same time allows you to look beyond.

There are plenty of naiive questions I wrote here, and erased. Only because I know these questions cannot be answered. You only have to take a position!

Lessons in USA

Although I have not finished one complete year in the US, it feels like a circle, two semesters almost makes up for one year! This must be the period for reflection, sitting back and watching what happened, how it happened, and what it did to me!

I am already feeling hard to articulate. Today was the first day in my life in the US when I offered someone to come for a coffee. It has taken me a year to get over the value of a dollar and the potential of a coffee. Maybe I must make this as  a lesson chart. Here are a few of them

Lessons Learnt:

A dollar expensive only as long as you compare it to rupee in the US.

Coffee is the key to conversation. Casual conversations happen over coffees.

Formality is formality.

Golden words don't cost anything!

Personal space is reverential.

Having a car is hardly a luxury.

You grow up when you are 18 (even 16).

Keep things to yourself.

Keep up a good face.

Recommendations matter.

Still Reading my blog?

Sometimes I wonder if the same old people still read my posts? Rather, I wonder if those people whom I would want to read my blog actually do read them?

We always write for someone, there is always someone that we address our writing to...This reader is not imaginary, is it? We definitely have a character in head whom we idealize and write for that person. Perhaps it may also not be so...but I constantly keep on confusing myself with whatever I say! So while one post is for someone, another can be for someone else - and thus there are overlaps, incongruencies, inconsistencies which are inevitable in the format of a blog readership.

In the mobilities of time, space and people, some posts catch attentions of people who really surprise you by a random comment...those are special moments and it's nice in the way they get preserved in the blog! and when you revisit them, they give you sweet pleasure!

So if you are an old reader and still reading this blog, I would love to have your comment here! That shall boost me to bring out more of what's there inside my head!

The last 100 words that go first

I need to submit my paper tomorrow. And I am struggling to write the last 100 words, which will be the first 100 when I submit my document. All thoughts there in the mind, I find it so hard to express them beautifully, sot hat not only they express my concern, but also make logical sense. While i construct sentences in my head, they get dismantled when I ask to myself: "so what"? It is extremely frustrating when you don't get the right words to explain the feeling you are going through, or rather, something that you have a hunch on, something that is really bothersome, but you still do not have the way to express it.

That is about writing - as difficult as designing. Sitting with a blank piece of paper or an untyped sheet, sentences come and go. Seemingly well designed sentences fall immediately, and sometimes, loose ideas become so strong. Larger questions that always remain at the background are that "who is the audience?", who is interested in your thesis, why should any one be interested in your thesis? How does it change anything? And this is exactly what has to come out in the first 100 words - the most impacting paragraph...something that shall arrest the mind of the reader, something that will make the thesis more concrete and valid...

"There is a common theme running through all your writings," my advisor says - and we know that. But it's just so beautiful when she talks about it rather than me speaking or writing it out. I think she is fabulous, in the way she gives a literary shape to my thoughts. Talking to Eeva, my advisor, always brings a smile on my face. It feels like she tells me: "see it was so easy!" But I guess advisors always make things sound fantastic, because they are much well read and much more prepared with their positions. We are still constructing our positions.

In the last meeting she told me regarding my paper: "But what is a thesis if it can not fail? You have to take that risk, and your struggle with your writing is worthwhile. Tell your story, you have to tell a story, be assertive in your voice. And I think you already have a voice, it just needs some...some...like 2 minute noodles..."

That was reassuring, but the fact remains that one has to write the story, and there are so many ways in which your story can be told. But people have limited time, so you have to convey the right idea in limited words! Ah! Graduate school - it's much tougher than it feels to be!

The Mirror of Strangeness

Sometimes, a stranger allows you to open up much more than you generally would to a known person. In introducing yourself to a new person, you think, rethink  and construct and consolidate yourself.

In this strangeness, I find doing so many things that I would otherwise not do...I realize now what it would mean to be alone, to be detached from others, to not talk to any one, to not have a feeling of belonging...In an absolutely alien world, one constantly searches for familiarity - and even the slightest of it is so valuable that you cherish it, and in order to preserve it, do what ever you can. You are ready to change yourself, and mould yourself to be known and to feel belonged.

There is a general sense to be liked and therefore to go beyond yourself to experiment.  Isolation, although someone may consider essential, can not be sustained for a long time. To a stranger you may reveal a new self. To a stranger you can redefine your characteristics. And in order to test them, you can behave in new ways.

And a stranger thus allows you a canvas, that is a semi-mirror. A mirror through which you look, reflect and rediscover. A mirror that only gets as deep as you want it to be. When you don't accept it, it becomes a painting, and when you accept it, you wonder which side is real...

One's own World

I always feel at loss of words when I attempt to talk about America. I wonder if there is not enough I know to say, or there is not enough the country has to offer to speak about itself. Perhaps neither. I think they have documented their country so intensively that every brick and stone has been written about. In such a scenario, one wonders if there is any thing new one could contribute. Their lifestyle, pace and developed conditions offer them ample time to engage in intellectual activities. I believe most of us in the developing countries work too hard to just makes the ends meet for the day. Our race is for survival. Most Americans have a dream beyond survival, and they can get pretty aggressive in order to fulfill it. America maintains high energy and enthusiasm all the time.

But this is not something that I wanted to talk about at all. And I wonder if what I want to talk about is really related to the above. Or it's just to do with the first line I wrote. I generally am at loss of words to express myself. Am I becoming more and more neutral about things? Am I losing my sense of opinion? Am I maturing to be more accepting of things and to be less "judgmental" (as many people often used to tell me) - I wonder if any of this can be called a change? Have I changed? Did I want to change? I don't know...

Many people here call me "funny" and it's not a new adjective that has been used for me. I have never understood my description as "funny" completely, just like another which people tag along - "cute". It's funny! When I asked one of my friends here about why would she call me so, she thought and answered: "because you say strange things". I asked her to clarify further. And she said - "because you say things which people won't otherwise say..." I did not know what to make of it. But I immediately connected it to what my mother used to tell me all the time - "You live in your own world!" - I think she was disgusted about the fact that I never lived in the real, present world. She would give me instructions while leaving home and I would completely forget to execute them - all the time. I would try hard to be attentive and still overhear. I don't know what happens in my head.

I register words, things, places, actions and completely mix them up? Is it? After the new year hangover, I had an interesting discussion with my friends at Rohit's house. It was about my general weak sense of geography. It all started with me confusing the capitals of states in south India, as well as mixing up the languages. Over a general confusion between the relationships between Hyderabad, Tamil Nadu, Odisi, Bangalore and Andhra Pradesh, Karthik brought up a key question - about how could it be possible for a person to remember quotes from French theorists and not know of one's own geography. This was the first time any one considered it to be a legitimate issue for discussion. I have had similar problems figuring out relationships between Paris, Italy, France and Rome - Generally when I mix up capitals and states, people get disappointed and disgusted very quickly. (I am inclined to believe that they also judge my achievements through this lens). However I tried to decipher if this was because of my attitude to understand my own associations and trajectories with places and knowledge?

Karthik went on to share that his knowledge was a product of the general talks around his social space as well as his interest in current affairs. In the same way, Debashree said that her mother was a key figure in making her realize these small associations like cuisines and places, geographies and states, etc on her travels. We soon tried to trace the logic in which my memory worked - and I realized that I slip into my imaginative world too soon to be able to hold on to a tangible fact like the Capital of a state or the language of a place. I can still broadly compartment ideas into geographic zones, but it could be very difficult for me to talk about such ideas using facts. 

I stay with a playwright in America currently. through him I have come to know of a lot of humanities. We often engage in conversations, but lately, he has started playing with me a game: he puts on a piece of music and asks me to identify the style, and thus the composer and place. I must mention here that it was only recently that I gradually started to understand the principle behind Western classical music (over a night dream, literally) and now I appreciate it much better than I did before. I interpret the music, and my landlord, playwright (Lazarre) builds it up. We paint a scene together through the interpretation of the music, which we then situate in a geography. When the music ends, we eagerly wait for the announcement of the composer - most of the times he is right. I am getting better.

But that is not all, he recently visited the newely extended and opened Yale Art Gallery only to notice that he didnot like the way in which it was curated. I immediately picked up to say my ideas of how the objects must  have been kept - and he, agreeing completely, was almost completing my unfinished sentences. The idea of telling stories in space connected both of us.

But what have these two experiences to tell of? Perhaps we live in our own world. Yes. I do. And it is important to have a world of one's own. This world is not factual, it finds space in the imaginary, more specifically the semi-fictitious. And ironically if I was to bring in Derrida and say that my world is stuck between the multiple layers of representations (sound, visuals, language, word, object, etc.); I would only talk of a world which is filled with infinity. Hence I feel lost. 

Occasionally I have pulled some strings off it, and there remain many ideas to be re-strung together. Why re-strung? Because all reality is perhaps an idea, and so the real is an imagination. Imaginations have already been structured. Like our knowledge systems - in the discourses of factual histories and geographies, where is the discussion for place and phenomena - that resonate across cultures and humanity? Often our parameters for understanding the world around us have become strictly structured through these external knowledge systems. I do not think it is fair to evaluate every one through these systems. Where is other wise the place for a person to think of a falling apple and discover gravity or to believe in the whole universe to be understood through energy and mass?

But given all that, I remain concerned of my world and being able to decipher it. My mother pointed at this world and I must be able to convince of her of its merit. Meanwhile, Lazarre (my playwright landlord) too calls me funny!

A world that has just been turned around

I told them: "I miss dirtyness - I miss the dirt around, the bottles lying, the pan masala packets, the spit, the dead mice, the crushed pigeons, the rotting flowers, the smells, the leaves, the sweat, the closeness, the density, the air, the smog, the dust, the stains, the layers of peeled posters..."

They just made faces.

I now live in a place where colourful fall leaves are blown away from the pavements using diesel operated blowers. Dried leaves are removed using small vans which blow them and collect them. Clearing off tree leaves is a cultural activity. Skeletal remains of leaves outside their houses are collected by families and pushed into large paper bags which are bought from supermarkets!Similarly, snow shoveling is also a ritualistic activity. Although every thing looks perfect all the time, I wonder how people strive towards making it more perfect. The constantly work towards clarifying the lines they have drawn on earth - including those between road and the pavement, pavement and building porch, porch and house, rooms within house...

These spaces are maps personified. Every line on the map is a real manifest. All representations of their space work towards leveling themselves out - they try to match each other to an extent where everything is real.

I simply ask - "Is this really real?" A place I imagined through greeting cards, paintings - which I always thought were only drawings, only representations! I now live in a world that was never alive to me. A strange predicament between the real and the unreal hits me.

---

All views eyes frame are photogenic
All mind is turning schizophrenic


Of notions that have turned reverse
Spaces that strongly feel averse


Searching my filthy beauty on the street
Was present right under my seat

In search of real I struggle around
A cobweb under my chair I found

Reality finally hits the ground
My world has just been turned around.

---

Random Thoughts

How do you feel when someone who you seemingly respect does not reciprocate in the same way?
Was just wondering!

Being an Alien

Most of my friends here in the US say that they were / are immediately subsumed by the Indian crowd as soon as they arrive here. The Indians take them to places, introduce them to culture, help them place gradually in this new time-space. This makes the transition a lot more comfortable - smooth.

On the other hand, they say that Yale has a very low international admittance. Statistics say it's only 8%. There is no 'Indian community' here at Yale, except the Hindu Society and the South Asian Students Association. The latter is more heavy with Koreans and Chinese. One hardly finds Indians for traditional gatherings.

But what after all is the need to meet, know and be around Indians here? At the American Alumni Association award ceremony, the Director said "try not to be around Indians, make friends from other countries - you are going there for exposure."

Having spent about two-and-a-half months here, I constantly get pulled by the two thoughts above. Where on one hand, I have the opportunity of being away from Indians and Indian culture (and being within a foreign crowd), I feel a strong pull gravitating me towards my community. I shall go towards describing what this whole phenomena is!

There are several issues that operate under above attitudes that various people promote back in India. And through my discussion with various friends here, and who have been here, I have come to realize several aspects. I shall try and enlist them one by one.

The first, which my friend Prashant (Prabhu) told me was that it makes a difference at what age you go to the US. Generally people visiting the US at the age of 22-23 do not find it so hard to mingle up and adopt to change. Those are still the years in which you are moulding your personality and have not seen the world outside the cushioned space of academics. Secondly, it makes a difference if you have been a visitor to the US before actually spending a longer time there. You have a brief exposure of the bests that can happen to you / you can experience in your formal US life.

Coming to what the life in US is: US is a land of young people. The country attracts a lot of youth and likes to invest in youth. The average age of people who drive this country would be around 25-40. This age-group, absolutely free, independent, with very little family connections, away from parents, with hardly any culture of savings, sometimes spendthrift - generate a different kind of socio-economic dynamic. Either you need to attune yourself to it at the right moment or you distinguish yourself from them if it's late!

In universities like Yale, as I said before, since most of the population is American, they get along well within themselves. They have their own circles, own things to do. For them, it does not matter whether or not they indulge in new friends from other places. They know their system, they have their priorities and they hardly have time to indulge with you. In a program like mine - an independent research program, our interactions become further rarefied. Our ages are disparate and we are only 4 of us in this program. It is hard to initiate or enter into the space of Americans. Or rather, I still do not know how. They are not as sociable as us (Indians) and I have yet not seen any American who approaches an outsider for friendship. One wonders why it has to be only us to take the first step, and constantly keep on trying hard to maintain it?

The answer is simple: We came here. We decided to leave our country and study in another. And the above process is what is called the condition of alienation. With no cultural ties to this place, a completely new social dynamic and constraints of geography and time-space, the sense of alienation is completely encompassing.

You realize that when you want to talk back home or a friend, the time zones clash. The facilities of communication clash. And since you can not afford luxury, everything becomes confined. Thus there are two forces acting towards a single condition - an externalized social space that does not absorb you and an internal constraint that restricts you and makes you realize of your limitations - both making you more and more inward.

And well, this inward reflection makes one aware of oneself. In this condition, you are your best friend and you are your worst enemy. All decisions affect you and you are under your full control. All thoughts are self generated, all moods are self controlled. It's futile to expect anything from any one. History and geography play a game.

And this is just something I wanted to write since a long time. This shall pass too.

Techno-cultural Revelations & Adjustments

Technology makes so much sense here in USA. I think it is ideal for this world. I don't think USA will survive without it!

I had to adapt to a lot of technology as I came here and I am still in the process of updating myself with all the stuff that they use. In the first month, I found it extremely difficult to maintain my schedule. Since the university is a campus and classes happen all over, I was almost fed up using maps and codes for building names. Every bit of document seemed like an index. It seemed as if I was wasting more time in remembering than traveling! I was forgetting so many smaller things that needed to be taken care of and there were pockets of time which had gotten created because of the flexible nature of choice.

(This is one thing I realize as I write: In Indian system of education, you are packed with classes one after the other, and it's all structured for you. Neither do you have to think of space, nor time. You are seated in one place most of the time and the faculty is circulating. Here, every one is circulating all the time. In the system back home, I always knew that I would be engaged for half my day. So I had a fixed empty half - which I could mindlessly think of utilizing anyway. Here, since I have different pockets of time on different days, conventional time table techniques constantly failed)

I finally had to ask my colleague how she maintained her time table. One of them said that she would make a 'To Do' list every morning and follow that. Another one, was much ahead. She would use Google Calender. I have become so used to google calender now that I absolutely need to see it to know which pockets I have free. It makes sense to use them since there is internet every where, there is a computer everywhere and it just syncs with the smart phones. Thus, smart phones are used to their maximum potential. The timetable is always with me since any change is updated through wifi on campus.

Bus systems are on GPS and so I only move out when I see the bus approaching on my phone app. When you call a security shuttle, it gives you a time and arrives then. Before arriving, it gives you an automated call to be prepared out of the house near the place you specified to be picked up. Announcements about weather, storms, robberies and system crash are immediately e mailed. Basically - everything is tied up to the  internet and a strong network system.

The google calender has helped me to slot in chosen lectures, symposia, music events or any other events into my schedule. I plan my time through the google calender. It pops up a message in advance to remind you if you are forgetting any thing! It just makes you forget your distress of following up things.

But in terms of exploiting technology, I am far behind. I will have to make extra effort in order to really be up to date! Needless to say there is another side to this story. But that's not for this post! 

The Past 2 Weeks in New Haven

If those who read this blog have been wondering why has there been no writing for the past month, I am going to spell out the fall of events for my last month in US! If there would be any period comparable to this one in my life before, it has to be the Delhi study tour during 2011! But I am not able to make up my mind which one is graver. After a lot of thought about the context, I feel this one was more emotionally draining.

It all begins during the end of last month - September 2012 end. I was to change my house and shift to the new one. The flowchart below will give a better idea of the fall of events:

And thus, is my life shuttling between settling and studying. There are layers of things between the flowchart and I think it would be best forgotten. They shall remain burried deep into my invisible learnings.

Meanwhile, I just learnt about the above flowchart software - a new thing learnt in constructing this post, and have accumulated a lot of other things to write about. Have to find time and the right frame of mind to put them all down...