The hope and excitement and escape that change brings. Hope is rampant. Excitement equally so. Escape is by far, though, the main reason. Escape from status quo, escape from the loneliness of Austin, escape from the unrequited life that is Corporate USA.
I hope to find a new job that takes me closer to the masses in a manner only direct work can. It should involve technology, broadly speaking. I dont even require there to be any connection to computers, though I would like to further my education in the objective realm of abstract science than the subjective and very real complexity of human emotions. The new job should take me to meet people for whom basic needs of sustained and good food, health and shelter are not met. These are the people who want help only as far as to help themselves pick up and walk and then run the rat race. I am not talking of the utterly poor, homeless people - their plight freezes me into a state of inaction overwhelmed by despair and powerlessness. Since I would like to do something, I want to be active. Hopefully someone stronger than me can take the cause of the homeless and do their part.
I hope to meet a girl and settle down in life, and staying in India affords more possibilities of this happening. A long list of prerequisites abound in my mind, and there's no way I am going to be able to explore a relationship discovered through one of these matrimony websites. There is too much expectation, time pressure, and upfront bias in the medium, and a few months into the process, a general sense of despondent stereotyping happens leading only to further disappointments.
I hope to develop and refine my quest for the Ultimate Truth. I hope to meet a guru who can guide my life, in whom I can find the confidence and trust to allay my doubts, in whom I can place my complete surrender without fear of judgement. There's also this small hope that my progress in the spiritual path is quick enough that I see the stated light of renunciation and quash other hopes and thence not feel the loneliness of missing life companionship.
I hope to take care of my parents in their old age and provide solace and comfort before they even voice the need. I hope to find in myself at the time of reckoning the strength they have so strongly displayed in their lives so far, the strength to serve despite the suboptimal control my father has over his emotions, the strength to be weak and judged but yet love and serve my ageing, wise, humble, incredibly loving mother.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Putting ideas on to clay and chart paper
Living by oneself demands a certain thought stream in keeping oneself fed, clothed, entertained, and overall un-frustrated with daily goings. There is naturally a sense of planning that creeps in – from the mundane “what shall I cook for dinner?” to the phone call from the equally lonesome friend looking for company to see a movie or play tennis. After spending a good chunk of the day in such planning, it is tempting to make a choice of seeing without observing, hearing without listening, gulping down without chewing. These do not form the ideal conditions for art as a hobby to flourish.
For many months now, I have had these two, unrelated, ideas. One is to freeze a beautiful chess position by bending metal wire arching over reflective, glass pieces of odd shapes and sizes inset into clay baked in the kitchen oven. This was to be an ode to one of my passions, which also unfortunately is one of the major time-sinks in the same passive manner that people have come to interact with the idiot box.
The second is to paint this image, in impressionistic style, of a fork in the road in a jungle, so to speak, with the left fork leading to somewhere explicitly colourful, sunny, obstacle-free while the right fork is darker, with impressions of snakes and other slimy creatures lurking in the shade that is too prevalent. There is this pair of eyes looking inward – both eyes, inward! – at the forefront of the fork, with a pile of books and sheafs of paper beneath. It suspended in mid-air and is translucent, like, with no body to hold it aloft and steady. Yet, steady it surely is. The judging eye. The all-knowing one. The eternally compassionate. Yet formidable in its assessment of right and wrong. Karma. Buddha. Baba. The observer is me. I am the one being judged. The eyes also guard the way, and seem to pointedly smile at my knowing my fate, my choice, my path ahead. But the observer also reads in the compassion of the eyes that the choice is not a Hobson’s one, that there is much distance to travel before the fork actually needs to be taken, that the fork is ahead of me and not already behind, that the choice is not presaged, that there is much more paper to be added to the sheaf on the jungle floor. Ah, the difficulty of verbalizing a mental image in the inherently restricted medium of spoken language!
The ideas happened many months ago. Impressionism as a style seemed a natural occurrence given my recently discovered love of colours, augmented vastly by the visiting Monets at the de Young. Chess as a thematic idea for artistic expression was inspired by some magical positions in a book compiled by, but of course, a Russian chess master. But since those flashes in the proverbial art pan, there hasn’t been the same mental aptitude, inspiration, motivation to see these ideas through.
Another reason, to add to having to live and fend for by myself, is the basic skills to realize these ideas are not yet honed by ages of intense practice as was and is the habit of the Masters of yore and present. In fact, I haven’t even gotten around to spending an entire day in the company of the metal wire or graphite pencils.
Photography happened serendipitously, one accident at a time. The time the Alaska trip came around, I was pleasantly surprised, nay, shocked, at how good the photos turned out when I hadn’t actually started that journey planning for or expecting a high standard of results. I am hoping that the same stumbling, bumbling, dilettantish approach at learning the ropes, enough to translate a mental image into a concrete cognizant outcome, plays out for these two ideas also.
For many months now, I have had these two, unrelated, ideas. One is to freeze a beautiful chess position by bending metal wire arching over reflective, glass pieces of odd shapes and sizes inset into clay baked in the kitchen oven. This was to be an ode to one of my passions, which also unfortunately is one of the major time-sinks in the same passive manner that people have come to interact with the idiot box.
The second is to paint this image, in impressionistic style, of a fork in the road in a jungle, so to speak, with the left fork leading to somewhere explicitly colourful, sunny, obstacle-free while the right fork is darker, with impressions of snakes and other slimy creatures lurking in the shade that is too prevalent. There is this pair of eyes looking inward – both eyes, inward! – at the forefront of the fork, with a pile of books and sheafs of paper beneath. It suspended in mid-air and is translucent, like, with no body to hold it aloft and steady. Yet, steady it surely is. The judging eye. The all-knowing one. The eternally compassionate. Yet formidable in its assessment of right and wrong. Karma. Buddha. Baba. The observer is me. I am the one being judged. The eyes also guard the way, and seem to pointedly smile at my knowing my fate, my choice, my path ahead. But the observer also reads in the compassion of the eyes that the choice is not a Hobson’s one, that there is much distance to travel before the fork actually needs to be taken, that the fork is ahead of me and not already behind, that the choice is not presaged, that there is much more paper to be added to the sheaf on the jungle floor. Ah, the difficulty of verbalizing a mental image in the inherently restricted medium of spoken language!
The ideas happened many months ago. Impressionism as a style seemed a natural occurrence given my recently discovered love of colours, augmented vastly by the visiting Monets at the de Young. Chess as a thematic idea for artistic expression was inspired by some magical positions in a book compiled by, but of course, a Russian chess master. But since those flashes in the proverbial art pan, there hasn’t been the same mental aptitude, inspiration, motivation to see these ideas through.
Another reason, to add to having to live and fend for by myself, is the basic skills to realize these ideas are not yet honed by ages of intense practice as was and is the habit of the Masters of yore and present. In fact, I haven’t even gotten around to spending an entire day in the company of the metal wire or graphite pencils.
Photography happened serendipitously, one accident at a time. The time the Alaska trip came around, I was pleasantly surprised, nay, shocked, at how good the photos turned out when I hadn’t actually started that journey planning for or expecting a high standard of results. I am hoping that the same stumbling, bumbling, dilettantish approach at learning the ropes, enough to translate a mental image into a concrete cognizant outcome, plays out for these two ideas also.
him
I don't want to stand out in a crowd but I want the crowd to notice me of their own accord. I don't want to show off but I want to be seen. I don't want to boast but I want others to praise. I don't want to be made the leader but I want to be elected. I don't want to make a fuss.
I worry about being judged, and I judge others. I worry about my impression in public, and I expect others to worry about theirs. I playact, all the time. I feel I am watched by someone, even when walking in a shopping mall knowing fully well there isn't a face I recognize from before in the vicinity. I feel someone is always videotaping me to show me later a frame and mock me, how I exposed my desires, my weaknesses, my ungainly gait, my bald head, my unkempt hair, my hairy nostril, my big nose, my slightly stooped stance, my nonexistent paunch, my ugly junior. That someone is usually the person I am trying to impress. Then, there are times when I want to make someone feel guilty about not choosing me, as a friend, as a partner, as a special person. For their guilt, I want the video to capture the charisma, the perfect conduct, the right answer, the wit, the persona, the knowledge, the intellect, the precise enunciation, the stance, the glance, the manhood.
I am cognizant of society and social conduct to the point of being empathetic to everyone in the room, even the miscreant. I feel as awkward in a situation as the protagonists. I want any imbalance to straighten itself out early without giving time for the resonance of emotional complexity to rock it even more. In circumstances, I "get" what is the right thing, and what is to be done. When asked, I am able to come up with a "correct" answer, an answer that makes me look smarter than I am, an answer that makes me a martyr, an answer that puts me further ahead in this path of where I want to go than where I am, an answer that pretends than the answer that should be. I have a good sense for the optimal, both in theory and in practice. I try to optimize my own life to the point of setting aside some key needs at times, to the point of planning down to a task hours and days ahead. I get no time to devote consequently to just being in the moment.
I can play the part of how someone wants me to be perfectly well. Come the time when I think I need the same returned to me, I tend to ask for it in the other person. I ask for fairness in giving and receiving, providing me with what I want to be, not what they want me to be. When I don't perceive this fairness, I get frustrated, irritated, feel done in, and let out my feeling of unfairness, sometimes insensitively.
I am the ego. I am myself. I don't like to be myself at times, I don't like to display my ego especially when people notice it for precisely what it is. Many people haven't done that, notice the ego for what it is. But the few who have done, I am worried about their judgement, worried about the truth in their judgement of me.
I worry about being judged, and I judge others. I worry about my impression in public, and I expect others to worry about theirs. I playact, all the time. I feel I am watched by someone, even when walking in a shopping mall knowing fully well there isn't a face I recognize from before in the vicinity. I feel someone is always videotaping me to show me later a frame and mock me, how I exposed my desires, my weaknesses, my ungainly gait, my bald head, my unkempt hair, my hairy nostril, my big nose, my slightly stooped stance, my nonexistent paunch, my ugly junior. That someone is usually the person I am trying to impress. Then, there are times when I want to make someone feel guilty about not choosing me, as a friend, as a partner, as a special person. For their guilt, I want the video to capture the charisma, the perfect conduct, the right answer, the wit, the persona, the knowledge, the intellect, the precise enunciation, the stance, the glance, the manhood.
I am cognizant of society and social conduct to the point of being empathetic to everyone in the room, even the miscreant. I feel as awkward in a situation as the protagonists. I want any imbalance to straighten itself out early without giving time for the resonance of emotional complexity to rock it even more. In circumstances, I "get" what is the right thing, and what is to be done. When asked, I am able to come up with a "correct" answer, an answer that makes me look smarter than I am, an answer that makes me a martyr, an answer that puts me further ahead in this path of where I want to go than where I am, an answer that pretends than the answer that should be. I have a good sense for the optimal, both in theory and in practice. I try to optimize my own life to the point of setting aside some key needs at times, to the point of planning down to a task hours and days ahead. I get no time to devote consequently to just being in the moment.
I can play the part of how someone wants me to be perfectly well. Come the time when I think I need the same returned to me, I tend to ask for it in the other person. I ask for fairness in giving and receiving, providing me with what I want to be, not what they want me to be. When I don't perceive this fairness, I get frustrated, irritated, feel done in, and let out my feeling of unfairness, sometimes insensitively.
I am the ego. I am myself. I don't like to be myself at times, I don't like to display my ego especially when people notice it for precisely what it is. Many people haven't done that, notice the ego for what it is. But the few who have done, I am worried about their judgement, worried about the truth in their judgement of me.
Friday, October 22, 2010
This past year
I sent this to my group of Godav wingmates, most of whom I remember as being uncomplicated, rather happy people with the odd unique personality thrown in the mix.
I had up until last year been heads-down in work, trying to make this lottery that is this small company life turn probability on its head. At some point last year, I stopped running and since then I have enjoyed doing this and that, finally finding my way to Austin, Texas where I live now. I still work for the same company and still like my work, but am looking forward to coming back to India and family.
Yes, family for me primarily expands to parents only, unlike many of you! I am hoping to change that at some point.
Life outside of work has been pleasant for a little while now. Art as a form of expression made a startling appearance one evening and it constantly threatens to pay me a visit and does so unannounced every now and then. Carnatic music as an art form made a sudden connection with my mental self earlier this year and since then many an evening has been spent in aural joy. Chess as a pastime relegated to dusty shelves is under the attention spotlight now. Book reading has reborn. I try to volunteer my time - one of the organizations, for which I help raise funds, is called Vibha, based in India, focused on children; and the other is a home for abused children near my place.
Not to give the impression that I have become super happy as a person, almost every day sees the same thoughts of wonder at what lies ahead, same bouts of insecurity and anxiety, the duel with status quo, the consequent realization of my foibles, the painful acceptance of it, the calmness that follows from letting go, only to rise up the next day with amnesia and an implicit denial.
I shouldn't have ended my mail on that negative note, since I am not unhappy right now. At this very moment in fact, having just returned from a fabulous carnatic music concert, I feel truly fortunate at the entry that kalaarasanai made into my life so late in the game. I can see that my being frank in the email was partly to test the waters and see where others stood in their lives. Is being married for long (like one of the friends in that group is) seen him at a different state? I can see that a fresh marriage has not yet allowed couple of the others to settle into their mental equilibrium.
I had up until last year been heads-down in work, trying to make this lottery that is this small company life turn probability on its head. At some point last year, I stopped running and since then I have enjoyed doing this and that, finally finding my way to Austin, Texas where I live now. I still work for the same company and still like my work, but am looking forward to coming back to India and family.
Yes, family for me primarily expands to parents only, unlike many of you! I am hoping to change that at some point.
Life outside of work has been pleasant for a little while now. Art as a form of expression made a startling appearance one evening and it constantly threatens to pay me a visit and does so unannounced every now and then. Carnatic music as an art form made a sudden connection with my mental self earlier this year and since then many an evening has been spent in aural joy. Chess as a pastime relegated to dusty shelves is under the attention spotlight now. Book reading has reborn. I try to volunteer my time - one of the organizations, for which I help raise funds, is called Vibha, based in India, focused on children; and the other is a home for abused children near my place.
Not to give the impression that I have become super happy as a person, almost every day sees the same thoughts of wonder at what lies ahead, same bouts of insecurity and anxiety, the duel with status quo, the consequent realization of my foibles, the painful acceptance of it, the calmness that follows from letting go, only to rise up the next day with amnesia and an implicit denial.
I shouldn't have ended my mail on that negative note, since I am not unhappy right now. At this very moment in fact, having just returned from a fabulous carnatic music concert, I feel truly fortunate at the entry that kalaarasanai made into my life so late in the game. I can see that my being frank in the email was partly to test the waters and see where others stood in their lives. Is being married for long (like one of the friends in that group is) seen him at a different state? I can see that a fresh marriage has not yet allowed couple of the others to settle into their mental equilibrium.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Stop running and listen
I have run all my life. Prodded by the need for societal acceptance and recognition, I have run all my life. Running is a lifestyle choice not a hobby or even a day job, since once I start running and get ahead of a few, it is an abominable thought to slow down to let those few get ahead of me or even catch up. My mind, my ego doesnt allow it, even though the legs and body and a balding head are pleading with me to stop. Being ahead of the competition only implies more running.
You have to keep running to stay in the same place, said the Red Queen.
All this running has meant little time to stop and listen. Listen to my own breath, listen to the sound of emptiness around (that dull high frequency pitch that grows in magnitude the more I meditate, the buzz of a closely orbiting fly drowning it in a dopplerian manner).
In truth, it is very very difficult to stop since after all these years of existence, running has become second nature to me. The engrossing nature of the task done with single-minded devotion, the thrill of victory, the basking under social recognition, the challenge looking ahead to the next run (and many times, a sprint), the discovery of "abilities" that make socially stand out, the consequent egoistic internal gloating all define this state of running. Each run is like crack to the ego, addictive, calling it to itself repeatedly, rearing its head repeatedly in the tumultuous ocean that is the mind like a school of sharks aggressively waiting for the marooned sailor, the consciousness, to slip up.
The shark analogy is dramatic, yes, but it does make a comparison I have come to view as valid in these last few months - the more I give in to the temptations of the ego, the less control I have on emotions, the more I suffer. It is as though each bite the shark takes leaves the sailor that much weaker to be able to stand his ground when the next attack comes by. And, the attacks are relentless and happen at a very fast pace, much faster than "the wind", consulting Yudhistra.
When the racers I have left behind or run abreast with get ahead of me, the classic hallmarks of the ego within show through - jealousy, a desire for their current state, a renewed vow to run even faster, churn in the mental ocean, a sourness and an edge in the interactions with the racers. Placed in context of how most racers we see as taking part in the competition of life are from one's own circle of friends, family and acquaintances, these negative traits affect relationships profoundly. For starters, it promotes and provokes the exact same behaviour on their part. And this vicious race continues on and on until ... .
Stop running and listen to my breath. Stop running and listen to art. Art produced by the masters, be it music or photos or painting, has a remarkable quality of transporting to worlds making one pause without even realizing it. If you come by such an inspiring moment, like I have been lucky to in these past few months, stop running and wander.
Till now, the realization of the existence of this race alone hasnt sufficed to put an end to this. Something else is required and I am trying to find out what.
You have to keep running to stay in the same place, said the Red Queen.
All this running has meant little time to stop and listen. Listen to my own breath, listen to the sound of emptiness around (that dull high frequency pitch that grows in magnitude the more I meditate, the buzz of a closely orbiting fly drowning it in a dopplerian manner).
In truth, it is very very difficult to stop since after all these years of existence, running has become second nature to me. The engrossing nature of the task done with single-minded devotion, the thrill of victory, the basking under social recognition, the challenge looking ahead to the next run (and many times, a sprint), the discovery of "abilities" that make socially stand out, the consequent egoistic internal gloating all define this state of running. Each run is like crack to the ego, addictive, calling it to itself repeatedly, rearing its head repeatedly in the tumultuous ocean that is the mind like a school of sharks aggressively waiting for the marooned sailor, the consciousness, to slip up.
The shark analogy is dramatic, yes, but it does make a comparison I have come to view as valid in these last few months - the more I give in to the temptations of the ego, the less control I have on emotions, the more I suffer. It is as though each bite the shark takes leaves the sailor that much weaker to be able to stand his ground when the next attack comes by. And, the attacks are relentless and happen at a very fast pace, much faster than "the wind", consulting Yudhistra.
When the racers I have left behind or run abreast with get ahead of me, the classic hallmarks of the ego within show through - jealousy, a desire for their current state, a renewed vow to run even faster, churn in the mental ocean, a sourness and an edge in the interactions with the racers. Placed in context of how most racers we see as taking part in the competition of life are from one's own circle of friends, family and acquaintances, these negative traits affect relationships profoundly. For starters, it promotes and provokes the exact same behaviour on their part. And this vicious race continues on and on until ... .
Stop running and listen to my breath. Stop running and listen to art. Art produced by the masters, be it music or photos or painting, has a remarkable quality of transporting to worlds making one pause without even realizing it. If you come by such an inspiring moment, like I have been lucky to in these past few months, stop running and wander.
Till now, the realization of the existence of this race alone hasnt sufficed to put an end to this. Something else is required and I am trying to find out what.
Friday, July 16, 2010
A Clearer Confession
The correspondence with my acquaintance friend helped straighten out a few things in my mind in ways only words put on paper, rather than mulled over and over in a muddled mind, can.
My response to his benevolent reply:
Thanks for the inspirational link. I really liked reading Steps to Inner Peace.
My pattern of life for the last few months has been thus - alternating states of stability and, to put naively, instability. Stability arises as my mind delves on the spiritual inspirations I have been privileged to be exposed to thus far (it started with a book on Buddhism last year). Instability arises in all other situations. Usually these moments of stability dont last very long and I am back into the other phase. Daily work, chores, music, sports, social interactions play their distracting roles, but invariably I come back to the same states of mind of confusion and, occasionally, insecurity, lack of confidence and anger at causes I grapple with to ascribe reasons for my current state. Over time, this swinging of the mental pendulum between extremes has definitely lessened in both amplitude and frequency but oscillate it does.
There are a few unknowns and uncertainties in my life at this point, none of which are close to being resolved anytime soon, none whose outcome is under my control. These provide the fodder for my mental swings. I am trying to be patient, with these issues as well as with developing the spiritual maturity that I am convinced is required to walk calmly through these and any more issues that life throws up. I wish I would get constant guidance in the path to follow to developing this spiritual maturity.
Even the staunchest of non-Believers, having had the experience myself, depend on a code book of beliefs to guide them in action and inaction. How wonderful would it be if I could simply abandon doubt and immerse myself fully into a single system of beliefs and follow to the T its teachings?
My response to his benevolent reply:
Thanks for the inspirational link. I really liked reading Steps to Inner Peace.
My pattern of life for the last few months has been thus - alternating states of stability and, to put naively, instability. Stability arises as my mind delves on the spiritual inspirations I have been privileged to be exposed to thus far (it started with a book on Buddhism last year). Instability arises in all other situations. Usually these moments of stability dont last very long and I am back into the other phase. Daily work, chores, music, sports, social interactions play their distracting roles, but invariably I come back to the same states of mind of confusion and, occasionally, insecurity, lack of confidence and anger at causes I grapple with to ascribe reasons for my current state. Over time, this swinging of the mental pendulum between extremes has definitely lessened in both amplitude and frequency but oscillate it does.
There are a few unknowns and uncertainties in my life at this point, none of which are close to being resolved anytime soon, none whose outcome is under my control. These provide the fodder for my mental swings. I am trying to be patient, with these issues as well as with developing the spiritual maturity that I am convinced is required to walk calmly through these and any more issues that life throws up. I wish I would get constant guidance in the path to follow to developing this spiritual maturity.
Even the staunchest of non-Believers, having had the experience myself, depend on a code book of beliefs to guide them in action and inaction. How wonderful would it be if I could simply abandon doubt and immerse myself fully into a single system of beliefs and follow to the T its teachings?
Monday, July 12, 2010
Confession
The role of the listening stranger that a church priest plays in the double-blind setting of a confession stand is, I consider, to be one of the many outstanding pragmatic tools that religion has made accessible to the common man without distinction, discrimination or long-lasting judgement. But I digress. Following is a letter I wrote a friend from so many years and experiences past, particularly from his side, that it wouldnt be amiss to simply say he is an acquaintance now. Perhaps, the term has even crossed that line too and trespassed into stranger boundaries since he has in this intervening time adopted a new moniker too.
It is nice to see you doing well. In my pompous ignorance, I was half afraid you might have had a change of mind and found yourself in further confusion. Like the one I am wallowing in. Now. Everyday.
I have been drawn much more towards spirituality over the last year. It has finally dawned on me that this fast paced life of gloat, pleasure, intellectualization, materialism isnt going to give me any long term happiness or satisfaction. Rethinking certain relationships in this short, compassion-filled approach to life over the last 1 year, I can see how those people around me are having a more positive time now, going that extra distance in controlling their ego, showing warmth and sharing the need for one another more openly.
But I just cant seem to place a finger on what to do next. Parents, family, society have their galaxy of expectations from me. Part of me has its own share, foolishly buoyed by successes in life so far. Then there is this desire for long-term companionship that I havent had any luck with so far - for now at least, I can see that much of this desire is fueled by a recent rejection but the prospect of living alone for the foreseeable future portends more loneliness, pain and insecurity. The need for carnal pleasures, too, provides fillip for this on a regular basis.
For those weakness I know I hold, I am unable to keep them in check all the time. And I discover new ones, paradoxically during meditation sittings that are meant to calm than stimulate. I feel empty many times in a day. It seems utterly meaningless to strive towards any populist accepted norms of social living when we as men and women have such basic flaws in our character and cannot pretend to control our own minds. In this light, I find taking on new relationships like spouse or kids a foolish, even disastrous undertaking.
I want to come back to India and help out on socially-relevant projects on the field. I want to be in a position to help as many people as I can by solving the problems in their lives. I want to be able to delve deeper into spirituality without the meddling doubt of intellectual reasoning. I want to explore more without chastisement or pressure.
It is nice to see you doing well. In my pompous ignorance, I was half afraid you might have had a change of mind and found yourself in further confusion. Like the one I am wallowing in. Now. Everyday.
I have been drawn much more towards spirituality over the last year. It has finally dawned on me that this fast paced life of gloat, pleasure, intellectualization, materialism isnt going to give me any long term happiness or satisfaction. Rethinking certain relationships in this short, compassion-filled approach to life over the last 1 year, I can see how those people around me are having a more positive time now, going that extra distance in controlling their ego, showing warmth and sharing the need for one another more openly.
But I just cant seem to place a finger on what to do next. Parents, family, society have their galaxy of expectations from me. Part of me has its own share, foolishly buoyed by successes in life so far. Then there is this desire for long-term companionship that I havent had any luck with so far - for now at least, I can see that much of this desire is fueled by a recent rejection but the prospect of living alone for the foreseeable future portends more loneliness, pain and insecurity. The need for carnal pleasures, too, provides fillip for this on a regular basis.
For those weakness I know I hold, I am unable to keep them in check all the time. And I discover new ones, paradoxically during meditation sittings that are meant to calm than stimulate. I feel empty many times in a day. It seems utterly meaningless to strive towards any populist accepted norms of social living when we as men and women have such basic flaws in our character and cannot pretend to control our own minds. In this light, I find taking on new relationships like spouse or kids a foolish, even disastrous undertaking.
I want to come back to India and help out on socially-relevant projects on the field. I want to be in a position to help as many people as I can by solving the problems in their lives. I want to be able to delve deeper into spirituality without the meddling doubt of intellectual reasoning. I want to explore more without chastisement or pressure.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Luck in Education - Part 2
The summer of that eventful year first saw me choose field work ahead of a post-PhD continuation in engineering academia, following a month long trip back to India. In that trip, I had spoken to a couple of IAS officers and had started to seriously consider civil services as a career. That trip was my first back home after a gap of two years from the time I initially landed in the US for graduate studies. Those intervening two years seemed more like five. I had hit the research ground, so to speak, not just running but accelerating. Little did I realize then that those years had formed the start of a new phase of life in more ways than one - in particular, it had been the start of a period of slogging that was to continue for a long time after. Big decisions in life dont announce themselves with dramatic music or a climactic buildup. They pass by without as much as a whimper.
Earlier that year, one of my roommates was applying to get his Masters degree. I too applied to get that piece of paper without much more thought. In fact, I didnt even attend the graduation event.
On my return from India mid-summer, I noticed a few petty acts of my research advisor. Her subsequent immature justifications coupled with my own desire to not prolong my graduate studies beyond my estimate of 2-3 years made my choice to quit grad school easy. Thank goodness, I had applied and gotten my Masters degree to have something to show for those years of slogging.
My next task was to try to get a job. At that time, I had heard from others that I had to start my job in October only since I had just one year of extension period post-graduation (called OPT) and a work visa would not be valid until the October of the subsequent year. But then, I found out that I wasnt eligible for OPT as it had been more than 3 months since the Masters degree conferral. My hopes were dashed. Fortunately, a really friendly student counselor I happened to consult with told me that the only way out was for my advisor to give the school in writing that I needed to take a job as part of my research and hence pass it off as being part of the curriculum. So, I lied. I lied to my advisor that I needed to stave off some financial hardships and hence needed to take up a job immediately. I lied to avoid the injustice of pretending I liked to work with her and finish my Ph.D. I lied to avoid returning to India immediately without giving myself a chance to work in the US and gain some experience and money. I lied. My advisor relented. She even went as far as to say that she always knew that I never wanted to do a Ph.D. That wasnt true. My work ethic should have suggested the exact opposite. I wanted a Ph.D. as much for my intellectual happiness, my ego and my future as she wanted it for her tenure.
While the above drama was unfolding at school, I started to look for jobs mainly in small companies. Two of the companies I had contacted called me for interviews but the third didn't even get back after the initial interactions. Within a week, one of them rejected me and the other made me an offer. As I found out later, that company was seeking to make its final hire for a while to come (the next hire after me was 7 months after and was for an administrative role). Funnily enough, I saw their job ad on Craigslist.
My research collaborators hated to see their hard working student leave. So, they started making arrangements for me to work with them in a salaried position. I of course wanted nothing to do with large companies. Having a job offer in hand made it easy for me to stand my ground. Either from having resigned to her perceived truth in her early opinions of me or because she partly believed in my lies, my advisor allowed me my freedom with the choice of job. That was the best I could ask from her at that stage, and she didnt let me down one more time.
I started my job in October that year. In October the following year, I officially received a work permit. With that, I officially severed ties with my grad school and my advisor. Incidentally, she finally replied back to that severance mail after nearly three years with "I meant to send you an email a long time back, but somehow didn't send it".
My decision to quit grad school was right, and luck dealt me the perfect cards to play with.
But, the slogging was to continue for three more years. That was at least many months too late for creating the right conditions for capitalizing on more luck coming my way later.
Earlier that year, one of my roommates was applying to get his Masters degree. I too applied to get that piece of paper without much more thought. In fact, I didnt even attend the graduation event.
On my return from India mid-summer, I noticed a few petty acts of my research advisor. Her subsequent immature justifications coupled with my own desire to not prolong my graduate studies beyond my estimate of 2-3 years made my choice to quit grad school easy. Thank goodness, I had applied and gotten my Masters degree to have something to show for those years of slogging.
My next task was to try to get a job. At that time, I had heard from others that I had to start my job in October only since I had just one year of extension period post-graduation (called OPT) and a work visa would not be valid until the October of the subsequent year. But then, I found out that I wasnt eligible for OPT as it had been more than 3 months since the Masters degree conferral. My hopes were dashed. Fortunately, a really friendly student counselor I happened to consult with told me that the only way out was for my advisor to give the school in writing that I needed to take a job as part of my research and hence pass it off as being part of the curriculum. So, I lied. I lied to my advisor that I needed to stave off some financial hardships and hence needed to take up a job immediately. I lied to avoid the injustice of pretending I liked to work with her and finish my Ph.D. I lied to avoid returning to India immediately without giving myself a chance to work in the US and gain some experience and money. I lied. My advisor relented. She even went as far as to say that she always knew that I never wanted to do a Ph.D. That wasnt true. My work ethic should have suggested the exact opposite. I wanted a Ph.D. as much for my intellectual happiness, my ego and my future as she wanted it for her tenure.
While the above drama was unfolding at school, I started to look for jobs mainly in small companies. Two of the companies I had contacted called me for interviews but the third didn't even get back after the initial interactions. Within a week, one of them rejected me and the other made me an offer. As I found out later, that company was seeking to make its final hire for a while to come (the next hire after me was 7 months after and was for an administrative role). Funnily enough, I saw their job ad on Craigslist.
My research collaborators hated to see their hard working student leave. So, they started making arrangements for me to work with them in a salaried position. I of course wanted nothing to do with large companies. Having a job offer in hand made it easy for me to stand my ground. Either from having resigned to her perceived truth in her early opinions of me or because she partly believed in my lies, my advisor allowed me my freedom with the choice of job. That was the best I could ask from her at that stage, and she didnt let me down one more time.
I started my job in October that year. In October the following year, I officially received a work permit. With that, I officially severed ties with my grad school and my advisor. Incidentally, she finally replied back to that severance mail after nearly three years with "I meant to send you an email a long time back, but somehow didn't send it".
My decision to quit grad school was right, and luck dealt me the perfect cards to play with.
But, the slogging was to continue for three more years. That was at least many months too late for creating the right conditions for capitalizing on more luck coming my way later.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Luck in Education - Part 1
My education has been one long, lucky ride.
I distinctly remember that day when I sat down at SBOA to take the JEE. The first paper was mathematics. Many questions had a part A) and part B). For these questions, I could immediately see there was a logical connection between parts A) and B) but in almost all the cases never actually worked out what the connections were. In my answers, I merely stated the proofs for part B) as being immediately obvious from part A) with only a skeleton of a detailed sketch. Physics was as expected. Chemistry was my weakest subject, and I distinctly remember the paper being very favourably disposed to the topics I was comfortable with. I got a really high rank, much much higher than I expected. Overall, my "excellent" performance in JEE was as a result of 2 years of hard work, momentary fits of inspiration, and a heavy dose of luck on the D-day.
Next came my years in IIT. Bumbling along in subjects I was barely motivated in, while doing well in subjects I liked a lot (like Graph Theory), I managed to scrape together a decent overall grade. What probably is a great example of the title of this post is that my education continued unimpeded despite the sheer stupidity of my choice of final year project advisor. Hindsight spots foolishness as easily as a casual gardener sees dirt on the petals of white roses. Skirting around a rather unpleasant episode, let me just state the salient point - of how that advisor had, after much cajoling, promised to recommend us for admission to grad schools but didn't send the requisite letters... ever.
I got a chance to work with a technically proficient, hard working advisor in my grad school. That was made possible mainly because of yet more luck in the form of an internship during my undergrad. Replete with the naivete of a young scientist, I suggested in my application for the internship that I work on a specific information coding idea. The idea was straightforward - instead of using one of Huffman coding or LZW coding for compression, why not use both? Being easily excitable on any thought I considered original, I felt confident I would get the internship. It turned out so. My internship advisor liked the spark and called me to immediately start working on the idea. But, within 3 weeks, I found prior work (but of course!). My advisor was gracious enough to still invite me over and work on other problems. Little did I know then that "other problems" meant problems in domains he had no experience in. I was thus left to my whims and fancies in a new world that I knew little about. I read a ton of literature and jotted down a few (trivial, as I would find out later) happenstance ideas. These, framed with a clever analogy from the real world, eventually culminated in what I thought was a respectable paper. That paper got summarily dismissed by one of the big names in the field. But then came along a friend of my internship advisor who "happened" to be on the chair of a journal. No surprises on what happened next - the paper was published in the journal without any of the reviewers even batting an eyelid at its technical merit.
Looking back at that internship paper now, I realize how naive it is and how the writing is so full of hope and excitement befitting a budding, yet surprisingly strong, ego. It could not have stood its ground under any reasonably rigourous mathematical microscope, though, the use of the analogy to the real world was passable (as a candidate for an Ignobel, perhaps?). Anyway, I went on to publish more such papers, all with the good graces of conference chairs a.k.a my co-authors. These publications are likely the only reason why my grad school advisor would have even considered me worth talking to.
The next lucky episode was one that played out towards the middle of my graduate studies in a manner that couldn't have been better orchestrated. Coming up in Part 2.
I distinctly remember that day when I sat down at SBOA to take the JEE. The first paper was mathematics. Many questions had a part A) and part B). For these questions, I could immediately see there was a logical connection between parts A) and B) but in almost all the cases never actually worked out what the connections were. In my answers, I merely stated the proofs for part B) as being immediately obvious from part A) with only a skeleton of a detailed sketch. Physics was as expected. Chemistry was my weakest subject, and I distinctly remember the paper being very favourably disposed to the topics I was comfortable with. I got a really high rank, much much higher than I expected. Overall, my "excellent" performance in JEE was as a result of 2 years of hard work, momentary fits of inspiration, and a heavy dose of luck on the D-day.
Next came my years in IIT. Bumbling along in subjects I was barely motivated in, while doing well in subjects I liked a lot (like Graph Theory), I managed to scrape together a decent overall grade. What probably is a great example of the title of this post is that my education continued unimpeded despite the sheer stupidity of my choice of final year project advisor. Hindsight spots foolishness as easily as a casual gardener sees dirt on the petals of white roses. Skirting around a rather unpleasant episode, let me just state the salient point - of how that advisor had, after much cajoling, promised to recommend us for admission to grad schools but didn't send the requisite letters... ever.
I got a chance to work with a technically proficient, hard working advisor in my grad school. That was made possible mainly because of yet more luck in the form of an internship during my undergrad. Replete with the naivete of a young scientist, I suggested in my application for the internship that I work on a specific information coding idea. The idea was straightforward - instead of using one of Huffman coding or LZW coding for compression, why not use both? Being easily excitable on any thought I considered original, I felt confident I would get the internship. It turned out so. My internship advisor liked the spark and called me to immediately start working on the idea. But, within 3 weeks, I found prior work (but of course!). My advisor was gracious enough to still invite me over and work on other problems. Little did I know then that "other problems" meant problems in domains he had no experience in. I was thus left to my whims and fancies in a new world that I knew little about. I read a ton of literature and jotted down a few (trivial, as I would find out later) happenstance ideas. These, framed with a clever analogy from the real world, eventually culminated in what I thought was a respectable paper. That paper got summarily dismissed by one of the big names in the field. But then came along a friend of my internship advisor who "happened" to be on the chair of a journal. No surprises on what happened next - the paper was published in the journal without any of the reviewers even batting an eyelid at its technical merit.
Looking back at that internship paper now, I realize how naive it is and how the writing is so full of hope and excitement befitting a budding, yet surprisingly strong, ego. It could not have stood its ground under any reasonably rigourous mathematical microscope, though, the use of the analogy to the real world was passable (as a candidate for an Ignobel, perhaps?). Anyway, I went on to publish more such papers, all with the good graces of conference chairs a.k.a my co-authors. These publications are likely the only reason why my grad school advisor would have even considered me worth talking to.
The next lucky episode was one that played out towards the middle of my graduate studies in a manner that couldn't have been better orchestrated. Coming up in Part 2.
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