Cosmo amidst the setting sun

And there she sat at the McCormick and Schupmick's place, sipping her cosmo amidst the setting sun of the Baltimore harbor.

As she thought about the approaching season of thanksgiving, she thought about the people, happenings, events, places and chance meetings that she wanted to be thankful for. But the list started seeming awfully long. And while it made her more grateful, it also intimidated her. And then it dawned on her as she witnessed the sun being eaten by the waters that with each passing day, and with each setting sun, there came a promise full of thanksgiving that the day had been done and a new day will come soon enough. And somehow that simple thought made her happy and blissful again!

So there as she sat at the McCormick and Schupmick's place, she started back on her cosmo; took in the changing skies; laughed a little at her surroundings for she knew that they won't remain the same tomorrow; took the last morsel of her peanut butter sandwich; reapplied her makeup for even though the day was done, the tasks at hand were not; and as she pulled her coat over her shoulders, she thanked whoever might listen and saved a little thanksgiving for the approaching day.

The Fire Place

She watched the fire in the fire place burn with a faint glow as she sat on the couch with a leather covered journal, a cup of coffee and a peanut butter sandwich to keep her company.

She loved watching the fire burn. She loved watching how the wood would slowly change in color to become a charcoal and then ash. Ash that is at once suffocating and at once healing. She marveled at the soft music of moisture being taken away by the heat of the fire from the logs. She wondered what the moisture would feel like. Did it hurt or did the moisture take pleasure in that burning; very much like the lover taking pleasure in pain.

She loved the smell of burning wood that would engulf the home; the smell that would begin at one end of the log and proceed to the other. This smell was natural, it gave her the assurance that earth was nearby. Earth where she felt safe, earth to whom she returned after each flight, earth to where she would always belong.

As she sat by the fireplace, soaked her cold hands in the heat of the flames, she found herself playing with the smoke that arose from the place. She wished that she could create imprints from smoke on the pages of her journal. But she could only create imprints in her memory. So she did that. She waited to see if the imprints could create a ripple of imprints just like ink did on subsequent sheets of paper.

But she was too involved in watching the fire in the fire place burn with the faint glow..

Two cups of coffee

      She adjusted the two cups of coffee she held on the table, their handles facing away from one another in a nonchalant manner, with a spoon in one of the cups to stir the spoonful of sugar in each cup. 

      As she settled in her usual spot in her usual eating place, her vision wandered toward the lanes beyond the windows; toward the people walking by; toward the faint musings of Christmas music; toward the laughter of friends; toward the feet play of couples; toward the clatter of plates and forks; toward life and toward life's little and not-so-little happenings... 

      It was the end of November then, which was the start of her favorite season, the start of winter, the start of the holiday spirit, the start of family and friends gatherings, the start of finishing the year, the start of looking forward to the new year, the start of end to begin the beginning.. 

      As she tucked her ochre colored scarf unconsciously, she sipped through one cup of her coffee. Winter was almost here, she was almost done. She picked up a strand of hair from her forehead and pushed it behind. She smiled at the thought of her tickets that awaited for her new adventure for the break. She sipped in more coffee with that smile. And then she sighed. 

      Her thoughts wandered back to where it was, sometimes noticing the details what it saw, sometimes not. She lifted the spoon from her first cup to stir sugar in the second cup. Coffee was a little cold. But it didn't matter. She had enough caffeine to get her through the day and the days beyond, until she took her flight! 

      As she began to leave, she adjusted the two cups of coffee as they were when she first arranged them.  

The Routine

“You may call me Mrs. Darcy only when you are completely and truly and incandescently happy.”
"Mrs. Darcy" he sighed  
(Pride and Prejudice, the movie)

---

And she wondered if such an emotion really did exist, that someone, rather she could be completely and truly and incandescently happy and in love.

---

It was a long day and she came back home after midnight. After her routine for the night and she sat cross-legged at her kitchen table, she called her father while eating a peanut-butter sandwich. They talked about the morning and the day, they talked about work and work-outs, they talked about girls and boys, they talked about cloths and world events, they talked about home and college, they laughed, they scolded, they giggled, they sighed, they advised, they listened. At the end of the conversation and way into the night, her father asked, “So is my little princess, completely and truly and incandescently happy?”

She paused for a moment and ran through a recap of her day, her short life. It dawned to her that this time when she came home exhausted and took a shower to ward off the day’s dust that for the first time she liked how rugged she looked, how she smelled, how unkempt her hair was, how the kohl in her eyes was smudged a little, how her lip-color was almost gone. She liked how liberating it felt to be this girl to come home with. And then she wondered if she was in love with her individuality, with her being, with her surroundings, with the people that were a part of her life, with her work, with her dreams, with the things that got her breathing and with the things that took her breath away. She loved that she was finally living and was in a state of no-numbness.

She thought of all these and replied in composure to her father, “Yes papa, your little princess is finally completely and truly and incandescently happy.”

---

A lunch conversation

It started with a lunch conversation.

“Hey, I am a summer intern here. Are you here for training along with everyone also?”

“Yeah. So have you been here all summer?”

“Yeah. So where are you from? What are you studying?”

And so the lunch conversation progressed. Over the climbing steps, phone numbers were exchanged with almost a sudden anticipation of what would follow through the day.

But nothing followed.

Then at night, a few texts were exchanged and still nothing happened.

The next day, another lunch conversation progressed. Over the climbing steps, room numbers were exchanged with almost a sudden anticipation of what would follow through the day and beyond.

But nothing followed, until late evening.

“Hey, so I was wondering if you were free and wanted to come hang out here or something.”

“Sure. Give me a few minutes. I am about to finish my work for the day. I will be there with you in a bit.”

At his door, they hugged and sat close to each other on his bed. They talked, had a couple of welcome shots and discussed interests.

But nothing followed.

He initiated an Ask a Question game and they both got rolling.

“Are you attracted to me?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes. Would you like to do something?”

“Yes.”

“So then why are we just sitting here?”

“Because we both are playing it too conventionally!” she said in haste as she lowered her eyelids to give him a full kiss.

And then, yes many things followed.

Talks of dreams and aspirations, stories fantasies and truth, tales of love and bitter lies and offcourse, a few kisses.

Next day, they shared a continued lunch conversation.

The fifth meeting

“Mam, are you in there? They are waiting for you outside.” “Yes, I am in here. Just give me a couple of more minutes. Be there in a second!” she replied loudly through the shut doors of restroom at a conference centre.

This was her fifth meeting for the day and she was in the restroom to splash some cold water on her face to ward off the day’s tiredness. She applied a little mineral powder for her face, some mauve blush for her cheek bones, a little kohl for her eyes, and a smoothening lip balm for the suppleness of her lips. She adjusted her dress, gave her hair a touch and she was ready.

She gave herself one last critical look in the full length mirror and walked out of that restroom. Her face glowed as if she had been waiting for this meeting since a forever. Not a trace of tiredness, not a hint of caffeine which sustained her on these long days.

After the day was finally done and she came home after midnight; she took off her shoes, gave her toes a little wriggle, tied up her hair, took a long hot water shower, changed in her pjs, made herself a peanut-butter sandwich and put on the playlist that she played every night. Across from her kitchen table, where she sat cross-legged and ate her peanut-butter sandwich like a kid, hung a tapestry which gave her energy every night and every morning to keep going on. They were the words she believed in all her life –

You deserve better things in life, when you are worth deserving them.

And so she lived every meeting and every day, as if they were worthy of her and she was worthy of them. And a little make-up now and then, always helped her. 

The wooden bench

She felt her fingers rubbing against the rough surface as she tried to hold the wooden bench tightly almost expecting the wooden bench to hold her fingers with the same tightness. In the distance she saw a couple walking hand in hand. The hands, she thought. The interlocked fingers, she saw.  Almost as a reflex, she saw her fingers tightening against the wooden bench again. 

It was this urge to be able to hold “that” someone’s hand, which enabled her to write to “that” someone her first letter. It did not have a name. It did not have a signature. It was not written elegantly or on some nice stationary. It did not have a send-to address. It did not even have a return-to address. It only had her fragrance as she breathed on it while writing it. It only had her touch as her hand brushed against the paper. It only had her imprint as she kissed it sealed. 

It simply read:

To my dearest,

I don’t know your name yet and I don’t know when will we meet. But I do know that somewhere even you are tightening your fingers on a wooden bench, in a hope that we hold each other’s hands soon. 

I miss you more than you may know,

I love you.

An affair in the air

She entered the economy class area of the airplane with a pink bag-pack around her shoulders and a red trolley-bag in her hands. She looked at the air-steward with a deliberate shyness in her eyes and a sophisticatedly overwhelmed look on her face. She looked around the airplane to locate her seat and resting her quivering eyes when she spotted her seat along the 3^rd row. Her eyes then darted towards the over-head bins to place her red trolley-bag. She tried to lift it, but dropped the bag a little with a muffled “uh.”

The air-steward came right then to her, lifted her bag to the over-head bin, while saying to her, “Your bag is quite heavy mam.” She replied with half a small smile and a deliberate softness in her voice, “I know. I am so sorry that you had to lift that.” She then sat with ease on her newly “empty” first class seat as the air-steward made her comfortable with a glass of juice and candies to receive that half a small smile again.

As the plane took off, she finally sat back and smiled in her nonchalant manner to the evening sky through the window. She was a girl, and a feminist. And she knew that.

East meets the Wesh*t!! :P

So finally a blog after a long time and after I was on a “blogging spree”.. lol

But I am back home in India for the summer break and it feels great to be back- back to the home-cooked meals, back to the crowded streets, back to the dusty evenings, back to the lazy couch and back to the spas!! Lol

But after I arrived here, I heard people asking me questions which at one instance I wish to laugh at, but after having another look at the question, I tend to ponder at the stereotypical norm that exists behind asking such questions.

Stereotypes are generally considered to represent a set of shared beliefs about a group. Stereotypes are defined as “qualities perceived to be associated with particular groups or categories of people” (Schneider, 2004, pg. 24).

Listed below are few of such questions that I had* to answer upon my arrival in India:

a.)    You came back from US?

No. The girl standing before you exists only in silhouette.

( I mean I know you are asking it out of care* but please, don’t)

b.)    Your skin tone is just the same. You didn’t become fair?!

I am so sorry that you still find me brown! I will try* that my kids aren’t. K? (Lol)

c.)     What do you study there?

Liberal arts.

Oh Oh. Pretty fascinating huh?

Yeah

(after a few seconds..)

Umm, what does that mean?

K

d.)    So what degree will you get?

B.A.

e.)    What? You went to US just to get a B.A.? That you can also get in India.
      Yes. I went to US to receive a B.A. Apprently, my parents didn't want me anywhere near them where I could come home in less than 36 hours (by flight) and hence, decided to deport me to US.

f.)     What?? You want to study psychology? So you will be treating insane patients, right?

Yes. I wish to study psychology. And no, I won’t be treating insane patients (except, maybe YOU!)

g.)    Now I will have to behave properly while talking to you, right? You will be able to read me!
      Dudeeeeeeeeeeeee.. cummon!! (As such they haven't yet taught us how to interpret a brain like yours.. )

h.)    Oh, btw, now that you study psychology, tell me what am I thinking right now!!

You can act normal while talking with me. I am not a psychic reader!

i.)      Now you must be finding India to be very boring, right?

You bet! You see, this is my first trip to India. I wasn't born here; I didn't grow up here; I don't have Indian best friends; I don't even hold an Indian passport; and to top that I have apparently been living in US for the past 18 years. Offcourse I find India boring.
DUH :\

j.)      You must be loving America.

(This somehow is not a question but a statement.)

 

k.)    How many years before you finish studying in US?

3 more years till I finish my bachelor degree.

Oh, then you aren’t coming back to India for sure. You will love staying there.

(This also somehow happens to be a statement! )

l.)      Can you still eat spicy food?

Yes I can. I do not have to take Pepto-Bismol even when I eat the road-side pani-puri. GET IT?

m.)  You still haven’t caught the American accent. (Why so?!)

Oh, I haven't? I wonder how I survived in US with my Indian* accent!! :O  

Alright folks, I do not intend to hurt your feelings if you have been one of these people who asked me or were about to ask me these questions. But just that, please understand that it is important to get away from the stereotypical norms- that people become fair when they arrive from US; that everyone* starts loving US and doesn’t want to come back; that after just one year you appetite for Indian food decreases because of the oil and spices; that getting a B.A. from US is not worthy; that everyone* accepts the American accent.

With stereotypically desi love :D

Nupur

P.S. I don’t mind coming back home for every break (if my dad agrees to pay for the ticket i.e.) even if that means that I have to face each of these questions and probably more of these every time that I am back home. I am pretty sure that each one of you would agree that home is where the heart is J <3

It is a good thing to think sometimes, you know! :D

Have you ever had a friend or someone you know do something utter stupid which makes you question, “What a numskull he/she is! Does he/she even realize that humans were born with an organ named Brain?” There was once a man, who went to a liquor store, pointed the gun at the clerk and demanded all the money. He then asked for a bottle of whiskey. When the clerk refused to give the bottle of whiskey saying that the man was presumably a minor, the robber showed his driver’s license to the clerk as a proof that he was an adult. Offcourse the robber was arrested after two hours because the clerk called the police and gave the robber’s address and name that he got from the driver’s license.  A stupid fellow the robber was, right?

Psychologists call this kind of a behavior when people seem to forget to use their brains or use them utterly less, as a state of cognitive miser. Just as a miser is reluctant to use money even for his/her own good, a cognitive miser is reluctant to do much extra thinking (Fiske & Taylor, 1984, 1991).

Though humans’ capacity to think is greater than most other animals, it isn’t laziness always that makes it hard for people to give extra thought to a problem. Thinking takes effort. There is ample evidence to suggest that when thinking is already preoccupied, people tend to take more shortcuts to reduce the further need for thought ( Gilbert, Pelham, & Krull, 1988). But there are always examples of people who think at great length about things that are fascinating to them, like Albert Einstein who published 258 articles during his lifetime and changed the way we perceive science today. I love Daniel Radcliffe and have read and given ample thought to all the Harry Potter books.. lol

But as the theory of the duplex mind suggests, not all the thinking is equally difficult. Since automatic thinking is less strenuous than conscious thinking, people tend to conserve effort by relying on automatic modes of thought whenever they can. And though the automatic mind can give rough estimates and close to correct answers, it is necessary to employ conscious thinking in order to fully understand the problem and solve it logically.

So folks, the next time you meet a numskull and think of him/her as a new human species devoid of brain, please don’t degrade them by saying thus. They just need to get out of their cognitive miser mode and start using their brains a little more :D  

Still thinking (I guess ;) )

Nupur

It is your OWN fault!

Many times we hear people saying, “Oh, it was her own fault that she deserved such a pitiful state of affairs”, or “she deserves what she got” or “She should have known better than to have got herself in this situation in the first place”. People who say these things hold the victim accountable for whatever that happens (mainly the bad things that happen) in the victim’s life, even when it isn’t the victim’s fault!

Psychologists refer this phenomenon as Belief in a Just World (Furnham, 2003; Lerner & Miller, 1978; Lerner & Simmons, 1966). Belief in a Just World refers to the assumption that life is essentially fair and that people generally get what they deserve and deserve what they get. People believing in such a belief tend to blame the rape victims for their outcome, tend to blame the sick people for not taking care in the first place and tend to think that poor people are lazy and hence they are poor. They strongly and almost adherently believe that if you are good, no bad things will happen to you.

People who believe that the world is just will help others in need only when they feel that the helper deserves their aid (Zuckerman, 1975). These people are not helpful towards those victims who they believe are responsible for their own outcomes (which is most of the times, for the just world believers always seem to think that the victim is to be blamed). However, one positive side of withholding such a belief is that sometimes the helper tries to help others for he/she wishes to have good outcomes after helping others. Hence, this results in kind of a superstitious belief that when you perform good or helpful acts, you can expect that you will be rewarded later.

One study aimed at indicating this superstitious helping by students. Students at one college were asked to volunteer to do a good deed, such as serving as a reader for blind students to doing extra psychology experiments (Zukerman, 1975). During the routine part of the semester, volunteer participation was low and it didn’t matter whther the student had high or low belief in the just world hypothesis. But if this volunteer action was provided during the exam time, more students were willing to participate. These students believed at some level that their good deeds would be rewarded as a better luck and a better graded on exam. I performed such an act of believing in the just world hypothesis during the final match of the Cricket World Cup, 2011. India and Sri Lanka were playing to become the cricket world champions (and btw, cricket is a religion in India :D ). At one point, it seemed like India would lose and I made a pact with Lord, that if He allows India to win, I will do a week long volunteer service at the Rape Crisis Centre (Stupid deal right? I mean I should have had more faith in the Men in Blue that they would bring the cup home! ). I believed that if I do something good, something good will happen to me. And see, the Indian Cricket Team won the World Cup (the BCCI should sooo thank me in helping to bring the Cup home after the 1983 win..lol)

So folks, the victims are already in a state of depression thinking over the sorrowness that surrounds their life. Please don’t aggravate their feeling of sadness and helplessness by blaming them for their own outcomes. Many times people aren’t in control over the results of the events that happen in their lives and it is best that we support them who are in need of help, irrespective of whether we believe that they are responsible for their sorry state of affairs or not. Let’s spread a little more tolerance and love in the world J

Still believing,

Nupur