Musings of a White Haired Teenager

Sometimes things just happen. In a part of the movie Jurassic Park there is a over simplified explanation of chaos theory. A butterfly flaps its wings in Japan and a tsunami hits the coast of Peru. Such is the way in which the mathematics of chaos theory works. Small perturbations in one place has a cascading effect, totally unexpected, somewhere else. But that is how life also seems to work for many, certainly me. An evening with students at a club in Sector 5, a chance encounter with a young researcher at Kalyani University, a Zoom conversation with a colleague in Indiana, a drink of beer with a young social entrepreneur from France. In Newtown. A visit to a bondhu’s cousin’s place for a day leading to Korean chicken wings at the Club and making connections that solidify. Before you know it the things come together. And 2,600 hundred children get a small gift of cake on Christmas Day in Calcutta. The plans are made over aloo paratha and singara at D50 Mahavir Vikas. This is the kale

I saw lights today. On the other side, or is that the other side? Some months back I was cruising around in my car looking at creatively done lights to celebrate one of the most important events in the place I was at. A celebration that lasts nearly a week was beginning and the city was decked up with lights to celebrate the season. Indeed, one special light was so bright that it had to be turned off since it was interfering with flights over the city. I cruised again today, through the countryside to see the glorious display of lights, that will last a week, for another celebration. These lights speak volumes about the places where they happen. Even as we are unable to get fully past COVID-19 it is through these lights that we speak of what makes things worthwhile. Some years ago I remember pushing through the crowds on Park Street as the silver bells were lit up across the street. Even earlier in my life at One Time Square I remember seeing the light drop as we finished another year

Everything is incomplete. For everyone I try to work for. I made myself data for an experiment. The research question was simple: Is it possible to have two lives in one lifetime (or the little left of it)? My answer is a resounding affirmative – Yes. Except you will feel completely inadequate in finishing whatever you start. I constantly live with a date in mind. And there is never enough time to do what I promised myself I will do for those around me, and if they are reading this, I apologize for my incompetence. But for me that date is final. On this day one life will end and another will begin. The interruption cruelly defined by the jet lag. Without the lag - the complete violence to mind and body - I would not be able to transition from one life to the other. The jet lag is the wormhole of our times. But as the day of the transfer appears, I realize that everything is incomplete. I live with these dates, and I imagine some goals by the date, but then goals depend on other people.

"Things have been so busy." Just have no time. How many times have you said this to someone who wanted a little bit of your time? What we want to say is, “Just have no time for you.” But some basic sense of decency reminds us that it is rude to tell someone that you do not have time for that person. Without a doubt, we all have time, but we are forced to make choices in how we spend it. And thus we calculate, we measure, and we say, “just do not have the time, so sorry,” “really busy, may be next time.” Everyone prioritizes their time, after all it is a limited resource. And very quickly we realize where we fall in the priority. The repeated response of, “don’t have the time,” eventually hits home the fact that one is really low in priority. And then one stops. Unless one just wants the punishment, one stops. Once pauses and realizes that they will not receive the gift of time. Because it is indeed a gift. As a colleague of mine points out so often; when we give our time to s

Learning to manage expectations. Is an important thing and usually difficult. This actually is a process that we have to deal with constantly. I was at a place yesterday and I walked into the room at the hotel “expecting” a set of things. I think I had managed my expectation adequately and everything in the room seemed like what I expected it to be. Things were not perfect – and they usually never are – but it was as I thought it would be. That made the space good – that it did not violate my expectations. These expectations are ours, the room never said that you can expect this from the room. It is us, with what we see, what we read, what we experience, we create these expectations. In the case of a room at a hotel, the matter is temporary, and one forgets soon and moves on. But expectations are about everything. If we do not have expectations then we have come to a point of despair in life where one enters the vacuum of a listless monotony where hope has disappeared and we have desce

Memories begin when relationships are killed. Never leave me alone in an old house with many unexplored cabinets. Memories and relationships. A fundamental confusion. As I hold the pictures in my hand I remember. Remember relationships. We tend to think that memories are about people and places. Memories are of the past. They will never come back. But then even yesterday can also be called a memory too. And no one I know died. Many mornings will never come back but every moment of yesterday is precious. I spent the morning with a bondhu. I look forward to spending many more mornings with that bondhu. In every moment I spend with a person I am living out a relationship, one that started a long ago and one that I hope will continue for a long time. Memories are not about death, but it is about relationships. People may die, but relationships do not have to. The ones I have formed over the years and the ones I will form until I die. And until the relationship is killed it is not a memory.

I have been made irrelevant. Powerful words of dismay. Two of my colleagues are retiring. This was a sentiment of one person. It made me think of my personal irrelevance. Do people disappear when they retire? Go away to some dark place because they have been made irrelevant. Histories, relationships, and memories are wiped away, and the person realizes that whatever the person built is not needed anymore. Is this why some are scared of retirement? Many of my bondhus are retiring now. There are mandatory ages in some places, others have done well for themselves and can call it a day. Some have choices, others do not. Although retirement is glorified as the golden years, sometimes they turn out to be nightmares. Because of the irrelevance. As I think of this, I wonder how it would be for me. Will it become a dark place or really the golden years? The doubt comes from the fact that I know how it feels to be made irrelevant and “disappeared” even before retiring. It hurts like Hell, when y