Musings of a White Haired Teenager

 And it is over. One would think so. I remember October 2020. A dark time in the life of the World. I was preparing for a voyage. The medicines were piling up. Untested ways to stay safe. Flea medicine for dogs from the local pet supply store. Zinc as a food supplement, Vitamin D because I was not in the sun enough. Swab up the nose, the anxious moments at a bondhu's house in Maryland and the finally the flight. Rubbing away the stamp on my body with nail polish remover and other solvents and the 15-minute rule at the passport office behind Ruby Hospital. It seems like a distant memory, the escape after completing the task, the return and the return and the return. The numerous memorandums from various governments, and the entire year of separation from bondhus and the entire year of making new relationships. The plague gave me all that, and it took away much as well. New opportunities, new restrictions, new feelings, new experiences. All within the backdrop of tests and vaccines a

The destination does not matter. It is who you travel with that makes the journey worthwhile. We tend to focus too much on the destination and reaching the place. In our personal journeys we often fall in this trap, and we ask questions like, "what is the plan?" or "where are we going?" Perhaps there is no plan, perhaps what is going on is only about two bondhus walking hand in hand. Enjoying every step, making memories with every bit of distance covered, not worrying about where they are going as long as they are going together. How about the possibility that we have no destination other than making sure we hurt no one and trample over no one as we walk together. The point is not to focus on the destination but to make sure the journey is comfortable fulfilling and life giving. When we focus on the journey then we have no rush to reach, but we care more about the comfort in the companionship. This is when we worry about reaching out to the ones who might feel hopel

It was not fog. The messages began to come in late in the night. In my typical way, I was here and there. I was in a conversation with a bondhu there when the words "evacuation" and "fire" came in together in multiple messages here. The immediate visit to some Websites presented images that caused a moment of pause. This is happening now, merely a few kilometers from where I lie in bed and even closer to where my students are. Now it has been three days, the fire seems to be burning on. Many precautions are being put into place, much effort has been made to keep us safe. It is commendable work and decisions that could have long-term impact on the lives of many people are being made by wise people. I think we have learned a lot from COVID. Risk mitigation is an important part of life from now on. Precautions are a part of life now. When the threat appears, the responsible thing is to assess it, and take the correct steps to reduce the risk. I witnessed that happening

I was waiting. To hear from you. This is a condition that we have all found ourselves in. Back in the days when we operated with postcards and aerogrammes the wait was expected and anticipated. There was no point in me getting impatient to hear from a bondhu or a parent because we knew that the wait will be long. It will take weeks for the letter to reach. Waiting was easy. Waiting was not accompanied with attributions where the delay had to be interpreted. So many things could cause the delay that it was not usually taken as an intention to ignore. The letter could have gotten lost, the postal system was slow, there was snow on the ground and the mail truck did not make it, or there was a flood somewhere. The systemic delay allowed for believing that even though there are good intentions, there may be delays that need not be interpreted as a signal of rejection. We assumed that there was good intention to respond but circumstances are coming in the way. It seems things have changed no

I love you. Did you know that according to some research 73% of Americans want to hear those words from their partner every day. I got thinking about it sitting at an airport waiting for my son to arrive. I watched the people as they met the passengers they had come to receive, and I heard those words uttered many times. There is plenty written about these three words and its use and abuse across the World. Many people, much wiser than me, have commented extensively on this. It really got me thinking about what the words mean in my life. Do I have to say the words to the people about whom I might feel a connection that is truly deep and meaningful. And therein lies the conundrum, who can these words be used with? And when? And why? Are these just words that have become so routine that they are meaningless or are they needed as a reminder of the contract between people. It is as if not saying it regularly calls some contract into question or saying it is sufficient to keep the contract

 “I am jealous” I have heard many people say, “I am jealous.” Indeed, I say it as well and if you think about it, I am sure you have felt it at times, if not actually said. A bondhu recently asked me, “why are you jealous?” Because I am. But the bondhu remined me that I need not be. It is a recognition of one of our most fundamental emotions, and as we see the World around us, it is not unusual to feel that there are some ways others are doing much better. Does a person who gets Covid get jealous of the person who has not got the disease? The more I look around me I see jealousy expressed in so many ways. It is an emotion that ties in with the fundamental sense of personal insecurity and in an age when there are numerous tensors that constantly test us, and as we repeatedly fail, we look at the ones who have succeeded and the sense of jealousy creeps in to cloud our judgment. Way back, I remember when nearly everyone in my high school class appeared for a competitive examination to ear

Shue poro – go to bed. Simple words. Often said. But in these words there is embedded a deep affection that few other words embody. I am told this often, by many people, given that I have the weirdest sleep cycle I know among my bondhus. I have chosen to operate in two time zones. This is not unusual for many people. I remember the days of my research, and later practice, with the “outsourcing” industry operating out of Gurgaon and Okhla and how the notion of sleep was completely upended as the labor in India would adjust to the time of the customers in the USA. Americans controlled the sleep cycle of the youngsters in India. With horrendous outcomes. Global capitalism at its ugliest expression without conscience. I had promised myself then that if ever I found myself in a situation where I had to live a similar life, I would seek a balance. My time is as important as their time and this chronological colonialism must be stopped. Thus I sleep when I can, and when someone says, “shue po