Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Reverse Cultural Shocks

30th December 2015

Its been quite a while I have written a blog here. It has been six months since I have returned from UK. These six months, I have been through so many new transformations, learnt so many new lessons. I must ink them all here before I forget my old self and start believing I was this new self always.

The first month after returning was replete with reverse cultural shocks. I was aghast at the roads, the garbage, the systematic absence of queues in public as if I had subconsciously acquired a primed and polished Brit perspective on everything around.

I boarded a bus and asked the driver for a ‘return ticket to Chandigarh!’ He stared at me, confused and speechless. I walked confidently at zebra crossings without looking around, only to discover midway that the cars showed no sign of slowing down and that I had to run for life. I remember waking up in the Sarovar hotel at Delhi (where I was for the JPAL Staff Meet in July) and proceeding to the washroom sink to fill the kettle with water. It struck me after a lag of some seconds that this was India and tap-water was different from drinking water!

‘Oh shit, this is India!’ I had to remind myself multiple times.

***

Now that I compare myself with friends went to college in Ludhiana and stayed close to home, I notice such stark differences. It is as if I am learning so many things now that they had learnt within the last five years only. Two skills that hostel made me lack were – driving and cooking. I would cook at Oxford, but very rarely. Especially rarely after Naima introduced me to the Cowley world of ‘home delivery’ at Oxford.

Cooking at Chandigarh has been the baptism by fire. No more tortilla wraps, it’s a world with real rotis. Rotis made by kneading the dough first, spherical dough balls next, rolled onto the rolling pin and then heated on the tawa and made to inflate with a skilful art. It’s a hell of a roller coaster ride every time. The daal. The subzi. The Baingan Bhartha. The Aloo Gobi. Aarrgh! I have started to respect every single dish after being through the ordeal behind it. Quite naturally, I have started adoring my mother in a new way after being introduced to this new world. Somehow, I always took the breakfast, the lunch and dinner at home for granted. It was there because it was meant to be there. Now I know what it took mama to prepare that final good from the raw material she gets from the vegetable vendor on the roadside every time.
And then I have finally learnt to drive. It has been two weeks and I have driven to office by my car. It has been such an empowering feeling. Once I drove half way from Ludhiana to Delhi on the highway. Papa sprung up with joy. I am learning to shoulder responsibility and adoring Papa in new ways.

Mama papa say I have lived in an idealistic world till now. I have been a revolutionary, dictating how things should be! Papa has always encouraged and supported my passions. Now it feels like I am making inroads into the real world. My ideals often bump into practical constraints. My super-objective and sanitised Oxford self runs into trouble multiple times. I have to remind myself that I am not surrounded by economists afterall. These are lay men and women who get all astonished when I make cursory mentions of behavioural nuances I observe at play – anchor effects and bandwagon effects. They think I am throwing words around. Or probably think I am mad to think of simple real world phenomenon in such complex terms. It gets hilarious at times.


The new job at JPAL has been a blessing. It is challenging my axiomatic notions about the world, attacking my idealistic notions and hinting the dawn of new opportunities and responsibilities. I am right on the ground, close enough to people I have always wanted to study, and feeling their pulse. More on my diverse first job experiences soon. 

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Words

***

If you asked me today ‘What is it that gives you the most joy?’

My most honest answer will be ‘Words’.

Yes, just words and nothing else. Neither economics. Nor psychology. Nor research. Nor teaching. Nor playing. Nor anything else.

Just words.

I can be secluded from all worldly chores and soak myself in the company of words.

Words that are pithy, terse or lucid. Words that convey oceans of meaning. Words that help me place all my thoughts in perspective. Words that put an end to all the rambling and place an entire universe of thoughts in orbit.

It has been a serendipitous occurrence. The discovery of a friend next door who needs help with the vocab preparation for her entrance. I had just casually skimmed through one of her books when I felt ensnared by the pull of words that jogged my memory. Words that I had commonly associated with numerous people in my head suddenly woke up from their state of dormancy.

Our initial word exchange went on to a spontaneous word game – she would think of a person and describe a peculiar trait of that person at length and ask me if there was a word for such a person. I would try to think of a word that would most closely match the description. We would invariably go on to tangents after tangents discovering a whole new world about each other, the people we deal with every day, our perspectives on numerous different types of people.

Moments like these feel so light and timeless. As if someone has just pulled me out from a diagram with multiple constraints and frontiers towering over my head to an unbounded space.

***






Saturday, October 3, 2015

Music

Music,

Sometimes it flows like a liquid
Filling the crevices
That the weariness of the day created
To the cusp.
It takes the shape of all empty spaces within
Voids and vacuums of thoughts
And fills them all
With a rare glory.

Sometimes it is solid
And fits the inner surroundings
Like the last piece of jigsaw
Connecting with a click
Completing an incomplete tapestry.

Sometimes it rises
Like vapour
From the depths of the heart
Lending voice
To all that remained unsaid
All that remained unexpressed
And then travels
Like a wave
Connecting hearts
Through rhythmic heartbeats
That share a mutual melody

Until
Souls of songs and beings
Have perfectly

Synced.





Thursday, February 26, 2015

Oxford Diaries

Hi Reader

I have temporarily moved to https://oxforddiaries.wordpress.com

Thought of compiling all my Oxford experiences in a separate space.

See you there.

Much love,

J

The lesson on dispersion

      This teachers' day, I fondly remember a teaching tale from my time as an economics teacher at Akal Academy, Baru Sahib in 2017.   ...