Crevice

A ringing alarm woke her up. This is what she hates about Monday. Waking up to an alarm clock is symbolic of all the stress that a single woman, all of twenty three years has to handle, when she is living alone in metro city, away from her family. Her eyes refused to open up; she took a turn, gave her spine a stretch and decided to sleep for ten more minutes, thinking about her mother and the comfortable mornings in her small town home, where her mother woke her up, every day. Life in Delhi, for a young working-women like her begins with an alarm in the morning and ends with a TV remote in the night. She longed to go back to the comfort of home, to the smell of mom cooked food, to the cosiness of her room and a typical comfy, carefree feeling which you get only when parents are around.

The alarm rang again, trying to open up her bleary eyes; she moved her fingers to look for the phone as she felt someone’s touch. Ehhhhhhh …. ! With a shriek she jumped out of the bed. She got a feeling that the one who had touched her hand swiftly left the room before she got up. Her heart was pounding heavily; she took a while to gather the courage to move towards the living room. She walked up to her fridge, carefully looking sideways, she could see that the latch at her entrance door was locked, took a water bottle out from the fridge and opened it to sip some water. She took a peep in another bedroom of her two bedrooms flat and moved towards the kitchen. There was no one. May be it was just a thought or an illusion, she mumbled. There was no time to think more about it; she had to quickly get ready to be in time to catch 8.30 Metro.

She had almost finished her bath and raised her eye to look up at the clock on the bathroom wall, while tying the towel around her, which was showing the time as 7.30 AM. She could make up for those ten minutes she had spent more in her bed in the morning, she thought as she spotted someone’s eyes looking at her from the small crevice in the wall. She picked up her clothes and ran into her bedroom. Scared to death, and not knowing what to do, she moved a little further, then returned back and tightly bolted the bathroom door. She stood there for a while, frozen, the only organ that she was aware of, in her body, was the heart, beating fast, as if it was struggling to prance out of her body. 

She sat on her bed, trying hard to regain her composure. Someone had been in her room and also in her house in her absence. She had spent the entire Sunday with her friends, first shopping and then in the evening partying at a local pub. She had returned back late and was not in a position to observe if something was amiss in her apartment. She just came back, changed her clothes and went off to sleep. Her shopping bags were still lying on the table, beside her laptop; the window behind the table was still closed. Too scared to even move her legs, she took a look around. She couldn’t find anything that could explain that someone had been in her room. But she couldn’t be wrong a second time. Her heart was still beating fast, and the clock was showing 7.35 AM. She slowly and carefully got up.

Living alone in a big city like Delhi, has its own challenges and one of them is ensuring one’s security. Shweta made sure that she returned back home by 7.30 PM in the evening and even if she went out with her friends on weekends and was late, she was normally dropped back home by her friends. In the beginning it was intimidating living alone in an apartment and travelling for about an hour every day to reach her office in Noida, but gradually she got used to her life in Delhi. She made a phone call every morning and evening to her parents at home and would usually find office colleagues on the same metro to office. However, today’s experience was nerve wracking.

She finally saw Anshul coming towards her. She had Anshul had gone to the same engineering college and were both working in Delhi. They took the same metro to office in the morning and often spent the time chatting with each other. She took a deep breath and in one long monologue related the morning’s incident to Anshul.

“Shweta, are you sure you had not left the window open during the night? It is very unlikely that someone could have entered you apartment when it was locked,” asked Anshul.

“When I am out of the house, I never leave a window open and I remember very clearly that I had left my things on the table, and just got to bed yesterday. I did not open any window” replied Shweta.

“I still feel that you probably imagined things. I don’t think someone could be looking at you from the crevice. It’s not possible. Your apartment is on the fifth floor and you have a fairly good security  too” said Anshul.

“Anshul, I can’t tell you how scared I was. I am still getting goose bumps when I am talking to you” said Shweta.

“This is what I want to bring to your notice. It could have been a cat scare. When you get back home, ask the watch man if your window was open during the night. I guess Shweta, you should relax. This incident happened at 7.30 and you left the house at 8.15 and did not notice anyone after that. May be it was all your imagination” said Anshul.

Shweta was not convinced but talking to Anshul had comforted her.  Anshul got down two stations ahead of Shweta. After Anshul was gone, Shweta just closed her eyes and tried to relax. ‘May be it was all your imagination’, Anshul’s words were ringing in her ears.

She was trying to push her laptop bag on her shoulder and trying to balance herself with the help of her hand when she noticed those same eyes, she had seen in the morning, staring at her, from the other end of the compartment. She pushed a woman aside, took quick frantic steps, crying and shouting, jumped at the station and ran outside. She felt that the two horrifying eyes were following her. She quickly jumped into an auto and instructed the driver to drop her at her office, which was barely half a kilometre away. She did not have the courage to look back.

The office colleagues comprised mainly of male members and for some reason she did not feel like discussing the events that had happened since morning with any of her colleagues. She had felt safe in the office but was in a state of fear, as the thought of having to go back home in the evening came to her. What if she encountered those eyes, that scary glance again? Was she being stalked? She decided not to discuss the incident with anyone and go to Seema Aunty’s house, who was her mother’s cousin in the evening and spend the night there. She decided to take her aunt’s help instead of anyone else’s.

But she had decided to get some more means to enhance her security. When she had moved to Delhi, one of her friends had suggested that she carried a knife and a pepper spray in her purse for her safety. She had bought the pepper spray but had ignored the advice about a knife. She had to get one, she thought.

She was at this shop at the near-by market to buy a knife. Nothing significant had happened during the day. However, she felt that those two eyes were constantly following her in the office as well. She had made a phone call to her mother to tell her about the incident but could not speak about it. Her mother was always worried about her. She did not want to trouble her. She had decided to take her aunt’s help, who lived close to her office.

She decided to walk up to her Aunt’s house. That knife had given her some confidence. It was a pleasant evening. She loved the nip in the air; she could hear a hindi film song which was her favourite, coming from a loud speaker from somewhere. There was hustle and bustle in the market. The song, the weather and a fact that she was going to her aunt’s house soared her spirit.

The servant opened the door at aunt’s house. She offered to make a cup of tea for Shweta, while her aunt and her uncle returned back from office. Shweta was in the comfort of a home. She had refused the tea and decided instead to wait for Seema Aunty. She was sitting in Seema Aunty’s drawing room, sending messages to Anshul and her other friends. The servant was out in the garden watering the plants. Shweta was relaxed, though still a little perturbed about the events throughout the day.

It was as if by instinct she raised her head from the phone and looked back at the open window behind her, where she could spot those same eyes again. Shweta was frozen. Not a word came out of her mouth, when she saw him move inside the house from the window, slowly. He took the support of the wall to move ahead in the room while still staring at her. Shweta, gathered all the strength that she had, picked up a vase placed close to her and threw it at him. He had escaped, now he moved swiftly, getting closer to her. She got up and ran outside in the dining room, where she had kept her bag. By the time he reached the dining room Shweta had managed to bring the knife out. She held the knife and stood in front of her, trembling with fear, anger and certain madness. He was standing in front of her and took the support of the door. That glance in his eyes was the same; Shweta could not mistake it this time.

She moved ahead with the knife and hit him with it. She could see some blood on the knife. He galloped ahead and ran towards the stairs, taking the support of the railing, tried to run upwards. Shweta ran after him. They were at the first floor now in the lobby. Shweta had a knife, and was quick to realise that he was armless. In a fit of anger, Shweta attacked him, gave him a stroke, once twice, thrice. He did not utter a cry, but the expression in his eyes changed, it was now one of deep pain. His body was bleeding. He tried to move around but was in great pain. He kept on moving slowly on the floor, blood streaming out of his body, for about half an hour struggled for his life and then gave away.

Shweta had seen the lizard struggle for his life for about half an hour, soaked in blood, moving around, silently, yet in a lot of pain, agony. A struggle for life is just the same for any creature be it a small lizard or a human being. The lizard had been dead right in front of her eyes. She had left her aunt’s house after that and had come to the Starbuck’s café.

The events throughout the day were coming back to her like a film. She had a hatred for lizards since she was very young. She just hated them. There was no reason or logic. She could not bear a presence of a lizard in her house. She shrieked out at the very sight of a lizard.

Today she had killed one and had seen him struggle for his life. He had to bear the excruciating pain for about half an hour, trying to move for a rescue, while he could. For the first time in life she had realized that he was a harmless creature, perhaps, and quite vulnerable.  She wasn’t happy. There was as if a crevice created in her heart. She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf.

He was innocent, she was mad.

It isn’t right to be mad with hatred and kill a harmless creature. We often do it. Should we? Shweta could feel her heartbeat getting faster and her eyes welling up.

The Lady in White.

I had first seen her sitting on a bench at the park. She was dressed in white and had a royal air about her. The way she was sitting it reminded one of a kind of elegance that usually comes from aristocratic ways of life. Even from a distance it was not hard to observe that she was extremely beautiful. She was slightly built, delicate and had a peaches and cream complexion. She was sitting alone. It seemed that she was thinking, as if recollecting a happy memory, all to herself and with a faint smile on her face. She looked content and happy. Probably she arrived in the park earlier than me and had finished her walk by the time I had arrived. I walked past her; we exchanged a glance but not a greeting.

A morning walk for a twenty four year old boy can be really painful. Waking up in the morning itself is a pain. If I add up the discomfort of bumping into an acquaintance, who makes a casual enquiry about studies or job, which comes like a random arrow aimed to hit an already low self-esteem, causing a typical silent pain that is only known to a resident of an overpopulated country with limited opportunities, morning walk seems like a sojourn one should avoid at any cost. A morning walk to me is symbolic of a stage in life when either you are tired of trying to make a beginning in life or are retired and moving towards an end.

I went for a morning walk for a different reason though. I did not wish to encounter my father in the morning. A situation where a son has an average academic career, is forced to find a job opportunity in a bleak job market, often turns a father-son relationship into a vengeful mother-in-law, and a meek daughter-in-law relationship, where the mother-in-law is just waiting to throw a fiery, sarcastic jibe at the very sight of daughter-in-law; in such a situation remaining out of sight is one of the best options that one can have, and I precisely wished to exercise that. A walk early in the morning to a nearby park, picking up milk packets from a dairy in the neighborhood and reaching home at a time when my father was about to leave the house was my daily routine. I came home and pretended to read the newspaper till he left.

I saw her there, every day and got used to her smile, which was not for me, I knew. But it was there, nonetheless. She was a smiling angel, most of the time I saw her sitting and sometimes taking a walk. There are some mysteries that life can unfold in a unique manner. Her smile gave me warmth and rendered my lackluster daily routine, a purpose. I suddenly realized that the park was beautiful; the air fresh, and morning walk was a delightful experience. I looked forward to wake up early and reach the park when she was still walking. Gradually, her smiles widened and I could see dimples appearing on her cheeks, at recognizing a familiar face every morning. Initially, I walked behind her, at some instances I crossed her murmuring a ‘sorry’, more to get a chance to begin a conversation and less to apologize for a chance strike. A few days later we began to walk together. She walked slowly and I matched my steps with her. She was happy perhaps that she got a company and I was happy for no logical reason that my mind could think of. We did not talk much.

“I couldn’t see you in the park for the last few days”, I took quick steps to reach her as I spoke.

“I was not well. Down with fever. How have you been? She replied.

I couldn’t tell her that I missed her. The park, the morning breeze, the trees, the grass; nothing was the same without her.

A hiatus in the relationship makes fondness grow. After that short break that she had taken, I had realized that meeting her in the morning was perhaps the best thing to happen to me in an otherwise gloomy day. I was preparing for various competitive examinations. A lot of competition does not make you competitive, I had realized. What they had taught at my B school was rubbish. I was becoming less and less competitive with each failure. I spent most of the day at my study desk but knew in my heart that my performance was deteriorating in each exam that I was taking.

‘What do you do after you go home’, she had casually asked.

‘It’s been almost a year and half since I finished my MBA and I am looking for a job, trying to get through competitive exams but I know I never will’, I replied.

She looked up towards the sky. For a few minutes she was silent. Then she said, ‘I have everything that life can provide to anybody, but I do not have a job, almost nothing to do. It is not a very comfortable situation to be in. I try and keep myself busy, yet boredom never leaves me. Everyone else in the family is busy. I wish I could sit and prepare with you for some exam which gets one a job’. She laughed heartily. And I laughed with her.

She had certain gentleness about her. Whenever she made an enquiry about my studies, I did not feel bad to tell her that I did not feel like studying. She sometimes gave me a gentle firing, sometimes a pat on my shoulder, and sometimes just changed the uncomfortable topic.

I realized that I wanted to do something to be able to tell her that I had spent my day fruitfully. I loved to see an angelic smile on her face with deep dimples and her eyes shining up. For that smile I could do anything.

I had to go to another city for two days to write an exam. I had told her in the morning and she had wished me good luck. I could feel her smile all through my train journey. A genuine smile can be felt in the heart. I was lighthearted. There was no burden of anxiety or stress on me. The train was leaving behind the trees and I felt a strong desire to move on into the future. Dimples had changed everything.

I wanted to reach the park as fast as I could. I wanted to fly and reach there. She usually arrived in the car, and walked slowly inside the park. I was too keen to tell her that I had done the exam well. I thought she would say, she knew it, with a twinkle in her eye. I made up the conversation that we would have in my mind, many times. My eager eyes looked at the park gate again and again. She did not arrive. I was worried about her. I asked other people who were in the park every morning, if they knew why she had not come. I was told that she was not coming for two days. She arrived in the car. No one knew her house.

I had never asked her where she lived. I could not see her in the park after that. I continued my morning walks hoping that one day she would arrive. Meanwhile, I had to go again for my job interview, this time for a week.

Six months had passed. I had not met her.

I was not willing to lose hope.

I had developed a belief and had repeated it many times in my head that I would not get a job until I had met her. I hoped to meet her someday. I hoped to tell her that I had got a job. I hoped to share my happiness with her, a happiness which would come after so much of effort. I had written some more exams, had faced two more interview panels. I had a firm belief. The day I met her, I would get a job. Ten months had gone since I last met her.

It was raining that morning. I could not miss my walk at the park, so I took an umbrella and walked slowly towards the park. The rain had washed up the street and the trees. It seemed like a new morning, somewhat different from the rest. And it was. Her car had arrived in the park. I could recognize her driver and walked as quickly as I could towards him.

I was in the car with driver and we were going towards the hospital. What I could gather from what driver had told me, her condition over a period of last few months had deteriorated. There were multiple issues. She was severely ill and was in the ICU. She had wished to see me.

She was frail. Her eyes were closed. Her nostrils filled up with tubes and machines all around her, when I stepped into the ICU to see her. I felt that she a moved a little, as if to acknowledge my presence. The doctor said that I could not talk to her.

After coming out from the ICU, for a few minutes I could not understand what I had just watched. No ! She could not go away. My future depended on her. I would never be able to do anything if she had gone away. I went to a corner and cried my heart out. The hospital was full of her relatives. I could hear a mutter. ‘She was not responding’. I still refused to give up my hope. For ten months, I was going to the park, just to see her. Did she know about that? She did. She had wished to see me. She had to open her eyes and talk to me.

The doctor was walking up to the door to enter the ICU. I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, months, that I had waited to tell her that I was ready to move on in life.”

A long time must have passed. Prerit, who is Prerit? She is asking for him, the doctor came out and said.

I bowed down and tried to look into her eyes. I could see a twinkle there. The dimples were struggling to appear. She stretched out her hands towards me, I bowed down further, and she took my face in her hands and kissed my forehead. No other communication in the world could explain what we had at that point in time, as I looked into her eyes. We did not talk.

I woke up the next day and looked for the newspaper.  I was not going for a morning walk.

Obituary – “Our dearest Great Grand Mom, Grand Mom and Mom left for the heavenly abode yesterday. She had a fulfilling life and was 88 when she passed away. She would be deeply missed by the family members.”

I looked at her photograph again and again. A toothless smile is so angelic. This smile was going to remain with me forever.

That same afternoon, a courier guy brought my appointment letter. Life awaited me. Finite or infinite, I had to move on. 

Something on travel, commute, No! Means of transportation!

After a long time, I return back to the blog.

I wish to start with reminding you of an old lesson we had, may be in fourth grade about different modes of transportation. I don't know whether they are still teaching camel cart or bullock cart these days or not, but when I read they were there, very much, on school book as well as on road. I will return back to this lesson, but first let me share my experiences.

On a recent trip to US, precisely Baltimore, I and my friends decided to travel by MTA bus and reach Bestbuy to buy a laptop. The reason was genuine, I had not carried my laptop thinking I would buy one.Without Lappy life comes to a stand still so it was wise to go and buy one. It was wiser to use public transport  to reach there, so that we could feel ourselves at home in Baltimore.

So we found ourselves waiting at a nearby bus stop which took us straight to Belmont Avenue, right in front of Best Buy. When the bus came, I confidently climbed the bus from the wrong gate, and two of my friends who were trying to follow me in a hurry were not allowed to do so. So they climbed the bus from the front gate, but frantically found their way through the crowded bus to reach me in the middle. Probably, we were never so happy to see each other in a gap of three-four minutes, ever before, wide smile spread across our faces, oh! so much of warmth. 

The bus seemed to take more time than we thought it had to take to reach our destination. We got eager and worried. Kis stop pe utarna tha? yaad hai na theek se, nikal to nahi gaya? Nahi ye announce karta hai, maine sare sune hain..... Is bus ko rok bhi sakte hain beech mai, stop request karke....... mai is taraf dekh rahi hu, tum us taraf dekho....................ek kaam karte hain kisi se poochte hain....... nahi ye sab dekhne mai dangerous lag rahe hain...... aisa karte hain kisi lady se puchte hain............. vo udhar apke age ek lady baithi hai.............. excuse me.........Can you tell us......

The lady sitting in the seat ahead of me turned her face - aap baat karne se to indian lag rahe .............Ohhhhh! Aap Indian hain....... Nahi mai Nepali hoon.......... acha Nepal mai kaha se.........(Frankly, I cant remember the answer now) Hum India mai Jaipur se........... acha ye Belmont avenue ka stop kab ayega...................?

The lady told us that we had to get down two stops later. While we could reach our stop, she also told us that she worked as a maid and was returning back from her work, she had come to US seven years back and had changed three jobs since then. She told us that Best Buy was just on the road and we could walk up to the store. 

Ok now tell us, " Is he going to give the ticket or take the payment when we get down? 

Oh! you have not taken the ticket? You had to take it when you climbed the bus.

But we didn't. Should I go..........

Yeah you can go and get it from there in the front, or else what you can do is, you can just get down and start walking confidently as if you have paid the fare....... (with a nod). Thats ok.

Oh! is that Ok? Oh Well! Ok.

************************************************************************

We come to Newyork Grand Central Railway Station. I am with my friend Shilpa and we have to board a train to Stamford, where my cousin is waiting for us with an elaborate home cooked dinner. (I have already got the details on whatsapp). It is about 6. 30 PM. As soon as we enter, I am dazed. I am looking above while I am walking, admiring the grand dome at the roof, spectacular. And obviously, I am walking very slowly. We look at the shops, we pass by the identical twins being carried in a special pram, looking so cute, we ask someone where is the ticket window........ she says follow me, I distract my friend with something and we lose her....... we walk further, we ask again........ Its already 6.50 when we reach the ticket window. The train is at 7.00. and this is express, will take only 40 minutes to get there, but do you think we will be able to catch it?Shilpa asks. Yeah, I think we will, its still ten minutes, lets go for this, the other one will take 1.5 hrs. My credit card doesn't work. Shilpa uses hers. We quickly rush towards the platform, ask someone, Oh my God 6.54, run...Excuse me the platform, A train to Stamford............ I gasp..........Yeah that side, the train is there run!!!!!...........Shilpa that side.....He directed us correctly.......... We reach a place where there are some 10 platforms, we are on 5. Shilpa takes charge. There is a huge looking man, precisely a cop, sitting on an elevated bench. 6.56. Shilpa asks," Excuse me, can you tell us on which platform do we find a train to Stamford?........ I dunno! (With a shrug!)

See, you should not do this.. (I am gasping, 6.57) We are new to this country, you should not say that, you should help us!!!!!
He gets down the bench,  a huge man almost 6.5 feet. Takes a few steps.... asks another cop, 6.58..............makes a gesture....... follow me........... We reach platform. 7, running........ 7.01, the train is still there, at a distance, just about to leave. We see this huge cop raising his hand, making a gesture for the driver, to stop. We run, with bags in both hands, gasping, we run ....... and climb the train. In a complete DDLJ style. As soon as we do, it starts. Wow! Feel so GOOD!!!!!!!!! 

That helpful, well-meaning huge cop who stopped the train for a foreigner, would never come to know, however, that his helpful gesture was much appreciated by the foreigner, although there was no time to thank him, but that there was also a DDLJ factor attributing to the feel good!

*********************************************************************************

The next day we have to return back to Baltimore. On the way we have to stop at a friend's place for a get-together of school friends after 20 years. Excited! We decide to hire a car. Shilpa would be driving. The smart salesman who was sitting at hire-a-car, gives us a sedan, for 50$ more, while we could have easily managed with a small car, saying, that that was all that was available. It was a Sunday. Online booking showed a small car was available, but he could sense we were in a hurry, and were left with no options, may be the other places are closed.

We reach NewJeresy Turnpike. I recognize the place as we had come through the same way. US roads are becoming more familiar. Shilpa says," lets take the Gas from here, the price is slightly lower in NJ. " Makes sense. Since morning I have been hearing Gas. My cousin mentioned that too. I have been wondering, "Do they drive their cars on gas". Too dumb a question to ask. We are at a gas-station(Looks like a petrol pump, only). I hear Shilpa saying," You remain inside, I will get the gas. Its cold outside." " No, no, I will also come out, don't worry." As soon as we start driving again, " Shilpa, why do you say gas, when you fill the petrol?"

"They say it like that here." ......." I mean, is there any particular reason? Why do they say it like that?" (historical, sociological, could be .......anything?) The professor takes charge........

*********************************************************************************

Finally, at the airport. We are a group of six. Five of them ladies. We are returning back. Obviously, with bags full of shopping. I have four shopaholic ladies as co-passengers. My stay in US has taught me a unique theory, one that I had never studied in my economics classes. I am going back richer in terms of ideology. When India reaches a stage of growth, where you find it very difficult to find anything, Made in India, in Indian markets, then India would have become one of the super-powers and the biggest economy in the world. Oh Wow, a new development paradigm.
One of my co-passengers has a friend coming to meet her at the airport, so she is busy. One of them has gone and stood in the queue for boarding. The others are roaming around the airport, looking for another purchase. Prasad, one of our students comes to me and says, " I have decided to make a purchase with all the change we have. I have collected all the change from all others. Give me all of yours too and then we will count." I bring out all my cents and dimes. "Alright, now let us count them all." Counting the money was a kind of a game of cards, you put the similar looking ones together, then count......... we have 14$ and 57cents. With a wicked smile Prasad says,"Now, I am going to irritate the Aunty at the counter. She didn't reply to my query earlier, nicely." The other two girls squeal. " Hey, we are coming with you too."

I find myself sitting alone,with some 20 bags, big and small, waiting to be boarded. I forgot to mention, of the four ladies I travel with, one of them happens to be a Gujju. I decide to sit in the middle so that I can keep an eye on all of them. Two security persons, a lady and a gentleman pass by. The lady gives a smile and asks me, "Do you think they will allow you to carry so much with you?" I smile back. Find myself saying, " The airlines person weighed them all, he says he will allow me, they are light." They break into what I call an american guffaw and I join in. (My convented upbringing always taught me not to make any voice when you laugh, but I have always preferred to make some.) "Well, as long as they are fine with it, we are ok." Americans laugh well, I must say.

Now let me come back to the means of transportation. US is a very poor country. It has such limited means of transportation. There are no stories to write on rickshaw, auto, camel cart, horse cart, bullock cart and so on.............................................

Teaching Probability to Shubhendu

One fine, cool, breezy morning I just hopelessly got trapped into it. I did not have classes until the new trimester so I did not have too much of work on my desk. That morning in one unique motivated moment, a teacher within me turned ambitious and decided to walk into the Dean’s chamber. The back ground story is like this – We had a student, let’s call him Shubhendu. Shubhendu had managed to fail in four out of six subjects in the first trimester. Consequently, he had held a lot of meetings with the Dean. His problem was diagnosed as follows :

Shubhendu had been suffering from something called as ‘Mathsophobi’ ever since he passed his third grade in school. He had been trying to win the battle with this disease during all his school and college years and had come out to be a gallant warrior, as he could successfully pass all his classes in school and college, inspite of his chronic illness. The problem had aggravated ever since he left familial comforts and familiar surroundings of Kolkata, when he decided to do his MBA. Apart from all the other pressures, that a MBA student has to face in the first trimester, like, adjusting to new surroundings, making new friends, hectic routine etc.,  there were two monsters who had posed a serious threat to Shubhendu’s flailing health – these two monsters were Quantitative Techniques and Economics. Shubhendu’s older ailment got aggravated in such circumstances and created so much of stress for him that he managed to fail in two other subjects (Organisation Behavior and Basics of Computing) as well.

With a grave look on his face and some lines of strain on his forehead, my Dean had declared that this was a serious problem. I do not know whether it was because of the fact that I really did not have much to do during those two-three days or because of the fact that I was a self pronounced young, motivated dynamic academician, (also clichéd as - always willing to take up new challenges) that I found myself saying, “Sir, I will help Shubhendu with Maths. I will give special tutorials to him on the difficult topics. Let him come to my chamber when he is not having classes”.

And thus a boy, all of six feet, who possessed an unkempt look and who spoke in a sweet voice ( like the way most Bengali boys do) came to my chamber one afternoon and introduced himself as Shubhendu. I must say that there was something likeable about the guy and I was really impressed with his honesty when he related a complete story of his failures at a subject called Maths during all his academic years. Bringing a warmest smile on my face, I had told him, “ Believe me, Shubhendu, Maths is a very interesting subject and I promise that all your sessions with me are going to be great fun. Mathematics is not supposed to make things complex for us, in fact it makes life easier”. Shubhendu seemed to be so pleased and unburdened with all his worries, after our initial discussion that it was not difficult to chart out a timetable for the topics to be dealt with in the next fifteen minutes. When he left my chamber we had both seemed to develop a liking for each other. To my satisfaction the first step had been taken for a difficult yet exciting journey of learning mathematics. I had a wonderfully peaceful sleep that night.

It was decided that I would teach him ‘Calculus’, ‘Theory of Probability’, ‘Linear Programming’ and ‘Permutation and Combination’ to begin with. I gave him some simple problems on differential calculus, the first day. He could solve them but I could also discover that after every third question he committed a calculation mistake. First derivative of 2x² would invariably become 8x, addition of 4 and 17 would be 20. When I pointed out the mistake he gave a sheepish grin, shook his head, making a movement with his hand with the same time, as if he was taking some sort of a pledge to himself about not repeating the same mistake again and said, “Sorry Ma’am, Calculation mistake”. In the same session I tried to give him a understanding of calculus. Change in Y due to some change in X, where Y is a dependent variable and X is an independent variable…… He listened to me with rapt attention and gave nods at all the right places. Finally he said, “ Yes Ma’am I understood, “eet ees basically changing”. I was satisfied with the first class. Shubhendu had solved some problems and had figured out ‘changing’ in Calculus.

Promptly, he came the next day, just at the right time. I also felt that his appearance was smarter than the previous day, or so I imagined. He had smile on his face, when he told me that the previous night he received a call from his grandmother. He was successful in gathering all my sympathies, when he related complete information about his family, to me and the fact that he had lost his mother when he was very young. The first fifteen minutes of the session were over by the time he finished his story. I quickly opened the book to begin the Day’s lesson. By the time the second day was over I had figured out that Shubhendu tried to strike a conversation with me wherever he got a chance and I had learnt to respond to it with an impish smile on my face and an eagerness to get his attention back to the lesson. Bengali loquacity I thought, at the end of the session, where we had made some progress on differentiation.

First few days passed and we had merely done some basics of differentiation and integration. By this time I had gathered complete information about Shubhendu’s family, neighbourhood, cousins, football and durgapuja in Kolkata, and why Shubhendu had developed a deep dislike for a classmate of his in the institute.  Shubhendu looked very confident after having learnt differentiation, a topic of what he called as ‘Advanced Maths’. He had made a call back home, to his father and shared the news of his newly acquired skill-set at ‘Advanced Maths’. I should have let him enjoy his moment of glory but I don’t know why I was getting nervous. We decided to take up Probability as the next topic. Both I and Shubhendu were put to test. The question to be solved was – What was the probability of learning Probability by Shubhendu? I tried to motivate him by telling him that Probability was perhaps one of the easiest topics in Maths if one tried to understand the concepts. Thus began an adventure of a self-motivated, young and dynamic academician, the one of teaching ‘Probability’ to Shubhendu. Our classes began something like this -

Me – “See Shubhendu, Probability is a term we are familiar with. Probability refers to the likelihood of something to happen…………..”

Shubhendu – nod with a deep breath, attentive eyes looking keenly at the book….

Me – “For example, When you toss a coin in a cricket match what is the probability that you will get Head?”

Shubhendu – another nod…

Me – What is the chance Shubhendu, that you will get Head?

Shubhendu – “Ma’am there is a chance”.

Me – “Give me a number in percentage terms”.

Shubhendu – “Hmmm……”

Me – “Is there a hundred percent chance that you will get a Head?”

Shubhendu – “No Ma’am,  Ma’am do you think there could be some fixing done with the toss also, like it is decided by the umpire which captain will win?”

Me – “Do you think this can be done in a toss?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am like it’s only the Captains and Umpire there. Whatever you get Head or Tail, you can declare its Head.”

Me – “Shubhendu, Don’t you think fixing would rather be done on who should bat first, than a toss.”

Shubhendu – “ (with a wide grin on his face) Yes Ma’am you are right.”

Me – “Yeah so tell me, what is the chance that your Captain will win the toss?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am, hmmm… the chance is between 40% and 60%.”

Me – “Goood! (Smile on my face and definitely encouraged by his response) Yeah so can you give me an exact number between 40% and 60%?”

Shubhendu – “ Maa’am, err… its 45% to 55%.”

Me – Shubhendu Don’t you think your captain has a 50% chance always to win the toss?

Shubhendu – “(with a wider grin on his face) Yes Ma’am you are right.”

Me –“ Yeah, so that’s how you calculate probability………”

Shubhendu – (playing with his ear) “only if there was no fixing done…….”

Me – “See there is a 50% chance of getting a tail and 50% chance of getting a head, so how many possible outcomes do we have here?”

Shubhendu – nod sideways and backward, grave look on the face…

Me – “Shubhendu, how many possible outcomes do we have here?”

Shubhendu – “Possible Outcomes Ma’am?”

Me – “When you toss a coin you can either get a head or a tail, so how many possible outcomes you can have?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am don’t know Ma’am, Ma’am ...mmm... One.”

Me – “ One? Youuu either get a Heaad or a Taaiil.”

Shubhendu – “that’s what I said Ma’am, one ….”

Me – “Yeah….”

Shubhendu – “Two” , (by this time may be he figured out one was the wrong answer)

Me – “Yeah! (wide smile on my face) that’s it. Don’t you think it was easy?”

Shubhendu – “(smiling) Yeah Ma’am!”

Me – “So total possible outcomes are two, and you either get a Head or a Tail, so number of outcomes you get is one, that makes it one by two, and thus probability of getting a head or a tail is 50%.”

Shubhendu – “YES Ma’am.”

Me – “Now read the book, the formula is written there.”

Shubhendu –“ (After having looked at the book for some minutes) Yee’es Ma’am.”

By this time I felt Shubhendu was a little bored, there was some sweat on his forehead, which he was trying to wipe out with his handkerchief, while still looking at the book. For the first time, I realized may be learning probability was a laborious task for poor Shubhendu. I heard my self saying -

Me – “So Shubhendu you go home and read the book and I will pick up tomorrow’s session from here.”

*     *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *             *            

Next Day I asked Shubhendu to write the first formula for probability and gave him some problems to solve. He was quieter than his usual self and looked more attentive.  He could not solve most of the problems,  and attributed the reason to calculation mistakes.

Me- “Shubhendu, five out of these six problems are incorrect.”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am, hmm, Oh! Errr… Ma’am Calculation?”

Me, while looking at his exercise book - “No, not just calculation mistakes!  But why do you commit so many calculation mistakes?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am I don’t know Ma’am, Ma’am I lose marks because of calculation mistakes only.”

Me, looking up from the exercise book- “Shubhendu, I have realized that your span of attention is very short; you tend to lose your concentration…..”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am I try, I try to……….”

Me, with an assertive voice- “No Shubhendu,  I think this is the basic problem with you, you need to do something to increase you span of attention, otherwise it would be so difficult for you to study, you get distracted very quickly.”

Shubhendu, serious and intently looking at me – “Ma’am isss there a way to increase span of attention?”

Me- “Yes, if you do meditation you can increase it.”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am but I don’t know meditation, I will have to do a course… I will have to find …..”

Me – “Meditation should help you, and it’s not a big deal you can start practicing some meditation from today itself.”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am when I was a kid my meditation was good……it was only after my mother passed away that………………”

Me, smiling – “Shubhendu, your concentration was good perhaps……….”

Shubhendu – (smile) “yes Ma’am, Ma’am till fourth standard I used to top…………”

Me, earnestly - “See there are simple techniques of meditation, I can teach you.)

Shubhendu – “Ma’am.. err… ok”  (nod)

Me- “You might have seen your Grandmother chanting some mantra on a mala that is one simple form of meditation that you can begin with.”

Shubhendu – “(With earnestness) Yes Ma’am yes,  my grandmother chants a mala twice a day, My Grand Father, in fact my Great Grand Father used to go to Ramkrishna Mission. Everybody is very religious in my house.”

Me- “She chants mantras! Do you know anyone of those mantras?”

Shubhendu – “Yes Ma’am a few of them.”

Me- “Then you can start off today itself, you can pick up any of those mantras and chant it on a mala. If you do it twice a day it will help you.”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am, bhen my mother passed away, I was deesturbed for some days, so I lost my meditation, before that I was very good, I was…..”

Me- “Shubhendu, Twenty minutes of this exercise morning and evening will help you gain a better concentration.”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am but I don’t have a Mala here”.

Me- “Ok. I will get one for you tomorrow. Now let’s get back to Probability….”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am do I have to remember some God also…”

Me- “You can remember any God you have faith on, Now let’s get back……….”

Shubhendu –“ Ma’am I am bothering you so much, Thank you, so much Ma’am for helping me”

Me – “That’s Ok Shubhendu, Now let’s get back………”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am I get up late in the morning……….”

Me- “Shubhendu, let’s get back to Probability…………………”

It was clear that my attention was shifting from Maths to Meditation and I realized that too. But a young dynamic, motivated professor had to solve all her student’s problems. Next day I got a mala of rudraksh beads for Shubhendu. He thanked me many times for that and really looked obliged when he left my chamber. If I say that a thought of Shubhendu having fun with a bunch of students, showing them the Mala I gave her, did not cross my mind, I would be dishonest. Because, it did. But a positively motivated Prof. drove away all the negative thoughts off her mind. ‘Nishkaam Karma’…. Do your duty selflessly!!!

Our progress on probability was much slower than what I had expected. It was clear that Shubhendu was finding it very difficult to retain concepts with him, what were taught the previous day. Meditation did not seem to work, although Shubhendu tried to convince me that he had visualized a lot of change in himself, since he started meditation (only in the evenings- for mornings, he took an excuse. There was no one in the hostel who could wake him up. The alarm clock failed to do so because it was only a clock, Shubhendu could easily shut him off.) I was getting a little impatient. I expected Shubhendu to get a little frustrated too but surprisingly he was cool. My knowledge about his likes and dislikes about things in general – like food, people, music, clothes, girls etc. had increased. I had come to know about a lot of his family history. Shubhendu managed to maintain his somber expression when I showed signs of irritation. It was not a good idea perhaps to take up probability as a second topic to teach, I thought, and this is how I consoled myself.

When I was contemplating about changing my teaching style and to be innovative in order to evolve some new teaching pedagogy for making probability simple and easy to understand for students, Shubhendu met with an accident. He had an injury in his leg and because of that he had to return back to Kolkata. This also meant that he would take his make-up examination for Quantitative Techniques at the Kolkata center. This is how; some amount of rash motor bike driving by Shubhendu, ended his sessions with me. The next trimester was about to begin and I got busied in preparations for the same. Did I miss Shubhendu, and my probability sessions with him? I think I am not yet clear on that, as in a way a sudden end of afternoon sessions with Shubhendu had brought a sense of relief to me too. But I was certainly concerned about him,  his exam and wished that probably if I had more sessions with him, I could save him from failing in the exam a second time.

In retrospect, I think Shubhendu’s accident did a great service to the Young Academician’s Self esteem. She was saved of facing the first failure in her journey as an academician. Shubhendu’s accident saved her from all the distress and dishonor that such failures bring.

It was almost ten days that Shubhendu had gone. Suddenly one afternoon I received a call from him.

Shubhendu – “Good Afternoon Ma’am! How are you?”

Me-“I am good Shubhendu. How are you? Have you recovered?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am not yet. Ma’am in Nagpur the doctor said, I had no fractures, but then I showed my leg to a doctor here in Kolkata and he said that I had broken my ligaments. This was a shock for me as I had not expected it to happen. How could a Nagpur Doctor not diagnose it properly…………………Ma’am I am still not well………”

Me –“ (After having heard all about his injury, medication, diagnosis etc. for ten minutes) you will get well soon Shubhendu, Now tell me why did you call me up?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am if I got medical aid in time, I would have been fine by now. Because of my sickness I was not getting much time to study also but somehow I tried to keep myself busy in studies as much as I could ………….”

Me – “Shubhendu, you are on a long distance call. Come to the point.”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am tomorrow I have my exam.”

Me – “Yeah…….so are you prepared?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am I will write the exam at Kolkata center. Here I met a lot of students who have a back in QT and Economics………..”

Me – “Shubhendu, tell me why did you call me up?”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am I called you up so that you can tell me some important questions, if you can Ma’am.”

Me – “ Important Question??? In QT ???”

Shubhendu – “Yes Ma’am and in Economics. Although I plan to do the entire course but still I will focus more on these important questions.”

Me – “But Shubhendu I am not in a position to tell you the important questions……”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am my Grandmother was also not keeping well since I came here………”

Me – “With a subject like QT, it does not help when you ask for Important topics…….”

Shubhendu – “I had to take care of my Grandmother also Ma’am. I will prepare some questions…..”

Me – “Look Shubhendu you cannot do a selective study, it can be fatal…….”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am I will study all, but some parts I will do well…”

Me – “You should practice all the problems…………”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am if you have any idea what would be asked in the paper……..”

Me – “How would I have any idea? I think you should ……..”

Shubhendu, interrupting me  - “Ma’am faculties have an idea about question papers, Ma’am Please help me………”

Me – “Shubhendu, I wish to help you and that is the reason I am telling you………”

Shubhendu, interrupting me  again– “Ma’am please tell me some questions………. I will pass……..”

Me, firmly – “I think I cannot help you regarding that…………..”

Shubhendu – “Ma’am you helped me so much, please help me one last time……….I am trying for a center transfer to Kolkata, May be I will get it because my Grandmother is also not keeping well.”

Me – “Shubhendu, instead of wasting time on phone I think you should sit and study. I Wish…”

Shubhendu – “Ok Ma’am, I will do the complete course……….. Ma’am I heard that faculties can have an access to question papers…..”

Me – “Shubhendu, Is this all that you called me for?”

Shubhendu –“ Ma’am ok Please tell me which topics should I study…….”

Me – “You have to study all the topics……..

Shubhendu - Ma’am how much of theory are we going to get?”

Me – “Shubhendu, Is this all that you called me for?”

Shubhendu – “Yess …..Ma’am……mmmm…… Ok Ma’am….. Thank you so much Ma’am. “

Me – “All the best! Shubhendu,  for you exam. Bye.”

Shubhendu – “Thank you so much Ma’am. Bye”

Shubhendu got a center transfer to Kolkata center. I could never know whether he passed his QT and Economics papers or not. I was not very hopeful though. I do not know whether he could ever complete his MBA. But I guess if Shubhendu managed to complete his MBA, he must have got some marketing or PR job in a FMCG, IT or Insurance company in  a booming economy. He must be good at selling insurance or savings Bank Account, hopefully. He talked well and could easily divert the conversation to a topic he wanted to discuss. He would perhaps do well in life. I do hope that Shubhendu did learn something about ‘Advanced Maths’ from my sessions with him.

However, there were some important lessons that had been left for me to learn -

1. Not everyone is meant to learn Probability in life. There are some who are not. Still they do well in life, perhaps.
2. My time is a resource and I should consider it as a resource.
3. There is an opportunity cost attached to everything in life, and that includes time and energy too.
4. Academicians can also be hopeless romantics.

The young, dynamic, motivated academician promised shubhendu that she would make learning Mathematics fun for him. An old Sanskrit saying says, knowledge should be given to the person who is worthy of it. In Shubhendu’s case his worthiness was adjudged by a management entrance examination, which works on a cutoff system. Shubhendu and many others like him managed to be above the cutoff and thus qualified as someone worthy of knowledge.  In retrospect, I am bound to think, Shubhendu did have fun during those sessions. Only, at the dynamic, young academician’s cost.

I am a little girl residing in Pemana village, I have a story to tell -

We are currently doing a project in three districts of Rajasthan  for providing drinking water solutions in Rajasthan. In the course of the project, I just realised, how scarcity of drinking water is so closely related to the condition of women, particularly, Girls. Let me take an example - 

We went to 'Bhilo ki Basti' a village Hamlet in Pamana village in Jalore district. We found that there is no drinking water source which is closer than five kilometers from their home. Its a total of about five hours job, two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening, that women do to fetch water per day. Generally, the job of fetching water is that of teen-aged girls, who go this far, in extreme climatic conditions so that they can fetch drinking water for the family. A sight like this is very common in the villages of Rajasthan. 

At 'Bhilon ki Basti', all these women told us that young girls are never sent to school, because they have bigger responsibilities at home. During the younger years they have to babysit siblings, and do house hold chores, when mother is out of the house, as soon as they are a little older they have to go and fetch water so that mother can be relieved and can do other things. None of these women in this picture are literate, and they have no plans to send any of these young kid-girls to send to school, either.

Compared to that ,all these boys at the back,in the picture go to school, come back home and play in the locality. They end up as school dropouts generally, and when they grow bigger, they go and work in fields. When I asked these boys, what would they become when they glow older, most of them had no idea, one odd answer came as 'police'. They seemed playful, cheerful and much healthier than the girls.  This vllage has a female sarpanch, that too belonging to the SC community. 

This lady with a little child in her lap, is the sarpanch. When I asked her to sit on the 'khat' with me, she refused and preferred to sit on the ground. The reason was explained to me later - one she belonged to the SC community, Other the men from the village who were with us , including her husband, who is called 'sarpanch pati' were supposed to sit on the 'khats'. Her 'POSITION' even if she is a sarpanch, is secondary. Will education help these women? I do not know.

If a 'tanka' ( a tank, with a catchment area for rain water harvesting) like this can be constructed near 'Bhilon ki Basti', probably the girls and other females in the locality do not have to go far to fetch water,they can have an easier life and the girls can probably go to school. We earmarked a place in the basti for the tanka to be constructed on a piece of land which belonged to Sita Devi, the lady in blue, towards the right side, in the picture above, who is a defense widow, estranged by her children, yet a strong and progressive women. Sita Devi agreed to access her land to the panchayat so that 'tanka' can be constructed. The work of accession of land will have to be completed with in the next twenty days, so that 'tanka' at 'Bhilon ki Basti' can be included in IWRM plan.


As part of IWRM project, we go to the village, for a VWHSC(Village Water and Sanitation committee), a 25 member committee, and train these 25 people so that they become empowered to generate drinking water solutions in their village, and to look after the existing resources. We take an account of the existing resources and mark them on a rough map, we estimate their water demand (drinking water - humans and animals and total agricultural demand) in the next fifteen years, based on projections, then we assess their existing resources and plan for the future resources, a lot of raw data is collected regarding populaion, SC and ST sections, number of people having no access to drinking water, literacy, school, health and hygiene etc.

All this data would be refined and be added to a state MIS system, as part of the project. We go for a transit walk around the village to have a look the existing resources, we do water quality tests, take measurements, assess capacity, take GPS readings, make a note about the recharge or the repairs required at these existing resources. Then we take proposals from the villagers for the construction of new resources like the one at 'Bhilon ki Basti' and include them in IWRM plan for the village. This plan is them given to the district administration for approval. We also suggest the ways in which the funds can be generated for these plans from different state government schemes. In the implementation phase we will get the funds transferred to the Village Panchayats, do some hand-holding when the construction work begins, give them technical assistance and then transfer the project to the village people. We have finished this work in 98 Gram Panchayats in Bhinmal and Sanchore blocks to Jalore district, in the first phase, in the next phase we have started our work in Ladnu, Didwana and Pali districts. The total project cost is about 3 crores and the project is funded by EU (Europeon Union).

My little ladies - we do all this for you.

A video  - of our work at Pamana village in Sanchore block of Jalore district. 

Writing...

"Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness, but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day."  Ernest Hemingway

 As a writer, I like what Ernest Hemingway says - I guess this is primarily the reason, why writers generally exist at the edge, in the outlying, observing the world, interacting with humans, making a connection with the life that existed, exists and will continue to exist on this earth and yet being at the outskirts of the world and the humanity.

 A writer can make his way through time and can make a connection with a life that existed in distant past, or he can live in the moment, sing the songs of the life around him, a writer, while he does that, tries incessantly, to capture that moment of eternity, that defines life and the very essence of it.

 All great writers create words in that moment of eternity, but it is also a fact, that they all lead lonely lives.

We at IIHMR..........

Disclaimers First. This is not a funny video, this is quite a serious video. But the fun element inherent here is only going to increase in the years to come.

The story is simple - Three of my students, Khushboo, Janhavi and Sakshi made their Summer Internship Project presentation. Hard work done by them for about three months in the company and here they stand to present their work before their faculty. A Chinese research student from John Hopkins University, who was visiting IIHMR during that time, also asked for my permission to stand through the presentation. So we also have a guest there. She seems very interested in the beginning but towards the end she looks tired and bored, may be a little sympathetic towards my students.

The reason for her sympathy is that the project done by my students is ripped apart by me and my faculty colleague. I refuse to accept it, saying it was more of a data collection and less of research. Well, a usual B School routine!! My students are visibly shaken. They give interesting expressions. I am nothing less than a cruel master, almost ready to slaughter a prey, but then that's what I am.

The story ended like this - They had to revise the project, which meant getting some more data from the company, doing some in depth analysis, putting to use all that they learn in Research Methodology class, and submitting the revised project back to me.

This was a few months back. All three of them are placed now and would soon leave us, to join the corporate world. They will make it big I hope in the years to come. I wish them all the best in their career and in life too. But this video(recorded discreetly, without my permission, of course) remains a testimonial to this joy of learning, we want them to experience.

Today only, Sakshi came to me with a box of sweets, announcing that she got placed, and describing in an animated voice how 90% of her placement interview with Technopak was all about her internship project.

The fun in teaching, the joy of learning.....