Outliers

To Do List

We all have dreams and aspirations which change with time. The amusing ones which we had as kids and the more daring ones as we grow. Some of them cling to us while others change to more mature forms as we age. Here are some of the things I would have like doing as a kid or would like to do now as an adult. I’ll continue this post later if some other dream job comes up :p

Build a library. Whether it’s in my own home or something more public, I want to do this as a good amount of my early teenage years were spent in one and I feel that the time spent there was time spent wisely and it played a major role in building my love for reading and writing. Since they don’t teach proper grammar at American schools, I believe that a good amount of my grammar is at its level today because of the books I read back then. They used to let us take around 25 books at a time on our library cards and sometimes we would do just that (to avoid multiple trips). And oh the joy of reading all the books within a couple of days, reading them in the comfortable silence of the library, taking them with us in the car on family trips, reading while in the loo, and yes, reading under covers at night. Those were the days when there were no online social networks, no mobile phones and hence no other distractions. We would read blissfully disconnected with the rest of the world, giggling at Amelia Bedelia’s ridiculous mistakes, being afraid to turn the last page of each chapter in the Goosebumps series, going through the pictures in Mary Kate and Ashley books first and then reading the story afterwards, being amazed by Cam Jansen’s photographic memory, getting hold of the Harry Potter books and then racing to see who finishes them in the least amount of time. Good times they were. The purpose of building a library therefore is to be able to share with the younger generations a taste of life that I had when I was a kid myself.

Teach. At school we used to have such brilliant teachers that I had made up my mind quite early that I would like to grow up to be a teacher just like them. I was so inspired by the way they taught so lovingly, with such grace, how they would remember all our names and if any one of them were to leave or move away we would tell them how we’d miss them and that we wished they would stay. They would know most of our parents too and so we had a wonderful support network at that point in time. I wish I could be such a teacher, one who remembers her students’ names, knows where they come from, understands them and monitors their progress individually. I have gotten a chance to teach a few times in a formal setup and the experience is just overwhelming. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not but I had started to feel so responsible for them that often I would neglect my own work in an effort to prepare course work for them. I would take the time to reply to their text messages inquiring how to solve this question and that. I would meet them in my free time and help them with their worksheets whenever possible. I felt so connected to them that when I was fired (which was an attempt at cost-cutting, not my negligence mind you!) I was deeply saddened. Luckily for me, my own students managed to get me re-hired and so the journey continued. It was a beautiful feeling, perhaps comparable to looking after your own children (though I cannot say for sure since I don’t yet have children). And from their end came such respect and love, as was evident from their act of getting me re-hired. They would greet me when they’d see me, ask me how my own studies were coming along. By the end of that program I was able to tell which of my students had the greatest potential and so would feel sad about losing the others. Nevertheless, I always tried to motivate them and teach them that even if they don’t succeed, it must be because life has better plans in store for them.

Scuba-dive. So refreshing is the thought of jumping into deep blue waters that I wouldn’t give it a second thought before saying yes if I ever have the opportunity. When I see pictures of the world under the surface of the ocean, I can’t help but marvel at it. It is such a beautiful sight and how I’d love to see it with my own eyes! I’ve always been attracted to water, be it the ocean, a lake or simply a swimming pool. Strangely, I used to fear the deeper end of the pool when I was just a kid taking swimming lessons. I’d wear pink inflatable arm wraps in order to stay afloat. But like I mentioned water attracts me, and so it goes that I once jumped into the deep end of the pool to get my bangles which my brother had teasingly tossed inside. It’s funny now that I think of it, how I dived in after my precious plastic bangles without giving a second thought to the fact that I didn’t know how to swim. I flailed my arms about, tried to call for help but there was water getting inside my nose and mouth. Eventually I think the instructor there saved me and out I came coughing and spitting out water. Stranger still is the fact that the incident hasn’t made me scared of water at all. The way some people would never sit on a horse after falling off of it.

Skydive. I’ve never been afraid of heights either. In fact I believe the best part of any building is the rooftop. I’d like to jump off from a high altitude (of course with a parachute!) for the thrill of it. Free fall is something I’ve experienced a good number of times here on earth but I’d really like to experience it from up above, knowing there is a good amount of time to enjoy the feeling before I make impact with the ground, believing that the parachute will open in time to allow me a safe landing. What a feeling it must be to twirl around in the air, to see the world from such a height. I get excited while watching it on TV so I guess my mind would blow if I get a chance to do it myself.

Workaholic

Last year I had promised myself that I wouldn’t work a bit in my final year. I wouldn’t give my name to be part of any event management team, I wouldn’t write for any of our institutes publications, if I do participate in a competition, I wouldn’t be the one organizing the team for it and I wouldn’t teach for the talent hunt program. I would just be really laid back, not having much to worry about except the usual assignments and exams.

Little did I know that these were all empty promises I was making to myself. By the time summer was over, I was already itching to get work on my hands. In fact even though my internship had reached an end, I had this urge to tell my supervisor that if you need any work to be done after my term expires, you can email it to me and I’ll do it from home.

As the semester began I began hunting for things I could do to keep myself busy. I searched for available TA-ships and chased teachers to adopt me as their assistant, but unfortunately couldn’t find any suitable openings. I registered myself in the girls’ sports society as an office bearer, in hopes of getting into a leadership role and eventually won the position (don’t ask me how :p). Suddenly I find myself taking oath, emailing campus authorities to shift sports equipment from here to there, planning the budget and the sports year with the manager of the society and gathering girls to come try out for one sport or another. I agreed to be part of the editorial team of a magazine that get published by one of the societies and soon enough was busy asking people to contribute and making contributions myself. I put together a team to participate in one of the competitions that is run by a MNC every year at our institute. I applied for a campus ambassador program about which we received an email from our career development centre and God knows how I’ll manage if I get selected for it.

My schedule has become extremely topsy turvy and though I do not show it, I secretly enjoy the crazy chaos I’m surrounded with. Guest speaker sessions held at the oddest hours provided the strangest insights into how consumer mindsets work, how market research is conducted, what are major global trends. I’m actually finding myself checking out books from the library in an attempt to get more information on the subjects of my interest. One thing that’s strange for sure is that when I look within myself I cannot find any feelings of sadness at this being my final year at the institute. I’m actually feeling quite content, not exactly ‘glad-to-be-out-of-here-at-last’, but happy that the journey was a good one. That it was worthwhile and that most of the decisions that were taken along the way were good decisions. Perhaps the bitterness will settle in once I’m in my final semester but I do not guarantee it.

Hope

Sometimes, when you keep getting all the things you wish you had in life, there’s this tiny feeling in the corner of your head that things will not always be this way and sooner or later, the tables will turn and you won’t be as successful as you are right now. I guess it is good to have that feeling; it keeps you from showing off what you have, from flaunting your wealth, and thinking too high of yourself. It is a good thing in the sense that it makes you realize that all that you have today is from Him and He can take it back whenever He pleases.

But sometimes you forget. You start thinking that all that you have gathered is because of your own efforts, your own struggle. And so when adversity strikes, it seems like all is lost. There is hopelessness and strife. You think it’s someone’s evil eye that has gotten to you while in fact it was your own carelessness all along. You were the one who was not grateful. You were the one who forgot to say thank you to Him. Every time you take a fall, there’s a lesson in it for you. To be grateful when in endowed with blessings and to be patient when suffering from hardship.

There was this one text message I once received some time ago. I don’t remember it exactly so this is what I got from Wikipedia: According to the fable a powerful king asks assembled wise men to create a ring that will make him happy when he is sad, and vice versa. After deliberation the sages hand him a simple ring with the words "This too will pass" etched on it, which has the desired effect.

A verse revealed in the Quran 1400 years ago has the same effect: "..Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return." (2:156)

That this verse is associated with death only and uttered upon receiving the sad news of someone’s demise is our fallacy. These are strong words and fill you with belief that yes, this life is just a trial and the real life is that of the Hereafter. Come to think of it, these words are sure to keep you from dwelling on your state of joy or sadness. It gives you strength when you are weak and grief-stricken and it humbles you when you say it in your head when you’ve been blessed with all that you have.

Failing has its own way of leaving you humbled. One little fall reminds you of your powerlessness and how things are not in your control at all. The Will of a Higher Being is involved. Not clearing a test, or an interview, losing your job, not getting selected to represent your university team, we’ve all been there. We may have cried and sulked about it for days but was it worth it? Maybe if we remembered the verse above we would’ve recovered quicker, believing that this life is nothing but a trial. Perhaps in losing something we really want, there’s an opportunity for us to find something that we really need. We just need to keep our eyes open.

Monday 22nd August

Monday 22^nd August. 

Just like any other day, I woke up a little after noon. With nothing much to do, I decided to go online to check my email and Facebook. I had only signed on for a few minutes that the bell rang downstairs. I watched my sister head for the door, but Papa had already entered. I turned my attention back to the screen. That is when my sister said in a voice full of shock, ‘Dadajaan has died.’

‘What?’ I asked, not understanding what she’d just said. When she repeated it I got off the computer and just sat there in disbelief. Papa was on the stairs now. I hid my face in my hands and the tears began. My sisters followed suit. When Papa came in view we all rushed to him and stood in an embrace, crying. 

‘Abba chalay gaey,’ said my father, his voice breaking. (Abba is gone.)

More tears.

I rubbed my hands on his back trying to console him, for my heart went out to him the most. Him being the eldest son. Him having done so much the past few years to try to reduce the suffering of our ailing grandfather. What it must feel like to lose your father!

We broke away and Papa went to change. We sisters sat on his bed, still crying. This moment will be forever etched in my memory. It is only this moment which makes me most emotional about the whole incident. Nothing hurts more than watching your own parents hurt. Watching them break down when all your life they’ve been your strongest heroes.

As Papa was about to leave for Dadajaan’s house he said, ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused. What to do? How to do it?’ A lump formed in my throat, seeing him so helpless.

‘Why don’t you call someone who knows how to handle the situation?’ I suggested.

‘Yes I’ve been trying to reach someone but there’s no response. I’m going back there. You all come when your mother arrives.’ He left.

We got dressed and waited for Ammi. She gave us each a hug when she arrived and the tears threatened to fall again. We walked to Dadajaan’s place together.

Reaching there, there was more hugging and crying. Cousins, aunts and uncles; everyone must’ve wept on everyone’s shoulders. Dadajaan’s body lay in the room near the entrance. I couldn’t make myself look. I couldn’t look at him without getting teary-eyed when he was alive so how would I bear the flow of tears one glimpse of his dead body would bring forth?

We headed upstairs to recite the Quran for Dadajaan and to console the others there. Papa’s siblings were silent. People around them spoke to them words of comfort in low voices.

‘What a day to pass away, it is the beginning of the last ashraa!’

‘He passed away on Youm-e-Ali.’

‘It is a blessing to pass away in Ramadan.’

‘He must be in a better place now, relieved of his worldly suffering.’

We prayed that it was as they said.

More relatives poured in with condolences as it began to rain heavily outside. There were even people whom we didn’t recognize.

After a while, there was a call that everyone come take one last look at Dadajaan before he is taken away. Downstairs, a crowd assembled outside the room where his body lay. People went in crying and came out crying.

The body was then taken away as the family members looked on with tears. Our younger cousins rushed to the upstairs windows and the terrace to follow the route the funeral was to take.

Some of the people present took the initiative to help make preparations for iftari, relieving my father and his brothers from a huge responsibility. We assisted in putting together plates and glasses. Pretty soon it was time to break our fasts and thanks to the many hands that worked together there was plenty of food for everyone. Arrangements for dinner too were taken care of by some of the outsiders. However, not many of us had an appetite.

Late at night when we got back home exhausted, we sat together in our parents’ room before going off to our own beds. Papa spoke highly of the non-family members who had helped with so much and said that one thing he’d learned today, was that in such scenarios everyone should pitch in to help the bereaved family in whatever way they can. The support is much needed. Ammi mentioned the people we didn’t recognize, telling us they were simply passersby who had come with condolences when they heard there was a death in the house. This gesture was the most touching.

I went to bed grateful for these people and their support. Truly, Allah’s mercy comes in many forms.

Contemplations on a rainy day

Taraweeh sessions are one reason I look forward to the month of Ramadan. Of course for its other benefits too, e.g. the reward for good deeds getting multiplied many times over, but mostly for the taraweeh. Getting to pray in congregation, listening to the translation of the Quran from an established speaker and learning the contexts in which the verses were revealed are the highlights of these sessions. I don’t think I can learn much if I try to read the translation on my own. Thus to make the most of it, I take notes during the sessions for future reference and also as a support to my poor memory. Perhaps I’ll put up some of the notes I’ve taken here for the benefit of those who read this blog. (For friends that ridicule me for my unused notebooks, see what good use I put them to? :D)

When it rained on the eve of Independence Day, I couldn’t help but think of the different nations about which the Quran mentions and how they were destroyed for not following the prophets sent to them. The way the storm began so suddenly with the howling winds and the heavy downpour, followed by the complete blackout (thanks again KESC!) it seemed to me as if this was a means of punishment of us. Stricken with fear, my tongue began to pray for repentance as if on its own. And it made me wonder how it is only at times like these, when fear transcends, that we think of seeking forgiveness for our sins. Death is inevitable; it may come at any time, any place, but are we prepared for what is to follow?

The five questions we all will have to answer; how was our life spent, how was our youth spent, from where did we earn, where did we spend our earnings and how much did we act upon the (religious) knowledge we acquired. Will our answers to these questions please Allah?

What is saddening that such serious thoughts only arise during the month of Ramadan, when our activities are more focused towards our religion. The rest of the year is spent in the same hoopla each preceding year is spent in. Other things settle on our minds and any intention there may have been of following the teachings of Islam takes a back seat. One can only pray that the good habits we develop in Ramadan (of praying on time, reciting the Quran regularly, exercising patience and rushing to do good), may Allah give us the strength to continue them the rest of the year around. Ameen.

Registered. Phew.

So much has happened in this month long absence. With the beginning of Ramadan my internship came to an end. This was a good thing because the circadian rhythm had automatically set itself in reverse mode, due to the taraweeh sessions which would end late into the night. I didn’t get to float any of my origami, partly because I was afraid the turtle lurking in the waters might think of it as food and choke on it and partly because on my last day there were other things on my mind (like how much I would be paid :p)

Once at home, the next few days were spent in scouring over the fall timetable that had been released, running after seniors for advice on what courses to pick and with whom, and working very very hard to set up a schedule that wouldn’t turn out to be too much of a pain for the next semester. While the planning is stressing, the end result depends on what happens on the day of the registration.

Preparations for it began a day in advance. With not-so-high hopes in our own internet connection, I went knocking at the neighbor’s door for access to their wi-fi. They easily complied and I was relieved from having to go to campus the next day. That night I slept a good, sound sleep.

At 5.30 a.m., KESC did what it’s known for.

Hoping it would be back within the routine one and a half hours, I went back to bed. At around 7a.m., my mother woke me up to tell she was leaving and that I should stay up in case things didn’t go right at home. Things didn’t go right at home? I thought drowsily. Turned out the electricity hadn’t returned. Just then I got a text message from a friend who told me she was headed for the campus. I set the alarm for 8a.m. and decided to wait another hour at home (silly me, no?).

My eyes opened to the sound of the alarm and seeing there still was no electricity, I hurriedly got up to get ready to make it to the campus on time. The registration was to begin at 9 a.m. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it in a bus so I woke my father up to drive me there. We left home at around 8.40 a.m. I texted the friend at campus to save me a seat and at least sign in to my account to open the page through which we register. The replies from her end kept some hope alive but my heart still beat like crazy.

I jumped out of our car and ran to the computer lab. I was about five feet away from entering when I could hear cheering and shouts of joy from inside. Rushing in, I found my seat and saw an error message on the screen. The same message appeared on my friends screen next to me. Unsure of whether to hit refresh or not, I duplicated the tab to be able to hit the command again. But then my friend said, ‘Refresh kero! Refresh kero!’ (Hit refresh! Hit refresh!)

I did as she said (oh the blind trust we have in our friends!) and within a few seconds the screen indicated successful registration in all the courses I had selected.

From Facebook statuses (stati?), it was evident that most of the students in our batch had managed to get the courses they had wanted. It was relieving to see that a few friends, who had had bad experiences of this day in the prior semesters, had managed to get the courses of their choice this time. More relieving was the fact that the rest of the month would now pass in peace, without having to worry about another thing except the timely submission of the semester fee.

The Internship Diaries: III

One of the most amusing experiences I've had here has been the regular seat changing I've been going through. My seat changes here at the rate of one seat per week. The first time they changed it, my family had jokingly said they're making preparations to kick me out of the office. The second time my seat changed, I DID get relocated (not kicked) out of the office :p My new desk was located in another room close to the main department. This was soon followed by another change of seat. Eerily, I have been moving closer and closer to the exit.

Because so much of my time would be spent in front of the computer screen, I used to worry a lot about eyestrain. I had Googled around for ways of preventing it and came to know that there are different softwares available like WorkRave, Time Out and Flux that can work for your benefit e.g. by reminding you to take a break or by altering your screen's brightness depending on what time of the day it is. But then I also came to know that software download was not allowed on our computers. -_-

So I decided to make do with the 20-20-20 rule according to which after 20 minutes of staring at the computer screen you should look at an object 20 feet away for 20 seconds. Only problem was there weren't 20 feet around me to begin with. -_-

Hence as a last resort, I would go back to reading what Bill Bryson had to say in his book about singularity, the Big Bang and the size of the Earth. If even that failed to hold my interest, I would take a short walk outside. Short because I'd been told that sometimes patients at the hospital can get out of control (relevant hospital emergency code is then announced over the P.A. system to alert everyone of the situation). I most certainly wouldn't like to get caught up in such a frightening scenario so I usually don't go out for aimless strolls. Its like: to the bathroom and back, for prayers and back, for lunch and back.

Lunchtime comes as a relief from all the backbreaking work (backbreaking because my uncomfortable chair really hurts my back). The food is pretty hygienic and the menu isn't much different from what one would normally eat at home. The best days are those when after lunch we go outside to the ponds to feed the fish there with any leftover bread that we may have.My love for nature should be pretty evident by now. Maybe I'll float off my paper crane (thanks to this website) in the pond as a goodbye gift to the fishies here. According to Japanese legend, whoever makes a thousand paper cranes gets a wish granted by a crane e.g. long life and/or prosperity. But I'm no Hiro Shima nor do I have the time to spare (though you might think otherwise :p) so I'll just set afloat the single crane for now.

The Pond with the fishes

The Internship Diaries: II

Living the 9-5 is no easy feat. It requires sacrifices. On one hand I can't help but think of the carefree life that once was; when summer vacations meant sleeping in everyday, going out on family excursions and the only source of agony was that dreaded pile of homework (which would eventually be completed with assistance from our dear mother). On the other hand, these eight hours truly make one realize and be appreciative of how our parents have been managing to do the same for so long. That too without complaining.

For me each day is a struggle. Each day begins with battling the urge to stay in bed, sleep a little more. Sacrificing sleep time has never been easy. Each Monday I wake up consoling my sleep deprived self: Just five more weeks and count it down. I can't bear to think about how I'll manage to get out of bed once I get a job. Just five more years doesn't sound too motivating.

Once I'm dropped off, I take the longer route to my office (shortcuts seldom appeal to me), walking all the way past the trees and the ponds. The 15 minute walk gets fresh air into my system and by the time I arrive at my desk, I feel ready to take on the day. Yet this energy is all but lost because of the absolute zero temperatures of our office. To survive here, you need to keep moving every once in a while so that your joints don't stiffen. If arthritis develops, well, the hospital isn't too far away :p

During my initial days, when there were no other interns and little work to do, I got a tour of the premises upon my insistence. Mr.Z who sat at the neighboring desk agreed to be my guide. Now Mr.Z has been working here for a couple of decades so he knows the place and its people quite well. It is said about him that when the foundation for this organization was being laid, he had popped out of the ground that had been dug :p

So off we went through the administrative offices, the bank, the gymnasium, the various buildings and the warehouse. At each stop his familiar face was greeted by a number of people. It was a good thing that people knew him well because that way no one questioned our presence at the sports center without a membership card. I felt ecstatic once inside the gymnasium, to see the basketball court, the arrangement for table tennis and the bleachers. Mr.Z pointed towards the basketball lying idle in one corner. Encouraged I walked towards it, picked it up and tried to shoot. Years of lack of practice weighed down on me as it was after three or four attempts that I finally managed to get it through the hoop. Swoosh! The sound was magical.

We then walked around and I was shown the tennis and squash courts, the sand court for volleyball and the swimming pool. Upstairs there was a room for snooker and other rooms for board games. We went up on the roof too where he pointed to these metal rods up there and asked if I knew what they were. I shrugged.

'They're lightning rods,' he informed me.

The rest of the tour continued with Mr.Z telling me about the various other buildings enthusiastically, why they were named so, why they were colored so (all the buildings are coated with a pink colored substance for insulation purposes) and what were the common jokes about some of them. The tour was entirely on foot which made it all the more enjoyable. By the end of it, I was exhausted and had lost any sense of direction I may have had. I had no clue where our own office was located and if it weren't for Mr.Z I would've probably walked on my own to gate 2 and texted my brother to pick me up from gate 1 -_-

The Internship Diaries: I

So I'm halfway through my internship and it certainly has been a learning experience so far. More of learning from mistakes rather than learning in the first go :p But I have a firm belief that what you learn from your mistakes is better remembered (probably since one wouldn't like to go through the embarrassment again!)

My first day here was a bit of a drag. There were no other interns at the time and the place was male-dominated. There used to be a girl here who had left a couple of days before I joined. Since she and I had the same attire, it led one person to think that I was her. 'What is she still doing here?' he had exclaimed.

I was sad more so because I was placed in the IS department, and it seemingly had nothing to do with what major I would choose ahead. But later I got to know we'll be working on preparing surveys, updating their user database and working on their website so I figured it might not be so bad after all since I've done these things before. The people here turned out to be very sweet and had a good sense of humor. Plus they seemed to be very fond of food. All these traits assured me that I could survive, in fact fit in perfectly with the crowd here.

Initially I had no real work to do. Now normal people would say that's actually a good thing, not having anything to do. But I'm not normal, unfortunately. I prefer having my hands full. I actually asked them to give me something to do. From the looks of amusement on their faces I could bet they had never before come across an intern who actually asked for work. That too on her first day!

Image Courtesy: Google Images

 It was a good thing I had kept with me Bill Bryson's 'A Short History of Nearly Everything'. I had purchased this book last year and had begun reading it then but somehow I couldn't complete it. I love reading books. I've finished books like 'Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince' in two days but this book of almost 600 pages I could not complete! Now since I've picked it up after an entire year, I have started again from page number one. And one look at where my bookmark is placed tells me I will not be able to complete it this summer either. Nevertheless, it has so far proven to be a good companion in times of idleness.

Except for this one time.

The director whose office was adjacent to my cubicle called me in and said, 'Yumna I've seen you reading that book and I'm thinking you must be able to write well too. Plus you were asking for work, so could you do me a little favor?'

I nodded my head eagerly, excited to finally have some work to do.

'I need you to write a memo for me,' he said. He then explained what the scenario was and what I was to write in it. 'Make it brief,' he said.

I went back to my desk and ferociously began typing. I had worked on something similar for my HR course so I was pretty confident about what I was doing. I typed up three lines, read them then reread them for typos and grammatical errors, fetched his email address and hit send. Then I went back tor reading my book.

About five minutes later the director calls me in again. I walked in wondering whether he'll simply say, 'Good job, thanks!' or a more elaborate, 'Wow that was fast, and really brief just like I had asked. You're my memo-writer from now on!'

What he did say was something like the latter. With a twist, however.

'Beta, the scenario is a bit complex, here listen to this,' he said then read out loud a page long email he had received regarding the situation. 'You'll have to write more. I suggest that you Google up what a memo looks like and then try. A memo sure is brief but this was..'

'Too brief?' I completed his sentence sheepishly. He nodded.

Embarrassed at my over confidence I got back into my seat and Googled 'memo'. After a while I sent him a longer, more elaborate one.

So this memo-rable experience (pun intended of course!) right at the start of my internship taught me how a memo is to be written, what its format is and how long it should be. Who said there's no learning at internships?