আমার এই পথ চলাতেই আনন্দ

কিছুদিন আগে আমার এক রসিক বন্ধু ভবিষ্যদ্বাণী করেছে, “তোমার বিয়ের সময় তুমি বরযাত্রীদের নিজেই রাইড দিয়ে নিয়ে যাবে। মাঝে মাঝে হাইওয়েতে এক-একটা এক্সিট দেখিয়ে র‍্যানডম ক্যুইজ করবে, ‘বলুন তো, এই এক্সিটটা কোথায় গেছে?’ যখন কেউ কিছু বলতে পারবে না, তুমি বলবে, ‘আরে ভাবুন ভাবুন, কমন সেন্স অ্যাপ্লাই করুন। আর একান্তই বলতে না পারলে চলুন গিয়েই দেখা যাক এই এক্সিটটা কোথায় গেছে। আমি সেদিন এইভাবেই একটা এক্সিট ধরে টু পয়েন্ট থ্রি থ্রি মাইল গিয়ে একটা স্টেট পার্ক খুঁজে পেয়েছিলাম।’ ”

গাড়ি হাঁকিয়ে নতুন নতুন জায়গায় যাওয়া আর রাস্তাঘাট মুখস্ত করে ফেলা আমার একটা অদ্ভুত শখ। এখন করোনার দাপটে এখানে ‘স্টে ইন শেল্টার’ চলছে। জরুরি প্রয়োজন ছাড়া বাইরে বেরোনো বারণ। গাড়ি চালিয়ে যাওয়া বলতে শুধু গ্রোসারি, সেটাও বড়জোর সপ্তাহে একবার। আবার যে কবে লং ড্রাইভে যেতে পারব, কে জানে! অ্যাপার্টমেন্টের চার দেওয়ালের গন্ডীর মধ্যে বসে থেকে মনটা নিমেষে চলে যায় ছোটবেলায়। জীবনের প্রথম নয় বছর যে বাড়িতে কাটিয়েছি, সে বাড়ি থেকে এক মিনিটের হাঁটায় যশোহর রোড। সকাল থেকে রাত যে কোন সময় বাসস্টপে গিয়ে দাঁড়ালেই শোনা যেত বাসওয়ালাদের হাঁক -

“সীট খালি সীট খালি বেলেঘাটা শিয়ালদা মৌলালি ধর্মতলা সীট খালি”

“হাওড়া হাওড়া খান্না মানিকতলা বাগুইআটি কেষ্টপুর লেকটাউন উল্টোডাঙা গিরিশপার্ক বড়বাজার হাওড়া হাওড়া হাওড়া”

“জাগুলি জাগুলি গাদামারা ময়না আমডাঙা কামদেবপুর আবালসিদ্ধি জাগুলি”

“দক্ষিণেশ্বর দক্ষিণেশ্বর নাগেরবাজার দমদম সিঁথিরমোড় বরানগর ডানলপ দক্ষিণেশ্বর”  

ঘোরার পোকাটা মাথায় ছোট থেকেই নড়ত। ইচ্ছে হত বাড়ির কাছের বাসস্টপে যতগুলো রুটের বাস থামে, স-ব রুটে ঘুরে ঘুরে জায়গাগুলো আর রাস্তাগুলো চিনে আসি। বয়স কম, একা তো যেতে পারব না, কাউকে সঙ্গে যেতে হবে। কিন্তু অন্য কাউকে বলতে ঠিক ভরসা হত না। এরকম আজগুবি শখ কারো আবার হয় নাকি! আর বাসের অত ভাড়াই বা দেবে কে! তাই ছোটবেলায় ওইভাবে ঘোরাটা আর হয়নি।

বি টেক করছি। থার্ড ইয়ার থেকে ফোর্থ ইয়ারে উঠব। ইন্টার্নশিপ করতে গিয়েছিলাম ব্যাঙ্গালোর। ওখানকার বাসে ডে-পাস বলে একটা ব্যাপার আছে। সেটা দু’হাজার দশ সাল। তখন নন-এসি বাসে কুড়ি টাকা আর এসি ভলভো বাসে পঞ্চান্ন টাকায় ডে-পাস পাওয়া যেত। মানে একবার পাস কিনলে ওটা নিয়েই সারা দিন যত খুশি ঘোরা যায়। দ্বিতীয়বার আর টিকিট কাটার দরকার নেই। এক শুক্রবার হল কি, সন্ধ্যেয় অফিস থেকে বাড়ি ফিরে ব্যাগটা রেখেই বেরিয়ে গেলাম। যাব কোথায়?  অনেক বাসে দেখেছি ইলেকট্রনিক ডিসপ্লে বোর্ডে লেখা থাকে হয় ‘বনশঙ্করী’ নাহলে ‘কে বি এস’। ‘কে বি এস’ অর্থাৎ ‘কেম্পেগৌড়া বাস স্টেশন’ এর সাথে অনেকে আবার জুড়ে দেয় ‘ম্যাজেস্টিক’। ‘বনশঙ্করী’ আর ‘ম্যাজেস্টিক’ – এই দুটো জায়গা চিনে আসতে হবে। রাতে বাড়ি ঢুকতেই রুমমেটদের একজন জিজ্ঞেস করল, “অফিস থেকে ফিরেই দুম করে বেরিয়ে গেলি, কোথায় গিয়েছিলি?” সোৎসাহে বলে উঠলাম, “জানিস জানিস, বাসে বাসে করে ঘুরলাম। একটা বাসে এখান থেকে বনশঙ্করী, আরেকটা বাসে বনশঙ্করী থেকে ম্যাজেস্টিক, আবার আরেকটা বাসে ম্যাজেস্টিক থেকে এখানে। জানিস একটা পয়সাও এক্সট্রা লাগেনি। ডে-পাসেই হয়ে গেল।” সে বেচারা বুঝতে পারল না কি বলবে। হয়ত আশা করে ছিল শুনবে কারো সাথে ডেট এ গিয়েছিলাম, তার বদলে এ কী শুনল! পরের দিন সকালে ঘুম ভাঙতে ভাঙতে শুনলাম সেই ছেলেটা বাকি রুমমেটদের গল্পটা বলছে। বাকিরাও বুঝতে পারছে না হাসবে না কাঁদবে।

জায়গা চেনা আর রাস্তা চেনার এই নেশা সাত সমুদ্র তেরো নদীর ওপারে এসেও যায়নি। বরং বেড়ে গেছে আরো। টেক্সাস এ-এন্ড-এম এ প্রথম সেমেস্টারের ফাইনাল পরীক্ষা যেদিন শেষ হল, সেদিন আবার বাড়ি এসে ব্যাগ রেখেই বেরিয়ে গিয়েছিলাম। ক্যাম্পাসে যতগুলো বাসরুট আছে, সবগুলোয় চড়ে দেখতে হবে কোন বাস কোথায় যায় আর কোথায় কোথায় থামে। অনলাইনে ম্যাপে সেটা দেওয়া থাকে ঠিকই, কিন্তু থিওরি আর প্র্যাকটিক্যালের মধ্যে একটা তফাৎ আছে। নিজে না গেলে শুধু ম্যাপ দেখে মনে রাখা যায় না। সেদিনটা ভালই যাচ্ছিল, কিন্তু একবার একটা বাসের লাস্ট স্টপে না নেমে বসে ছিলাম ওই বাসেই ফিরব বলে। বাকি যাত্রীরা তার আগের স্টপে নেমে গিয়েছিল, তাই বাসে অন্য কোন যাত্রী ছিল না। ড্রাইভার জিজ্ঞেস করল, “এটাই লাস্ট স্টপ। তুমি শিওর এখানে নামবে না?” ভয়ে শুকিয়ে গিয়েছিলাম। সত্যিটা যে ভয়েই বলতে পারব না। কি বলব! ড্রাইভার কি ভাবছে! কোনমতে ‘ও সরি, আমি খেয়াল করি নি’ বলে নেমে গিয়েছিলাম। পরের বাসে ফিরেছিলাম। তারপর এরকমভাবে বাসে করে আর কখনও ঘুরিনি। হেঁটেই ঘুরতাম।

ঘুরতে যাওয়ার জন্য পা বাড়িয়ে আছি; যে শহরে থাকি সেখানে পাবলিক ট্রান্সপোর্ট একরকম নেই বললেই চলে, অথচ গাড়ি চালানো শিখতে প্রচন্ড ভয়। ছোটবেলায় বাসে উঠে সুযোগ হলেই ড্রাইভারের পাশে বসতাম। লক্ষ্য করতাম কিভাবে স্টিয়ারিং ঘোরাচ্ছে। ফার্স্ট-সেকেন্ড-থার্ড-ফোর্থ-রিভার্স কখন কোন গিয়ার দিচ্ছে। গিয়ার বদলানো, অ্যাক্সিরালেটর বা ব্রেকে চাপ দেওয়া, কখন কিরকম শব্দ হয় – তার নকল করেছি বহু বছর। কিন্তু খেলাচ্ছলে চালানো আর সত্যি সত্যি চালানোর মধ্যে বিরাট তফাৎ। গাড়ি চালানো শিখতে গিয়ে জানলাম স্টিয়ারিং এ হাত দেওয়ার আগে নিয়মকানুন শিখে লার্নার্স পারমিট পেতে হবে। প্রথম যখন দেখলাম এত গাদাগুচ্ছ নিয়ম মুখস্ত রাখতে হবে, মনে হয়েছিল আমার দ্বারা হবে না। একটার পর একটা মডিউল আসত নিয়মকানুনের, আর ভাবতাম মানুষ এত কি করে মনে রাখে। খাতায় নোটস বানিয়ে, ডায়াগ্রাম এঁকে, বারবার করে আউড়ে – কিছুতেই কিছু হত না। পরের দিন দেখতাম সব ভুলে গেছি। এভাবে দু’বছর চলেছে। দু’বছর? হ্যাঁ, দু’বছর।

প্রথম যেদিন ‘হাতে স্টিয়ারিং’ হ’ল, মনে হচ্ছিল এই বুঝি নার্ভাস ব্রেকডাউন হ’ল বলে। পার্কিং লটে দু’ঘণ্টা শুধু গাড়ি ডানদিকে কিভাবে ঘোরায় তাই প্র্যাকটিস করেছি, কিন্তু প্রতিবারই মনে হয়েছে কিছু না কিছু ভুল হল। কয়েকদিন পর যখন পার্কিং লটে প্র্যাকটিস করতে গেছি বাঁদিকে কিভাবে ঘোরায়, তখন মনে হচ্ছিল ডানদিকে ঘোরানোটা তাও যা পারছিলাম, এটা তো আরোই পারছি না। এরকমভাবে কয়েকমাস চলেছে। যে-ই শেখাচ্ছে, তার-ই প্রাণ ওষ্ঠাগত। খুব প্রিয় একজন মানুষ মজা করে বলেছেন, “যেদিন গাড়ি নিয়ে রাস্তায় বেরোবে, বেরোনোর আগে আমাকে মেসেজ করে দেবে। সেদিন আমি আর বেরোব না।” নিজের গাড়ি বাড়ি নিয়ে এসেছি কোন এক মঙ্গলবার, কিন্তু শনিবারের আগে চালাতে বেরোইনি ভয়ে। যদি কিছু হয়ে যায়। তার কয়েক সপ্তাহ পরের কথা। তখন শহরের রাস্তায় মোটামুটি পারছি, কিন্তু হাইওয়েতে কখনও উঠিনি। একবার একজনের বাড়ি যাচ্ছিলাম কিছু বই আনতে। হাইওয়ে দিয়ে কয়েক মাইল যেতে হত। ভয়ে হাইওয়েতে উঠিইনি। হাইওয়ের পাশের রাস্তা, যেটাকে আমেরিকায় ফ্রন্টেজ রোড বলে, সেটা দিয়েই গেছি এসেছি। কিন্তু বাড়ি ফেরার পর একটা অদ্ভুত ব্যাপার হল। মনে হল, হাইওয়েতে ওঠাটা একটা চ্যালেঞ্জ। এই চ্যালেঞ্জটা আমি নিতে পারব না? একবার চেষ্টা করে দেখি না। প্রথমবার হাইওয়েতে উঠলাম, গেলাম পাঁচ মাইল, ফিরলাম পাঁচ মাইল। ঘণ্টায় সত্তর মাইলে মানুষ চালাচ্ছে কি করে! আমার তো স্পিড ষাটের উপর উঠলেই বুক ধড়ফড় করে উঠছে। আবার মনে হল, আরেকবার যাই। একটু দম নিয়ে আবার গেলাম। সেদিন এইভাবে তিনবার যাওয়া আসা করেছি হাইওয়েতে। তৃতীয়বার মনে হল, নাহ এইবার আর আগের মত দম আটকে আসছে না। বুঝলাম, বার বার প্র্যাকটিস করতে থাকলে গাড়ি চালানো জিনিসটা আস্তে আস্তে সহজ হয়ে আসে।

শুরু হ’ল প্র্যাকটিস। একটা সময় এল, যখন ম্যাপ দেখে ভেবে নিতাম আজ এই রুটটায় যাব। সেই রুটটায় ঘুরে আসতাম। পরের বার ভাবতাম, আগেরদিন এই এক্সিটটা নিয়ে বাঁদিকে চলে গিয়েছিলাম। বাঁদিকে না গিয়ে ডানদিকে যদি যেতাম, তাহলে কোথায় পৌঁছতাম? বা যদি সোজাই চলে যেতাম, তাহলেই বা কোথায় যেতাম? কখনও বাড়ি থেকে বেরোনোর আগে ম্যাপে দেখে নিয়ে, কখনও আবার না দেখেই বেরিয়ে যেতাম। কতবার এরকম হয়েছে যে হয় ম্যাপ দেখে না হয় রাস্তার ধারে সাইনবোর্ডগুলো দেখে অবাক হয়ে ভেবেছি, “ও তাই! এই রাস্তাটা অমুক জায়গায় গেছে! গিয়ে দেখি তো!” এইভাবেই চলে গেছি লেক সমারভিল, লেক কনরো, স্যাম হিউস্টন ন্যাশনাল ফরেস্ট, ডেভি ক্রকেট ন্যাশনাল ফরেস্ট। হিউস্টন-অস্টিন-স্যান অ্যান্টোনিওর মত বড় শহরের পাশাপাশি চলে গেছি ছোটবেলার আমডাঙা-কামদেবপুর-নাগেরবাজার-বাগুইআটির মত রোনস প্রেইরি, হান্টসভিল, ম্যাডিসনভিল, সেন্টারভিল, মার্লিন, ওয়েকো, ইন্ডিপেন্ডেন্স, ব্রেনহ্যাম, বেলভিল, সিলি, লা গ্র্যঞ্জ, গিডিংস, রকডেল, টেইলর, ফ্রাঙ্কলিনের মত ছোট-মাঝারি অনেক শহরে। দূরপাল্লার রোড ট্রিপে গেছি – কখনও তিন জন, কখনও চার জন, কখনও পনেরো জন, আবার কখনও একা। যে স্টিয়ারিং এ হাত দিতে একদিন ভয়ে বুক কেঁপে যেত, আজ সেই স্টিয়ারিং এ মাঝে মাঝে বসতে না পারলে কেমন খালি খালি লাগে।  

ভবিষ্যতে যদি সময়-সুযোগ হয়, স্টিয়ারিং এ বসে ঘুরতে চাই বোস্টন থেকে স্যান ফ্রান্সিসকো, ভ্যানকুভার থেকে টোরন্টো, কায়রো থেকে কেপটাউন, পার্থ থেকে সিডনি, মস্কো থেকে সাইবেরিয়া, আর অতি অবশ্যই কাশ্মীর থেকে কন্যাকুমারী, গুজরাট থেকে অরুণাচল। এই মুহূর্তে হয়ত পাগলের প্রলাপের মত শোনাচ্ছে। তা শোনাক। স্বপ্ন যতক্ষণ স্বপ্ন থাকে, বাস্তবে পরিণত না হয়, ততক্ষণ ওরকমই শোনায়। একদিন হয়ত এরকমই কোন একটা হাইওয়েতে ঘুরতে ঘুরতে পাশের সীটের সহযাত্রীকে জিজ্ঞেস করব, “বলুন তো, এই এক্সিটটা কোথায় গেছে?”   

আপাততঃ পৃথিবী করোনামুক্ত হোক। সবাই ভাল থাকবেন। সাবধানে থাকবেন।

Introduction to Teaching

         The golden moments of the first seven years of my life still live in the album “Aamaar Shoishob” (My Childhood). Thanks to my mom’s meticulous work, I have the privilege to open the album and look back on my childhood whenever I wish. On one of its pages there is a question: “What did my elders say I would be when I grow up?” Mom left it blank. Perhaps it bothered me as a kid. One day in her absence I wrote an answer myself. The answer was ‘master’. I guess that I was about five years old at that time. ‘Master’ was the best word I could come up with to describe a teacher. I did not ask anyone. No one suggested either. Anyway, the answer got written, and it never changed. To become a teacher has always been my dream.

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          It was around the time I got introduced to the compound letters of the Bengali script when my dad brought home a blackboard. I saw my primary teachers writing on blackboards; I tried to do it myself. I quickly realized that the good old slate-pencils do not work on a blackboard. Dad got me a box of chalks. I started writing letters and words, and reading them aloud to the empty room – just the way my teacher would do to a full class. It was a unique experience. I felt energized, delighted and a lot lighter inside. What surprised me was that I was able to comprehend and retain a lot more than how much I usually could without having anyone by my side.

This was the very first time I acted as a teacher. It was great fun. I wanted the fun to continue. I had no clue back then that two decades later the fun would turn into something very special. This Spring I got an offer to teach an undergrad Flight Mechanics class. My section would be a small one with nine students, which is a good size to begin with. As a Graduate Teaching Fellow, I would be the instructor of record and responsible for all the lectures, homework assignments, quizzes, final exam and the letter grades. This would be completely real. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster as the first day of class got closer. As I met my advisor the day before, he said, “Dipanjan, tomorrow’s your Big Day!”

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During school days, one of my favorite topics to write an essay on was ‘Your Aim in Life’. I used to write that a life without a goal is like a boat without a sailor, and that my goal is to become a great teacher. As I grew older, acting as a teacher in front of an imaginary class became one of my favorite hobbies. When we stumbled to recall our Biology lessons, our favorite Biology teacher used to say, “Simply reading isn’t good enough; you need to ponder over what you’ve read.” I figured out that switching to the teacher mode automatically gave me the scope to ponder. The mock-teaching greatly boosted clarity and confidence. The excitement was overwhelming till I realized one day that I needed to control my voice. One day our ex-neighbor said to my mom, “I heard him. I thought he must be tutoring someone. Then I saw through the window. There was no one else. He just kept talking with animated gestures!” I understood that they were concerned, but I was too crazy to stop.

My life at IIT brought me one step closer towards my dream. My friends recognized my aptitude and asked me to tutor them on many occasions. I could not help feeling enormous joy and satisfaction at every such opportunity. It was through these sessions I began to experience what it takes to teach well. In addition, I taught high school students as a National Service Scheme volunteer for a year. Towards the end I got the chance to work as a teaching assistant. By the time I came to grad school I became confident in my potential to teach well. Grad school gave me the platform to learn the essentials of effective college teaching and practice the same. According to my advisor’s plan, I took the Flight Mechanics class from him last Spring and worked as the teaching assistant last Fall, and thus had a full year to master the subject material. All these prepared me for the Big Day.

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The night before the Big Day I sent out my very first email to the class. I introduced myself and told my students to relax and sleep well before they would show up at 8 o’clock the next morning. In hindsight it was in fact what I needed for myself to calm down. I scheduled the activities in the first class in my head, but it turned out that I had underestimated the time. It took me a week to realize that 50 minutes, which at times seemed never-ending as a student, fly at the speed of light when I am the teacher. I learnt that there is only so much material I can go over in one class. I also learnt how to assess students while helping them develop a better understanding of the material. I cherished the freedom of teaching in my very own style. I tried to encourage my students to think critically and ask questions. I enjoyed keeping the class as interactive and conceptually rich as possible.

I could never imagine how long and intense the behind-the-scenes work could be for a teacher. It required me to focus on the course, think through and research all the topics I felt difficult as a student, and stay away gracefully from all possible distractions. It was hard. However, when the early student evaluations came in March, I knew that I was doing a good job, and that students were enjoying my class. I raised the bar quite high. The rest of the semester was all about doing what it takes to live up to the expectations of my own, my advisor and my students. The semester ended on a high note. The class size will increase from nine this Spring to about seventy the coming Fall. Let us see how it goes. I am all set for the challenge.

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        One of the major takeaways I had from the training on teaching is to never leave students without telling them three major takeaways from the day’s class. Readers, before I let you go today, I want to share with you three very important things I have learnt during my journey – a tiny glimpse of which you just saw.

One. Follow your passion. Nurture it. Let it grow big. It is a process full of bliss that someday will serve the world. It is the direction in which you take constant baby steps no matter how hard life gets. It is your own story to inspire millions of people. Circumstances that overwhelm you appear just to add colors to your story. What if you do not know your passion yet? Keep exploring. It will just occur to you.

Two. Never stop learning. Muster the courage to step up and start doing the hard job that you once thought you could never do. Do not worry about making mistakes. Your mistakes are your biggest teachers. I had a Math teacher who during our first meeting said, “Look, I don’t teach Math. Students can learn Math just by studying the examples in the book. All I do is to open their eyes.” For the next year and a half I saw him constantly pushing us to work out problems that we thought were beyond our reach. He showed us how they could be within our reach should we be willing to go the extra mile. This is how we become wiser in every sphere of life.

Three. Everyone is a teacher. To become a good teacher you do not need a degree. All you need is a strong desire and determination to make a difference in the lives of your fellow humans. You teach by the way you carry yourself, the way you nurture relationships, the way you set and respect healthy boundaries, the way you share and execute ideas. You teach all the time through your actions. "Actions speak louder than words".

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The success of a teacher lies in the success of their students. I hope that listening to my story has enriched your reservoir of positive energy to keep going. That's all I had for today. Thank you, love and good luck! :)

Grad Life: Halfway Through

Kharagpur, April 2011 …

The summer that would soon start challenging me with the uncertain was knocking at the door. I was writing an end-semester examination – the fourth of a series of five. It started at 2:00 in the afternoon and was to continue till 5:00. The enthusiastic invigilator took it upon himself to update us on time every half an hour. At one point, he said, “Three-thirty. Halfway through.”

A shiver ran down my spine the moment I heard ‘halfway through’. I paused for a minute to reflect on my progress. There were five questions – all of equal credit – and I was still working on the second one. I knew that I had to speed up before it could get too late. I knew that the next to attempt would be a ‘power-play’ question to make up for some lost time and confidence. I learnt from what went unexpected in the first half and revised what to expect of myself in the second. I followed through. It worked. 

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One of my Mathematics teachers known for his grueling tests used to say, “From every examination you gather some experience”.  As I stepped forward in the exciting journey of life, the ‘halfway’ moment of April 2011 gradually revealed a bigger picture. Every situation catching us off guard is an examination. They occur to enrich our experience. The process of enrichment has – very similar to what in engineering is called a transient – a period during which we are shaken inside. We respond by being tense, clumsy, scared, resistant, oblivious, or something else. Our initial response is often subconscious. It depends on who we are inside by virtue of our genes, nourishment and past exposures. Eventually there comes a time when we rise to consciousness. We get to realize how to ‘take it from here’. We start to appreciate that it is just another stepping stone in our path of eternal growth. This is what I call the halfway point. Two and a half years into grad life, I feel that I am hovering somewhere around the halfway point now. The future might – and probably will – prove me wrong; I will gladly accept it. Today I am going to share with you a few of the many experiences during my grad life that have brought me closer to the halfway point.

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         During my initial days at College Station, the friend circle I was part of loved to discuss politics. This was reinforced by the upcoming Indian general election of 2014. In the past, all I could think of politics was something very naive I had heard from people around like “They played politics to get this particular person selected / eliminated”. I absolutely hated this idea, so I used to stay away from any discussion on politics. However, this circle used to discuss whether a particular policy of a leader was good or bad, whether a person should be elected given all their records, and so on. At times of course they used to get too attached to, verbose and carried away with their ideas, but they did get to enjoy the discussions nonetheless.

One day I got confronted by one of them on my lack of participation.

“Look, these stuff do not come to me at all”, I was honest, “I need to learn these from scratch and prepare to be able to participate”.

“Man, you have to know what’s happening to our country”, he said, “It’ll affect all of us. Besides, we’re not experts either. Does that mean we’d never discuss?”

After days of thinking to myself and thanks to a senior for suggestions, I watched all the episodes of the show ‘Pradhanmantri’ (The Prime Minister) that covers the political history of India since independence. I began to realize how difficult it is to make decisions that are going to influence billions of people. I began to appreciate how complex the human dynamics is. I began to respect the people who tried their best to make it work. I began to understand that history is written or narrated from a particular perspective, and that the same incidence is going to be perceived, interpreted and described differently by two different people. I stepped out of my comfort zone. I understood how difficult yet essential it is in life.

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           My roommate Atanu, our very good friend Niladri and I were enjoying a delicious dinner at a seafood restaurant not very long ago. At one point Atanu said, “Guys, I’ve a question. We’ve been through school life, undergrad life and grad life. Which one would you enjoy the most?”

            “Me? Grad life!” I said instantly. Atanu asked why.

         “Well, the other two were not bad, but this one’s been different. I’ve been growing as a person like I never did. What about you?”

           “For me it’s school life, man! Those were golden days. I miss them like anything. They’ll never come back!” Niladri agreed as well. They went down the memory lane.

  For a moment some memories of school life came to my mind. They are no doubt special, but I feel better, freer and more excited about life now. I gave them the genuine answer. I smiled.

           Had this conversation taken place a few years ago, I would have felt awkward for differing from them. I would have been honest anyway, but afraid of being judged as the ‘odd one out’. If I have to thank grad life for one reason other than advancing my academic career, it is that grad life has taught me to accept myself just the way I am. I wondered for months what is wrong with me that makes me feel isolated in a group. I have got a simple answer: nothing.

  I am a complete person on my own. My perspectives count. My feelings matter. My concerns are real. My tastes and quirks make me the person that I am. I am free to enjoy my own company. I am free to exercise my own choices as long as I take full responsibility for every single one of them. My self-worth comes from within. It does not depend on how a person treats me. That I do not get along with someone or that someone does not like me does not mean that I am a bad person. With this esteemed sense of self comes the drive to take the uphill road of constant self-improvement. We are all good, but we can always get better. I believe that we must all keep coming up with better versions of ourselves in order to work towards a better world. I have been working on watching my thoughts when alone and my words when with people.

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         As we honor ourselves and step out of our comfort zones, we start respecting and appreciating every fellow human being at a unique stage of a unique journey of life. Every brain is wired uniquely. Every heart responds to unique sensations. One person can easily see what another cannot. A third person can easily do what the first two cannot. Our skills are honed by where we wanted to go, what we have been through and how much we have learnt. No one is superior; no one is inferior; we are just different. The world needs the wholehearted service of every single one of us to the best of our abilities.

Grad life has been changing me in ways I could never have imagined. 

Thank you, grad life!

Happy Birthday to me! J

The Cultural Lens: A Storytelling Seminar

“We’re a group of masters and PhDs here – all educated people. We think we just know it. Often, we really don’t!”

Last evening I went to a seminar on College Teaching. The seminar was intended to address the nuances of teaching a culturally diverse population. Dr. Marisa Suhm, the Assistant Director of the Department of Multicultural Services at Texas A&M, was the speaker. As she began, she said that she would base her talk mostly on stories. Looking back now, I find a few of her stories simply unforgettable. Readers, I want to share them with you today. As you read them, I want you to think how our brain can make conclusions which are not just wrong, but horribly wrong, and how much we need to re-wire the brain when exposed to different cultures.

 “My first overseas assignment,” Dr. Suhm said, “was to teach English Literature to a group of students in Micronesia. In case you’re wondering where Micronesia is, it’s a group of Pacific islands, to the north of Australia. It’s so far that if you go any farther, you are essentially coming back!

So, the first piece of literature I taught was Shakespeare’s Hamlet. If you recall, Hamlet’s studying when he receives the news of his father’s death. As he comes back, he sees a marriage ceremony going on – his mother marrying his uncle. He’s shocked! Is this real? Why’s his mother not mourning her husband’s death? How come they’re celebrating? How come she’s marrying her brother-in-law?

I got up to this point, and said to the class, “Everyone with me?” They eyed the ceiling as their eyeballs rolled sideways.
         “Does anyone have questions?” I gestured with my hand to tell them to raise theirs, should they have questions. A pin-drop silence followed. I had never seen this in US. Had it been the law school in US, students should have been yelling by now!

I thought I’d give it another try with a different teaching method. In the next lecture, I enacted the scene – with all sorts of drama – instead of just narrating it.

“Everyone with me?” Once again, all the eyeballs rolled.

“Questions? Please raise your hand!” I saw the silence repeating itself.

Frustrated, I saw the dean. What he said made me stunned. In that island, people look up and roll their eyeballs to say ‘yes’. Raising the hand is considered rude. Further, as there are frequent wars between the communities, when a woman’s husband dies, she is married off to the second brother for protection. So, while I was asking those big questions that Hamlet had, the students must have been thinking, “What’s the big deal? Why’s she so vocal about it?” Guess what could have happened had I not gone to the dean on time! The students would see him after a few days and say, “What the hell, she’s teaching the same Hamlet all semester!” My eyes opened that day!” Dr. Suhm moved on to the next slide.

A little later, we were asked to observe a role-play. It was about a man and a woman entering a dining hall and eating together. The man entered with the shoes on, the chin up, keeping a straight posture, eyeing the surroundings. The woman stayed a couple of steps behind, walking barefooted, looking down. There were two chairs; the man sat with his back against one and his feet on the other. The woman sat on the floor. She then stood up, took a bottle of drink, filled two glasses, and gave one glass to the man. He drank a little and made a gesture by hand, at which she started drinking. She stood up again, took a bowl of food, filled two plates, and gave him one. He ate a little and gestured at her to start eating. All the while, the man never removed his shoes or left any of the chairs, and the woman sat on the floor.

As the play ended, Dr. Suhm asked us a few questions to make sure that the observations were the same for all of us. She then told us to brainstorm the kind of culture that the actors represented. The attributes we came up with were unequal, patriarchal, male-dominated, chauvinistic, and some more. We all agreed that, in that culture, women are treated as inferior and servants. They have to walk without shoes and behind men, sit below men, serve men, and are not allowed eat or drink without men’s approval. Men, on the other hand, are leaders, have all the rights, and have things done for them by women.

“So, ladies here, would you like to be part of such culture?”

“NO! We want to be treated as equals. We want to be able to exercise our own freedom and make our own choices.” This was the overall response from women.

“Gentlemen, please be honest; would you like to be part of such culture?”

A guy said ‘no’ instantly. When asked why, he said that there’s no challenge for men, for everything is done for them anyway.

“Well, we all can have our own interpretations”, Dr. Suhm continued, “but here’s the true story. In this culture, people worship earth as God. Women are powerful enough to touch God; men are not. Women are powerful enough to look at God; men are not. So the woman can walk barefooted and look at the floor, but the man must have his shoes on and chin up, so he does not see the floor. While eating, the man cannot let his dirty body parts – butt and feet – touch the ground, so he must have them on chairs. The woman need not do so, so she can sit on the floor. Because of frequent wars, the man’s job is to protect the woman. This is why he leads her and scans the surroundings for potential intruders. She offers him drink and food to examine if there’s poison; then only she eats. You see, all our conclusions are wrong!”

We all were speechless.

“We’re a group of masters and PhDs here – all educated people. We think we just know it. Often, we really don’t!” She said, “This was an example made to trick your brain. Without being conscious, we see things through our own cultural lens or cultural filter. We try to make sense of events as if they were part of our culture. The reality might be something beyond our imagination. Remember this when you teach students belonging to different cultures. Make no assumptions!”

Grad Life Begins: Part Two - Life after One and a Quarter Years

Welcome back, friends! I am going to continue, at last, having spent fifteen months of grad life, and awaiting no less than another fifty or so! As the bone-chilling winter is all set to grace College Station, with longer nights ruling over shorter days and the lazy clock no more interested in going fast by an hour, it feels just too mundane to step in sync with the usual flood of work. How about taking an unscheduled break, wondering what all happened since my arrival here last Fall, and trying a little to connect the dots?

How would I describe my journey so far in one word? Exciting, I would probably say, before my habit of getting terribly precise would step in and add – "well, on an average!" Yes, there have been moments of anxiety, of frustration, of sadness – in essence, of not so fun – leaving me exhausted, and they are, as for every other human being, only a few of the many that are going to show up in the coming years. However, these moments, in course of time, have turned into elements of excitement, as they have made me not only learn some invaluable lessons the hard way, but also appreciate and cherish the moments of real fun as golden memories.  

Having decided to switch my major of study, it was a lot of struggle clearing the courses required to take for the qualifier, and subsequently the qualifier itself. It felt anything but nice when almost everyone was enjoying the Thanksgiving holidays, while I was chasing a take-home Dynamics test like ‘now or never’, as I had screwed up the previous homework and the previous test. It was tough to self-teach the required undergraduate materials for all the three papers I had for the qualifier. However, once I cleared all three in the first attempt, it gave me enormous confidence to move ahead. It started as a nightmare working in a research group where everyone else is an American, all speaking in chaste American accents – with me having never tried to follow an English movie without a subtitle. It was painful to miss a joke everyone else would laugh at, or an important point in a discussion, and to fumble often while voicing ideas. All eased with time. Eased similarly the problem of explaining at restaurants what exactly I want to eat! My roommates had a very hard time teaching me how to cook, but it paid off after a while. Most importantly, I 'think' I have by now learnt the importance of time management, as I still stumble to finish assignments, workouts, household chores, even getting ready for work on time – on a more or less consistent basis!

However, it will be unfair not to mention the few but very pleasant moments I have had in the last fifteen months. It feels amazing to walk from my apartment to the gym, particularly before the sun comes out, when the cadets march down the empty roads and silence the silence with their chorus singing. It feels special to watch the eastern horizon a little faded, while the western still dark, and while returning, the first sunshine of the day blessing the earth. It feels wonderful roaming around the vast campus and breathe amidst its quietness. When I get tired working in the office, I stand by the window to watch the scattered clouds above, the tall buildings nearby, and the groups of young Aggies walking and biking on the streets. I love teaching, and it has been a special experience mentoring the would-be teaching assistants. College Station, despite being a small town, has a number of restaurants, and this is nothing but a blessing for a voracious eater like me. It is great fun when my advisor tries to learn a few Hindi words and Indian traits from me, or teaches me how to put my serious self away for a while to enjoy colloquial moments. It fills my heart with great joy when my near and dear ones back home love it when I call them, and when I cannot resist the urge to call my old buddies to get to know how they are doing. It is greatly satisfying to learn how I can use my introversion to make everyone enjoy in social gatherings, how to treat people with compassion as everyone is struggling in life in one form or the other, how to develop new hobbies, and, above all, how to keep going amidst all hardships in life.

Grad life, as I have seen it so far, is all about learning, reminding us every now and then that learning has no end. In one of the orientations, a speaker said, “When in grad school, you are not the smartest person out there; can your ego handle that? Think!” There are situations – may be academic, personal or social – that require us to go beyond our comfort zones, sometimes to respond, trusting only gut instincts. We begin – exploring ourselves, accepting and respecting people for who they are, and most importantly, finding the purpose of life. 

Grad Life Begins: Part One - Journey to the United States

            As a delightful evening sun was all set to make its way into the horizon, it was time for me to say goodbye to everyone who came to see me off at the Kolkata airport and make my way to the long flight via Dubai to Houston. The previous few days, earmarked by stuffing the travel bags as fully as possible without violating the airline restrictions and all my near and dear ones making it a point to visit our home, had been full of intellectual and emotional ups and downs. Everyone else were excited that I would be studying abroad and sad that they would not see me for long, and I was no exception. Finally the day arrived, and as the airport became visible from our car, the same unique combination of excitement and sadness made me quiet while the others were trying hard to rejoice. The last minute surprise came when we were waiting at the terminal for the check-in to begin, as my maternal aunt, leaving aside all her work, came down to see me one last time in possibly more than a year. “Do not prove blind those who love you blindly”, murmured I to myself, thanks to Facebook, and entered the terminal, as the blind lovers continued to wave their hands at me.

            Left alone after weeks and being about to board a flight after three years, it was my nervousness at its peak as I approached the Emirates counter. “God, please do not raise the alarm at the scanner”, I was praying while standing in the luggage scanning queue, despite knowing very well what all were in. Then, I was about to leave the Emirates’ counter as soon as I handed over my checked bags, when the guy at the counter reminded me that I had forgotten completely to collect the boarding pass! “It’s no big deal; take it easy man”, I whispered, took a deep breath, sat down comfortably on a chair and took longer than usual to fill out the immigration form that came along with the boarding pass, only to shiver once again at the security counter when the officer said, “Bhaiya, itne bhaag ke kahan jaa rahe hain aap?” (“Where are you rushing to, brother?”), as he stamped the ‘hard-earned’ boarding pass. Finally I was into the boarding area, and the very first place I looked for was the restroom! When I went out after sprinkling cups of water on my face, which at that point of time gave me the feeling of bathing at the holy Ganges, it was still an hour to go before we could board our flight to Dubai. I found it very hard to sit quietly, so I went to the glass-windows to watch the ‘parking’ of one gigantic aircraft which would later fly with all of us inside. With a childlike excitement, I called one of my best buddies, who unfortunately works in Bangalore and has matured too much by witnessing many such ‘flight parking’s. At last it was the time for us step into the giant’s stomach, and we were welcomed with a glass of lemon juice. I continued gazing through the window as my very dear Indian soil disappeared among the clouds.

            “Hi, where are you travelling to?” asked a middle-aged lady sitting next to me.

            “From Dubai to Houston, then to College Station.”

            “Hey, even I’m going to Houston – I live there. Are you from Kolkata?”

            “Yes.”

            “Oh you see, my mother who is in Kolkata has undergone a surgery, so I had to stay with her for about a month.”

            “Okay.”

            “So, are you going to work or to school?”

            “I’m joining Texas A&M this Fall semester”.

         “Oh great! That’s a very good school. I’m an assistant professor at so-and-so university at Houston.” (I forgot the name of the school by this time!)

            An aspiring professor myself, I felt good to be seated next to a professor in my first journey abroad. We continued chatting till dinner was served, and I once again spilt soup on my pants while trying to keep a larger tray on a smaller extension from the back of the seat in my front row, and she asked me to be a little careful being a first timer in an international flight. Then, as the lights were dimmed, the frequent flyers soon fell asleep, and a few started watching movies. I was looking constantly at the map displayed on my front-screen, showing the major cities being crossed. After Thane, our plane went in tangent to the southern edge of Kathiawad instead of turning towards Mumbai, and very soon we were flying at over 900 km/h above the Arabian Sea. The instruction to fasten seatbelts came after another couple of hours or so, while we were above the Gulf of Oman, and I kept watching as the giant performed a few scintillating rolls before landing in the midnight at Dubai.

            We were brought to the terminal by a red-colored bus (I have a fascination for red-colored buses and trains, don’t know why!) that has sliding doors on the right side, and it was the first time I saw vehicles keeping to their right. There was an announcement in the bus, asking the passengers going outside the airport to take left upon alighting and those with a connecting flight to take right. As Emirates provided a night accommodation, I somehow guessed that it must not be outside the airport, and I must have gone in the wrong direction, had the lady professor, who came via the same route one month ago, been not there to correct me at the last moment. We were brought to the hotel at about 1:30 in the morning, and quickly allotted rooms. They said that the breakfast would be ready by 3:00 AM, and they would give us a wake-up call at 5:30 to get us ready for check-out at 6:00. Sweet wonders awaited me in the next few hours – first time calling home from abroad, inserting in the key card to turn the lights on, staying alone in a big double room, enjoying a view of Dubai at the dead of night through the window, getting lost in the array of delicious dishes at breakfast the next morning and admiring the vastness of the Dubai airport as we had to walk a long way and even take the elevator to reach the boarding gate for the connecting flight to Houston. As we were waiting in the boarding area, I met a couple of fellow Indian students going to US to join grad school. We bought calling cards to call home using payphones before getting ready to board another gigantic aircraft and fly – this time for a ceaseless 16 hours!

S-i-x-t-e-e-n hours may sound long, but thanks to the Emirates crew who made it shorter by providing ‘entertainment, entertainment and entertainment’ – a stereo system equipped with at least a couple of hundreds of films and songs in different languages, listed in not less than six pages. My co-passenger this time was an old South Indian lady whose son is a researcher again at another Houston university and lives there with his family. She was not that outspoken compared to the professor who sat next to me in the earlier flight, but what surprised me was her ability to sleep at ease in such a long flight, particularly when there was broad daylight outside – as we were travelling through changing time zones, the sun was always overhead! When I asked her how she managed to sleep so well, she argued that my choosing a window seat is the culprit. I would normally never trade a window seat with anything, but this time I should have done so, for we were instructed to put the shutters down thanks to the high altitude that made me see the brightest ever sunlight. Driven by curiosity, I touched the window, which was ice-cold reminding me of ‘stratosphere’. There was one point of time when I, like many other passengers, opened the shutter to see the scenery somewhere near Greenland above the Atlantic; however, the view was never clear enough to recognize what we were looking at. As usual, I was looking constantly at the map on the front screen and discovered that we took the route via Russia, Scandinavia, Iceland, Greenland and Canada to enter the United States. This taught me a new aspect of long flight routes – as we project a spherical earth onto a circle, places close to the equator appear at a closer mutual distance than they really are; therefore, the flight, instead of traveling straight from east to west (or vice versa), travels an actual shorter distance by taking the ‘great circle route’ that passes through polar regions. I felt asleep finally once we were above Canada and woke up when Houston was just an hour away. We landed at 3:45 PM, 40 minutes ahead of the scheduled arrival time of 4:25.

Getting down at Houston, my paranoia woke up once again, as this time I would have to clear the immigrations and retrieve my three checked bags out of a supposed ‘mess’. However, it did not take long to get back to normalcy. The queue at immigrations was long, but the officials, as perceived by a new entrant like me, looked really friendly. By the time I, along with a few other visa holders, reached the baggage claim area, the ‘mess’ was by and large cleared, thanks to the US citizens who were relieved of the immigration checks. When I came out to the terminal area, it was 5:30, and I still had to wait for another two and a half hours for the shuttle to College Station. However, there are certain things that I could do, and I did, including buying a bottle of drinking water from a shop. I picked up a large one and asked the price to the lady running the shop.

            “Two – fifty”, she said.

            “What! 250 dollars!” a stupid first-timer, I tried hard to suppress a scream.

            “No sir, it’s two dollars and fifty cents”, she made me heave a sigh of relief.

          The next task was to call home and my room-mate to let them know of my arrival in the US, and someone told me that I need to purchase a new calling card to use the payphone. By chance I found passing by an Indian, who quite strangely approached me and said, “Here, use my phone.”

            After I dialed the two numbers, including an international one, I said, “Thanks a lot. How much did the calls cost?”

            “Forget the money. Thank you”, and he disappeared with me staring hard to locate him in the crowd. The first thought that came to my mind was whether he stole any of my belongings while I was busy talking on the phone – no, I double-checked, he did not. He was a good fellow; did I do the same if I were in his position and a helpless Indian in mine? It is not easy to be that good, but may be living abroad brings changes in the mindset of people.

            Well, now was the time to move on to another terminal of the same airport where the shuttle comes. I went to the Airport Help Desk and asked an old man sitting there, “Excuse me, can you tell me how to reach terminal-C from here?”

            “Oh t(h)urm’ul C! Sure”, and he went on explaining every single detail of where I need to turn left and where I need to turn right. I felt really bad that I could not get a single word uttered by him.

            “I’m sorry, but can you please repeat what you’ve said just now?”

            “Can I do w-h-a-t?” his ears leaned towards me.

            “Can you please r-e-p-e-a-t the steps such that I can remember?”

            “Oh sure, why not”, he put his hand gently on mine, “Here we go!” He took out a map of the airport and explained in greater detail every single step that he mentioned last time. When I finally reached terminal-C by taking the elevator to go down, then the inter-terminal train, then the elevator again to go up, I really felt like going back to him to say “Thank you” for a second time!

            As I went out of terminal C, I realized my mistake of going out before the shuttle comes – it was 6:15 in the evening and unexpectedly hot and dry! I heard of snowfall during winter in the US, but spending so many hours in cool air made the heat sort of intolerable. I went back into the terminal and met, after a really long wait, somebody attending Texas A&M. We chatted for a while, and as we went out to see if the shuttle to College Station has arrived or not, we saw one being parked.

“Hey, check with the driver; I think it is going to Beaumont and not to College Station. The one for College Station is yet to arrive”, a man said from behind.

“How do you know that we are going to College Station?” asked we, astonished.

“Because I see you guys are bright students! You must be Texas Aggies!” Wow! In case you do not know, ‘Aggieland’ is a nickname for Texas A&M.

As I reached my apartment that night and went to a rather long sleep to compensate for the deficit during flight, I was wondering – over and over again – what a memorable journey it was and will always be! Quite an experience, isn’t it?

… to be continued