My Journey with Children

My eldest niece Debolina turns seventeen today.

I was in the fourth grade in primary school when Debolina was born. By that time, I had been an elder brother thrice. However, the thought of becoming an uncle at the age of eight never crossed my mind. Her mother – my eldest cousin – gave birth to her at the hospital where my mother used to work as a nurse. I desired to be with my mother, cousin and brother-in-law as we were going to bring her home from the hospital. My desire was fulfilled. I was ecstatic during the entire journey. Perhaps very few experiences in life can be as exciting as bringing a newborn home.

Debolina spent the first few months of her life with us at her maternal grandfather’s place. I used to observe her as much as I could. Why she needed to sleep twenty hours a day, when I could place her on my lap, whether she could recognize all of us around, when she would start talking – were some of the questions I used to ponder over. To this curiosity, an incident added something special for the first time.

Debolina was two or three months old when her mother fell severely ill one night. The doctor said that the baby must not be breastfed, for she too would fall ill. Though not recommended before the age of six months, she had to be given baby food that night. It was past 10 o’clock; all the shops in our locality were closed. My father and one of our close neighbors went out to see if they could manage to get something. Famished, the baby was crying louder and louder. Everyone at home was counting moments of anxiety. I had never felt that helpless before. Fortunately, a medical store a little far from home was still open. It saved us any further pain. I generally find it hard to express my emotions freely, but when the baby food arrived home that night, I jumped and screamed in joy. It was spontaneous. I felt a strong bond with my little niece. Deep inside occurred a realization that I too can do my bit for her to grow as a happy and healthy child.

This was the beginning of a journey that continues with full fervor to this day. I thank God for giving me the opportunity to share my family life with a total of ten nephews and nieces – members of my next generation. Depending on what should serve them the best, my role switches: from a playmate to a teacher, from a listener to a mentor, from a guardian to a friend. I try to give them my undivided attention. In return, they gladly give me theirs. As a result, I get a glimpse of how they perceive and communicate with the world, as well as how the perception and communication evolve with time. To an adult, interaction with children on a regular basis is one of the most enriching lessons life can offer. Let me share with you some stories from my life.

Until my niece Suparna started going to school, she found it hard to open up to the family members whom she did not get to see all the time. This set of family members included me as well. Shortly after she had been admitted to school, she once visited our home with her parents. I was surprised to see her smiling at me, trying to get close to me and pulling my leg whenever she could get a chance. She told others later that she liked my not getting impatient. After lunch, her mother put her to sleep while her father left. As she woke up, she started crying, “Where’s dad? Where’s dad?” I intuitively knew that I should not say, “Dad’s gone”. What should I tell her then? Her mother – my cousin – said, “It’s okay; walk her up the stairs.” I did so, and started introducing her to the trees nearby. She calmed down, and started telling me about the trees she had seen earlier. It was the beginning of a different chapter for us.

My nieces Sohini and Sinjini live two bus-stops away from our home. During my IIT days, I used to visit them every time I went home. “Kutti-mama (young uncle) is here!” would be their loud response as the door would open. The three of us would then have a wholehearted chatter and laughter, followed by wild dance moves to each and every ringtone of my cellphone – till we would get sweat-drenched and run out of breath. Despite being terrible at dance, I would participate, thinking of the smile of fulfillment it would bring on their faces. They would then beg of me to stay back for a little more time. After my departure, they would invariably ask their mother when I would see them the next time. I would go back to drown myself in the pure and innocent charm of “Kutti-mama’s here!” The cycle continued till I came abroad. I miss those lovely moments today.

My seven-year old nephew Priyam is now in the first grade. He likes playing with toy cars and watching trains pass. Two years ago, he came to see me with his mother before I left for the US. When it was time for their return, he started crying piteously. He did not stop until I showed him some YouTube videos of trains that he had liked the previous night. I learnt that he really loves vehicles. Now, speaking on the phone the other day, he said, “Do you know what a black box is?”

I could think of two closely related ideas. One is a general modeling technique in Control Theory. The other is a specific application of the technique, used for recording flight data in aircraft. Given his interest in vehicles, it may be the second one, but is it not too advanced for a first grader? I said, “Well, first tell me what you know; I can then take over.”

He gave me in very clear words the definition that applies to an aircraft. “How did you know it?” I asked, astonished.  

“I saw it on the Discovery channel”, he said. I learnt later that he notes down in a journal all that sound interesting to him, so that he can tell me on the phone. After we spoke a little more, I asked, “What'll you do when you grow up?”

“A few things. I'll become an engineer of cars. I'll build shelter for the poor and donate them lots of money. And… and… one more thing… I'll be a teacher.”

I thank him for a good sleep that night!

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Readers, today I have told you a few – only a few – of the many stories that involve the children of my family. I regard these stories very close to my heart. They have played a big role in making me the person I am today. “Children are the most beautiful flowers of all”, realized a fictional giant who once had selfishly denied children entry to his garden. In children, I see, above everything else, elements of inspiration. When we treat them with love, respect and care, we automatically make ourselves better human beings. To me, loving means to accept them for what they are – including what they are good at and what they are not so good at. Respecting means to make an attempt to view things from their perspective and not force ours on them. Caring means not only to make sure that their needs are met, but also to work on self-improvement as adults, so that children can look up to and learn from us. Once we expand the notion of family, we have a society. Expand the horizon a little more, and we have a country. Go a little further, and we have an entire generation across the globe trying to follow our footsteps. Let us watch ourselves in action, for an entire generation is watching!

People Skills: Part One - The Prelude

Kharagpur, 2009 …

Three undergraduate juniors – my roommate Abhisek, Avik, and I – were in the middle of a conversation over lunch at the mess of our hall of residence. After a little bit of what was going on in our lives, they started discussing some concept of Physics which, to be honest, I was not much interested in. I could, at the same time, feel their excitement and did not want to spoil it. I was unsure of how to respond, so I looked down – staring at my empty plate, playing with the spoon, humming a tune I liked, waiting for them to finish. The very next day Abhisek brought this up in private. “Dipanjan, what you were doing at lunch yesterday did not escape my notice”, he said very firmly, “You understand your own emotions quite well, but you need to understand people’s emotions, too.”

Abhisek, as I know him to this date, shows how much he cares by his sincere and practical words of advice. This was, in fact, one of the many occasions on which he tried to trigger me to work on my weaknesses. I knew that it was important, but I was struggling with several other hurdles at that point of time. “This will get better with time”, I thought.

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College Station, 2015 …

My current roommate, Subhajit, and I were in the middle of one of our many personal conversations. Subhajit observed closely how I used to interact with the other roommates during our group chats. Of course I used to feel out of place at times during those group chats, but he, quite unknowingly, shook me up to the very core that day. “Dipanjan, your people skills are poor”, he was candid yet direct. ‘People skills’ was a new term to me, so I, a creature of habits, asked him to ‘define’ it. “Oh man, this shows that your people skills are really poor”, he replied smilingly, perhaps with an intention to keep things light.

I was, however, looking for a proper definition, and, perhaps driven by my ego, a serious explanation of his statement. His being casual led me to a state of angered confusion. I managed to stay calm on the surface, but I was fuming inside. Fortunately, to my rescue, my mind went back to what Abhisek had said six years ago. This time the trigger was simply too strong to push aside. I am glad to have Subhajit help me dealing with this!

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As human beings, we all feel down, insecure and vulnerable in certain areas of life. No matter how much we achieve in life, there is something or the other that frequently makes us not so happy about ourselves. There is something or the other that we wish we could be better at. Before we decide whether it is worth taking steps to improve or live with the current status for the rest of life, we must accept and admit that we do have something troubling us, look into that 'something' as deeply as we can, develop self-awareness and seek help as and when needed. Dear reader, as you go through this series of posts that talk about one of the areas that makes me feel vulnerable, I would encourage you to think over something that you feel vulnerable about, and what you are doing about it.

Ever since childhood, I have always been a serious, reserved and quiet person. Being a member of a large family, the only child of my parents, an obedient student, and the class-topper for years, I was showered with attention throughout my school life. I was not good at playing as part of a group, reaching out and talking to people other than a few good friends, making new friends and appreciating the fun side of life. However, I never put any effort on those, since I had hardly any idea of how important they were. Coming to an IIT, watching the toppers from all corners of the country was an experience, but the transition from the center of attention to virtually nobody was painful. During the earlier years, I sometimes used to do ridiculous things that repelled more than attracted people. Gradually I built my own identity, but except for a couple of friends, the feeling of not getting along with people ate me up from inside. The only times I felt truly satisfied were when I got opportunities to help others. However, I used to feel an emotional distance, sometimes even when I was part of a group, enjoying at a restaurant, or hanging out in somebody’s room. I used to feel as if I was alone and aloof. In order to cover up my own reluctance to expand my awareness of the outside world, to initiate and lead healthy conversations, to give people the space they need, I used to do certain things that made me come across as unresponsive, desperate or even a drama king. This has been going on for a long time – well into my grad school days – and should not continue anymore! 

… to be continued

Tough Times

April, 2012 …

My days as a master’s student were rapidly coming to an end. The last end-semester examination was knocking at the door; the thesis was due in another two weeks or so; almost everyone, having an offer at hand – of either a job, or a PhD at a good grad school – was quite rightfully ecstatic. I was – to the surprise of many, and, in hindsight, due solely to my own ignorance, laziness, and lack of seriousness about the future – an exception in the celebrating crowd. Eye problems denied me entry to the job I got selected for, and I was still waiting for an absolutely no-alternative-existing offer to a fully funded PhD program, with the chances getting slimmer and slimmer every single day. To counsel myself that ‘this too shall pass’, one evening I thought of the following through self-talk, and perhaps because it sounded wise, posted it on Facebook:

“Sometimes there come times which make you stagger through darkness - the entire world seems a big mess; not a single thing works in your favor; you just don't know how long you still have to wait for the slightest ray of hope to come your way! However, in the long run, nothing else can unveil the mysteries of life better than these not-at-all-desired moments!”

Arpan, my cool yet caring wing-mate who used to have crazy ideas hitting his mind all the time, banged open my door within seconds to ask what went wrong with me. It was but natural for him to worry, for my calm and composed exterior covered the stormy interior quite well. It took quite a lot of time for me to get over that phase and come back as a stronger, wiser person. I made it through a tough time!

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Fast forwarding to January, 2015 …

I was returning to my current den, College Station, from a trip to India. The first flight from Kolkata to Dubai was five and a half hours long. About two hours into the flight, the passengers were in a jovial mood, getting ready for dinner, when a strong gust suddenly hit our reasonably massive Airbus A330. The initial tremble was scary, and that it was so keen on troubling us for minutes with undiminished intensity was scarier. We had already been asked to get back to our seats and fasten our seatbelts, but our minds were too restless, and our once hungry stomachs just too anxious. After a while came through the pilot’s voice:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a major turbulence. This was not in the forecast when we took off. Typically, in such circumstances, we take the aircraft to a higher altitude to avoid the storm. We are now flying at 28000 feet; we can climb to 38000 feet, but at this time there are other aircrafts flying at different altitudes, so we have to stay at 28000 feet till we get the clearance to climb. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. Thank you!”

How was the experience for the passengers, and more importantly, for the pilot who was responsible for so many lives? We finally were, at one point of time, out of danger, and landed safely; the pilot made it through a tough time!

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Everyone has to go through tough times in life – times that arrive at our doorstep in complete silence, catching us unprepared, unaware, in a state of shock, chaos and indecisiveness. They are God’s means to teach us the hard way something very valuable and very sacred that we need to learn so deeply as to retain in our heart for the rest of our lives. Tough times test and strengthen our patience, our character, our determination, and expand our perception of the world. They instill in us a ‘don’t worry; don’t panic; I’ve seen this before’ attitude. We learn and re-learn and re-learn the importance as well as the beauty of reasoning, communication, humility, empathy, kindness and love. 

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