It has been a while since I blogged here. Not because I had nothing to write about, it’s just that I’ve been…I’ve been…a bit distracted, yes distracted, if I must choose a word to describe my past situation. A situation that appears rather queer to me in retrospect – even now, I can see myself, my own image, in the past month, struggling and running after things that once mattered so little.

And now when I come back to this blog, my altar of art, it feels like I’m opening the rickety door to an old forgotten home, where the smell of stagnancy and growth of cobwebs is abundant and unrestricted. But how rotten it may look, a home is always a home, a nice place to fall back to, a step back to normalcy. Where one can relax on a armchair placed against the fireplace, and wonder how did one allow the dust to gather, remembering things that once were, that have been, and those that have evolved.

It’s not a long time ago when I was in my bachelors degree program, and I remember precisely how I used to not care about superfluous things like academics and grades and so on. In that phase of my life, it used to be a moment of great satisfaction, no, a great joy, to be honest, when I used to pass a course. Passing a course, fulfilling the minimum requirements in any given subject was on my agenda, and of course, I had higher ambitions on other things, things that had nothing to do with studies. And now? My standards have evolved tremendously. I get fits of heart attacks, on scoring a grade that is second to the best. Getting the best grade is often the priority now. Perhaps things haven’t really evolved as they appear to be. They have been always the same. It’s just the priorities that have undergone major reorganization. Now, at this age, all I want from my life is that I would like to be a scientist.

Ah, this maddening lust for excellency, this, this unsustainable desire for perfection, would really destroy me one day. And what shall become of the artist that smolders within this hollow core of science? That, I don’t know. Only if someone could cure me from this horrible disease of inspiration. And only then, there shall not be any cobwebs.

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Current Book: "For whom the bell tolls" by Ernest Hemingway
Current Music: "Chak de India" title song

The Idea
The story is about a young couple, new to the world of dating whose love is portrayed in the very urban times of India. Every event in the story, ranging from their first meeting to their first kiss is a moment of thrill for them.  The story highlights the development of nascent passion in two younglings which grows into an uncontrolled vista of love.

What Makes This Story ‘Real’
It’s a story that a close friend has narrated to me, and I was able to build upon some parts of it.

Extract 
His vibrating cellphone under the pillow blurred his dreams and woke him into the reality. The scratched screen blinked madly and revealed 3:51 A.M.

It was time.

He rubbed his eyes, exited his comforter with much effort, and placed his feet on the floor below with a quick swinging motion to jolt himself up. The floor felt cold, even through his woolen socks. Grimacing, he threw back a handful of hair that blocked his vision and staggered towards the door.

Outside, the hostel's corridor was desolate with most of the hostellers deep in sleep with their rooms locked and lights off. Some of the rooms were still lit as their doors were lined with yellow light, pushing itself out in the dark night. Newspapers, soda cans swept the corridor that led to the bathroom. He almost made his mind to go back at once and rest a bit more. He finished on phone with her last night around 2 A.M. He needed more sleep.

But no, he went on. He began with brushing. And brushed twice. It mattered. There was no hot water for him to take a bath in this cold weather. He could try to check the geysers on other floors of the hostel but he was getting late. It was 4:20 A.M. and the direct bus to his dating destination left in a couple of minutes from now. And cold water, was what, he poured on his bare chest.

Carefully checking around four times that he had picked all the gifts that he need to carry with him, he bolted his door and nearly ran to the hostel's exit. The guard lay snoring on his seat and took no notice as a shadow passed into the night. (Story continues here)

Endnote: This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal andHarperCollins India.

If you like the idea, please like it here! http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/idea/283

I'm at another conference these days, and in the past afternoon a rather interesting event occurred. The last keynote speaker, who gave a brilliant talk on role of gut bacteria in promoting obesity (her last project funded by National Institute of Health,  USA - no surprise there), was caught mid way by my curious self who found her lecture quite inspiring. 

"It was great to hear about obesity. But in your data did you find any correlations with extreme leanness?" I asked her. 

She looked at me briefly, cleared her throat, and began in an emphatic tone, "It's quite sad that people started to focus on probiotics and gut bacteria, only when obesity became a concern. While in countries like India, where starvation has been a major issue, nobody cared about it. And I think starvation is an equally if not more important issue than obesity. But yes, I actually did find some correlations - but nobody is interested in them."

"Ah yes, I understand. And don't you think we've overcomplicated our life with bad food. If we eat good food, we won't have any such issues. And in India, we have these special herbal powders (churna) which we consume everytime our stomach goes bad - and they work well!"

"Yes, yes I know. There are indeed many herbs which are proven to have beneficial effects for your stomach. And I must say that Western thinking maybe too narrow minded in health research. I mean, India’s Ayurveda is thousands years old, and I have sometimes browsed that online for fun – I’m a biologist you know – and it really has great potential. Those people working with Ayurveda have observed people and their diseases for so many years, their cures must be definitely potent. But it’s quite sad, that it is all dying. I’m not able to find funding for my own research – we’re trying to gather money too – but things are too commercial now. Industries want to directly study human targets, but the science is not ready for that yet. And then the general public takes all sorts of risks with their health. Young men who take steroids for bodybuilding often end up with bulk and fat in unwanted places, and almost always in their cheeks.Yes, it is getting complicated ..."

And so I stood there, for about fifteen minutes, talking to this old, crazy, passionate biologist - trying to see life through her eyes. But simultaneously, her work and of many others, brought this state of depression in me that my own research is quite insignificant. I feel stupid you know. I'm not that smart, not at science. Perhaps I ain't good at anything. Because later in the evening, we had these competitive games. Our team came 2nd in the game of Scrabble out of 4 teams. We didn't come 1st, and thus didn't make to the finals. We lost it. I'm supposed to be good at English. Apparently not. Fuck, I hate being so average at everything. 

But in the end, when I look back at my average life in retrospect, I console myself as follows: When you can't do great things, you should take solace in the fact that you can appreciate great things. And that's all I can do perhaps. 

In the meanwhile, I'll keep fighting. My last month's copy of Scientific American is waiting to be read beneath my lamp. 

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Current Book: "Silas Marner" by George Eliot
Current Music: "Castle of Glass" by Linkin Park (LOVE YOU LP)