Thursday, November 24, 2011

Old spaces and new


There are places I remember, all my life,
Though some have changed, some forever, not for better
Some have gone, and some remain
All these places have their moments...
In my life I have loved them all.

I borrow haphazardly from a much loved Beatles song. Today these lines describe perfectly my swirling thoughts and emotions.

For the last few weeks we have all been gearing up for major changes in our lab lives. There have been massive clean-up missions resulting in the entire place looking far more cluttered than it did before, even though each time it really did seem like we discarded literally sacks of junk! We have discovered ancient stuff that not only looks unidentifiable, but smells weird and is awfully old-fashioned and outright filthy! There have been many adventures with mice, lizards, spiders and big black fat ants disturbed from their favourite haunts. There have been delighted cries at rediscovering a missing instrument or chemical or even an old greeting card. There have been spontaneous outbursts of laughter, cut-throat competition to test our abilities to be the best cleaners and junk-removers, many frayed tempers, much teasing and yet, good strong friendships and togetherness. Nothing tests you better than a situation where you need to work cohesively in a group even while maintaining your identity. And I must have some of the best lab mates in the world! We have learnt to leave aside personal differences and gel into a cohesive unit. It also helps that each of us has a definite sense of belonging; we feel it is our lab and hence we work because we want to, not because we must or have been told to do so. Hard work, perseverance, some essential planning and an incredibly involved and enthusiastic boss have made the change seem easier.

The change I mention is one of place and space. We move from our old, historical, dilapidated building to the supposedly fancy, new one. We move from a cluttered, yet much loved space to a bigger, stranger place. I have loved my old lab. I have learnt a lot here and met an awful lot of lovely people, fantastic seniors and current lab mates, who are more friends than colleagues. Doesn’t a place seem dearer if you have had memorable experiences and forged important relationships in it? It seems like I knew almost every nook and corner of the old lab. It was comfortably familiar. And as always, letting go of the known is not easy. But, I do like the airy spaciousness of the new place, the open plan and the light flooding in. It seems like a good place. I know it shall now take a conscious effort to make the new place seem ours. To treat it like a new fresh canvas on which to paint our individual strokes with many a flourish and much faith.

A new sense of belonging is priceless, yet letting go of the old one brings a tinge of tears to my eyes. It makes me want to store the memories of the last lab meeting, the last experiment, the last round of discussions in the old place. There is a feeling of sadness when I see the packed boxes, the dusty work benches and the empty rooms that echo eerily. But change is supposed to be a good thing. And we are supposed to be moving on to better facilities, more space and opportunities for greater coordination between the biological sciences. Even though it seems like a mammoth task at present, I look forward to the day when it feels like I could walk through the entire building in the middle of a dark night and yet not lose my way. To the day when I walk into the lab and it feels mine again. I hope we make it into our lucky new place and that we do some of our best science here in the next few months. I hope we charge up the space with our enthusiasm and energy. Amen. Or something like it.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Polka-dotted frocks

Today afternoon I saw two little girls in pigtails, riding their bicycles and giggling away. Their matching polka-dotted frocks, their smiles and the aura of complete freedom around them made me aware of a pang of envy, of longing for times gone.
There was a time when five little girls would all be fitted out in bright matching cotton frocks with identical patterns and frills, just a specially different colour for each one. Those were days of carefree summers, of youth and fearless adventure. Of mangoes, afternoon picnics, hide and seek, tantrums and umpteen tumbles. I can even see their eyes... happy, wide and guileless. Anything seemed possible then, the world was a personal stage. A place where everybody was meant to be happy.
And then the little girls grew up. Back then, I remember I wanted to grow up fast, real fast. Today I wish, sometimes, that we never did have to grow up. That we could have remained that age forever.  Friends together. Sisters together. Time never lets you stay that young. It snatches away those moments of togetherness. It makes you grow up. As each of us now looks ahead to a new and different life, I hope we shall remember those happy sunny summers. Those shared holidays and the "gachhi" at aji-papa's house that was our permanent adda and treasure trove! I shall miss those times. Always.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Life Lessons

I have gone through life believing I am lucky. Have tried to live life in the open wind and the sunshine. I have had a lovely life, full of the most beautiful people and times. Have believed in kindness and niceness and genuine goodness. Trusted with my heart and had faith, always.

Yet not everything is as lovely as it seems. The harsh light brings with it shadows and darkness. You chance upon people who can spoil everything, people you wish you didn't have to meet ever again. Have you met these blurry, shadowy, seemingly crazy, hurtful and self-obsessed people who refuse to grow up and face the world? They never bothered me before because I thought they were just in that bad phase and that they would change... because people are essentially nice. I have never believed that anybody is inherently mean or bitchy. I have never wanted to believe that any person is crooked within. It is just a bad time for that person. They seem to see a grey and glum world and perhaps decide that the world deserves a grey and glum person.

But the world is as it always has been. Real. Lively. Tough. But worth it. Every moment. And I wonder, why do I have to be understanding enough to wait for someone to see the truth? Wait while it hurts? A waiting I do not deserve. What for? For those who see a tainted world? For those who do not think before they speak or act and who do not see or value anything beyond themselves? How fair is this? Is it better to stay still and wait for this to pass? Should I smile and shrug it off or should I react?

I think I like my life better with its love and warmth and friendship. I choose to believe in that. I choose to let that, and that alone, be my truth, my reality.

Thursday, August 04, 2011

Another of R's pomes :P

(An old poem by my lil sister. Found the original handwritten one and laughed over it so much today. Here's to memories of childhood fights and her ability to still see the humour!)

'Tis a night like every other,
'Tis time for my nightly fight,
I must fight for my rights wi' my sister,
She just refuses to put out the lights!

I shout, I argue, I coax
But all of it is in vain.
She just yells right back at me
And tells me I'm a royal pain.

That's it. It's over. Stop it.
I've taken about all I can bear
Now its time for us to call the referee.
And decide exactly who stands where.

Our mother marches in and glares at us,
And berates us for making a din.
We both start pestering my sister
And she eventually caves in.

But she refuses to go down gracefully.
She still will put up a fight.
She bangs about as long as she can
And then reluctantly puts out the light.

And then when the night is almost over,
And when the joy of the fight starts to pall,
She comes and sleeps right next to me.
I mean, we're sisters after all.

--- Rhuta Deobagkar

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Charmed Lives

What am I supposed to do with the oodles of unsolicited advice that jumps at me from around every corner? Even when I don't really have a problem in my life, there is always somebody around that wants to convince me that I am facing, or am about to face, a huge gigantic problem and then they proceed to dole out advice concerning the ways and means to tackle this heretofore non-existent problem. Blah!
First and foremost, I lead a charmed life. If that makes you nod your head and sigh at my immaturity or naivety, all I can say is, "Too bad!" and some more "Blah". I have the most awesome friends and family and I love the work I do. If I crib about all or any of the above at times, it is just to entertain myself, and I do that well.  Okay, maybe I do not exactly entertain myself, but some complaining helps to let off steam. It helps me to appreciate all I have after a storm of self pity and self obsession.
Apparently, it makes me seem a lot more interesting if my life is angst-ridden and a veritable tragedy just waiting to happen! The more sorrowful my eyes and the more heart-felt my sighs, the more my life seems 'happening' and 'dramatic'! Albeit, to others. To me it is always dramatic even when it is full of light and  laughter with an unbroken series of highs.