Thanksgiving

Being on the road to Blacksburg, Virginia from D.C, the fields and the beautiful scenery

reminded me of what I drew as a kid, along with others in my art class. Even though I’ve lived in

the farms and cropland of my ancestors or was simply aware of it in my unconscious memory

without deliberate reminders of its existence with frequent visits, but I realize the images I drew

were nothing to what I saw or what I knew what a field looked like. The description of the life

from anecdotes of my mother as a young student taking care of the cattle after school, or my

paternal grandfather as a farmer and landlord didn't help either.

The inanimate animals spotted as black markers on the land, the haystacks or the houses with

pointed roofs and low-rise mountains in the backdrop, with a stream of water running up and

under the land was never Punjab. Nor were the vast blue skies with pristine cotton clouds

suspended from them.

"It's time to wake up", she said as my eyes opened to be greeted by an offering of chocolate

which I smilingly accepted. As my tongue was still trying to decipher the flavor, while my eyes

traced a few letters on the otherwise torn down packaging and completed the word, 'Ghirardelli'.

But she answered my unasked question lingering in my mind and tongue as she pointed her

finger to "mango" and underlined it with a stroke of her nail. "I was wondering", I said and she

put it away.

"These have your name on it", she remarked as she handed me the grapes. I am not sure if I

shared my fondness for grapes with her earlier on this 5.25-ˇhour journey. Anyway, she is a

retired Spanish professor of 40 years at Virginia Tech. Having been born and brought up in

Central America, she spoke both Spanish and English as a kid. The language was a means to

learn new things and read about experiences of different people, she mentioned. Her artist

husband from Barcelona was 14 years older than her and could barely speak English. So,

they'd go back to Spain every summer for she felt the need for him to spend time there.

She was visiting her niece in DC for Thanksgiving where her brother and his wife also joined.

Towards the end of the journey, and as we neared our stop, she took out her little notebook and

asked my name. I spelled it for her and she double checked as she handed over her card with

her number written on the backside. "This is my landline and I don't use my cell phone often,

unless I'm on the road, in which case I don't answer. If you need anything, a ride, or a home cooked meal, call me.”

Constructing

Construction sites are filled with an amalgamation of activities and a plethora of people, especially if you are in South Asia. The residential renovation site in South City (Ludhiana, India) undergoes gestation with men and women laboriously working as their children frolic around amidst the sound of hammering and chiseling metal, sanding wood, smoothening walls, drilling concrete and cutting stone. These sounds are garnished by that of the anklets as this woman walks carrying  a stack of bricks on her head and as another one bathes three of her naked boys in the front lawn with a hose.

These workers will soon vanish into thin air as the owners  mark their arrival with a housewarming celebration. The guests would catwalk up and down the massive stairs, supporting their hands on the handrails they carved out of a wooden block to sanded and smoothed perfection.

Airport Arrivals

As the plane became afloat and we hovered over the NY skyline, the buildings I could name increased gradually. From the Empire State and the Chrysler Building to the One World Trade Center starkly standing out guided me to find the hotel opposite of which I stayed on my last NYC trip. To then others, the new Rafael Vinoly’s 432 Park Avenue: tallest residential tower and was reminded of its swinging, its architect was talking about. To, the Bjarke Ingel’s Via 57 West and its tapering curvature and the distinct tip as the plane looped to reveal the magnificent Central Park and the water bodies it hosts, relative to which I assumed the location of Guggenheim and the MET. I then recalled my studio professor’s ‘natural habitat’ I was passing by aerially and how she knows its every nook and corner by the back of her hand as she’d swift through the streets and subways casually.

We flew by and I passed into a pleasant slumber reminiscing the view and woke up to a Jain Vegetarian meal I had preferred. It was cool to hear from my neighbor about his daughter’s research. “Rats are born without eyesight and they gain it after 6(?) days. So, she’s going to research and study their eye by cutting through the cornea. Thus, conduct DNA sequencing. Perhaps they are able to replicate the same in humans for blind people.” He was a ‘gold medalist from Andhra University’ working with the SBI. He had lived in NY for five years in his early years for work with the same bank. Because of being brought up in Bombay and Delhi didn’t feel out of place in NY.

He got off at Mumbai while I was to continue the trip to Delhi. The two-hour layover extended and the flight delayed by an hour and forty minutes. This prompted me to grab a Starbucks Frap. Poor decision that is making me unnecessarily shake after the 14-hour flight as I write, wait to board, and see the Bombay slums in the far-flung and some similar, repetitive, tall apartment complexes and other scattered low-rise structures. Some people continue to stare, scroll through their phones, others frequently smile while looking at them. There is an old gentleman with parted grey hair sitting with curious eyes and his wife, I assume, lying on the bench listlessly next to him. Another middle-aged one is engrossed in the newspaper he’s holding. The one sitting right opposite to me pendulums between wakefulness and sleep while another one talks on the phone in the vernacular as the instrumental music hums. Larger-than-life, flower-shaped lamps opened in varying degrees hang like some guilty albatross from the airport's neck.  

Another start at pausing, reflecting and chronicling

I'll be publishing more frequently and regularly on another blog, Re-envisioning This would be relating more to the idea of entrepreneurship, especially as the year progresses, coupled with my day to day activities and curriculum surrounding it. Even though there is a sense of context required about the whole initiative, but it'll be my sincere effort to make it understandable to an outsider per se. I'm sharing my very first post here as well. 

The one and half year spent at Virginia Tech since August 2015 and the experiences elsewhere by virtue of it has led to a tremendous learning experience.

Weather it was through the professors and faculty, or activities in class or experiences outside of it. The friendly mentors and the inspiring friends, and the strangers who became acquaintances. The long walks and short trips, the wishes and thoughts that manifested in the most extraordinarily simple ways.  Authenticity of some fellow members of the staff or entrepreneurs who's stories I resonated with. Also, the beautiful surroundings and some wonderful design.

I was just getting my feet wet, but found that the water was warm, inviting and fostering. So, here's to another journey of pausing, reflecting and chronicling as I learn to swim through the semester and another year here.