Love on the Spectrum

 I have been watching a dating show recommended by a friend called Love On the Spectrum, and there is so to learn from it. In the first season, the conversations between the paticipants, all of whom are on the autism spectrum felt very stilted. I doubted any of them would end up together. But, most of the did, which got be thinking about a book that I am reading which talks about unconscious communication. One of the quotes I love is “we leak truths from our bodies all the time”. People like me place a lot of emphasis on good conversation. But, then we are often left wondering why we don’t feel drawn to some people we have good conversations with. People make you feel a certain way in their presence through their words but also their bodies. Often, we try to pin down the reason for the discomfort or bad vibes that we feel in our bodies from the presence of some people. Rationalizing a feeling is a fool’s errand, but it is difficult not to do.

And, its difficult not to love the participants of the show, even the men. The men are free of artifice and masculine conditioning and speak of their loneliness and insecurities in heartbreakingly frank ways.

Indo-Pak Conflict

To describe the Indo-Pak conflict as being clouded by a "fog of war" would be a gross understatement. It feels like two entirely differnt conflcits are unfloding on the screens of Indian and Pakistani TV viewers. There is false reporting and there is fantasy reporting. Indian media covered itself in infamy by reportng the capture of a Pakistani fighter pilot, the destruction of Karachi port and the capture of a majot Paksitani city. All products of journalists' imagination so unhinged that woudl make even Israel's media blush.The thing is when you can trust news, an event becomes less real. Your mind imagines the reality to be ten tmies better or worse than its media depiction depending on your mood. In the university where I did my master's, there was a group of professors who were hard constructionists. Soft constructionists believe that reality is not independent of the language used to desribe it. The language co-constructs reality. Hard constructivists believe there is no objective external reality independent of the language used to describe it. This group was often the butt of our jokes. Now i think the joke's on us. 

Reading, Thinking and Writing

Close friends are those you can think aloud with. But, I don't have the energy to mediate on the nature of close friendships at the moment, so I am going to leave it at that. Yesterday, I was thinking aloud with a close friend, who is familiar with my writer’s block and super-extended struggles with motivation. I now have experience of academia in the US and UK. Far more knowledgeable people than me have written about how they are shitshows which are getting shittier year. There is nothing more I can add to that discussion, aside from corroboration with my personal experience. However, there are few professions that pay you to read, think and write. However, corrupted and contorted the original mission of academia is, it is still does offer opportunities to do that. Or at least, I can say my current circumstances give me that opportunity in ample measure. I have eloquently described my writer’s block to all those willing to listen, and frankly, those descriptions have started to feel forced and staid. It is time to try to write my way out of my writer’s block.

Reading This blog

I was going to title this post 'Meta Blog', thinking that I hadn't used this title before, but that's not the case. I haven’t written a blog post about blogging in ages, so maybe I forgot. This blog is more than seven years old, and the first few years were prolific, before I realised how personal diarish the blog had become. I took a step back in 2022, returned to blogging more regularly, picked up the pace again in 2023 before slowing down again. Now, I don’t blog more than once a week. I have written before how my output in the first wo years was so heavy because I was pouring out the accumulated wisdom of my life up to that time. After that catch-up phase, wisdom is accumulating more slowly, so there is less urgency to dispense it. So, I have decided to read my blog more even if I don’t post more often. It is amazing how mental states feel unique even though they are cyclical in nature. Chance are you have felt the way you feel before, the problem you are wrestling with you have grappled before,  and you possibly wrote a blog post to help you solve, alleviate or cope with it. Far be it from me to claim that this blog is a fount of wisdom. But, I have cumulatively put a lot of though in it, and there is so solace to be gained from reading old posts, even its only for myself. So, I have decided to read old posts more, instead of doom-scrolling in the evenings. 

Clouds Parting

A couple of weeks ago, the US had started to seem like a basket case. Those of us without strong ties to the US had started to think about how long we could continue living like this. It wouldn't be the end of the world if I had to return to India without a job or clear career prospects, right? But, over the past few days, I have started to feel more optimistic. Signs that the fascist juggernaut has started to sputter are there if one is prepared to countenance the possibility. Students who were expected to meekly accept their visa revocations are starting to fight back in the courts and talking to the media. Harvard, not an instution known for rocking the boat, refused to bend the President's demands. And, who would have ever thought Republican senators from Bible belt states would get heckled in town halls for doing nothing to stop the reverse the deportation of a Latino men. So, maybe it is these signs of the growing backlash to fascism, maybe I am adjusting to the new reality of a precarious immigration status, maybe I am recoginzing that one cannot remain suspended in a state of despair for an indefinite lenght of time and one must get on with one's life. But, my angst levels have definitely reduced over the past few days. But, as many people have said, hope is a muscle that helps bring new realities into being. 

Getting On With Life

The past few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. My emotional state has alternated between fear for my own immigration status, dread at the unfolding fascist hellscape and frustration at my writer's block. I had been wondering how long one can live paralysed by fear and uncertainty, especially when leaving is an option. Today, for the first time, I felt the paralysis lift from me even though the day started with ominous news about possible ICE activities on campus. On most days, the news would have pushed me into a funk for most of if not for the whole day. But, not today. I was concerned, but not alarmed, and I manage to do more work than I had in ages. By absolute standards, it was not a lot, but I was satisfied. The goal of mindfulness practices is not to destroy one's demons but to put some distance between you and them so that you can observe them rather than being engulfed by them. I have no illusions about the next few months. The political situation is likely to get worse before or if it gets better, and there will be dark days when one feels like a helpless vegetable. But, for the first time in weeks, I felt that I might be able to cope with it long enough to see what’s on the other side. I have been telling friends (and myself) that one cannot keep living like this, one has to get on with one’s life. Finally, I felt that I was beginning to heed my own advice.  

72 Hours

Last evening we got news that a student from my university had his visa revoked and had been given 72 hours to leave the country. Declaring 19-year-olds persona-non-grata as though they are high-level diplomats. This is not the first wantonly cruel act by this administration, and it won’t be the last. On hearing the news, I spent some time despairing about the condition of this student I don’t know but who is presumably my elder nephew’s age, the students who I do know who are at a high risk of being targeted due to their activism and nationalities, and the non-negligible risk of deportation to myself. I thought about the emotional toll and logistical challenge of packing up your life and leaving within a few days. Most of the people around me have lived here far longer than I have, with roots here that are much less tenuous than mine. Then, scrolling Twitter, I came across clips of Jewish Columbia/Barnard students who had chained themselves to the gates of the university to protest against its complicity in the targeting of its own students. And, the clips brought tears to my eyes. They were also so young, so steadfast yet cheerful. Their responses to reporters’ questions were thoughtful and without a trace of hubris or showboating. It is times like these when the worst and best of humanity is on display. The worst is difficult to miss, but one must make the effort to see the best.