Qatar

 I arrived in Mumbai from Qatar last night, and not a day too soon. As Middle-Eastern petrostate absolute monarchies go, Qatar is possibly is benign. It is not a stifling religious fundamentalist state like Saudi Arabia, neither does it have a sordid history of trying to engineer regime-change through aerial bombing (that I know of) like the UAE and (also Saudi Arabia.  It has also given the world A-Jazeera, and punches far above its weight in global diplomatic circles. One has to only compare its profile to Kuwait, which is of similar size and wealth, to appreciate how well its done.That doesn't make it a nice place to visit or live. I did not educate myself about the history of Qatar because the place did not inspire me to do so. I am not saying young countries are destined to be cultural wastelands. But, young countries which are also dicatorships are. When all or most forms of cultural expression need sanction from the authorities who have pots of money to give to artists they approve of, you end up with an arts scene like Qatar's--showy but so sanitized that the only pleasure that it can give you is aesthetic. As this post shows, I am not a culutral critic, and I am sure many people have said what I am saying in far more insightful and eloquent ways. If shopping malls and over-the-top entertainment options like indoor ski slopes are not your thing, chances are you won't enjoy Qatar.

Airport blog Boston Dec 2024

This is going to be a short one because the last one was just a week ago, and I also don’t have much time before my flight boards.  I did have some low-key drama getting to the airport. Getting ubers in my college town of Amherst can be tricky, so I was monitoring waiting times to order an Uber to the coach stop. As luck would have it, the waiting time went from 5 minutes a few minutes before I ordered my Uber to nearly 20 minutes when I did. I waited for a few minutes but no Uber driver would accept my ride. Luckily, a bus was leaving at around that time so I cancelled my Uber and I shuffled towards my Uber with my luggage. However, just as I was reaching the bus stop, I realised that I had forgotten my wallet at home. So I had to dump my luggage (luckily, Amherst is safe and small so no one would think an abandoned suitcase is a bomb) and run home. I got back just in time to see the bus pull away. I had resigned myself to getting an Uber all the way to the airport, which is a 2-hour drive when I decided to check the app again. In another twist of fate, an Uber driver accepted my ride, and I reached the stop well before time as my coach was late. Then, on the coach, my stove anxiety kicked in. When I leave the house for a trip I often start feeling anxious about whether I turned the stove off. Actually, this time it started with anxiety about whether I had turned off. I realise its completely irrational as I remember hearing the lick of the thermostat as I was putting my shoes on and pulling the plug out of the socket. But, then I remember hearing another click and also remember thinking “Why is it still clicking if its off?”. And doing nothing about it. Then, I also started to wonder whether I had turned the stove off. I have enough experience of anxiety to know that feeding it, fuels it. I also knew that the anxiety would die down automatically in a few days, even if I got short stabs of it during my long trip. On a previous short trip when I lived in England, I had a similar stove-anxiety attack, but that time I could do nothing about it because I lived alone. This time, all I had to do was mail or call the building management, so I did that, even though I realised that I couldn’t do this every time. So, I will have to make provisions to alleviate my stove anxiety like setting a phone reminder or leaving post-it notes to check the stove before I leave. I have enough of experience of anxiety to know that it has to be managed, not fought all the time.

This has turned into a blog about anxiety, because I don’t have much to say. I am looking forward to my time in Qatar and India, and I have already written about my trepidation about the year ahead.

Airport Blog Greenville December 2024

 I am waiting for my flight back after visiting two of my closest friends in South Carolina over the Thanksgiving break. I had seen both of them on my US visit two years ago after a gap of five years and seven years. However, as life stuff got in the way, I could only see one of them for half an hour next to a fountain in the town center. It was a great trip, and it was nice to see both of them thriving after challenging periods in their lives. In the case of one of them, I only learned of their recent challenges on this trip.  There are friends you don't talk to in ages, but you pick up where you left off when you see them without any awkwardness. However, I talk to these two at least once every few months. Like with my Mumbai trip earlier this year, my heart is full. With this trip, I have visited all the people closest to me who live in the US within four months of moving here, which is an achievement. Now, i have to prepare for the mountain of work waiting for me before my next trip exactly a week from now.

Airport Blog Hartford November 2024

 I am waiting for my flights to see South Carolina to see two of my closest friends over an early and extended thanksgiving break. I took a series of buses to save money, but as this is the US and you don't choose which bus to take, I am here way before time. On the way, my bus passed through Hartford, the capital of Connecticut state. Since moving here, I have realised that many American cities don't feel like cities in the US because they don't have walkable downtowns. They have skyscrapers, which would suggest a high population density, but you don't see that in the streets. Apparently, all those skyscrapers house huge parking lots so that people can drive to and from them. Hartford was another such large soulless mid-sized city, which made me grateful to live in a college town, which has a fair number of pedestrians as well as cyclists for its size. And, of course, the only people who take buses in the US are poor people and students. I was possibly the only person above 20 on two of my bus rides. I had last visited South Carolina two years ago when I visited the same two friends. At that time, I was excited to be in the Deep South, but I was a bit disappointed. We didn't really spend time in a city, apart from touristy Charleston, and American suburbs feel depressingly similar. This time around, I will be spending time in a city, and I also have a frame of reference to compare it with. I live in a college town in the bluest state in the country, and I am curious about what America is like outside this bubble. 

Insufferable Liberals

 I wrote eysterday about how I am feeling better after the election. Maybe there is a bit of scahdenfruede to it--let liberals feel some of the misery and despair that we have been feeling for the past 13 months. And, liberals are making to so easy to feel biter against them., pretending that everything was hunky-dory before Nov. 5, just as Zionists pretend everything was hunky-dory in Israel-Palestine before Oct 7 last year. On an alumni group, people were commiserating with each other about Trump's victory, trotting out bromides about keeping hope and faith. I was mildly annoyed, but I blew my top when someone cited a post-election speech by Biden as inspiration. And, then there was  talk at uni today by a black scholar turned celebrity pundit. He is clearly a smart guy and a great orator, and he was going to talk about the inimitable James Baldwin. His talk was bearable, because most of it was quotes of James Baldwin, and he even broke down in one place. I don't mean to be derisive. I will never understand what life is like for Black people in America. But, someone of his stature and platform should offer more than platitudes. No one expects a regular on cable news channels to call for a socialist revolution, but surely he could have played it less safe than he does on TV. The subsequent "Q&A" session was mdoerated bya  careerist dean who had shorn all the questions of any political content, and turned them into vapid non-questions. And, in response poured at a sea of cliches from the eminent Eddie Glaude--"you contain multitudes", "Allow people to ofer you colours, but never give up your brushes, you paint the canvas of your life". It sounded like a low-effort Ted Talk. After his speech, I joined in the standing ovation, ut after the Q&A I was one of the only able-bodied people who remain fimrly seated. My white colleague who I later learnt also disliked the talk joined in the standing ovation, and if I were white. I would probably have jioned too. The optics of a white man showing ambivalence towards a black luminary are not great. Then again, if I had been black I might not have joined in the first standing ovation either. Before I decided to remain seated, I thought of my Mom, who is one of the most courageous people I know in my peronsal life. I remember we were in the audience at my elder sister's sports meet at school. I must have been around nine or 10. As the millionaire founder of our school walked by to take his seat  in the VIP area, all the parents in the audience stood out of respect. My mom and her friend remain seated. My staunchly communist Mom told me "I have no respect for him". 

Trump Storms Back

 So, the unthinkable but expected has happened, and Donal Trump will be US president again. To be honest, I don't think I would have felt much better if Kamala Harris had won, because she has been such a terrible candidate. With every passing week, she tacked further to the right until she started resembling a never-Trump Republican. For the past few weeks, I had felt my body becoming increasingly tense. News from Palestine and Lebanon had been affecting me more than usual, and I would get sudden bouts of lethargy. For a while, I thought it was the dry air from the heater. But, I think it was the wait to know whether we would be ruled by a genocidal fascist or a genocide liberal-except-on Palestine. Which is curious because Harris would have been terrible in thinkable ways, while Trump will be terrible in unthinkable ways. I am not a woman, a Republican state resident, or poor or black so I won't feel theshort end of the stick in a Trump presidency. But, on Palestine, it is hard to think about how Trump could be worse than Biden/harris. I don't want to turn this intop a piece of political commentary becaue there are far smarter and better informed people doing that. Who knows what a Trump presidency will bring? But, this is at least an end of the road for one brand of genocidalists. 

Clocks Go Back 2024

 When the clocks went forward earlier this year, I was in the UK and anxious about my job prospects, as well as the continnuing war in Gaza. A few days after writing the post, I received news that I had been accepted to the post-doc position in the US, so a lot has happened in the past few months. The move to the US, the new job, dealing with unending US paperwork, the stress and excitement of setting up my own apartment for the first time in my life. Staring to feel excited about economics again, before events in the Middle East took a turn for the worse (which no one thought was possible). All in all, big changes on the personal front as well as on the world front as well as the perpetual struggle to find purpose in one's own work while the world bruns. And by changes on the personal front, I also mean changes to how I view the world and my place in it, and my willingness to play a part, however small, in building a world I want to live in. Most of us in the Palestine solidarity movement have been irrevocably changed over the past year or so. I am not the person I was a year ago, and never will be, which, I think, on the whole, is for the better.

Looking forward, in two days, we have US elections. We will find out if we are to be ruled by a genocidal fascistis corporate shill or a genocidal neocon corporate shill. It has been difficult to focus for the past week or so, and who knows what the near and not-so-near future holds. But, as Adrienne says, some traditions are not meant to be broken, so I did her cozy winter yoga practice, which I always do on the day the clocks go back. And, of course, this post is also part of that tradition. Following these traditions gives a feeling of morring in a rapdily changing world. Whatever happens, everyday life will have to go on even as great events intrude on it. The mundane and the momentous will have to co-exist. 

Assault on Comrade

 Today, we received an email from the uni's police department, (yes, unis here have their own police department" seeking information about two assaults. One seemed like a drunken brawl late on a Friday night, but the other occured in a uni building in the middle of the day. There was also a picture of the assailant in the email. I was puzzled for a second, but didn't think much of it until we got an email from an economics faculty member saying it was one of our PhD students who had been assaulted while flyering. The student is active in the Palestinian solidarity movement and is never seen without a keffiyeh. And, he is scrawny, while the guy who asaulted him seemed well-built. There are plenty of DIF reservists lurking around the US, and he must have been one. And, in true IDF fashion, he picked a fight with someone much smaller and weaker than him. The IDF never enters a battle unless it has an overhwleming physical advantage. Which is why it plays cautious against Iran, over whom it has a sizeable (thanks to US support) but not overwhelming military advantage, while it masacres Palestinian and Lebanese civilians with abandon. It is a very efficient civilian-killing machine, but sucks at armed combat. But, coming back to the asault, I was incensed. I happened to be wearing my keffiyeh as I was supposed to attend which I learned at the last moment had been called off. I got a lot of smiles and compliments on the streets of Amherst and Noho and no hostility. But, I am a largish man, and not a natural target for the IDF. And, now as a tall strong-looking man I feel I should wear my keffiyeh more often. I have never fought anyone as an adult, and there was time when I thoguht I should lean self-defence classes. Self-defence classes are great if they make you feel more confident, but they are not essential. The battle agasint Zionism will not be one solely with physical might, even though I believe that violent resistance against a genocidal colonial power is justified. The Zionists have too much money and too many arms. It will be won by millions of people in the US putting their careers and their physical safety, and in some cases their liberty and lives on the line, by turning up and speaking up against Zionism. 

Kator Re Bhaaji

 I came across this phrase in  podcast. It is in Konkani, which is a language spoken in some coastal regions of my homestate and in the neighbouring Goa and Karnatka states. The phrase simply means "Cut the vegetable" but the way it is said is as if there were an exclamation mark at the end. It is an exhortation to do something that one is dithering about. "Just cut the damn vegetables and get it over with!" would be the translation that is more faithful to its meaning. I am trying to summon some "Kator Re Bhaaji" energy as I have been dragging my feet over submitting an article to a journal. I have written before about my research rut, which I describe as the feeling that "I am smart enough to see that most research is bullshit, but not smart enough to make originial research contributions". I admit that I am slightly proud of it because in my opinion it is clever without being cocky. But, it is time to retire the phrase. It has served its purpose and now it has started to feel stale. People much more intelligent than me see value in my work, and I should have confidence in their judgement, even if I don't in my own. 

Another Blow to The Resistance

When I lived in the UK, we had to be very careful about what we chanted at rallies and spoke at speeches. UK hate speech laws are strict, and never stricter than when they are applied to alleged instances of anti-semitism. It also illegal to express support for proscribed organisations, such as Hamas and Hezbollah. Saying "Globalize the Intifida" will get you arrested, and on a bad day, so could "No Justice, No Peace" or "Resistance is justified, when People are occupied". These slogans are commonplace at protests in the US. But, most people who come from former colonies are not very conflicted about supporting armed resistance. Many of our freedom fighters, figures who are now feted, whose portraits adorn the walls of government offices, were called terrorists by the colonizers in their time. One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, indeed. Today, Hamas' leader in Gaza, the alleged mastermind of Oct 7 was killed. Once upon a time, media pundits speculated that his killing would be sufficient revenge for the humiliation of Oct 7, and Israeli would halt its military campaign in Gaza. No one beleives that any more. Israel has made it amply clear that its goal is genocide. This evening I also attended a book reading and talk by a Palestinian writer recounting her time growing up in the West Bank and visiting her jailed brother. My eyes did not just well up with tears, I had tears flowing down my cheeks. The grace, courage, dignity and largeheartedness of the Palestinian people is an exemplar and a reminder to those of us who are not Palestinian to not despair. In the past year, those of us involved in the movement for Palestinian liberation in ways big and small have found reserves of both courage and love that we didn't knew existed thanks to the Palestinian people. 

One Year Since Oct 7

I attended a vigil in Amherst Common to mark one year since the genocide in Gaza began. I prefer noisy angry protests to vigils, so I was in two minds whether to go, especially since I didn't know anyone else who was going. But, I decided to go since it was Oct. 7, and I am glad I did. I apprecaited the more woo-woo stuff too, like when they distributed flowers and ask us to speak/project our feelings into them and give them to someone else. There were a number of good speakers, but the one that spoke to close the vigil really chimed with me. She said we know that flowers and vigils will not stop the bombs, but they will create a sense of togetherness and bonding that will sustain us. Because the least we can do is to make sure that the genocide in Gaza doesn't harden our hearts to the suffering of others, does't dehumanize us. None of the us are the same person we were one year ago, and we should mourn our old selves and celebrate our new selves (some of this my interpretration of her words, and not a direct paraphrasal). Today was also the first time I wore my keffiyeh in a non-protest setting (on the bus to uni) and went from feeling a sense of trepidation at the possibility of being confronted by a Zionist, tobarely being aware that I had it on on the bus back. I have decided to wear it regularly as a  light scarf until the weather demands a heavier scarf. I also went back to read my previous blog posts about Palestine, and it was intersting to revisit my emotinal trajectory through this genocide. The despair and nervousness about attending a protest at the beginning, feeling fortified by attending protests, finding the protests peformative after a while and feeling frustrated at not being willing to engage in direct action, coming to terms with said dissatisfaction; predicting that Rafah would be thing that would either obliterate Palestine or be the final straw that prompts the West to put a leash on Israel. Not remembering that I had written that until today. I haven't written about Lebanon, and the disckening realisation that Western contempt is not restricted to Palestinainas, but extends to all Arabs. But, that's a blog for another day or for another blogger who is more articulate and/or is better informed about this than I am. 

Airport Blog SFO Oct 2024

 I am waiting for my  red-eye flight to the East coast after 10-odd days on the West Coast. Events in the Middle East have clouded everything over the past one year, and this trip was no exception. Indeed, the clouds grew darker towards the end of this trip. The next few weeks ahead of the US election could be cataclysmic, and we will be waking up everyday wondering what fresh horror awaits us. But, nonetheless, this was a good trip. We drove to Lake Tahoe, which is about four hours away from the San Francisco suburb that my uncle lives in. We never saw much of each other growing up, because he used to rarely visit India and I didn't visit the US until I was 28. But, his trips to India because more frequent as his parents and my grandparents grew older, and now we see each other at least once a year as both of us visit India during the winter. When I learned that Lake Tahoe was at an altitude of 7000 feet, I was expecting tha we would be driving along winding roads with steep drops. But, as beautiful as the lake was, the place didn't have a mountain feel to it. The lake was so large that at times it felt like a sea. And, the air was so dry that I worried that I would have a repeat of the nosebleeds that I used to get as a achild during the Indian summer. But, I didn't and I managed to get a good number of trail running miles under my belt. Other highlights were kayaking, see a coyote in the wild, seein a bear right outside our apartment complex and the food. I must have eaten more meat that I had in the past year. And, I also managed to get some driving practice, which made me realise that I need more practice before I am comfortable driving by myself.However, this was supposed to be a workcation, and I wish I was better at both working and vacationing. I have managed to shake off the bad PhD habit of always feeling like you are supposed to be working, but some vestiges remain. Now, its back to Amherst, and to doing the things that I had been putting off till after my trip, like buying non-essential furniture. 

Off to California

 I'm off to California tomorrow on a "workcation" with family. I am told that I am going to miss the change of season in Mass, which is something of an occasion. By the time I return, the famous New England autumn coloours will be all around me. Summer will be truly over and so will the spell of unusally dry weather that we have been blessed with almost ever since I arrived here from the UK. I have made the most of the weather by packing in a whole lot of trail running and hiking. For the past few weeks, I haven't made any purchases for the house even though my living room still  looks pretty bare, and I lack a bed-side table. Exhausted by the number of decisions that setting up house requires and singed bya  fwe wrong ones, I decided to put them off till I return from California. I have been to California three times before but this time we will be spending most of my trip in Lake Tahoe. I will be in the mountains for the first time since Nepal in summer last year. As much as I have enjoyed the hillas and pine forests of Western Mass, its time to head to the mountains now. depsite some teething troubles, the start of my life in the US has been pretty good, and I will look forward to coming back just as I am looking forward to going away for a shot break. 

Saying Yes to Everything

 Since I arrived in the US, my maxim has been to say yes to all invitations, and so far it is working well.. This weekend, I attended a conference and I enjoyed myself. I had found the last two conferences I  ateended in the UK pretty underwhelming, and I am begining to realise I had mentally checked out of the UK long before I left. I don't know why and maybe the reasons will reveal themselves in the coming weeks, months or years. On the face of it, there is a so much to dislike about the US. Maybe it is the novelty factor that is making me feel more buoyant and extroverted. But, saying yes to everything has been a positive experience. When I moved to the UK, my main vehicle for trying to meet new people were meet-up events. It didn't go well, and I feel the experiences sharpened my misanthropic tendecies. Here, I am fortunate to be in one of the biggest commuinties of heterodox economists in the world. 

Surround Sound

 I have bought dozens of things over the past month, small and big, cheap and expensive. I have regretted many purchases, some expensive ones, such as my bike and my first mattress (and maybe its even more expensive replacement, but only time will tell). I have made peace with those purchases and the money I have lost on them. But, there is one purchase that I absolutely do not regret, and that has boosted my quality of life appreciably. In my last house in England, my landlord had a Bose surround sytem and he encouraged me to use it. And, use it I did. A good sound system creates a sound cocoon from the soundwaves boucing off the walls of the room. It can be intensely relaxing and/or uplifting. I haven't tried high-end earphones but I can't imagine that cocoon effect can be replicated by music that is beamed directly into your ear. So, here in Amherst, when I saw someone was selling their music system, I leapt at the chance. As it happens, it was on the day that I bought my bike, which I didn't like from the moment I took delivery of it. But, the surround system was a great buy and redeemed the day. Its not a Bose, but it is still pretty good. I highly recommend it to everyone who is single and lives alone. There is nothing like it to beat the blues. 

Runner's High

 When I used to run in Bristol, runner's high was elusive. Maybe it was because I had tired legs from commuting by cycle in hilly Bristol, but runing in Bristol would leave me knackered. The exhaustion after a run would hit once I had showered and eaten, and I would plan my runs so that I didn't have to leave the house after returning. I would not be very productive for the rest of the day, but that was also an unproductive period of my life. So, I am pleased to report that running in Amherst has been a very different experience. Firstly, the landscape--pine forests, streams that would be called rivers in England, and solitude. Secondly, I run early in the mornings when I have the whole forest to myself. In space-constrained Bristol, it is impossible to get away from people. For the first weeks here, I ran on trails close to my house, and I had begun to feel a bit bored. So, today, I cycled to a trail that is a but further from my house and it was a short but beautiful trail. It was also a relentless ascent, which I prefer to trails that go up and down. And, on the trail itself I felt the strongest runner's high I had felt since my holiday in the Peak District and in Scotland last year, which is when I discovered trail running. Cycling to the start of a trail opens up many more trail options for me, and I am keen to explroe more trails.  It might also push me to get a car so that I can access trails which are even further out. And, that is a much cooler reason to buy a car than, say, grocery shopping. 

One Month in the US

I came to the US exactly one moenth ago today, and its been a good month. Yes, there have been teething troubles--I bought the wrong mattress, the wrong cycle, and goodness knows what else. I have been shocked by the price of everything and left bewildered by the absence of grocery stores in the college town I know call home. I jsu went back and read my first post from the US, and it is a litany of rants about the move. But what is surprising is how little I remember any of it. It feels like water under the bridge that has long since flowed into the ocean. Yes, I don't have a big social circle yet, but I have an agreeable officemate and lunchmates, which I didn't for my last year in Bristol. Work is picking up, and I feel useful, like I am doing something worthwhile for the first time in years. I woudn't go so far as to say I ahve found a ewn purpose in life, but that possibility doesn't seem as remote as it did jsut a few weeks ago. And, I have aleady written about how I have transformed into an extroverted spendthrift from a thrifty introvert. Whether that transition is temporary remains to be seen. 

Buyers Remorse

Buyers remorse is hitting hard today. I bought a bike which I feel is meant for old people. The riding position is too upright and it can't go very fast. But, its the farthest thing from a sports bike it still doesn' t have mudguards. Sometimes, it feels like the US only puts thought into cars and the accompanying infrastructure.  I mainly bought it because I think its good for my hip mobility. Oh yes, there is another thing that I am feeling buyer remorse for--my matress. It turns out that it is too soft and might be the rason for my hip/lower back pain. But, I can only deal with one piece of buyers remorse at one time. I will decide what to do with the mattress next week. Okay, rant over. It turns out I can adjust the handle to have a less upright riding position, and in any case, I won't be using the bike as much as I used to in the UK. On the bright side, I bought a bluetooth speaker on facebook and it is brilliant. From now on, I will have music playing in my house all the time. At this time,something I heard my former landlord said comes to mind. He said, " We will not let this become an issue". The recognition of an annoyance, and the decision to deal with it without dwelling on it. 

Settling In

Its been a while since I wrote a blog post. I had started writing one last week, but abandoned it because it was just going to be a rant. Either a rant about how difficult it is to set up house without a car or a whine about the number of decisions one has to make while setting up house, and how those decisions haunt you if you are overthinker who is prone to buyer's remorse. This post will start off as a rant but won't end as one. What has struck me is how difficult it is to buy groceries in this country, especially fruits and veggies. Not exotic ones, something as simple as bananas and apples, which you would find in any supermarket or cornershop in the UK. First, there are very few food shops that exist oustide strip malls. Then, those that do mostly sell junk food, not fresh food. The few ones that do are frightfully over-priced and of low-quality. So, one has to visit the strip mall if one wants to eat healthy. There are buses to the mall, but not all shops in the strip mall are accessible by foot, since there is a fairly busy road that runs through it. Welcome to America, people say, when I gripe to them about this. I was joking to a friend that last week I was fretting about where to buy eggs, and this week I am fretting about where to buy bananas. But, the edge is wearing off these peeves already. I have come to accept that grocery shopping will take a bit more time, a bit more planning and I will have to learn to make shopping lists since nipping out for some fruit is not an option here. Other than that, I am settling in quite well. I was stricken by buyer's remorse for some of my purchases but that has worn off. My kitchen is set up and my current state of existence is pretty comfortable. I am also finding it amusing that I am bit of a house-dandy. I have opinions on what lining I want for the kitchen shelf, for instance. I love my apartment and my neghbourhood has enough vegetation that I can hear crickets as I write this. I have found some good trails for running close to my house. Work has also picked up and I find that I am enjoying it. All in all, a good start to my US innings. 

Race Riots in the UK

 For the past few days, I have been watching the news coming out of the UK with growing alarm. A few days after I left, the UK has errupted in race riots. Even my erstwhile home of Bristol, a famously progressive city, has not been spared. My comrades from the Palestine movement went for a march in London yesterday, and returned to join a group of counterprotestors protecting a hotel housing asylum seekers from the fash. They saw the violence at close quarters and were lucky to not have been injuried themselves. 

If I was there, I would have been with them. I would have been petrified of being arrested and endangering my immigration status, but I wouldn't have been able to look myself in the mirror if I had stayed at home. I have written before about the courage of the cautious, but in unprecedented times the cautious too have to put their bodies and their freedoms on the line.  One need not trade blows with the fash, but just being part of the crowd, holding the ground, can make a difference. Like the time a Zionist ripped a part off my comrade's prop, and I ran to them and simply stood behind her, without saying a word because I had no idea what had just happened. 

I have often said that British society, depsite being led by a heavily racist establishment, is more welcoming towards foreigners. Be that because of anit-racist campaigns led by previous generation of migrants, or the long history of immigration to the country. I definitely felt less like a foreigner there than I did in the Netherlands. I accept that as a Indian male employed in a white-collar profession, my iimigrant experience might have been very different from say a Hijabi who barely speaks English. Also, I never lived anywhere apart from Bristol, which is a pretty diverse city by UK standards.  But, in the past few months, I could sense a change in the atmosphere on the streets. On the Palestine marches, we were used to some heckling by pro-Israelis, but no Islamophobic abuse, until recently, The only time I faced racial abuse in the UK was on Palestone protests because the fash thought I was Muslim. There was also that incident with the guy who chased me in his car, which I felt had a  racial element to it.  

Moving Pains

 Warning: this post is a bit of a rant. Today was Day 3 in the US, and I should say I am not a fan yet. Our memories tends to gloss over difficult bits, but I don't remember settling into the UK being so difficult. Firstly, moving from a city with a vibrant cycling culture like Bristol to the US was always going to be a shock, even in liberal Massachussets. Maybe it will pick up when the uni year beings but there are so few cycles to be seen on the roads. I came with the intention of buying a bike almost immediately, but I am beginning to have second thoughts. Secondly, simple grocery stuff like fruit and yoghurt is not easy to find even in downtown areas of the small town I am in.  I had to go to a bougie deli to buy yoghurt and fruit. It definitely seems like eating healthy is going to be a challenge in the US. Thirdly, I have had to wade through a crazy amount of paperwork to join this position. IT feels like everyone in the US is so scared of getting sued that they make paperwork to cover every eventuality. Fourthly, setting up house is not going swimmingly well. I picked up the keys to my apartment today. It is a very pleasant apartment and quite roomy too. But, my joy and relief at seeing the apartment was tempered when I checked my Amazon account to follow up on my bed and matress orders, I learnt that they had been delivered yesterday and the day before. I had not received messages to say that they were out for delivery or had been delivered. Just a while back, I got a message saying that the pillows I had ordered had been dispatched. Trust Amazon to treat a pair of pillows with more care than a bed and mattress. A bed and a mattress are not easy to either pilfer or dispose off so I suppose they are lying in a storage shed, hopefully undamaged. I realise these are all just teething troubles. 72 hours is too little time to form a judgement about a place and I just have to be patient. 

Airport blog, London, July 2024

As I wait for my flight to Boston, I am seated facing a conveyor belt watching people pass even though there are rows and rows of much more pleasant seats behind me. The problem is they are behind a glass enclosure. If flying wasn't unpleasant enough, Heathrow has decided to restrict access to seats besides departure gates to passengers departing from that gate, at least in this terminal. No more can you wander around until you find a quiet corner next to a gate that is not being used. But, at least where I am seated has a lot of natural light. 

I feel like I am supposed to be feeling more feelings before such a big move. This is a step into the unknown. I don't know if I am leaving the UK temporarily (like a on-year sabbatical) or permanently (with an immigrant visa). Not that I put much thought into it or had other options. It is either this or move back to India because as soon as I got this job, I took myself off the job market. I have been telling friends that this move is akin to pushing the reset button on my professional life, something that will get me out of my professional rut. Sometimes, resetting your computer solves the problem, but sometimes it doesn't, so its no suprise I am feeling nervous. What if I don't like the work? And, what if I hate living in the US? Guess there is only one way to find out. 

A friend last week asked me what was the one thing I wanted to change about myself. I replied that I wish I was more of a people's person. To put it more bluntly and at the risk of sounding like a jerk, I wish I didn't find most people boring. I am smart, but I have friends who are much smarter than I am who don't. Ot at least they are less judgemental and/or good at faking it. Maybe I can reinvent myself as a people's person in the US? Fake being one until I become one. My mother said used to be a shy person growing up, but her activism brought out the extrovert in her. I know there is a difference between shyness and introversion, and I feel I am more of an introvert. I don't know if one can change personalities but neither are personalities cast in stone. Surely, one can tinker around the edges? And, as I wrote yesterday, it will be interesting to see how life will be differnt in a more extroverted culture like the US. 

Last Night -- a) at 78, Selbrooke Cresecent b) in Bristol c) in the UK

 Lots of lasts here, so I am going to go one by one. I have nothing but good things to say about the place. My standard of living was immeasurably better than it was in my previous house. This was the first home that I lived in in Bristol. My first house in Bristol was an Airbnb and in my next house the sitting room had been converted into a bedroom. This house is beautifully done up, and I had a warm and gentle (occasional) housemate who spends most of the year abroad. I will miss him and this house. One of the things I will miss the most is sitting in the super-comfy armchair in the sitting room on cold evenings with a cup of tea. And living here has pushed me to be less stingy when it comes to spending on my housing situation. My thirfty disposition meant that I took to living like a student a little too well and continued living like a student when I could afford not to. One's house is meant to be a refuge from the world, and any money spent on making it more refuge-like is money well spent. 

My feelings about Bristol are complicated, as the past few blog posts show. I don't have much to say other than to note that Bristol is the longest that I have lived anywhere since I went off to engineering college 21 years ago. It just occured to me that maybe I get bored of places after a while, but that is a conversation for another day. 

I never thought I would leave the UK for the US. Its a bit of cliche that people who like living in the US, don't like the UK, and vice versa. What I like about the UK is idea of personal space. Coming from a country like India where there is no concept of personal space and it is normal for people to ask if you are married within minutes of meeting you, it was a refreshing change. But, the keen awareness of personal space, and the abject fear of violating it can also come in the way of intimacy. I have struggled to make friends with British people, and some other non-British friends have also reported the same experience. Going back to things I like about Britain--dark humour, the ability to laugh at themselves. I remember that a few years ago the public was asked for suggestions for the name of a british Arctic explorer ship or some such. The Americans would have come up with a name like 'Pride of the Nation'. Britons voted for "Boaty Mcboatface". 

Ready To Move On From Bristol

 A friend today remarked that I had mentally already moved on from Bristol. She had asked me if I was sad to leave Bristol, and my response was to shrug my shoulders with that "eeeaahhhh" sound and say "a bit". Today, I did a farewell tour of the city centre. It was a sunny day and Bristol was showing its best side. As I walked around, I saw spots which I hadn't seen in ages. But, the memories of time spent in those spots simply washed over me without leaving a mark. The only spot that aroused some emotion in me was Brandon Hill. I have written about why Brandon Hill is my favourite spot in Bristol so that's no surprise. Bristol has a lot going on for it.It is an objectively very pretty city, as any visitor would tell you. Its hilliness that all cyclists curse makes for some amazing vistas and it has acres of green spaces quite close to the city centre. It a cultural and literary hub of the South-West and it has a reputation for being a progessive city. And, there was a time when I was genuinely fond of it. But, somewhere along the line the fondness curdled into indiffence. I have some theories about the reasons for this, but I won't be getting into them here. 

Farewell Tour

 I have spent the past two weeks meeting people to say goodbye, and its been heartening to realise that my community in Bristol is bigger than I had thought. I've also realised that it is possible to have people who take up space in your heart, but whom you barely ever see, even if you live in the same city. If you are single and childfree, chances are your availability is higher than people who are partenered and/or have children. It takes some time to get used to the fact that you can be friends with people whom you barely see, and accept that fact without bitterness. In the past week, I have met three people whom I hadn't seen in a year, one in more than two years.  I had a deep conversation with one of them today on a topic that is too personal to write about on this blog. We had met eight years ago when I was in the pits, and his company had offered some solace. If I had continued to live in Bristol, who knows when we would have seen each other next? But, I am glad I reached out to him and the others even though we haven't been in touch. 

My Professional Rut

This is a topic that I have spent countless hours thinking about. I have had conversations about with friends and a counsellor about how I was incredibly dissatisfied with my PhD, how it took me to a cynical place where I felt I was smart enough to see through the bull-shit of academia and academics but not smart enough to make original academic contributions. It took me a while but I realised that I had developed an impostor syndrome. And now I feel I have wrung this topic dry. There are no further insights to be gleaned, no truths waiting to be revealed. I have been given the change of scene and the fresh start that I feel I need. There is no point in the further introspection or rumination. The only thing to do is to approach this opportunity with an open mind and an open heart. Yes, the world is in turmoil, and, as academics we must play a part in changing it for the better. But, despair is an easy place to reach, and we have to take responsibility for our own happiness. The world will be what it will be. 

Lots of Small Stuff To Sweat

 I've written before about how ont learning to sweat the small stuff requires a lot of rpactice for an overthinker. Right now, I am preparing to move continents, so tehre is a lot of big stuff and small stuff to sweat. The big stuff like deciding whether to move or not was a n easychoice because it was either this or move back to India. I wasn;t even short-listed for any other jobs, and as soon as I got this offer I promptly removed myself from all job advert mailing lists. The other big stuff was deciding where to live. I spent a month searching in the apparentyl trendy town of Northampton. and was targetted by numerous scamsters, falling prey to a weirdo. But, when I decided to abort my search in Noho, and look in Amherst I found an apartment in a matter of days. I moved with a speed and decisiveness that surpised myself. In contrast, I have been agonizing over decisions like whether to mail a box of books to a friend's place or to my new place and when to ask friends if they want any of the stuff I want to dispose off. I am having to frequently tell myself, "this si not a big deal, it doesn't really matter what you choose". It feels like I sweat the bigg stuff less than the small stuff. Maybe because for the big stuff, I go with my instinct, I go with what "feels "right, ratehr than what "thinks" right. With the small stuff, there are no feelings, so I just have to go with the head. 

Last Night in Brighton, July 2024

Tomorrow morning I return to Bristol after a two-day trip to Brighton, my shortest ever. The purpose of this trip was to see my aunt and cousin before leaving for the US. Brighton, it turns out, was where I landed when I first moved to the UK in November 2016. Since the move had come quite soon after my first wobble, my dad had decided that I should acclimatize with my aunt in Brighton before moving on to Bristol. Since then, Brighton has been the place where I come to for some "taking care of"--a break from cooking and cleaning, and a break from Bristol. Initially, I would think that my visits are a burden on my aunt, since we don't have much to talk about. But, the difference between friends and family is that ties ae not dependent on each company finding the other scintiallting company. And, this might seem self-serving, but I do get the impression that she enjoys taking care of people. In the early years, my trips were longer and more frequent. I spent three very pleasant weeks here during my first Christmas in the UK, which helped to put the shock of having been evicted from my rented room within two weeks out of my mind. A big atraction of Brighton is the sea front. As one walks downhill from my aunt's home to the sea front along The Drive, at one point the sea suddenly leaps into view, with its different shades of blue and white stacked on top of one another like a multi-layered cake. And, then one reaches the sea-front, which is as pleasant as a pebbly beach could be. I have used many a walk along the Brighton sea front as a balm for my mind. 

Sickness and Access to Medical Help

The cold that I picked up in my last days in India has steadily gotten worse and the return journey from hell didn't help. I was hoping that my flight would be on time and immigration wouldn't take long, so that I could catch the 8:30pm coach to Bristol. The flight was nearly an hour late and immigration took 75 minutes, so ended up having to catch the 10:45 pm coach. My cab driver in Bristol was a chatty Cathy and by that point my voice was down to a croak. When I woke up this morning after a fitful sleep, I had a fever. My first thought was what if it was something more serious and I had to go to the doctor. My landlord is in Romania, and I would have to make my own way to the doctor or the A&E. But, I calmed down pretty quickly. The NHS protocol is not to see a doctor unless your high fever persists for three days. In India, where doctors are so easily available to people of my class there is the temptation to see a doctor and get on a course of anti-biotics. However, if the doctor won't see you until you are sick for more than three days, it takes the decision out of your hands. Most viral infections have no cure, and simply require rest and time and enforced patience is a good thing.

I thought this is the sickest I have been since dengue in 2016. but according to my blog, Covid in Fed 2022 was quite bad too. And, this time there are no pesky housemates, no spectre of Long Covid, no lectures to make up. I might miss an upcoming trip to Brighton, but if there ever is a good time to fall sick, this is it. 

Airport blog Mumbai July 2024

 A close friend and my sister asked me how my India trip was, coming as it did just six months after my previous trip (they didn’t ask this, I am asking myself). My response is I am glad that I listened to my cousin, who had gently admonished me when I told her I was planning to go to Turkey with a friend instead. My heart is full: I managed to spend a lot of time with family, reconnected with friends I hadn’t seen in more than a decade at my journo school reunion. As I have written before, it has been a difficult few months, with the genocide in Gaza and the stress of finding a job, and its always good to touch home before a big move. Yes, there were quibbles, and it does seem a bit ridiculous that I have travelled back to the UK from India unwell on the three of my last four trips, including this one. Life in India requires adjustment, and I have learnt the ones that I need to make. Be cful where you eat, eat less and exercise less. I realised that humidity zaps the appetite and my food intake reduced sharply. Memory is unreliable when it comes to the weather, but I felt like I struggled less last year when I came in the peak of summer than I did this time, even though the monsoon was underway. The rain didn’t seem to provide any cooling relief. I made sure to eat less than my (heat-reduced) fill, and the only time I had stomach problems was when I didn’t heed this rule. However, the ‘exercise less’ dictum is a new one. I am heading back with a sore throat and fever. I did an intensive routine yesterday, even though my throat was a bit scratchy and I had more or less decided the previous night to do a relaxing yoga sessions instead. I thought I had avoided the cold that was doing the rounds of my family home, but I was wrong. In any case, these are just quibbles, and not visiting India is not an option, especially as my parents are getting on in years.  

ACJ Reunion Tomorrow

 I went through photos from my time in journalism school yesterday ahead of the big reunion tomorrow. As I said, I have drifted apart from the people I hung out with the most and who also figure the most prominently in the photos. I reached out to the one person whom I am on the best terms with and asked if he was coming to the reunion, and he replied that he didn't even know there was one. ACJ was one of the best years of my life, the first time I found people I could relate to at a personal, intellectual and political level. I also felt smart for the first time in ages, after many years of feeling like a dullard in engineering college. One month of we graduated and dispersed to different corners of South Asia, I wrote this blog post, which is soaked in sappiness, and not much else. I cringe when I read it, but the blog was portentous. I had a strong sense that the previous year had been an somewhat exceptional period in my life. And, sure enough, I would have to wait another six years for another period in my life which was as magical. I might not be good at many things but I am good at maintaining friendships, and I remained in touch with many people from ACJ for years after we graduated. That changed only after I moved to Holland for my master's (another magical year) and most people drifted away, except for a core of heart friends. I will be meeting several people that I had lost touch with tomorrow, and some from the core as well. I am a sucker for nostalgia, so I am sure I will have a great time.

Airport Blog June 2024

I should be grateful to be sitting here, waiting for my flight. I took a gamble booking my ticket before getting my passport back from the US embassy. In retrospect, my chain of reasoning before I booked the ticket sounds absurd. Suffice to say, it had something to do with the cost of booking a flight late vs the cost of changing a flight. I immediately regretted it after booking the flight. It might have been the wise decision monetarily, but it was not worth the stress of wondering whether my passport would arrive in time. The main purpose of money is to reduce the stress in one's life. My passport arrived at 1:22 pm and I left for the coach station at 2:45 pm, and even managed to squeeze in a trip to the library and the shops. This is the second rash decision I have made in the past week, and its something I am going to mull over. Anyway, all is well that ends well. I think this is the most at ease I have been before an India trip despite the events of the past eight months. Previous trips were clouded by the pandemic, an unfinished PhD and the stress of a job hunt. On this trip, I have loads to look forward. My parents' and grandmothers' reaction when I land up at home unannounced tomorrow. Journo school was one of the best years of my life, and this weekend I will be travelling to Chennai for a reunion. I have drifted apart from the three people I hung out the most with, but other close friends whom I have kept in touch with are attending. And, its always good to visit home and touch base with friends and family before a major move, which I am slowly getting more excited about despite the events in Gaza. 

Crap Week

 This has been a week of no major calamity, but a lot of small mishaps. I've been a target of three rental scams this week, one partially successful. Two days ago, I had to cancel my London trip to a conference I was looking forward to because I had left too little time to reach the train station in the morning. I would still have made it if an Uber driver hadn't cancelled on me. The same day I got into a verbal altercation with a car driver who turned across my lance without signaling, He was so incensed that he turned his car around and followed me. He overtook me, and I thought he wanted me to stop to confront me. Luckily I was approaching the bike path turn-off, so I gave him the middle finger and disappeared on to the bike path. And, today, a lad on an e-scooter came hurtling towards me on the wrong side of the bike path. When I yelled "Watch out!", he swerved abruptly, skidded, and went tumbling down. I managed to stay on my bike, and stopped to make sure he was okay. A passing jogger saw what happened and stopped as well. It was clearly the lad's fault as he was looking at his phone while riding on the wrong side. He glowered at me, but there were no angry words exchanged. And, of course, my US visa didn't arrive, which means I won't be able to fly to India to surprise my parents on Monday. The longer it takes to arrive the longer I have to wait to visit India, and I might end up missing my journalism school reunion next weekend. The longer the wait, the more I will worry more that the visa has been rejected. A US visa rejection will not be the unmitigated disaster it would have been in normal times, though. The situation in Palestine has changed everything. 

Scammers Vs Weirdos

 The most annoying people on property groups/websites are not the scammers, they are the weirdos. Scammers act rationally--they try to reel you in, and if they fail, they move on to the next target. Weirdos don't leave you alone. I had the weirdest interaction with a man on an FB group. So many red flags went up that I thought, "Surely, this cannot be a scammer, he must just be weird. Let me give him the benefit of the doubt." I am not going to bore you with the details of our interaction. I can't explain why I agreed to pay him $75 as an application fee. Let's just say people can wear you down with their persistence. And, my thinking was that surely no one is going to expend so much energy to scam me off $75. I half expected him to disappear as soon as he got the money, and now I wish I had. Instead, he started badgering me to pay a security deposit before even viewing the place (a friend would have viewed it on my behalf). Naturally, I refused. Our past 20 exchanges have been me asking for my $75 back, and him telling me to trust him and send him $200. I know the $75 is a write-off and its a lesson to not just beware of scammers but also to beware of the weirdos. Scammers act rationally, weirdos don't. I thought about either guilt-tripping him or threatening him with exposure, but I don't think its a good idea. $75 is not a life-changing amount. Weird people can be irrationally stubborn and react in crazy ways to provocation. 

Property Scam

 If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is not. For a few hours today, I thought the stars were aligning for me. Someone responded to my ad looking for an apartment on Fb, and put me in touch with their former landlord. The landlord claimed he was a trucker and away a lot. The rent was very reasonable (in hindsight, too reasonable) and the pictures of the apartment were amazing. However, everything went south when I asked if I could put him in touch with a friend who lives in the same town, who would view the place on my behalf. He said that was not possible as he was away a lot. The friend could drive by and look at the place from the outside. He was willing to do a viewing but only after I had paid a a security deposit. HE sought to reassure me that his lawyer would be involved in drawing up the lease, so there was nothing to worry. Red flags went up immediately in my head and I forwarded our email exchange to two friends, who agreed that it seemed very fishy. I googled the address to see if I could find any property records, although this person on the other side of the emails could be impersonating the owner even if there was a property recorded in the name he gave me. I became convinced it was a scam when I did a google search on the images, and it threw up a listing for a different house in Northampton.  The four pictures he had sent me were an exact match, down to the smallest detail. So, there. The stars are not lining up, or at least not yet. But, I realise I am very lucky that I have people on the ground willing to scope out properties for me. What do most people moving to a new place where they don't know anyone do? Get scammed or go through expensive realtors, I guess. 

Zionists

 What a day! It started with the coach that was supposed to take us to the Palestine march in London failing to arrive. Most of the group dispersed, but a few of us decided to drive down to London. The trip down was as uneventful as driving in central London can be. But, as we were reaching our destination, we got the news that the US and Israel had rescued four hostages by smuggling in special forces disguised as a humanitarian convey. To create a diversion for the rescue, they had bombed a nearby refugee camp, killing more than 200 Palestinians. Our hearts curdled in anticipation of how Israel would paint this as a justification for genocide and the breathless media  celebrating the rescue while ignoring the deaths of Palestinians. At least, we felt better about our decision to make it to London today. As were putting up the Bristol banner, a Zionist plucked a flag from an angels-wings prop that one of our group was wearing on her back, and started to walk away. Her response was fiery and she ran after him, trying to snatch it back. Although I hadn't seen what had happened, I ran and joined her when I saw the confrontation. I guess the combination of her passion and my size put him off a confrontation, and he tossed the flag down and walked off. Although I initially felt that my response could have been more aggressive, I am glad the situation didn't escalate because a) I could have gotten hurt b) or arrested. The Zionists and Islamophobes are angry. In almost all the recent actions I have been on, there have been confrontations with Zionists. I don't know if they are trying to instigate violence to discredit the marches, or whether their denialism is taking a violent form. In the face of overwhelming evidence of Israel's atrocities, any doubts that might creep up have to be drowned out with anger and aggression. Like an angry ferret stuck in a hole which will bite the hand that tries to rescue it. I have more respect for these people compared to the armchair Zionists because at least they are putting themselves in harm's way. And, I feel an ever deeper sense of antipathy towards silent Zionists and de facto Zionists--people who don't have Zionist beliefs, but propagate Zionism by their steadfast dedication to their won careers and the status quo that that depends on. 

India Election Results 2024

This is the happiest I have felt in months. I was girding myself for bad news coming out of India on election results day because I can't remember the last time good news came out of India. This election would decide whether India would continue to remain a secular republic or turn into a Hindu nationalist autocracy. And, despite stacking the odds heavily in his favour, Modi failed to win a majority. In a speech I gave at a Palestine rally today. I mentioned the result, adding that fascism is great at projecting power, but when the cracks begin to appear, it crumbles fast. I don't think anyone on the left is under nay illusions that Modi and his brand of fascism will go easily, but his aura is broken forever. Imagining Modi in a coalition government, where he wouldn't have absolute control and will be subject to the pushes and pulls of alliance partners is as difficult as imagining Hitler in a coalition government. As someone on twitter said, hope is more powerful than victory. This is the most hopeful I have felt about the future of India since the farmers' protest of 2020-21. 

US Visa

When people ask me how I feel about my upcoming move to the US, I reply that I haven't given it much thought because my mind is occupied by events in and for Palestine. But, today, as I was filling up the US visa application form, which is a combination of inane (such as the name of the supervisor in y previous job) and creepy (such as my social media handles) questions, it hit me--this is a big change. Maybe it was the invasive question that I would never encounter in the UK, maybe it was because I was taking the first concrete steps towards my move. Maybe it was reading that a condition of my visa is I will have to spend two years in India after my visa expires, even if I marry a US citizen. The feeling that this may be a big change, but a temporary one. People say those whose who like living in the UK, tend not to like the US, and vice versa. The last person who told me this was my friend's mother. My life in the UK for the past few years has not been hunky-dory, even though there have not been any major mishaps. In the past few months, I have felt that I am ready for a change, but change is still a bit unnerving. 

Have Nots-Vs-Haves-Vs-Have Mores

When you write about the people in your life, you have to be conscious of the possibility that they or someone who knows them might read your words. Which is why, when I do, I try to refer to them in the most oblique terms possible and stripping out all potential identifiers. But, today, I am gong to write about the people in my work life, and since I am leaving my workplace and the country soon, I am not particularly bothered. Last week, my office mate came in and told me to watch a video recording of a faculty meeting in which many of colleagues had berated our head of department. This office mate is not very involved in the department, so he was shocked by the rancour in the meeting. Apparently, academic colleagues from the same department with a research profile were to receive hefty pay increases. The pay increases for the most senior colleagues would be more than my salary. I was aghast at the knowledge, until I realised that I didn't have a dog in the fight. My colleagues with the same profile as me (teaching) but on permanent contracts had been receiving pay supplements to keep them from changing jobs, which I knew nothing about. They were angry because their pay supplements would not be increased. Yes, their anger is justified because both academic profiles are supposed to be equal on paper, and these differential pay increases enshrine the superiority of one over the other. Later the same day, I went to drinks with my colleagues. The colleague I am closest to had warned that conservation would strictly be limited to griping about the pay increases and what to do about it. I should have heeded her warning and steered clear because it was a have-not (me), listening to the haves complaining about the have-mores. To be fair to them, many of them possibly didn't know that I was not receiving the pay supplement. But, I found the conservation incredibly tedious and a tad self-involved. These are the same colleagues who have been ignoring my emails about rallies and open letters about Palestine, None of them are part of the lecturers union. None of them are shrinking violets who are incapable of speaking up for themselves against the powers that be. So, their silence on these other issues stems from indifference not fear. People who are incapable of solidarity themselves should not expect solidarity. (I know the last few sentences make me sound more bitter than I feel, and that my colleagues are no different from the majority of the population.) I felt even more like an alien in the department, and I am so glad that I am leaving. I should add that I have never negotiated for a pay increase in my life, and this is not a statement of virtue. As a male (and upper-caste, in an Indian context), I am not ill-served by existing pay structures, and having well-to-do parents means I have never had to worry about money. I am also frugal by nature (sometimes a bit too much) and I have never struggled to live within my salary. I feel angered by inequality in society and of course I am not fine with being paid less than others. But my anger doesn't have the sting that comes from personal experience of deprivation, unlike some of my friends. My thriftiness is a personality trait, and not something borne out of necessity.  

Activist Circles

 I am realising how tiresome activist groups can be. I am on the periphery of two organising groups for Palestine. One is old-school with a clear governance structure, which runs pretty smoothly. I am not privy to the diagreements, which I am sure there are. The other is the group of staff supporting the student encampment. The student encampment appears to be pretty horizontalist in its structure, and the staff group is mix of old-school vs younger people who have their own ideas. I don't want to pick sides because I find each side almost equally tiresome. My observation is the students don't seek the guidance of staff and don't want staff to be involved in decision-making, although they want our support and solidarity. The staff do not seem to appreciate that. The old-schoolers fear that a badly organised movement could sabotage itself by being too aggressive or too soft or foolish. The younger staff seem more in tune with the students, but do feel they have a big part to play too. Two factions have formed among the staff group, and the whatsapp group and the much smaller Signal group are on fire. Anyone who hasn't checked their messages in a few hours would struggle to make hear or tail of what has transpired and what has been agreed upon. I have a newfound respect for the discipline of organisational studies. Organising a group of volunteers when the goal is not clear feels like a fiendishly tough business. There is nothing stopping people from leaving in a huff, and many do. 

The Courage of the Cautious

A few minutes after I finished writing last week's blog post I was struck by panic. It turned out there were Zionist students in the audience recording the speeches at the rally. After the rally, the Zionists had tried to get an old woman arrested for anti-semitic speech. When I heard about this, I freaked out. I started going over what I had said in my speech, and whether I had said anything that could be construed as anti-semitic by bad-faith actors. Needless to say, I didn't sleep too well that night. The panic was a learning experience though. One doesn't realise one's risk threshold until one has neared it or crossed it, and in this instance, I felt like I had bitten off more than I could chew, even though my fear was irrational. On the other hand, courage is like a muscle that gets stronger with exercise. For instance, at the beginning of the genocide, I was nervous to go on protests because of my immigration status and the threats from the government. Now, I don't even give it on a second thought, even though I know someone who has been arrested on of these demos. To be sure, personality matters, a cautious person is unlikely to become a braveheart no mater how much they exercise their courage muscle. I am cautious by nature, and there is nothing wrong with that. Not everyone needs to be the tip of the spear, you need people for the shaft. NO revolution or radical social change is possible without the cautious becoming more courageous because the cautious are more numerous compared to the firebrands. And, the surprising thing is the next morning I was prepping my next speech. I spoke again at a rally today. While I was mentally prepared to be recorded this time and had gone over my speech with a fine tooth comb, I did face a moment of panic last night when someone mentioned how organised the Zionists were. But the moment passed quickly, and while I felt a bit nervous this morning, I gave my speech and also stepped into emcee at the last moment. And, I feel quite nonchalant about speech-giving now. I know this doesn't mean I won't feel anxious about it in the future. Anxiety is a funny animal who doesn't follow the laws of reason, such as they maybe, but I do feel like I have given my courage muscles a good workout in recent weeks and months. 

My First Rally Speech

 I spoke at a rally at Bristol uni in support of the student encampment for Gaza today. There is a perpetual shortage of speakers at rallies at Bristol Uni, which is not the case for the bigger rallies outside the uni. IN those rallies, speakers have to be reminded to stick to their allotted time. At the last rally at the uni, I was asked if I wanted to speak, but I had declined. This time when the call for speakers went out, I foud  it difficult to say No. Gaza, and, more recently, the repression of the student protests in the US has been top of my mind. So, I thought why not channel some of that strength of feeling into a speech? I realise its a bit self-involved of me to write about my speech delivery and it makes me feel like I gave the speech just for the attention. Well, I would be lying if the attention was not a factor in my decision to give a speech, even if it was a minor factor. I realised rally speaking is a different kettle of fish compared to seminar speaking and I think I spoke too fast. There is a temptation to speak fast for effect, but if its much faster than your natural pace, you struggle to maintain the pace. It didn't help that I was shivering as I spoke because it was very nippy. And, some of it was plain old nerves. I know that people become better speakers with practice. I have watched students' rally speaking skills improve before my eyes. 

Students and Palestine

 I have spent much of the past few days following the student protests for Palestine in the US. The sight of frail-looking teenagers squaring up against American cops who are built as pit-bulls--throwing themselves on the gears of the US war machine, as one commenter on Twitter put it--is both exhilarating and terrifying. And, most of the protestors seem to be female. Zionism is on the downswing, but it is so tied up with capitalism that it will either drag it down or will have to be abandoned by capitalism. We are far away from the former and not much closer to the latter. Many more people in the Wes will have to put their liberty and possibly even their lives on the line for that to happen. it is easy to get discouraged by the enormity of the struggle. It is also easy to feel sniffy towards those not ostensibly participating in it and able to go about their day-to-day lives without too much trouble. The protests at my university have been very quiet affairs, with just a handful of staff, and not many more students. But, I feel both pride in and awe at the students. Before our eyes, they are turning into more confident speakers and effective organizers. Their campaigns have become more targeted, and are now demanding concrete steps by the university to end its complicity with the arms trade, rather than general calls for a ceasefire. But, the sight that moves me the most is how tiny they are. It feels like the tiniest frailest students turn up for Palestine. None of them would like out of place in school uniforms.

Anything is Possible

 As I have said before, I don't do book reviews, but I do do book raves. I am on a Elizabeth Strout reading spree at the moment, and I am beginning to appreciate why she is considered one of the greatest living writers. I just finished Anything is Possible, which is a sequel to My Name is Lucy Barton. Many people have written about the accessibility and profundity of her novels. Hillary Mantel had this to say about My Name is Lucy Barton: Writing of this quality comes from a commitment to listening, from a perfect attunement to the human condition, from an attention to reality so exact that it goes beyond a skill and becomes a virtue.” I liked MNILB more than AIP, but today I am going to talk about AIP because I think I have found what to put on a new post-it note as I navigate the uncertainty about my career. The post-it note will be the title of the book, which is a shortened version of a mantra from one of my favourite Yoga with Adrienne sessions: "Trust, Accept, Remain Open to All Possibilities". Both phrases might seem unremarkable, and even trite, unless you feel their truth like I did. The novel itself is about how the ghosts from our past might not blight our lives forever. How opportunities to heal maybe be found in the most expected places and times. not 'can' but 'may', which doesn't put all the onus on the person. Because how can we ever be sure that steps we are taking to heal are making any difference, even if they are not actively hurting us? What I like about the phrase AIP is its balance between openness and acceptance. It is not "Anything can happen" which is a statement of fact devoid of deeper meaning and sets too much store on fate. Equally, its not "You can do/be anything", which feels (at least to me) like trite boosterism. Even if you have the ability and motivation to do/be what you want, fate has to line up behind you. The reason I think boosterism is dangerous is it can easily turn into self-flagellation when said goals are not realised. AIP, on the other hand, gives a nod to fate, but without surrendering to it while urging openness not just about the possibilities but also about our goals. Or at least that is how I read it. We may not know what we want or even need it until we stumble upon it. 

My First Iftaar

Today, I fasted for the first time in my life ahead of a Grand Iftaar for Palestine. Attending an iftaar without fasting if one is able to feels like copping a free meal, and since this Iftaar was dedicated to Palestine, fasting was a no-brainer. According to the rules, the fast was to begin at 4:56 am, but I decided to begin my fast after having a cup of tea and a bite to eat. I didn't need to fixate on the precise timing since I wasn't going to pray in any case, And, since I am an early riser, I figured that wouldn't be too late, and I ended up beginning my fast shortly after sunrise. I thought going without water would be the difficult bit, but I was wrong. Going without food was more difficult, but I didn't feel stomach-churning hunger pangs. it helped that I was home and the only physical activities I did was light yoga and cleaning the kitchen. The Grand Iftaar was nice and very welcoming towards non-Muslims. I am happy I fasted in solidarity for Palestine, but I don't think I will be fasting again. I didn't feel any more affinity with Palestine than I usually do. I  can imagine it being a soul-cleansing activity for believers but I am not one. . Bereft of the religious and spiritual elements, fasting is simply food and fluid deprivation. I

Clocks Go Forward 2024

The clocks went forward last night, so its time to look back on the past five months. My post from October barely mentioned Gaza, only referring to my being glad to have found my activist bone. I suppose no one at the time imagined that Israel would still be genociding after six months. Palestine has been at the top of my mind, and I have been to nearly two dozen events for Palestine. I have learnt that people can break your heart with their cruelty but can also bring you to tears their courage, and it is up to you which one to focus on. In my low moments, I feel like I spend all my time either agonizing over the situation in Gaza or my job hunt. I don't know where I will be when I write the next "clocks" post as it depends on where I find a job. All I know is that I won't be in Bristol. If I don't find a job in academia in the UK, or get turned down for the one position I have applied to in the US, I will be back in India in which case there will be no clocks post as clocks in India don't change over the year. If I return to India, it won't be by choice, and I am not going to get into the reasons for that here. I have woken up on more than a few mornings feeling anxious about my job prospects. But, the best antidote to morning anxiety is to get out of bed and get on with your day, or at least that is how I cope with it. As the job search is also a location search, I find myself weighing the pros and cons of every country. The list of cons for each country is much longer than the pros. UK is starting to resemble a developing country and academia, in particular, is a basket fire. The US is the citadel of consumer climate-destroying capitalism, is seething with Zionists, and may elect Trump again. About India, the less said the better. But, I am slowly realising that there is no place to run to to escape the evils of the world. The world will likely become a less hospitable place in the coming years on all dimensions--social, political and environmental. I am  not going to be able to move to a world I want to live in because it doesn't exist and never did. I am going to have to play a role in building the world in which I want to live in, wherever I find myself. And, this realisation has been sobering for me but also liberating. There is very little certainty in my life right now but the one thing that I am certain about is activism will be a part of my future. 

Sparsely Attended Protests

 I was in two minds to go to a Palestine protest at the uni this morning.  Last Friday, I had walked past another protest without stopping because there were just a handful of students, and I didn't want to be the only staff member there. Why academics have been so hesitant to take a stand on Gaza is a post for another day. Protesting at one's workplace feels very awkward, especially if you are one of the few people protesting. But, I'm glad I did today, even though there were just ten of us. As we were standing there, we got quite a few supportive honks and fist raises from drivers. A guy in a fancy electric vehicle rolled down his word to hysterically stream "You are terrorists" to us, more proof that genocide apologists are becoming desperate. And, after a few minutes, I saw my head of school pass by, wheeling a large stroller. On another day, I might have averted my gaze, pretending not to notice here. But, today, I met her gaze and smiled. She smiled back and walked past, before turning around and retracing her steps to ask me what I was protesting about. She stood and chatted with us for more than five minutes, and she was distressed enough about the situation that tears rolled down her face. She is a mainstream economist to the hilt, and has all the social skills of an economist, which is almost none. She does nothing to hide her disdain for those of us who are employed on the teaching pathway in her department, and not on the research pathway, like her. As she left, she wished us all the best. This was a passing encounter and I have no reason to believe that she will use her position or privilege to push the uni on Gaza. But, her supportive demeanor warmed my heart, and made me feel optimistic that the current genocide is rousing the consciences of people far beyond the protest circuit.  It made me feel glad that I decided to go for the protest. Protesting can often feel performative or pointless or both but it does provide some soul-warming moments too. 

Interview Debrief

 Neither was the interview a disaster, nor did I smash it. There were questions that I had not prepared for, as there always are. With 20:20 hindsight, Maybe I should have prepared for them. Or, if I was more enthusiastic about the project, rather than the prospect of a big change, maybe I would have thought about those questions. Or, maybe I am just too mentally exhausted to feel enthusiastic about anything and the best that I can aim for is to fake enthusiasm. It could take as long as two weeks for them to get back to me, which I suppose is a good thing. I remember being wracked by anxiety while waiting for the outcome of a job interview last year, for a job that I was not very enthusiastic about. And a two-week wait means I must crack on with the other job applications. I will write a longer post about this but this process is as much about figuring out what I want as it it about who wants me. It is a process of exploration even if it doesn't feel one bit like it. I would like to believe that one eventually lands where one wants to, and they may not be aware that they want that particular thing until they land there. But, I suppose there is also an element of accepting where you have landed and making the best of it. 

Post-Doc Interview Tomrorow

 One benefit of this blog is it chronicles how I felt at a particular time in my life. And, that is important because my recollections of how I felt at that point in time might be different. Reading my past posts often makes me cringe, especially posts from the year that was a pit for me and so many other--2021. Most of my posts from that year were soaked in angst. But, the posts from that year are a reminder of how much my mental state has improved since, even if it might not feel that way with all that is happening in the world. I have an interview for a post-doc position in the US tomorrow so I decided to go back and read my posts from around the time when I interviewed for my current job. I remember being quite nervous before the interview, which was quite unlike me because I am a fairly confident interviewee. But, I had to read y past posts to be reminded of how much of a jumble of nerves I was. The 24 hours that I had spent as an anxious wreck because my teaching demo video had a minor error had evaporated from my memory. For a job that was not even close to being a dream job. Another nerve-wracking interview I successfully interviewed for my PhD position in 2016. That was at the peak of my post-dengue complications, and I remember being such a mess that I read out some of my answers from a Word file. Another advantage of doing interviews on Zoom. There is no account of that interview because it was in my pre-blogging days but I remember being a trembling mess. Tomorrow, I am interviewing for a position that is as close to a dream job that I can expect to find and I am feeling much more relaxed. Yes, some nerves will hit me between now and 4pm tomorrow, but I can't imagine it will be as bad as before the 2021 or the 2016 interviews. 

Black People in Gaza Protests

 I try not to judge people who don't come along on protests for Palestine or don[t even express support on social media. I didn't participate in the uni lecturer strikes, so I can hardly afford to be sanctimonious myself. But, some level of judgement on my part does creep in, and a conversation yesterday served as a useful check for that. At a public meeting for Palestine late last year, an elderly white lady next to me asked why more black people did not show up for Gaza. I was discomfitted by her remark, but did not respond because I didn't have the words to articulate my discomfort. Maybe because I had wondered myself why more black people don't show up at these protests. Yesterday, during a conversation with a colleague who is black, I realised why? I may not be white, but neither am I black or Muslim. I have not had any unsavoury encounters with the police. in the UK. White Brits are the most privileged, and hence, protected group in the UK, so the question should be why are more white people not showing up. 

On Envy (Again)

 I have written on envy before, as well as the difference between jealousy and envy, inspired by an article I read. According to the article, jealousy is aspirational--you want what the object of your jealousy has. Envy is toxic bitterness. You can't have or think you can't have what the other person has, which triggers feelings of animosity towards them. Maybe there is a third category-- you don't want what the other person has but you envy them for having what they want. For succeeding on their own terms, even if their terms of success are very different from yours. You may not want to make lots of money or have kids but you envy someone who does because they are getting what they want (or at least that's what you think they want). Compared to you, who doesn't have what you want, or even doesn't know what you want. Which just go to show, envy or jealousy is a boundless terrain. It is natural to feel envy or jealousy but its you choice to give it a legs. The world gives you enough reasons to be sad, and its a choice whether to use your creativity to come up with more. 

Self-Immolation for Gaza

The selfie video shows a young white man in army fatigues who says 'My name is Aaron Bushnell. I am an active-duty member of the United States Ait Force and I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I am about to engage in an extreme act of protest, but compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it is no extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.' He then walks silently for 20-30 seconds while carrying an open flask and stops at a gate. He places his camera phone at a distance, take his military cap out of his trouser pocket and onto his head while walking towards the fate. He then turns to face the camera and away from the gate. He douses himself with fluid and tosses the flask away. He then bend and tries to ignite his trousers with a lighter. And, this is the part that haunts me. He struggles to ignite the lighter for 10 seconds. 10 seconds when he could have changed his mind and chosen not to go ahead with his plan. He ultimately succeeds and as the flames engulf his body he shouts 'Free Palestine', and continues to chant until his voice gives way. Willing to be killed for a cause requires courage and conviction that very few people have. Choosing to kill yourself in the most excrutiating way possible for a cause requires superhuman courage and conviction. This is not the first act of self-immolation since the war in Gaza began. The first was outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta, which barely made the news. Authorities kept such a tight leash on information that even the gender of the protestor was not revealed, much less their name. Aaron made sure his ultimate sacrifice did not go the same way. May his memory haunt Genocide Joe for the rest of his days. 

Why Take the Long Shots

There is this job opening that I couldn't make up mind whether to apply for. About a week ago, I had tentatively decided not to. But, today, which happened to be the deadline of the job application, I decided to give it a go. I went on the jobs portal and to my horror, discovered that the job opening wasn't live nay longer. I spent the next hour kicking myself for not applying earlier, while acknowledging that even if I was planning to apply, I would have waited till the last day to send the application in. In which case, I would have missed to deadline. I decided to exercise to take my mind off it, and come up with ways to answer the question "What if that job had been the one?". In my defense, how was I to know that they meant the deadline was the start of 25th February and not the end? Suddenly, it occurred to me to check the university's website, and as luck would have it, the job was still live there. I decided to leave everything and write my application. Obviously, the job is not a great fit, else I wouldn't have vacillated about applying. There are many reasons why people take long shots. I am the type of person prone to "what-ifs" and "if-onlys". My reason for applying was self-preservation. Rather than being consumed by regret, might as well bung in an application. And, today I felt cheerful after ages, mainly because I was too busy to dwell on the genocide in Gaza. Distraction and diversion are underrated self-preservation tools.  And, there is something freeing about taking long shots. There is no weight of expectations and also the feeling of empowerment that comes with taking a chance.

Stepping Up

 At last weekend's protest in London, two people on the other coach from Bristol were arrested. I had talked to one of them on a previous march. Their arrests were possibly the result of textbook police provocation. Police jump into the crowd to arrest some with a placard that they consider to be potentially antisemitic. Passions are inflamed in the crowd and more people are arrested for "assaulting an emergency worker". The guy I know who was arrested was an Indian man in his 50s who supports Extinction Rebellion. The last person you would expect to be a troublemaker. I also realized how easy it is to get caught in the police's dragnet. If the police rushes someone next to you, you can get up in the melee. I saw someone get arrested earlier that day and while I consider myself to be cool-headed I could feel the anger rising inside me. To be sure, even shielding someone vulnerable could count as assaulting a police. Enough to get you detained and give an immigrant like me a good fright, even if they don't end up pressing charges. 

As a result of the arrest, my friend and I had to step up as coach stewards as our original stewards stayed back in London to assist the arrestees. WE were then asked if we would like to play a role in organizing actions. We both agreed readily. I have a lot going on in my life at the moment, but I figured directing some energy away from fretting about Gaza and fretting about the job hunt cold only eb a good thing. 

Rafah

The past few days have not been great, as I have been oscillating between feeling distressed by the Israeli onslaught on Rafah, and feeling stressed about my job hunt. Rafah is the Southern edge of the Gaza strip, where most Gazans have evacuated to. To the East is Israel, to the South is Egypt, to the West is possibly the Gazans least hostile neighbour, the Mediterranean sea. It feels like  a moment of reckoning--either the genocide has to stop, or it will be escalate to such an extent that even Israel's most ardent apologists won't be able to defend it. The numbers are at protests are down significantly from the November peak. We protest for a number of reasons, but a big reason is so that we can sleep better at night. And, I guess some people are managing to sleep okay without turning up to protest. I don't mean to sound bitter, and I prefer to be around sympathetic people compared to those who are indifferent to Gaza. More intelligent people than me have written about how this feels like the point of no return. If the world cannot prevent a genocide that is being livestreamed, then what hope do we have for collective action against climate change or fascism? However, it okay to feel despair from time to time, but not okay to wallow in it. Hope is what makes us human. The ability to imagine a better world even in the depths of despair, the ability to see setbacks as learning moments. I am not alone in believing that the progressive energy that events in Gaza have unleashed cannot be put back into the bottle. People who have found their voice in this cataclysmic event will continue to use it even after the Gaza genocide ends, and even after Palestine is free, from the River to the Sea. 

Elbit 7

 My heart sank today when I read that a jury had found the Elbit 7 guilty in an unanimous decision. Elbit 7 are & members of Palestine Action, which believes in taking direct action to stop the Israeli arms trade. This involves everything from chaining themselves to roads to block factory entrances to breaking into factories to cause damage. In hindsight, it was possibly naive to expect that a group of jurors would see their actions as anything other than vandalism. And, of course, no one takes direct action unless they are prepared to be arrested, tried and possibly convicted. But, they were found guilty of burglary and criminal damage and apparently in the past environmental groups have successfully evaded prosecution by arguing that the organisations  they targeted would have consented to their actions (the law is a funny animal). But I have increasingly come to believe that direct action is the most effective way to bring about political change, even if I am unprepared to take direct action myself. Marches and demos are good, but operate in the space delineated by the establishment to express dissent. And, the establishment has a tremendous stomach to ignore dissent. Marches and protests do not push against the walls of the establishment in the way that direct action (and boycotts) do. The actions of activists have resulted in many suppliers and clients severing connections with Elbit because they cannot be bothered to deal with the faff. The boycotts will come because fascism is like a genie that cannot be put back into a bottle. Israel will ensure that it becomes an international outcast. And, direct actions will also increase. Even if I am not yet prepared to take direct action, their actionists can and do serve as an inspiration to keep turning up at protests, however, performative and futile they feel. 

Courage or Prejudice?

 An employment tribunal ruled today in favour of a university professor who was dismissed on grounds of antisemitism.  I follow the said professor on Twitter and know people who know him. And, i can't make up my mind about him. He uses words and language that I would definitely not use, even though I agree with what him on many points. He says that Jews are over-represented in positions of influence, and are not systematically discriminated against in the ways Muslims are, although he does acknowledge that anti-semitic hate crimes do occur. Many people would find these reasonable positions, even if they would never express these opinions themselves out of fear of being labelled as anti-semites. Yes, after his dismissal, the professor has made statements that teeter on the boundary of anti-semitism. At the same time, the standards for establishing antim-semitism and Islamophobia are very different. Blatant Islamophobia in the mainstream press seldom invites sanction, while one has to walk on tenterhooks if criticizing Israel. So, I can't make up mind on this professor. Is he problematic or does he simply have the courage to call a spade a spade? Is the reason some people in the Palestine solidarity movement find his comments discomfitting that they lack his moral clarity and courage? 

Everything Is As it Should Be

My youtube yoga guru Adrienne has a penchant for delivering disarmingly simple yet profound quotes. At the start of the pandemic, I pinned some of them on the wall above my desk to bolster me. I have written about them here. But, one quote of hers that I have always recoiled from is 'Everything is as it should be". She says it in here cozy Winter yoga video, which is one of my favourite practices that I do only during autumn/winter. Everything is obviously not as it should be, and never is. If one were to pick the present moment, the war in Gaza, the rise of fascism, climate catastrophe are just a few examples. But, today, as I came across the quote during practice it landed differently. I felt like the quote was targeted at my inner world where everything is always as it should be. Why is that the case? Because the mind is either in one or two states. Either it is calm, or it is aware that its not calm. There are several ways to deal with the latter state. Take action, talk oneself out of the funk  or do nothing or wait for the storm to blow over. Tacked on to this maxim is the acknowledgement that the world works in mysterious ways and that sometimes blessings can, at first glance, seem like curses. I don't know how much sense I am making but these are my initial thoughts on the subject and may need to be fleshed out further. 

Tummy Upset before UK Return

 I meant to title this post 'Tummy Travails" but of course that title was taken. Its 1:30 am but my upset tummy is keeping me from sleeping. Tomorrow, or rather today, is going to be a long day as I fly back to the UK, but tell that to my stomach. I always have tummy troubles when I visit India, and this time was no different. One night of excess early in my trip turned an unsettled stomach into an upset stomach, and my constitution hasn't been the same since. My stomach had take a lurch for the worse in identical circumstances last year, but as I told my Mother, sometimes you have to make the same mistake twice to learn your lesson. Suffice to say, I am not going near pot for a long time. Maybe it is a question of quantity rather than the substance, but I am not interested in ascertaining which one it is. My upset tummy was a big theme of last year's trip to India, so I went back to my posts from that period to see what I had written, and whether there were any pearls of wisdom I could pick up to see me through the next 24 hours. I am no insomniac but I have enough experience of sleep problems to know that sleepless night=horrible next day. No such luck. That period was towards the end of my lean blogging phase. So, I suppose I will be blogging a lot over the next few days. Blogging forces me to lift my chin up, because nobody wants to read a mopey blog. And, when you write about something you are forced to put some distance between yourself and what you are writing about to see it clearly. And, that distance can be quite useful in difficult situations because you stop identifying with the situation so closely, even if for a brief interval.