Tnahsin Garg's Blog, page 5

Fathers and Sons

Last weekend, it was nearly half past two in the afternoon when I stood at the German railway station, worrying about the train that we were supposed to take. Me and lover had come to Hamburg for a romantic getaway. 

It turned out that the train’s departure station was changed unexpectedly a few hours ago, and we had to rush to another station, several kilometers away, within 20 minutes. We reached out of the station to catch a taxi, and as I scanned dozens of taxi drivers, my eyes instinctively chose an old Indian man - a Sikh with a pale turban, black beard and exhausted eyes. Hardly a minute would have passed by in the taxi, when I started a conversation with the Sikh driver in Punjabi, telling proudly that I too had roots from Punjab. 

"What do you do for a living? Some kind of work?" He asked at some point as we got deeper into the conversation. 

"I’m studying. Doing, um, a PhD."

"That’s good, that’s good. I’ve a son too, slightly younger to you. But he doesn’t want to study. I’ve an daughter too, elder to him. She likes to study. Has gone to Canada for studies, will get settled there only. I’m happy for her. But my son…" he paused in his monologue, and I could see his old eyes in the rear-view mirror gleaning with an unfulfilled wish. "My son declared he can’t study anymore. He put a full stop after plas-two. He wants to drive this taxi, do night shifts. I tried to convince him, that if he can study, maybe he can go out, travel, find a comfortable job…otherwise what’s there in this taxi business! Nothing but struggle. But then kids don’t listen these days…."

And then he began to narrate the story of his cousin’s nephew who didn’t study and died of cocaine abuse in Phagwara. Eventually, he got us to our destination in good time, and told us a handful of tales which he was desperate to vocalize in the forgotten language of Punjab. But it was the story and life of his son that kept ringing in my mind long after the trip. It made me contemplate how ironic life was. That Sikh father doesn’t cherish the fact that his son is with him, all the time, but he instead wants his son to study, go apart, and explore. But his son wants the opposite, and wants to stay at home with his father. In contrast is my own father, who wants me to come back and stay home. But I want to travel, learn, explore, and fly. 

I guess life often makes us wants things that we don’t or can’t have. 

Science as a Panacea

While I thoroughly spoil myself by calling my prose art, and go about the realms of Internet wearing t-shirts spelling out “artist”, there are moments when I can’t completely separate from science - something I pursue everyday in my day job as a PhD student. 

Such a moment is a natural result of viewing the TEDx lecture of Ms. Bose who recently won the Google Science Fair. Her enthusiasm, supported with a natural passion for making an impact, pours out of every word she wants her audience to hear. Her bubbling energy to pursue science, finding a cure for cancer in her case, is visible in her almost breathless talk. How many aspiring scientists like her do we have in India, one of the youngest nations in the world? The number is insignificant to those tuxedo clad fresh MBA’s desperately hunting for white collar jobs in banks and MNC’s, as they spend their life consulting the corporate. 

Perhaps, that is why India, with it’s huge workforce and the so-called untapped potential, continues to lag on the global economic and human development index. China came out of its hole when it sought deeper reforms to its society - by improving the education sector and investing in scientific research, decades ago. Science - that is the answer to all problems. Science at every level, from the kindergarten to the university. Why don’t most of us or the policy makers see it? Why is there a lack of scientific knowledge in India? Because we are too busy running call centers and consulting firms? 

Currently an undergraduate at Harvard, Ms. Bose may go on to be a reputed scientist in the United States in the years to come, her efforts to educate, research and disseminate can contribute towards a better India, a better world. But for that to happen, you need to spread the word. You need to show your kid and the neighbor’s kid the importance of science. That is the ultimate panacea. 

Franklin Templeton Investments partnered the TEDxGateway Mumbai in December 2012, and this post is the part of the Idea Caravan contest hosted by Indiblogger. 

Jhumpa Lahiri as an Interpreter of Maladies

I recently finished Lahiri’s debut, pulitzer winning short story anthology. Frankly, I had avoided Lahiri’s work so far, afraid that it might not be a good time investment. But now that I’ve read it, I feel as if I’ve discovered the genre that I would like to really immerse myself in. These stories on Indian immigrants (specifically, Bengalis) possess a raw quality that they can be cherished by not only Indians living abroad but also those who have traveled away from their homes - a journey which everyone of us takes at some point in our lives. 

Lahiri interprets maladies that succumb every common man and woman, and portrays them through her plain stories which in themselves posses little story or plot. But it’s her character analysis and the overall painting that she creates with her rich and specific prose that inspires me. While I loved each one of her stories in the book, I very much related to the last story titled “The Third and Final Continent” where the Indian narrator is exulting over the fact that he has survived in a foreign land. Here’s a quote from the text,

“I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.”