These Thoughts in my Head

When tragedy strikes

Maya — Sat, 09 May 2009 23:28:48 GMT

For the second time during my year abroad in Taiwan, tragedy has struck painfully close to home. I'm not talking about a death in the family (though that has happened too), I'm talking about the kind of tragedy that makes international headlines, that captures the front page of the New York Times, that sets Twitter abuzz with Tweets.

First it was the Mumbai attacks. Woken at three in the morning by a text message from my mother, I came out of my bedroom to the living room, turned on CNN, and watched for the next three hours as heart-breaking images of a city I loved go up in flames and turned into a war zone, and sobbed and shook as I learned that my uncle had been killed in the line of duty. The agony was prolonged, of course, as each time over the next three days that I sat down in front of the television, the siege was still ongoing, it's final toll unknown, the gun battles still raging in the corridors of the majestic Taj hotel. I felt broken and helpless watching this senseless violation of spaces I frequent whenever I visit, felt panicked at the thought of just how lucky fate can be sometimes, that people I loved were not in those places when they so easily could have been.

The experience was a horrible one, and I had hoped that I would never have to go through something like that again. Except on Thursday morning, I woke up and checked my email before leaving the house as I always do, only to find that a student at Wesleyan, my alma mater, had been murdered in cold blood in the middle of our campus bookstore. Once again, the feelings of helplessness, fear, and that sick feeling in my stomach returned. This was another place that I loved, another place so achingly familiar to me as I watched the news footage online that I knew all the surrounding buildings, streets, recognized the cherry trees in bloom, another place shattered by an act of senseless violence.

The attack at Wesleyan sent shockwaves throughout the alumni community in this virtual age, with Facebook status updates, online away messages, Twitter and LiveJournal all affording a virtual venue to express our collective shock. I can only imagine what the atmosphere on campus is like today, and it breaks my heart. I did not know Johanna, but the horrific nature of her death and the sense of violation is enough to shake me to the core. Reading that her killer, Stephen Morgan, had potentially planned a shooting spree on campus on a day where hundreds of students would have been easy targets sitting on Foss Hill during Spring Fling made chills run down my spine.

Wesleyan will heal, just as Bombay has begun to heal, but the scars will likely remain, though perhaps Wesleyan will have an advantage. College populations, unlike the landmarks and residents of a city, are a transient lot. Their memory is short-term, limited to four-year stretches of time. Those who are on campus right now will, undoubtedly, remember the events of Thursday for years to come. Those who come after will not know, and so maybe healing is a possible goal, but for me, as an alum, the memory of a place I love and the knowledge that it was destroyed will never fade.

Olympic fever?

Maya — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 14:25:40 GMT

It seems to me that unless your country is one that traditionally excels in the Olympics (China, the United States, Russia, etc), you stand little chance of accessing coverage of the Games. If you are lucky to get coverage, if you live in Asia, chances are it's not going to be of the hot ticket events that everyone is dying to watch (like gymnastics), but is more likely to be something along the lines of badminton and table tennis, sports that are taken very seriously in this part of the world.

I'm frustrated though, because you would think that in this age of internet, there would be myriad chances to watch the Games online. Indeed, NBC has advertised thousands of hours of coverage online, so that viewers can pick and choose what events they want to watch.

Only you have to be in the United States. And you have to have a PC, or a MacBook.

I know I'm not alone in being frustrated in the lack of access to events I really want to be watching, and it strikes me as downright bizarre that both Chinese television (CCTV) and sites like You Tube failed to anticipate the demand of those of us who want to watch and cannot. Had You Tube signed some sort of deal (I've read reports that they did, but the lack of footage available on the site attests to a different reality), I bet they would have made a small fortune on the Games. Or even NBC - if only they would realize that there are people OUTSIDE of the United States who would like access to online content - they too could have capitalized splendidly on their monopoly.

But since this didn't happen, I'm stuck with Olympic fever and no cure, and no more enthusiasm. For a world sporting event, I am truly and deeply disappointed.

UEFA 2008 Final

Maya — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 03:53:59 GMT

The beautiful game has once again proven why exactly it is honored with that title. The final match of the tournament, between Germany and Spain, was yet another example from this excellent tournament of truly wonderful soccer.

There were a few rough moments, some not so nice moves (mostly by the German team), but all in all, it was a quality match on both sides. The Spaniards won, for the first time in forty-four years, and it's a truly awesome sight to behold. The sheer joy, glee, and exuberance showed by their side, both after their first (and only) goal was scored, and at the end of the match has completely endeared them to me. These men seem to have a genuine bond with each other, and their happiness is richly deserved. They have made history for their country and they have earned the right to be fted as the sports heroes they are.

There will, undoubtedly, be madness in Madrid tonight, handshakes and congratulations are being bestowed by the King and Queen of Spain (who, naturally, came to cheer along their team), and now that the trophy has just been hoisted into the air, they look like they are about to burst into tears (and I wouldn't blame them). The Germans look disconsolate, but the Spanish deserved to win. So, to the Spanish team and its fans, I offer you my heartiest congratulations. You have earned this victory in every sense of the word. Bravo.

One step forward

Maya — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 20:40:31 GMT

I'm still slightly bewildered by the thought that in a month's time, I shall be packing up and moving myself yet again, this time to Taiwan. I've become somewhat of an expert at condensing my life into two suitcases, and the thought that I may one day have somewhere more permanent and lasting to call home seems a long way off.

Getting the official 'press release' for my fellowship was also crazy in an 'oh my goodness, this really IS a big deal' sort of way, but sadly, since my school's online newspaper already wrote about my award, I have no where else I'd like to send the press release. I don't really fancy being interviewed by the Times of India, even though I'd love to brag about my award in some small measure ;)

Yesterday I took another step forward in getting ready, namely investing in a few tops that would be appropriate teacher-wear, which was fun (yay for shopping), but also another 'wow I'm growing up' kind of moments. They're not quite the clothes I envisioned having to buy for interviews, etc. but they're definitely somewhat more mature in some ways than other pieces in my wardrobe, and it's kind of exciting to think that I'm finally starting this whole process off. It's been a distant process for much of the last year, and finally, it's coming together and becoming imminent.

That's really cool.

Growing older

Maya — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 20:40:49 GMT

As I referenced in my last post, things are a little iffy right now with my grandmother's health. I arrived today in Bombay to see her, uncertain whether this is one of the last times I will get to see her ever again. She's still hospitalized, and for the first time in my life, I went to go see someone in the hospital. I've been hospitalized before, but I've never seen someone I care about looking frail and plugged into heart monitors and IV drips. I understand now why that experience is so frightening for so many people, especially for parents who have to see their babies/young children like that.

But it struck me at the same time, that as unpleasant as that experience was, and as much as it has shaken me, it is simultaneously a sign of how much I have grown up. Of how my parents are beginning to see and treat me as an independent adult. I am old enough to be entrusted with answering inquiries from concerned relatives, I am old enough to stay up even after my parents tell me to go back to sleep and find out what exactly is going on (which has never happened before), and I am old enough to go visit my grandmother in the ICU.

It's a bittersweet way to mark a gradual and impending transition to adulthood, but it comes with the territory, I suppose, and that is something I will have to get used to very rapidly.

Phone calls in the night

Maya — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 19:08:52 GMT

As a kid growing up in America, my biggest fear was hearing the phone ring in the middle of the night. It seemed ominous, and the very idea brought with it a sense of foreboding. My grandparents, living thousands of miles away in India, were the cause of my concern - what if something happened to them? In all likelihood, it would result in a phone call in the middle of the night.

Last night, the phone rang at 4 am, but I didn't hear it. It was about my grandmother, who has been rushed to the hospital. Things are tense and touch-and-go right now, and who knows how this latest health scare is going to end, but it made me realize something else.

I've reached the age of 22 (and almost 23) without encountering phone calls in the night, despite my fear. There have been at least two, but I've never heard them, and only one of them was to announce a death, that of my grandfather at the age of 88, five years ago. I am an incredibly lucky and blessed individual that I have grown up knowing all my grandparents, and that at 80+ years, three of them are still with me. I don't know how much longer this will be the case, but I do know that I am very thankful that they have been in my life, and that I've gotten to know them.

The beautiful game

Maya — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 19:13:18 GMT

I'm sitting at home in India, it's 1:45 AM and I'm making myself stay awake to watch the first quarter-final match of the Euro 2008 tournament. Why? I'm not a particularly huge sports enthusiast, but football, along with cricket, is something I will watch if I get a chance.

There's something intoxicating about the thrill of supporting a team and watching them either perform brilliantly or make you hold your head in despair. Of getting so wrapped up in the game you find yourself jumping out of your seat, hollering at the TV screen, and, if your team wins, making your joy known in exuberant fashion, perhaps even by running down the street, honking horns, or hugging strangers.

I got to witness this in spades last week during my vacation in Germany, and it was infectious. My brother and I would find a bar or restaurant each night, settle down and watch the match (every such establishment had a television set up outside to watch the match), and it was glorious. Even if we didn't have immediate access to a television, if the German or Turkish teams were playing, we would know instantly whether or not a goal had been scored, a goal had been prevented (for better or for worse), or whether someone had been fouled or sent off unjustly. It was one of the best travel experiences I've ever had, and one that I wish everyone could have - there's nothing like seeing an entire city or country united and rooting for a team. It truly shows you what a beautiful game football (and indeed, any sport that causes such sentiment) can be. Watching at home just doesn't come close.