On The Job

I wasn’t really looking for a job, but one landed right in my lap, and I thought, “Why not?” So here I am now, a ‘working woman’ (ewww… I don’t like the sound of that!), in my own large, airy office. Nature of the job- designing booklets on hearing aid use and care for persons who use hearing aids (no, we can’t call them ‘hearing aid users’ anymore).

As a part of my job, I had to ‘field test’ the material I developed. That just means I had to talk to a lot of persons who use hearing aids and find out whether the material we’d handed out to them at the time of hearing aid fitting had been useful, and whether they were satisfied with the services provided. In most cases, the answers were yes and yes. But then, there were a few other cases that cast light on the importance of stressing on the more basic issues in hearing aid care that most people would dismiss as ‘common sense’. Here are a couple of those stories.

An old woman had been advised to wear her hearing aid all the time, and not just for important occasions or when she was having a conversation (after the initial period of adjusting to amplification, of course). This was so that she’d be able to listen to all sorts of sounds, and not just speech. It would also help her get used to that annoying new ‘mic’ in her ear. She had also been told to keep her hearing aid nice and dry, and that she should not bathe with it on. But she was supposed to wear it all the time, remember? So guess what she did… She stopped bathing!

Another lady purchased a wonderful new digital hearing aid. With the hearing aid came a box to keep it in, along with a small packet of silica gel to keep the hearing aid dry. The audiologist showed the lady the silica, and told her that the crystals would change colour if they were saturated with moisture. “Just heat them a bit when that happens. The original colour will return, and you can use the crystals again”, said the audiologist.

A couple of weeks later, the lady brought the hearing aid back, saying it had stopped working. “I did exactly as you told me to…I cleaned the mould, I checked the tubing, I replaced the batteries… But this ‘machine’ has just not been the same ever since I microwaved it to dry it…”

I’m wondering if I should add “Do not bake, roast, fry, or in any way heat your hearing aid” to the list of dos and don’ts in hearing aid care….

Suggestions?

Go Girl(y)?

I just had a long chat with R, and I was telling her how all nice guys think I’m a guy. “This has been going on for a very long time now, hasn’t it?” she asked. She’s right… This HAS been the case ever since I was in high school. The guys thought I was “just one of them”. They said I was “too cool to be a girl”. Nice…. I liked that. They could share their fart jokes with me, they could come to me with their relationship troubles, they could say pink was disgusting and jewelry was boring and I’d agree with them. But somewhere along the line, they stopped paying attention to me the way they would to a girl. They stopped thinking of me as a girl. Result- no boyfriend.

 

R says I’m like Kajol in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. She suggested that I try wearing ‘girlie’ clothes… maybe guys would notice. I tried. And I was told by a guy that I had a ridiculously high amount of kajal on. R says I really AM like Kajol in KKHH… I try to dress like a girl and make a fool of myself. I really don’t know how to be a girl.

 

Anyway, we’ve drawn up a list of do’s and don’ts (mostly the latter), that I’m supposed to follow in order to change my ‘image’.

 

1. Stop wearing my guy friends’ clothes
2. Stop lifting weights with them at the gym
3. Stop saying stuff like “Ooooh! Look at her look at her look at her… she has nice legs!”
4. Stop voicing all my pervert thoughts
5. Stop making fart/crap-related jokes
6. Stop snorting while laughing
7. Laugh softly, do not guffaw
8. Think like a girl, act like a girl
9. Cross legs demurely while sitting
10. Nag. Cry. Blackmail.

 

There was more, but I won’t be listing EVERYTHING. Anyway, I better get going. It’s time to start working on my Plan. I should get out of these track pants I borrowed from Mr. C…

(And if YOU have any suggestions, please, comment.)

My grievances :P

One sunday, after listening to five sob-stories, I decided to call myself The Shoulder. No, really, that's what I am... The shoulder everyone cries on. On the same day, I also realized EYE don't have a shoulder to cry on, if I ever needed one. What do I do with MY problems? Blog them, of course! So, here goes- a list of my problems. They don't qualify as sob-stories, considering I laugh at them myself, but still. Problems are problems, right?

The Tamilians didn't get my name right, and now, unsurprisingly, the Umreecans are butchering it, too. N-E-H-A. How hard IS it, people? Nea, Niya, Niha, Nina... One professor kept getting my name wrong (she had a different error each time she tried), and finally asked me to spell it out for her. I did. N. E. H. A. "Ah! Leena!", she said. I gave up after that. Another kid asked, "Uhm.... You mean, like Neo but not?", which was strange, because a friend of mine had asked me the same question a couple of days ago. I just burst out laughing, and I was like, "Not! Not!". Kid got a little offended. Oh well!

I hate pink. And this is the Breast Cancer Awareness Month (or something like that), so everything is pink. The fountains spout pink water. The Amtrak building is a different pink everyday. The clock on the tower has a pink dial. The city hall and the museums are lit up with pink lights. The skyline is pink. It's disgusting! The final straw- I used the copy machine in school, and the copies came out printed on pink paper!

I have the world's best roommates. What do your roomies say when you say 'Hi!'? Mine say "Sssshhh!". And mind you, it's not like I shout or anything. And a few days ago, some of the girls had exams coming up, and were studying. They need peace and quiet. I understand. Which is why I was using earphones to listen to music. But even so, one roommate complained that my 'music was leaking'. So I obligingly stopped the music (really, no point in listening to Nickelback at a low volume). And you know what? The hall, I realized, was FILLED with clicks and hisses because these girls mouth the words they read. That bugged ME so much that I couldn't study.

My only real problem, I suppose, is that I'm lonely. I spent most of the morning walking in the cold rain, and listening to the saddest songs you can imagine. You can easily guess how sorry I felt for myself! I even thought of writing a book or making a movie with the title "Friendless in Philadelphia". Okay, I am overreacting, but it's just so sad to be walking in the rain, alone, and listening to sad songs. I had to drink a large coffee (I never drink anything but Small, because even 'small' is much more than I can comfortably handle), eat a brownie and a whole packet of Cheez-Its before I felt better. I gave away my other brownie and my packet of candies to a student who said he was hungry, and I felt even better. So did he. He said I was the best instructor they'd ever had. So, yay!

Oh, and my other big problem is that I have a paper to hand in tomorrow, and I haven't even started writing yet. Of all the days I could have chosen, I HAD to pick today, to resurrect my dead blog. Oh dear... this last problem won't be solved unless I go DO that assignment.

Later!

Saying Goodbye

"Neha! When are you leaving?"
"Next week"
"Oh cool! You must be, like, sooooo excited, right? I mean, it's gonna be like, a new place, new college, new house, new friends.... How exciting!!!!"

I just smiled and nodded politely. The girl stopped gushing and went away, leaving me thinking, I am not excited. I'm many things- nervous, worried, apprehensive, weary, sad, confused- but excitement, somehow, doesn't figure in the picture.

I carried on walking towards the Preschool Training Centre. It was past six, all the kids had gone home. The halls and rooms were now being used for dance and music rehearsals, for annual day. I know I'm no longer a student of that college, that I can't just gatecrash a rehearsal. But as someone who's always been a part of the annual day culturals, who's almost always been an important member of the 'Invocation' dance team (the college decided long ago that singing a devotional song for the invocation wasn't so hot), I would surely be allowed to stay and watch the rehearsals. So I went. I sat on a cold, hard, granite-topped counter and watched my ex-classmates and juniors dance to a song I'm not particularly fond of. They were quite good. But I felt so lost, so sad, that I wasn't there with them.

P, who was standing next to me, leaned closer and whispered, "I miss you so much!". I miss her too. I miss my friends already. I miss it all... hushed conversations in the classroom, passing notes during lectures, 6 of us sharing one vada in the canteen, nights on the terrace, giggling away madly, dance rehearsals, parties, cultural events, going out for a bite once in a while, the pathetic coffee we had in the mess, the walks in the rain.... The list is endless. Well, I'm sure I can find pathetic coffee in USA too, but the people whose presence made even the sorriest cup of coffee taste good won't be around.

But I'm sure I'll be fine. Right now, I'm just glad, really really glad, that I have such wonderful friends... friends who are sorry to see me go. I would've hated it if people didn't miss me. I love them all... We have spent four years together, laughing, crying, making beautiful memories. I'll miss them terribly, but I'll be back, and we'll meet again.

All I have to say now is, thank you, guys... for everything.

Me :P

I promised myself I'd put up one post a month. But I guess I'll just have to add that to the long list of promises (mostly to myself) that I've broken. Now you know why I hardly ever make New Year resolutions... I just can't keep them up! There was this one time when I resolved I'd brush my teeth twice a day. I did fine till July, and then I fell back into my old habit of brushing only once (that too in a cursory way) a day, unless occasion demanded otherwise (now, just why did I have to tell you that?? Oh well... now you know me a little better!).

I never realized how hard it can be when someone says, "Tell me something about yourself!"... After studiously avoiding the 'About Me' fields on Orkut and Facebook, I was really stumped when someone asked me to say something about myself. Seriously, what should I say? That I brush once a day?

I did answer that question. I ended up talking for a very long time, and I never really finished. But that got me thinking... I barely know myself!

I know internship was supposed to be all about self-discovery and deep introspection and... you get it! Well, in Pondicherry, I was too busy having a good time to do any of that. But in Adukkamparai, where I had very little work in the hospital and even less things to do in my free time, I could’ve sat in my room (it’s really too hot to sit anywhere else, unless I sat in the bathroom. Bathrooms are good places to think, but… never mind) and thought. But I didn’t do much of that, because I thought it’d be really boring.

However, I did notice a few things about me that I hadn’t done before:

• I’ve gotten good at washing clothes, and I enjoy it too
• I read fast.
• I knew I talked in my sleep, and occasionally walked, too. But once, when I was in Vellore, I sleep-dialed my friend’s number and called him, at 5 in the morning. It wasn’t an accident, and I’m sorry it happened, especially since it was an out-of-state call.
• I’m fussy about breakfast
• I tan easily
• I can eat ice cream really fast
• I talk incessantly
• I have over 1400 songs on my laptop, but I listen regularly to only 148 of them
• I like giving lectures. We had to give a set of orientation lectures to the MBBS students in Vellore, and I enjoyed myself immensely
• I like bus journeys.
• I like making lists.

I guess that’s about all the ‘self discovery’ I’ve managed to do. I spent my free time doing more constructive things than thinking about myself. Here’s what I got up to:

• I read 21 books- Three by Jeffrey Archer, one Agatha Christie, five by Michael Crichton, two by Ken Follett, two by Amitav Ghosh, two by Arthur Hailey, three by Erich Segal, a collection of Egyptian murder mysteries, and two Mills and Boons whose names I do not remember. I often fell asleep while reading those. My friend wondered how romances can put anyone to sleep, but believe me, they do.
• I also read the Bhagavad Gita. Though I’m not a religious person, I liked reading it. I don’t claim to have understood it fully, but bits of it made sense, and the message was pretty clear.
• I watched 12 movies, most of them Tamil. Most of them sucked. I even watched No Smoking, which was harder than the Gita to understand. I gave up on that movie, ultimately.
• I took to making pencil sketches. I’m not very good at it, but I have a weird love for pencils and plain, white paper. I’m not a very creative person; I usually just copied the picture from somewhere… pictures on book covers or photographs
• I learned to sleep in the afternoons. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the boredom, but in spite of being the same person who, as a kid, used to sit and make toy chairs out of the cardboard cartons of toothpaste tubes (or embossed foil photo frames out of used toothpaste tubes, or I'd write messages on the mirror using toothpaste… you might say I had a thing for toothpaste) when the entire family slept, I started taking after-lunch naps. Long ones, too.

Some 'self-discovery', huh? :P

An apology, long overdue

I had this classmate in playschool... I don't remember her name or her face, but I remember one of her dresses. It was green and white, with a green cord running running around the waistline. On this cord were strung several large, bright, plastic beads. And she had the habit of sliding those beads from one side of her waist to another, the way one would slide beads on an abacus...

I was fascinated by that dress. And I was jealous, too... none of my dresses had fat, multi-coloured beads on them (now I'm really glad they didn't, but I was three then. I liked neon-bright beads). I loved that dress. I thought of it a lot. I never said anything to anyone about it, but one night, my parents and I were in bed, and I muttered (in my sleep?), "Her parents buy her such pretty things. My parents never get me anything!", that too in an accusatory tone. The moment I realized what I'd said, I promptly burst into tears, had a bout of coughing, and then threw up. My parents were really hurt, and for good reason too. After all, they've been the best parents I could ever hope for.

I still feel terrible when I think of that incident. It's a memory I wish I didn't have. I'm one of those lucky kids who got whatever she asked for. If you ask my folks, they'll tell you I never asked for anything, but that's not the point. The point is, they fulfilled every wish their kid ever had. They were my Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, teachers, friends and 'everyday-heroes', all rolled into one. They still are (not Tooth Fairy, of course..). I'm extremely grateful to Someone up there who let me have such wonderful parents.

I' still feel terrible about what I said that night, seventeen years ago. I wonder if my parents remember it at all... I'd like to say, nevertheless, Amma, Appa, I'm sorry!

Yours, Sinega.

I once received an SMS on my mobile- something about taking revenge on the British, who oppressed Indians and ruled over us, by butchering the English language as much as possible. It looks like people really are doing their best… check this pamphlet out. A little girl gave it to me in a bus. I was supposed to return it after reading, but I liked it so much, I kept it.

I also had a lot of fun reading the hoardings and boards in Vellore. Here are a few signs I noticed near the Vellore fort:

“Do not commit nuisance”
“Do not do impure here”

Then there were the usual ‘puncture shops’. ‘Puncture’ is probably the most widely misspelled word ever: Puncher, Pancher, Punchar, Punchur, Pantcher, Pancter, and on one memorable occasion, I saw Buncher

That was probably because of the Tamil indifference towards differences in voicing. That would also explain this board I saw hanging outside an ice cream parlour:

“Sold availeble here:
Chacopar
Garnetto
Bista-Badam
Gulfi”

As it turned out, people also had a lot of trouble getting my name right. I thought it was a simple enough name. Neha. Two syllables, and neither /n/ nor /h/ is especially difficult to pronounce. But the Vellorians had to struggle to get it right. Occasionally, they somehow managed to mutate my name into ‘Megha’ or ‘Rekha’ or something like that. ‘Nega’ was bearable. But more often than not, people called me ‘Sinega’ (that’s how they’d be writing ‘Sneha’ in Tamil). And so, to make life easier for the people of Adukkamparai, I let them call me Sinega. And whenever someone asked me what my name was, I’d just take a deep breath and say, “Sinega”.


Now you know at least one reason why I’m glad I’m back home… It’s good to be Neha again!