Pathetic is all I can say! Loud and clear. I am upto my neck with work and I am loving it?!! Something must be wrong with me! The 90% humidity and 40˚C temperature is not hindering my stride either... Well, that may be 'cause all the labs are air-conditioned. But still, I should be more loyal to my own attitude!
So I am enjoying lab, the people whom I work with, a lot. At home, in silico, I am what I always wanted to be (among the hundreds of other things), an editor in a brilliant Editorial team for a dream of a magazine. My two co-editors are the two most amazing and talented individuals who could only be complemented by the also-talented me (of course!). Sometimes three is the perfect match... Especially when there is one guy, two girls and the love that's always present in these kind of equations, is between the two girls. No better working combination than that!
But if everything is so happy-dovey, then why a cathartic post? After all irritating people are omnipresent, and the secret to happiness is to avoid and ignore.
Prior to our magazine with infinite number of minute details, in the two short weeks when we had finish most of the stuff, Neha (the creator, and my lady-love) and I escalated from our usual 30 minutes-average-a-day to a 50 minutes-average-a-day talking on phone. We could always converse in English but we are typical Indians, yaar! And no false pride either. So Hindi it is, interspersed with my English words when I trip. Obviously. I am actually not bad. Ask Neha. And Shrikant. (Even if he is a co-editor, he's too honest to lie)
Now get outta my house and enter my lab. Two of my seniors (only two) are non-Bengalis who understand Bengali perfectly, even if they don't speak it all the time. But we are a really friendly (a reason why some sects of Indians' attitudes baffle me) set of people... We will always try our best to speak with non-Bengalis in their languages. So, Hindi it is. Again.
Now what happens. In my lab, frequently we caught ourselves speaking in Hindi to other Bengalis. We had completed explaining our thoughts, six-seven sentences in a row, paused, looked at each other, wrinkled brows and exclaim in unison, "Why am I speaking to you in Hindi??!!!"
Like working on computer, any computer anywhere, any kind. I am a blogger, who blogs in English for heaven's sake! But no, I have completely associated computers with Hindi! Now I write Ds instead of Rs, and even though Guria WON'T ever change to Gudia, most others have. I actually have problems chatting with my Bong friends with English-typed Bengali words. I have to now, hmm, ahh, and then type! And Hindi? Waah, that's the Language Enabled in my fingers nowadays. Not a break in my stride while typing!
Even worse was my fiancé telling me, let us talk in Hindi since I am a regular at it nowadays, and then switching back to Bengali because I was too fluent for him!!
But worst of the lot was me absent-mindedly answering my poor Mom (who had said to a shopkeeper in Jaipur while buying shoes for the absent me, "Mera beti paanch naambar ka joota porta hai") - "Kya hua? Wahin pe toh tha naa!". My poor, poor Mom got so shocked out of her wits that she forgot all about the food I was not supposed to eat.
N.B. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: I am a hard-core Bangali. And the catharsis was to remind myself.