Cold... So Cold... :-(
As someone who's lived in Delhi all his life, my sentments about this city's weather range from loathing the summer, to despising the winter. Unfortunately, these two seasons make up about 80-90% of the year. Atleast two solutions come to my mind
1) Move to another city (what follows are reactions - mine, and others')
a) ha!
b) "But the department there has an interesting orientation" - So what? Don't judge an academic program (especially in India) by their university's website, the department's faculty and interests list, and non-existent "we offer such and such courses" (the first place these retorts apply to are my own department... oof, such a scam.)
c) What? Pretend that these three years were worth nothing, and produced nary a publication (except, in the eyes of some, a worthless excuse of a seminar paper, that can be peddled as a quasi-publication when applying to graduate programs) and an aborted eight month "work ex"? EX - that's exactly what it is.
Or, 2) a life lived in rarified environs
a) Air conditioning (according to informed sources, the world smells better, dresses lesser, can work harder and think smarter, at 22-24° C),
b) chauffeur driven steeds (an abhorrence for all forms of (say with a sneer and scowl) "public" transport (excluding the city's toast, Metro.)
c) heated baths (not the kind Mata Hari demanded, but then, she was hours from execution), seminars and luncheons.
In short, hrmph. If you're interested in an outsider's witty insights into the lives and desires of the disgustingly rich, find this book. (Alternatively, you could strike up a (e)conversation, slip into it a little item about how much you missed this blog, and I might consider lending the book. Uh... just joking.)
_
Summers that seem to begin earlier as the years pass, and winters cut colder each time. <--- This sentence bears all the classic markers of a-polite-conversation-about-the-weather - one that I had opportunity to engage in with a professor, secretly longing I could tak more, and say something honest, instead of having to hear "it's just two months more. You'll be happy by march." (Coming to think of it, her prediction about the weather, and another's, about my (ha!) research (ha!) are surprisingly punctual...) Until then (happiness, not the month of march), like many others, I too am waiting, praying for monsoon rains, for the almost-intoxicating smells of a wet earth.
1) Move to another city (what follows are reactions - mine, and others')
a) ha!
b) "But the department there has an interesting orientation" - So what? Don't judge an academic program (especially in India) by their university's website, the department's faculty and interests list, and non-existent "we offer such and such courses" (the first place these retorts apply to are my own department... oof, such a scam.)
c) What? Pretend that these three years were worth nothing, and produced nary a publication (except, in the eyes of some, a worthless excuse of a seminar paper, that can be peddled as a quasi-publication when applying to graduate programs) and an aborted eight month "work ex"? EX - that's exactly what it is.
Or, 2) a life lived in rarified environs
a) Air conditioning (according to informed sources, the world smells better, dresses lesser, can work harder and think smarter, at 22-24° C),
b) chauffeur driven steeds (an abhorrence for all forms of (say with a sneer and scowl) "public" transport (excluding the city's toast, Metro.)
c) heated baths (not the kind Mata Hari demanded, but then, she was hours from execution), seminars and luncheons.
In short, hrmph. If you're interested in an outsider's witty insights into the lives and desires of the disgustingly rich, find this book. (Alternatively, you could strike up a (e)conversation, slip into it a little item about how much you missed this blog, and I might consider lending the book. Uh... just joking.)
_
Summers that seem to begin earlier as the years pass, and winters cut colder each time. <--- This sentence bears all the classic markers of a-polite-conversation-about-the-weather - one that I had opportunity to engage in with a professor, secretly longing I could tak more, and say something honest, instead of having to hear "it's just two months more. You'll be happy by march." (Coming to think of it, her prediction about the weather, and another's, about my (ha!) research (ha!) are surprisingly punctual...) Until then (happiness, not the month of march), like many others, I too am waiting, praying for monsoon rains, for the almost-intoxicating smells of a wet earth.
posted by dematerialized at 1:32 AM
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