My Alchemist

Until about a week ago, for entertainment outside of work I used to watch the worst TV serials that mainly contained hook-ups, cheating and rich businessmen, also called “Fashion House” and “Desire”. And when I got bored of TV, I checked myself in the mirror (not for the sake of vanity) and amuse myself with acts and different facial expressions, not consciously. I wouldn’t realize talking to myself in the mirror until about 5 minutes before I got bored of myself and ran out of facial amusements. Most of my amusements would consist of imitating my high school teachers with funny accents (one of my chemistry teachers in 10th grade in Muscat had created a record for saying the phrase “now then now” 112 times in a 45 minute lecture. He would promptly say that at the beginning and the end of every statement. I don’t think I would match that even if I had to just recite that for 45 minutes like a mantra.) Unfortunately, that led to most of my friends hating chemistry for the rest of that year because of the time spent in counting the “now then now’s” to see if he broke his own record.

I never fell short of jokes to say to myself because of all the interesting people I encountered in my life. There was this one class in my undergrad called engineering mechanics that was taught by the most frustrated lecturer ever. He had been in the college for about 20 years and never got promoted to an assistant professor and so he decided to just remain weird by showing his frustration by insulting his students in class in the worst way possible that unfortunately/fortunately came out of his mouth as the funniest one liners of all time. I once got caught in class for not reading one of the materials that he had instructed the class to prepare and he came up to me with a dirty look. I nearly shat in my pants until he opened his mouth to say “It’s not enough if you are fair and have brown hair.” Period. Apparently I was supposed to derive the inner meaning out of that sentence. I nearly would have shat in my pants and embarrassed the hell out of myself (atleast pissed) but for him. His name was Arulappan.

Since Arulappan taught engineering mechanics, there was a lot of theory on metals and their material properties. On one of his lectures he had asked us to research on all the material properties of the most important metals. Once we were ready, he asked us a simple question as to which material would be most suitable for pistons in cars. There was this kiss-ass guy in class who loved to show off his knowledge during any of the lectures often with the motive of impressing his way to get an edge over all the brightest guys in class. He would raise his hand so high and would breathe so heavily as though he just climbed the Himalayas ten times and had the attitude that he should be given the right to speak whatever the hell he wants. On a completely seperate instance, he raised his hand so high that he tore his shirt, the pubic hair sticking out of the armpit hole got more attention than his heavy breathing. Since then you could only see him in loose shirts. They were so loose that they would billow on windy days and so we called him “the APMM - annoying panting marilyn monroe”.

This time was no different and obviously he had to open his mouth for which he would terribly regret later for the rest of his life. I was not involved in the least with this debate and I have managed to remember this incident after ten yrs to the precision of every syllable which he would definitely regret even after death.

“Sir, I think, since silver has the lowest weight/volume ratio and the highest strength, that should definitely be used as the piston in all the cars. I don’t know why all the manufacturers use aluminum.” I could see that this guy was so proud of his answer that he thought he was going to ace this class for the rest of the semester and that he would change the nature of auto industries. Once he gave the answer he turned around to look at the entire class suggesting that we guys would never have thought of such an answer. He was goddamn right about that. Most of the time, Arulappan was zen as though he was at peace with himself accepting the inequality in life. Even during his insults he would be very zen and deliver them instantly. It was a natural talent born out of frustration which only he could attain. But the look that he gave now was something beyond Zen. I mean, Mr. Zen himself would probably kiss Arulappan's ass. That look would have to be patented as Mr. Arul. It was Zen with a fire inside him to burst into the most ugly form of matter which unfortunately had to be speech. Boy, was he not pissed to hear that answer. The poor student was devastated after that encounter and refused to raise his hand for the rest of his undergrad career. His self-confidence level dropped to a mere 1 percent that he finally quit his career to become a miner so he could never show his face on ground level and simultaneously learn about metals. He would finally start to wear tighter shirts because he would never have to raise his hands again but to lift himself up from 2000 feet below ground level.

Well, even the most creative minds wouldn’t have thought of what Arulappan said to insult the student. “Why silver? Ha ha (the monstrosity in his laughter echoed across the room just to magnify the effects of his fiery speech). Why not gold or copper? Take all the expensive jewels in the country and turn it into “pistons of India”. The king of Saudi Arabia might have a Rolce Royce with golden pistons and diamond rings to take his 500 wives. And you are asking me why not silver. What audacity? I must say your parents have given birth only to a composition of protein molecules forgetting the remaining elements of the brain. Go back and check your mother’s womb, maybe you might find some silver. Do you even know what it means to be born with a silver spoon?” That was enough to keep me entertained for the rest of my life.

Oh Arulappan, he brings me humor even to this day. I don’t think he should ever be promoted because he wouldn’t be the same, I know its horrible to think that way but it brings happiness to 200 students every year. He was a form of engineering mechanics and speculative philosophy who practiced in the contemporary period and concerned himself principally with discovering methods for amusing others with metals into golden humor and with finding a total comical solvent and an elixir of life - My Alchemist forever.

Sambar has no curry powder!

People-watching is one of my many passions. For one, it is just a good time-pass in a city like Minneapolis where fishing is the main recreation on the weekends and secondly, its just in my blood to observe people and their attitudes/behaviors in different circumstances. May be I got it from my dad, cause growing up I remember him sitting in one corner of the room unaware of his posture, his shoulders tucked under his neck and his head tilted back a little resting on his neck, observing people, while my mom was the exact opposite. In any party, she would be the talkative one but when we came back home to gossip about the outing/party (like we used to in most cases because we love gossip. I think life would be very boring without gossip. Men like to blame it on the women and accuse them of being gossip mongers but they just like it as much as women do, just that they don’t participate, but they sure do want it all in full.) she would have the least information about the substantive matters of the conversation and behavioral descriptions.

When it comes to interactions, I like to observe a bunch of things such as body language, topics of conversation, background information, reactions to certain things, politics, intellect, communication skills, etc etc. Over the years in the United States, I have grown to find the most interesting of all these variables to be race and racial perceptions. In a place like Minneapolis, where people have an “on your face kinda” attitude, a fundamental Midwestern quality, the dynamics of human interactions become all the more interesting (I must have been a sociologist in my previous birth); well at least my girl friend is in this one, which is the best I could ask for! But, my point is I love to watch people, irrespective of the venue whether in a restaurant or a mall or even in Victoria secret (where my analysis would be biased due to an increased level of hormonal disturbances in THE BODY).

I recently became a member of the YMCA in northern Minneapolis. This was the closest Y and besides my friend is also a member with the same branch so company to work-out is best, otherwise the work and out will become independent of each other. The members of the gym are predominantly African-American because of the surrounding neighborhood. North Minneapolis is considered "unsafe" and is often given nick names such as little Iraq (pronounced like "eye-rack") with no suicide bombs, black, and all the other paraphernalia of stereotypes. Obviously, like most impoverished neighborhoods that are close to a big city, this one is also becoming gentrified slowly but surely. Gentrification (for those of you who haven’t heard of the term) is (in simple words) the migration of people of medium to high socio-economic status into neighborhoods that are predominantly people of lower socio-economic status. The method with which it takes place is by means of inflation; increase in real estate value and the smart schemes those financiers come up with that most people don’t understand. Anyway, without beating around the bush, there are a small bunch of white people that are members of the gym with the regular brown crowd.

The calculated timing of the workout of white people in that gym is worth mentioning.

a. You never see them past 6pm in the evening.

b. They either come early in the morning or between 4 and 6pm.

c. You can only see them in groups of 3 or 4 (all white people ofcourse, even if they don’t know one another they would just tag along the rest), working on bikes or elliptical machines or the tread mill, always on the watch out for mugging or expecting to be robbed out of their smelly tracks and their sweaty shirts.

d. Surprisingly (this is the only time this ever happens to me), they show signs of security when they see Indian people at the gym. Maybe because I am not one of “those” or maybe because I am a blend of white and black – somewhere in the middle; or maybe because I have a black friend and I am not black; I don’t know the reason. But I feel important at the gym. The whites look at me for security and the blacks are glad to meet an Indian person who is not terrorized by them.

The reactions of black people towards me are also worth mentioning:

a. They think it’s cool that my first and last names are one of a kind.

b. They think that the Native Americans should not be called Indians just because Columbus was a fool.

c. They also think that Indians complain too much of the United States being culturally backward and that they should go back to their country if they don’t like it. (Unfortunately or fortunately, the white people think that blacks are too dumb to write software programs so hopefully my job is secure!)

d. They also think that Asians are taking away all their jobs and when they refer to people of color they usually don’t include Indians and Asians in that category. (I cannot be responsible for the present urban and governmental laws nor can I be responsible for 13 year olds missing school, carrying guns and dealing with drugs. Even though I cannot be responsible for the act, I should be responsible for not changing it – it’s an oxymoron (No Mr. president, it’s not a bad word)).

I know I cannot speak for all the Indians in this country but I do know their general perception of black and white people in this country. And all I want to say is, there are black people who are well educated like my friend at the Y (who has a Ph.D. in applied physics from the university of michigan, who doesn’t consider himself a dork. For god’s sake, which black guy has a Ph.D. in physics without being a dork?). And also, I do know of white people who are high school drop outs. And for the rest I say, there are Indians without long-ass names and yes there is Indian food that’s prepared without curry powder - sambar..duh! Yes, all of what I said is surprisingly true!

That’s just one example of the dynamic that can be observed in a diverse city. And of course, people tend to make their judgments based on the color of a person, just like people ask me all the time how I learnt to speak English so well. Of course, in Minnesota, if you get too tired of watching people you can always go fishing. May be that’s a good way to go on a recluse if you dislike people. Observing fish may be far better than tasting them, unfortunately the two acts would have to be independant.