Keeping a secret secret.
Category: Philosophy, Secrets, Walk of life
There are some things that have happened around you, or things that people have told you or you yourself have experienced or known. Major things, that could change someone else’s impression of someone else. Things you vow never to tell anyone because they are so personal or possibly unrelated and unnecessary to the person you’re talking to. Or because it was just something only you knew.
And there are times when a situation presents itself a great opportunity to reveal that little something. And you hesitate, not sure if you should or not.
You don’t.
But on some days, you let it out without warning with maybe just a slight bit of pre-thought that goes along the lines of “Oh, it’s okay to say this now”. Almost immediately (or much later), you regret it. Because it was once just between you and yourself and that knowledge was comforting.
You wouldn’t and don’t want them to repeat it to anyone else.
And when you realize this, it’s a little too late because the discussion is over. And because you run the risk of reminding them of it when they’ve possibly forgotten it.
It was over two years ago and we were close. We still are, actually. Maybe they remember, maybe they don’t. But maybe they do - it was something not so trivial. Regardless of the time span, it still makes me uncomfortable that they may know that part of me…
Invasion of privacy
Category: Walk of life
http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/may/15/computing.security
I don’t like it at all.
“I’m living.”
Category: Relations, Studies, Walk of life
Yesterday, around this time or later, I got to meet my old professor at his home. He had helped my colleagues and I through out the whole course of our clinical rotations. I had heard he wasn’t feeling well but I did not expect it was this bad.
We asked if we could see him, not knowing truly how bad a condition he was in.
He was brought out by two young boys, walking ever so slowing, pausing for a bit and starting again. The moment we saw the sight of his frail, delicate profile, held up and being assisted to walk, we got up and helped him to his chair; the guilt of having made him go through all the trouble weighing heavily down on our hearts.
He looked at us, through those patient eyes, just as he had four years ago when he first met us; therein lay the evidence of the youth that was still him, despite the fact that the disease had weakened most of his body. When asked how he was doing, he smiled a shaky smile saying, “I’m living. A little painfully, but living just the same.”
It was heart-breaking.
We didn’t stay long, it was obvious he wasn’t at ease in the chair. We wished him well and thanked him for everything. As we were leaving, he turned to me, eyes glistening and smiled his shaky smile. “Good.”
I smiled back at him, knowing the significance of just that one word and knowing that it was enough to last a very long time.
10 years and counting
Category: Memory lane, Ramblings, Walk of life
We moved to India mid 1996. My siblings and I left the only thing we’ve ever known in our lives to start anew.
Four days after landing onto Indian soil, we got enrolled in school. I was in 8th grade, on new land and in an unfamiliar place. I was at school where most people knew each other from the time they were in Kindergarten. My classmates would stare at me uncomprehendingly whenever I spoke. The accent was hard to follow and the Hindi/Urdu or whatever it was I spoke back then was pitiful. Imagine someone speaking your native language in an entirely different accent.
Those three years in high school were extremely difficult and uncomfortable for me. Do you know how it is to feel like you don’t belong? I was a loser and a class certified nerd; the whole high school drama, status-quo. I hated not being able to relate with my classmates, often missing my old friends who knew me inside and out and didn’t mind the weirdness that was me. I missed the familiar carefree neighborhoods and hated being jailed up here. I made friends, yes but the friendships were short lived. I won’t deny that we had fun though - those were probably the best days of that time. However, towards the end of my last year there, I chose not to be included into “the group” and that decision of mine cost me the quality of friendship I had. We were still friends, but not as close. And somewhere along the way, I made a new friend - one who may have not been well liked but understood me, somehow. I lost contact with her a few years after graduation.
Then came Intermediate. Most but not all Indian schools have grades upto 10 and then graduation, unlike graduation at the 12 grade level. After 10th grade, there were two years of an “Intermediate” course where you decide between pursuing an “Engineering” field or one related to Science. At 14/15 years of age, it’s not an easy decision to make and as a result some of us (but not all) simply go along with whatever the parents say. It was during those two years that I met some of my closest friends to date. I learnt about true friendship and just how deep those roots can run. I even got better grades. But whenever there is a beginning there must be an end; we had to part ways because our choice in professions and universities did not coincide.