D was in a dilemma. She had been going strong with her life in Houston. Her family was well settled and comfortable, her work good, her non-intruding boss over-polite to a fault. However, some events on which she had no control, such as aging parents, some random chatter in a mailing list, etc., gave her a pause to think whether it would be a good idea to go back to India, her home. She thought hard, analyzed, did a SWOT analysis and what not. Things didn't resolve themselves.
Thus it came to pass that she made the mistake that any two bit blogger would have advised her against – she asked for advise from public at large. That too public prone to excessive and nonsensical expression of views. Advice came pouring in like Mumbai rains and brought in miseries like Mumbai rains. Some said come back; jump in; we're all down here – we'd like one more. Beware don't go said others – its too deep and horrible; you can't climb back. Others said philosophical stuff such as there is no black and white – as if she cared about the black and white struggles. A 'mover' welcomed her while a 'shaker' worried about polluted water and a 'peanut' talked about rasam. A conch summarized the stuff but it was clear he was biased towards food. D's dilemma had grown into a full blown confusion.
She pored through the haystack for that needle she knew was in there. Then she found it. The peanut had advised her to ask her genes. She pondered what he meant. She had heard of communicating and communing with one's soul, but this was new. She had no way of saying if the peanut knew what he was talking about. Nevertheless, based on some foolish intuition, a misplaced confidence, she decided to venture into this. She checked out the yellow pages and the Internet classified sites. She found genetic engineers, gene splitters and cloners, self hypnotists, past life regressors, wireless communication engineers, communion gurus, etc. It appeared that people were able to read genes and wear them rather well, but not communicate. The inevitable result was that there was no help available.
She now knew that it was entirely up to her to crack this. So, the following Friday evening, having had an early dinner, she packed off her husband and children to bed, switched off all electronic equipment and sat cross-legged in a peaceful pose. She counted her options – she could speak, write or act. She was sure that written communication was not the preferred medium for the genes. A sixth sense also told her that acting may not be effective. She was never good at dumb charades. That meant that she had to speak to the genes.
D: “Hello.”
[Silence]
D: “Hello genes...”
There were many of them. They didn't care to respond since they didn't like this kind of stereotyping. They had their individual identities and they'd better retain it. If someone wanted to talk to them they were jolly well free to do their homework and address them properly.
After some time of this non-response, D started getting the idea. She had a problem – she didn't know much about genes. Then she remembered that there was a fat gene that caused obesity.
D: “Hey ... You, the fat gene!”
A cute but plump gene turned at her indignantly
Fat Gene (FG): “Vous parlez a moi?”
D: “Oui”
FG: [angry at this nonchalance] “Qui est FAT?”
D: “Sil-vous-... Hey I don't even know french. Where did you learn it?”
FG: “Do I have to start explaining to every Pooja, Sudha or Deepa who comes around insulting me?”
D: “No. No. No. I wasn't insulting you ...”
FG: “Didn't you call me fat?” “neenu nanna dappa anta karidiyo illavo?” “Toone mujhe mota kaha ya nahin?” “Enakku nee ...”
D: “Why are you repeating?”
FG: “I thought you didn't know English.”
D: “OK. Please. I have a ...”
FG: “Do you have any idea how much information I have to carry. If you carried a fraction of my stuff you would run out of memory and core dump. After bearing all this load for so long, Now I am being derided as FAT. You are FAT. Your mother is FAT. Your ...”
D: “Please. Please. I thought it was your name.”
FG: [slightly sheepish] “It is.” [Recovering] “Very convenient isn't it. You can insult all you want and blame it on me and my name.”
D: “No. No. Please I'm sorry. Very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”
[FG looked grumpy and was still thinking of a retort when D slipped in her theme]
D: “I have a question. I am in a dilemma – a sort of confusion. I'm undecided – not sure...”
FG: “That is quite clear. Lets move on.”
D: “You see I was brought up in India. I joined this software company and came to USA. I then got married ...”
FG: “Cut the crap and come to the point. I don't have all day.”
D: “You are very rude – aren't you?”
FG: “You would be too if I called you FAT and then started crying on your shoulders.”
D: “I didn't mean to call you fat and I wasn't crying on your shoulders.”
[The frown on FG was now very pronounced]
FG: “You have ONE more minute.”
D: “I don't know if I should stay or go back.”
FG: “What are your parameters?”
D: “I want a good work-life balance. I like my children to grow up with Indian values and traditions. My parents are old. My family is well settled and comfortable here. My past beckons my future....”
FG: “I, ME, MYSELF!!! Its all about you all the time. Isn't it?”
D: “But its my life. So shouldn't it be about me?”
FG: “What about us? What about our opinions? Who is asking us?”
D: “I'm asking you. Aren't I?”
FG: [Sheepish yet again] “Go back”
D: “That was quick”
FG: “Yeah. Go back”
D: “Oh. Thanks so much. You made my decision so much easier.”
FG: “Sure. Glad to be of help.”
[A couple of other genes passing by stopped to inquire what was going on.]
A Passing Gene (PG): What's up mate?
FG: She wanted to know if she should stay in US or go back to India.
PG: Let her stay.
FG: Don't listen to him. GO BACK.
PG: STAY. Water there is polluted.
FG: But the FOOD is GOOD.
[Hearing the raised voices, a few more genes stopped to poke their respective noses (or whatever it is that they poke) into this affair.]
Few more genes: [all very loud and insistent] “GO BACK”, “STAY”, “ASK YOUR FRIENDS”, “PRIORITIZE YOUR NEEDS”, “LISTEN TO YOUR HEART”, “FORGET IT”, “LEARN TO MAKE RASAM”, “BE CONTENTED”, “CONNECT WITH YOUR INNER SELF”, “DONT DRINK WATER”, “GET USED TO PIZZA”, “ASK YOUR GENES”, “THINK LOGICALLY”, “STAY” “GO BACK” ...
D: [fed up] OK GUYS. Lets stop this right here. You all carry on. Express your (or rather my) characteristics, or do whatever it is you guys do all the time.
The communion hadn't gone well. As she bit into a super sized chocolate bar, she wondered if the fat gene was still carrying a grudge.
