Telling signs

When you begin to get subtle hints that your presence (or absence) does not make a difference...

You know, in India a person is measured not by the person he or she is but by what job, what position he or she holds... the Ministers and the Babus have the right of way everywhere, also cricketers and filmstars, I guess.  Of course if you are a university or IIT professor, it is not so bad either... but give it up, and say you are bekar, or that you are self-employed, or that you have retired, ... and slowly you begin to notice the difference. I guess the first time I noticed was when some people at RGU asked me to come and give a talk... I agreed and even started preparing for it. But then one of the organisers asked me for my institutional affiliation and I said I didn't have one anymore. I never heard back from them! I'm not sure when I have actually last spoken (or been invited to speak) at an event that I have not organised myself. Not that I want to speak anywhere but slowly the realisation seeps in.

You feel it in small ways -- when people don't invite you to events is one thing, but when you go along anyways out of sheer interest, and meet people, mostly younger academics all full of pep and ambition, they are nice and polite, and say that they have been meaning to call you and that we should meet up and that they would really like to talk about their research with you, and that they will definitely get back by the next week, but then, that is the last time you ever hear from them! Not that I mind...

I guess people who retire from high places also have the same feeling, or perhaps that is the reason why the Babus on retirement, find something else to do that keep them from feeling being made redundant.... And a dear friend of mine who is a retired academic tells me how some of her former students, who used to surround her constantly while she was their teacher and guide, suddenly began to find excuses for not being able to visit her, or to drop by once in a long while, even when they were going past their home, once she retired. 

I had  sensed something similar when I could not establish (or rather, did not even try to establish) my credentials as a writer. I do not have a novel or  a book of short stories to my name. I do some translation, okay, and write small pieces occasionally, but that does not make me a writer. But many of my writer friends at the Forum have moved on, some of have become much celebrated and acclaimed writers. That is a matter of joy and pride for me and our personal relations are still very much intact. But on many formal occasions, the organisers do not know what to do with me, because although I seem to be pally with the absolute top guest of honour at the event, yet I have nothing at all to show to merit such familiarity. A degree of awkwardness is only to be expected on such occasions. So I have noticed that the invitations I get these days to such literary events -- book releases, poetry readings, meet the author etc -- have gone down significantly. Of course, if the event interests me and the meeting is not  by-invitation-only, I go anyways. 

Sometimes it can even be amusing or irritating ... depending on how you decide to look at it... Suppose you are going to see a performance or a play... the first two or three rows have 'reserved' written boldly  on the seats so that velas like me are encouraged to find a seat after the fourth row. I don't mind, but then even senior citizens who have problems with walking up steps to the rear etc are not spared. Sometimes even if they agree to allow the senior person to sit in front, they require the younger relative/attendant to sit many rows back which then creates other problems for the senior citizen. Of course Babus and VIPs are welcome to make their ayahs, maids and security personnel sit on the first row sofas if  their masters don't mind their so doing. It is hilarious. Funniest when after all the guests have arrived and the event is about to start, the front rows remain empty and then they have to request the same people who they shooed to the back earlier to please move to the front!

Just recently something weird happened. There was a seminar at Cotton. The big shots were in the front two rows, I was on the third. It so happened that I was directly behind the two biggest shots of the event but there was an aisle separating the two -- very convenient for the many still ambitious and need-to-be-seen academics who then, without so much as a by-your-leave, although all of them knew me, decided to take turns at standing in the aisle between the two greats, to get their photos taken! That there is no photo of me at the event is besides the point... but the steady rush of people to the 'photo point' between the two biggies directly in front of my nose blocking my view was annoying.

Have you noticed that there are some people who do not go to meetings and events 'just to listen'? Some are so stuck up that they don't go if their names do not appear on the invitation card.  And then I think of the likes of Prof. Sanjib Baruah from Bard College, New York, who will arrive anywhere to hear someone speak, if the topic interests him. Of course if you have attained the level of a Hiren Gohain or a Himanta Biswa Sarma, you have to speak wherever you go, but much 'smaller' people, in fact, even some young beginners, don't think they should go to any event simply to listen, that they have nothing more to learn from anyone, that it is time for them to give their gyan to others, and so on.  Some of them have huge numbers of followers on social media, so much so that they get offended if idiots like me fail to recognise them somewhere. The other way round, when people have to introduce me, the only introductions they often find for me are either via my parents, or via my German connection! So much so that you would think that, without these two, I would have no identity at all... Perhaps I don't, but it bugs me that the fact that I simply happened to live in Germany for a few years is considered to be more important than everything else that I might have ever done before or after!

And of course the most annoying thing about me that really puts people off is the fact that I actually tell the organisers that I can't stand the endlessly long formal beginnings (and endings) of meetings -- with some music, a formal welcome address, felicitation of the many guests, then quite a number of long and winding speeches by people who hold positions of power and authority but who have nothing to do with the subject of the meeting before they actually get down the real business of the day! By then, more often than not, more than one hour has gone by and the meeting has not yet really begun...! Given the fact that most meetings in the city begin at least half an hour late, for me, it is almost time to leave, before they can even come to the point. And sometimes I do walk out. The endings with the vote of thanks etc etc are often also long but usually I do not last that long...Later, the organisers seem to agree with me in private about how so much time was wasted but then on social media and other outlets they are gushing with praise of the many very important people 'who spared their valuable time despite their very busy schedules to be with them and to encourage them with their wise and significant words of guidance and support!' My foot!

Soon I would have gained a reputation as a ill-tempered impatient old hag who has the audacity to make unsolicited unfavourable comments on events and programmes where no one really wanted her to be present in the first place. What a fall that will be... and quite deserved too! Thank goodness for Sabhaghar and Addaghar... at least no one can banish me from there, and in these two spaces, nobody can stop me from doing things my way...