A chilly winter evening of year 2007. Tired after a days work of staring blankly at the computer monitor, doing almost nothing other than entering the timesheet, I was waiting for my train home at Princeton station.
It was pitch dark even though it was only a few minutes past 6. It had snowed earlier in the day and the patches of white, here and there, gave the evening an eerie feel. I sat on a bench wondered why I was even there.
It was my first job in the USA, I had a very long commute home, the work was hardly interesting and the pay was less than the industry standard. Everyday, up and down, I would worry if I really had to take this up. I would try to read, while on the train, and take my mind off.
An old lady came and sat beside me. I smiled and nodded and wondered if she would talk to me.
She spoke with a strange accent. She said she was visiting her daughter in New York. She was thrilled to make a trip all the way from Europe, she liked to explore the places all by herself, but she had been having trouble making herself understood. She told me about her daughter, her grand children, their life...
She then received a call from her daughter. I heard her talking in an unfamiliar language which sounded more like a strenuous vocal exercise . At one point I even doubted if she was clearing her throat.
Later she told me that she was really proud of her daughter and grandchildren for not losing touch with their language.
Their language, of course, was German.
She then told me about her life in the post-war Europe. She was an engineer too, an electrical engineer, who had to struggle for acceptance in a male-dominant society. She told me how tough it was for her and she thought it's still tough for women from developing countries. She told me that she was proud of women like me who fought against all odds, who tried to break free of shackles and rise above the oppressions cast by the society.
She didn't know that she was talking to the wrong woman.
Yea, I was brave enough to stand up for my choices, but I never thought of myself as fighter or a pioneer of anything. I had made up my mind that I would give up my career when we had a baby. Again, that was my choice, society hadn't asked me to do it.
But the nice German lady was smiling at me affectionately and I acted like a pioneer. Yea, the shackle.. Tell me about it..
We talked all the way to Newark where I had to get off. She called up her daughter a couple of times and talked in that 'funny language' and I tried my best not to laugh. I reminded her that she had to get off at Newyork Penn Station, before I got off.
I met a friend in the path train to Jersey city. I told her how funny German sounded. |I imitated it as best as I could and made her laugh.
But when I walked home from the station, all alone and cold, I felt sad. I looked vaguely at the Christmas light which was still there, even if it was almost the end of January.
How is it possible that sometimes, random strangers could make you think about the possibilities, make you reflect on the past or even glimpse into the future, how does it all work, this infinite matrix of people, friends, relatives, acquaintances, and strangers.
I felt that I shouldn't have made fun of that language.
It was pitch dark even though it was only a few minutes past 6. It had snowed earlier in the day and the patches of white, here and there, gave the evening an eerie feel. I sat on a bench wondered why I was even there.
It was my first job in the USA, I had a very long commute home, the work was hardly interesting and the pay was less than the industry standard. Everyday, up and down, I would worry if I really had to take this up. I would try to read, while on the train, and take my mind off.
An old lady came and sat beside me. I smiled and nodded and wondered if she would talk to me.
She spoke with a strange accent. She said she was visiting her daughter in New York. She was thrilled to make a trip all the way from Europe, she liked to explore the places all by herself, but she had been having trouble making herself understood. She told me about her daughter, her grand children, their life...
She then received a call from her daughter. I heard her talking in an unfamiliar language which sounded more like a strenuous vocal exercise . At one point I even doubted if she was clearing her throat.
Later she told me that she was really proud of her daughter and grandchildren for not losing touch with their language.
Their language, of course, was German.
She then told me about her life in the post-war Europe. She was an engineer too, an electrical engineer, who had to struggle for acceptance in a male-dominant society. She told me how tough it was for her and she thought it's still tough for women from developing countries. She told me that she was proud of women like me who fought against all odds, who tried to break free of shackles and rise above the oppressions cast by the society.
She didn't know that she was talking to the wrong woman.
Yea, I was brave enough to stand up for my choices, but I never thought of myself as fighter or a pioneer of anything. I had made up my mind that I would give up my career when we had a baby. Again, that was my choice, society hadn't asked me to do it.
But the nice German lady was smiling at me affectionately and I acted like a pioneer. Yea, the shackle.. Tell me about it..
We talked all the way to Newark where I had to get off. She called up her daughter a couple of times and talked in that 'funny language' and I tried my best not to laugh. I reminded her that she had to get off at Newyork Penn Station, before I got off.
I met a friend in the path train to Jersey city. I told her how funny German sounded. |I imitated it as best as I could and made her laugh.
But when I walked home from the station, all alone and cold, I felt sad. I looked vaguely at the Christmas light which was still there, even if it was almost the end of January.
How is it possible that sometimes, random strangers could make you think about the possibilities, make you reflect on the past or even glimpse into the future, how does it all work, this infinite matrix of people, friends, relatives, acquaintances, and strangers.
I felt that I shouldn't have made fun of that language.
