On PhD, hometown and relations

Dear readers,

It's 8:06 am, 4th May 2025, and I still have two term papers to write. Progress in PhD (and this is specific to my field; in no way is this a claim for all fields) isn't measured in terms of how often you publish papers or how quickly you finish that long-due submission; it's more about the quality of presentation, the clarity of thoughts despite the ambiguity and perhaps the coinage of innovative terms that the community can further dissect. The findings are pretty clear...they say that ELT is common sense. But to make that common sense intelligible to an academic crowd requires the much-coveted talent of beating around the bush in the most inobvious way to create that willing suspension of disbelief (thanks to my BA literature days, I know this), that illusion that what your paper proposes is indeed novel, indeed under-researched, and hence it was so essential for you (the author) to embark on this journey to discovery (the hidden text here is: the re-discovery of the discovered). But that's just a sacred inner secret that every ELT practitioner knows and becomes aware of 2-3 years down the line, but we also know how beneficial our repetitive findings are for the larger teaching and learning community, and so we persist. That's about research.

I began writing today because I had two social engagements last evening, of two very different kinds, in a place as cagingly liberating as Duliajan. Duliajan, my hometown, is a beautiful paradox in a lot of ways - people here have security and an abundance of wealth, luxury, and resources, but that's juxtaposed with monotony, gradual and seemingly invisible narrowing of the mind and heart, extremely sweet and courteous behavior with a jealous, shrewd, or vengeful core within, and many other such things. But we residents of Duliajan still love the place because of this serenity, simplicity, and my favorite point - the lahe lahe culture (by which I mean the absolute lack of the sense of hurry or rush). Anyone looking for monetary stability while saving tons of the money they make should sit and study for the OIL recruitment exams, clear them, and just shift to Duliajan. Period. And before I digress further, here's my reflection on a beautiful paradox from last evening:

Relatives are known to bring one down by means of their choice of words and unsolicited advice, while friends are a known figure in terms of elevating one's already pumped-up self-esteem. These two forces operate at the same intensity in two parallel worlds - the best part of this equation is that these worlds seldom meet.

Last evening I tasted both. I am often at the receiving end of taunts and sarcastic remarks from my parents, siblings, and extended family for having too many friends. I don't know how that's so bad; I'll never be able to figure it out. But yeah, I get the taunts because whenever I come home. I love revisiting my old friends, catching up, and spending time with them - not only does this exercise keep the golden school/college days alive in our memory, it's also a very relaxing escape from the woes of the present, and most importantly, it helps us keep the people who get us close to us—isn't that what maintenance in friendships is all about? I get why my mother has a problem with this-she gets less time with me because of this—and I certainly get why my financers have a problem with this—their precious money is at the risk of being spent on non-academic, less productive activities—but that apart, I don't think I owe it to any extended relative who only comes home to critique us while eating our food; if I were you, I'd judge me for sounding like a reel on a blog at this point! But anyway, I have the liberty to hang out with whoever I want... I mean, I should have it. But where are we? We are at Duliajan, in a typical Indian household. So we don't explicitly voice out our opinions; we write blog posts in a language that many of the target audience might not be able to decode very well.

I began writing this thinking I'd explain how my relative got on my nerves while feeding me delicious food, but I think you get it by now.... I'm sure many of us have gone through this. When the chest feels heavy, I sit to write, but when the negativity is so intense, it feels unfair to dump it on others who perhaps didn't need to hear all of it. So we refrain from going into the details today. If someday, I feel the need, I would definitely address this topic more vocally. But yeah, the struggle is real.

"We live in a society; we need people," this is what parents frequently say and now more than ever before, I agree with them, because when we (the kids) are far, far away, it's these (toxic) relatives who come forth to help in times of crisis, and for that I am (as we should all be) very, very thankful.

I would appreciate the school friends at this point (only because I know they are not reading this) for giving me the social break I secretly craved for while residing within the high walls of home and for giving me a taste of that sense of comfort back, that liberty to abuse, make jokes, laugh till we cry and mock the world—a taste of all the wonderful things from the 15*40 inch benches at school.

I think the definition of friendship has evolved today. It's no longer about who is there with you in times of need; I mean, it sure is an essential part of the concept, but it's also about who temporarily makes you laugh without you giving them the pressure to continue doing it or them feeling obligated to be there for you at all times. Our fast lives have affected all aspects of our human equations, and it's only fair that the same rules make sense for friendship!