Existence

It's the middle of the night. And I am listening to Alex Turner's 'Stuck on a Puzzle' on a loop. And I am wondering.

Wondering why I am here. Wondering what I am supposed to do. Sleep? I guess. Exercise (the next day)? Definitely. Travel? For sure.

But more than that - what am I supposed to do in this world?

Yes, I know. It's that existential question. I am sorry I have nothing better to offer. But I would appreciate some answers. Wherever they come from. Whoever they come from.

Am I here to make my life better? The life that my mother give birth to. The life that she went through morning sickness, pain, and physical enlargement and contraction to create.

Am I here to make my family's lives better? The lives that came before and after me. My parents, my little brother - the lives of the people I love more than my own. The people who could take my organs if they wanted them.

Am I here to make my friends' lives better? The people who look to me for advice and support and revelry. The people I look to for validation and the assurance that I am all that I am supposed to be.

Am I here to make the world better? The lives of people I know and don't know. People I have met, spoken to, lived with. Or people who I have come in contact with in passing - people who have told me their deepest, innermost secrets, but that otherwise I know nothing about. Or the people I haven't met - the people who are pulling on, getting by, existing, but whose existence I am not conscious of.

What am I here to do?

I don't know, but I would appreciate some answers. I am stuck on a puzzle.

Comfort

What does it take to be comfortable in your own skin?

Learning A Language

I am learning Japanese.

I used to think I was good at languages. I even prided myself on being a polyglot - after all, I do speak four languages (I should probably clarify that three of those are Indian languages).

Then I started learning Japanese. And I don't think I am good at languages anymore. Don't mistake me - this is not a self-pitying rant. I just realized how much I had underestimated the efforts that go into learning a new language. There are multiple barriers that one must cross to be able to master any new skill, languages not excluded. Japanese put my linguistic arrogance to bed.

Japanese is a very contextual language. What words mean literally may not be what they mean in a particular context. This characteristic makes it rather difficult to understand what you are learning, because a lot of Japanese phraseology cannot be translated literally into your primary language. To give you an example, an approximation of the literal meaning of 'yoroshiku onegaishimasu' is 'please take care of me'. However, if you end an email with the phrase, you are saying 'yours sincerely'. In contrast, you could also use the same phrase when you meet someone for the first time, in which case you are saying 'nice to meet you'.

Phew! Is it just me or was that mind-boggling? How to use what terms in what context is an integral aspect of learning Japanese.

Interestingly enough, modern Japanese society is staunchly non-violent. The Japanese Constitution officially renounces the country's right to declare war - probably the only country in the world to have done so. And the language reflects this societal repulsion to violence and confrontation.

In all my time here, I have not heard a single person yell or scream at anyone else. Living in Bombay teaches you to get used to the human cacophony that is a trademark of life there - fishwives hawking their wares, children accosting each other across their gully cricket pitch, taxi drivers talking to each other from opposite ends of the road. When I first came to Tokyo, the thing that struck me most was the utter lack of noise. Not vehicular noise, or the noise of trains rumbling past, or the noise of people eating in a restaurant. What struck me was the lack of noise in everyday conversation. The people here are polite, soft-spoken, graceful in speech. How do they do that?! I attribute some of it to the magic of their language.

My (neophytic) impression is that the Japanese language has strong foundations in politeness, honour and general good behaviour. I read somewhere that the absolute worst cuss word in everyday Japanese means 'idiot', and that the etymology of that word goes back to the 14th century!

The process of learning Japanese has taught me patience. Not just in everyday speech, but also in behaviour and attitude and thought. It is akin to meditation for me. I do not expect to be proficient in Japanese when I am ready to leave for India, but I do hope to have evolved into a more patient (and hopefully, more graceful) person. I think the Japanese language has that power.

Typhoon Time

As many of you may know, Typhoon Phanfone hit Japan last week, bearing the twin gifts of strong winds and lashing rains with it.

Japan has an incredible disaster-warning system - you register your email addresses with the system manager, and they send you emails notifying you when weather conditions go bad. Brilliant in concept, but it did not work for me.

Last week, as usual, I left from my house to go to work. I had received some email in Japanese (I mean, wholly in Japanese (including the subject)) - but my knowledge of written Japanese is as good as my knowledge of Finnish (i.e., non-existent). Therefore, I could not tell what the email said. So, I left home as I usually do. The moment I stepped out (without an umbrella, I may add), I was hit by these strong (in my head) gale-force winds and pounding rain that threatened to sweep me off my feet. I bought an umbrella on the way, and managed to get to the subway safely, albeit completely drenched from side to side.

The same fate greeted me as I walked to the office from the subway. So, for the first time in my life, I was walking through a typhoon. Not a pleasant experience, but an experience nonetheless.

As Typhoon Vongfong hits Tokyo this week, I know exactly what to do. Use Google Translate.
 

Tokyo and My Amygdala

I have finally moved into the much-coveted (by me) and much anxiously-researched (by my mother) apartment in Roppongi. Roppongi reminds me of beloved Bombay's Lower Parel - one of its biggest identifiers is a huge mall next to a flyover, with cinemas and Starbucks and Zara. Usual uppity mall fare.

Of course, one major difference between Bombay and Tokyo is the smell of the place. I have a sensitive sense of smell, so aromas and odours are very important external stimuli for me. I won't describe Bombay's smells to you - instead, I will helpfully refer you to a Russell Peters video which describes them pretty well.

Tokyo, however, smells so different and so good. Sometimes, when I am sitting in the subway or crossing a street, I get a wonderful whiff of the Tokyo Smell, a spring green-ish aroma that gracefully brushes your senses and reminds you that autumn's brown won't last forever. Of course, being South Indian and a resident of Bombay these past four years, the only three weather conditions I have ever experienced are hot, very hot and the rains. So, autumn or not, any distinguishing weather phenomenon is welcome. However, for some (weird) reason, the Tokyo Smell sends my amygdala into overdrive and makes me feel light and Pharrell Williams happy.

So, thank you, my amygdala, for sensing my love for the Tokyo Smell. I wish I could distill and bottle it.

A Little Late to Blogging

I started this blog on the prompting of a friend, who suggested that I muster the discipline and dedication required to maintain a blog while I am still motivated to do so.

So here I am, blogging. I don't confess to be a great writer, or even a creative one at that. My only self-professed writing skills are good spelling and grammar. Given these, the whole purpose of this blog is to put my thoughts out into The Void (like Meg Ryan's Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail). Hopefully, at least The Void will read them.

As you may have inferred from the name of this blog, I am going through an all-things-Japanese-inspired phase. I have moved to Tokyo for 6 months on work, and having been here for 3 days now, I can see why it is considered to be one of the most vibrant (and expensive!) cities in the world.

I intend to have a great time here - of course, to the extent that intentions ever translate into experience. One of the first people I met in Tokyo was this girl called A. Murakami, who was sitting on one of the many information desks dotted around Narita International Airport. A good omen, don't you think?