Its summer, and I'm working on campus. Its a silly job really, a no-brainer; leaves me a lot of time to do my stuff - applications, research and reading.

Eileen works in the same office as I. She's about 55 years old, African-American and one of the most beautiful and cheerful people I've met. After the internship debacle (not being able to do the internship because the EAD (Employment Authorization Document) didn't arrive on time), the heartbreak (a.k.a. post-rejection-murder-of-ego) and, the disastrous CTY teaching experience, I was shattered. Nothing was going the way I thought it would. Even the short trip home was scarred by my accident. (Spilled boiling water over the right leg. As a result, spent two out of three weeks in India, sitting at home.) Anyway, after the teaching thingy didn't work out, I came back to Baltimore and started back at my old workplace.

One morning as I walked into office, I saw Eileen at her desk. She usually comes in after 12, so I was surprised to see her at work so early. I greeted her, and as she greeted me back with her usual cheerful smile, I saw her eyes shine. She noticed, and looked away. I wanted to ask her what was wrong. I knew I'd seen tears.

That afternoon, I made masala chai for Eileen. "Spiced chai latte" as the Americans call it. (More Amru-bashing, later.) "I love this stuff. I totally love Indian food!", said Eileen. And then I saw those tears well up again. " My daughter's boyfriend is Indian. Such a nice boy. I'm still in touch with him and his parents. In fact, his mother's visiting me over the weekend." I asked her how old her daughter was. And thats when she said it. "She'd be 25 this year, if she were alive."

Suddenly those tears made sense. It was on this day seven years ago, that her only daughter had passed away. It was a sudden death. Nosocomial infection. She was gone. Only two days before she passed away, they had moved to this city. She was going to attend school here.
It was Eileen's birthday the next day. Shattered and lonely, she spent it by herself.

I was stunned. Nobody could've imagined that this cheerful-looking lady has ever suffered such a huge personal loss. And yet, here she was - always smiling and upbeat.

She mentioned that every year on her daughter's death anniversary, she holds a memorial service for her. Friends and family come over, and they recapture moments they spent with her. She also has a scholarship in her daughter's name.

She still lives in the same house that she and her daughter bought seven years ago. She still thinks about her everyday. Only, she feels happy that she's keeping alive, her daughter's memory.

I'm amazed at her resilience. Amazed and inspired - to forget the past, and move on.

Kudos, Eileen :)

I love Sex and the City...

...and anything that reminds me that I am a city girl at heart - my very own Mr. Big and all. Even the people in my life that remind me of characters out of the sitcom. And this blog http://thisfish.ivillage.com/love/ is one of those things that touch the city girl in me.

Its a silly blog, some would say. And I agree. I love silly. I love everyday experiences. I love sharing life's moments with people who appreciate it.

//5:45 pm, Home.

Sometimes it just takes that one little perfect moment to make one realize that your life is fulfilling. As I sit in the balcony of my seventh floor apartment, watching the sun set, and sipping on a hot cup of chai, I wonder why I felt my life was incomplete. It wasn't. It isn't. Monotony has set in, I agree. And, as a person constantly craving change, I'm surprised I'm not tearing my hair over it. I'm still sane.