Mind over Matter

The Indians were losing, losing bad. They had started off pretty well. They had taken out several enemy pieces with their first pawn alone. It was a rampage. For each contestant they sent, the foriegn King would loose more of his men than he would have liked. With each round, he seemed farther away from victory. Until he had only his last pawn left. His best pawn. It was time for Chen to enter the arena.

The Indians tried everything. They tried attacking from left, right and center. They lost, match after match. Chen was just too good for them. Try what they might, he wouldn’t budge. Each round ended with the same dull thud and the ever-bored look on Chen’s face.

The Indians were now down to one. Their best. Their answer, they hoped, for Chen. Jain climbed the short flight of stairs onto the centerstage.

They were worlds apart, Chen and Jain. Chen was the fattest among his lot, Jain was the skinniest among his. They faced eachother. To the spectators, they couldn’t have been more unevenly matched. The match itself, was unneccessary. The Indians clearly did not like to admit defeat.

The bell sounded. Chen kept on standing there, rooted to the ground. He never moved. Jain had to start and end the final show of the day all by himself. He wasted no time in doing it.

He lunged forward, his legs pushing hard. His arms, bent into an L-shape, swept by his side, cutting through the air, his hands ending up infront his chest, and then moving back again. All the time, his legs were hard at work. Each time one of his legs lifted off the ground, he was pushed forward with even greater force. In midair, the air obediently slipped past his body, hardly any cause of resistance to his motion. The first signs of sweat appeared on his forehead. A droplet quickly turned into a drop and started trickling down his face. More appeared. In time, his whole face was gleaming with it, pearly drops falling from his eyelids. But he didn’t blink once. His eyes were fixed on Chen.

Then it came. The final moment he had been waiting for. The moment of glory. His head met with resistance, slight at first, but quickly strengthening. There was a deadlock. Jain closed his eyes. Time froze in his head. He doubled back. He found himself looking at himself. Half-bent, with his head locked into Chen’s monstrous belly, locked in place. A sweat drop hung mid-air. Chen’s belly itself had transformed. It took the shape of giant ripples, originating at Jain’s head. A giant mass of flesh, instantly transformed into a beautiful equation of mathematics.

The look on Chen’s face was indistinguishable, the look on Jain’s; calm, serene. As if someone had hit the play button again, the half-bent Jain veered to one side, losing his balance, almost topling over. He steadied himself, stood up straight and looked at Chen. He was still standing. But so was Jain.

Both men stared at each other for a second. Then it happened. The world of Chen came tumbling down. He came down on his back with astronomical force. A mountain of flesh and blood toppled over, made lifeless by the bare minimum of flesh and blood needed to sustain life. The mammoth that was, was no more.

* * *

I wake up with a start. The hot Briton using the computer opposite mine looks familiar. Where have I seen her before? Ahh yes, I remember. It was 5 minutes ago, before I started day dreaming, or night dreaming, or whatever. Or was I even dreaming? The whole scene looked pretty familiar. Was it a just a memory? I try to backtrack on my thoughts.

I was in the Computer Lab ... studying for my tutorial tomorrow ... felt tired ... looked around ... noticed the hot blonde sitting opposite me ... noticed a lot of Indians around ... noticed a lot of Chineese around ... even noticed quite a number of foreign exchange students (goras) ... not a single Pakistani ... ahh yes, I remember now. It was neither a dream nor a memory. It was a vision.

I look at my watch, its 12:00 am. Time to leave. I pick up my books, pack my bag and start to go. I can’t take it any more. 12 is my limit. I look around, no one has the faintest intention of following suit. I wonder when they actually leave to go home and sleep. Or do they sleep atall?

I think of all the Pakistanis in their rooms, sleeping away, or watching movies, or chatting on msn, or making fun of each other, or studying secretly. Exams are only a week away and stresses are high here at my university. Students from all (that is almost all) nationanalities litter the libraries, study rooms, tutorial rooms, and even the benches in open areas and corridors, studying hard at their books. I think of what would happen if I would happen to meet a fellow Pakistani on my way back to my room. Would I be able to take all the name-calling and scorn? But then again, I remember the story of Chen&Jain and I’m reassured. The only brown people I’m going to meet tonight and any other night are either Indians or Sri Lankans. I don’t need to worry about Pakistanis.

The next day, I’m going over the Undergraduate Research Opportunities Programs (UROP) at my university to look for one research project I can work on over my winter vacations. They have a list of students already involved in undergraduate research. Half of them are Indians, the other half Chineese. There is only a single Pakistani name. I go to the part-time jobs listing and find the name of the company me and my friends worked at last winter vacations. Ahh yes, I remember, I’ll know where to find all my Pakistani friends these winters for sure.

I finish with my computer and get back to work. I’m in the library now and the person sitting on the next set of couches is an exchange student. She’s reading a book. She’s not taking notes or anything. She’s just reading for entertainment. Or education. Or both. It’s called literary scholarship. I remember yesterday when I was reading a book, a friend spotted me and asked me which module I was studying the book for. Apparently the only scholarship he had heard was the ones they give away at MIT and Stanford in the US.

This gives way to other memories. Memories give way to questions. Why is it that every time a Nobel laureate comes to lecture, very few Pakistanis attend, if at all? Why is it that the percentage of foreigners attending drastically shoots up? Why is it that no Pakistani undergrad would have ever heard of a symposium? Why are Indians so different? I never fail to see Indians on all these occassions and many more. Were we really all living in one country before 1947? I was told so by my parents, but I really have no scientific or logical evidence to believe in it.

And the vision comes back to me. The weak but determined Jain pitting his brains against the mighty Chen...