My Forrest Gump Moment

As I sat in the waiting area at the Jamaica train station seven Sundays ago, surrounded by a staccato of patois-English, I reflected on the incredible events of the previous six days. I don't think I've ever experienced such a wide array of events in such a short span of time, accompanied by emotions ranging from profound sadness to pure joy. While I didn't share my life experiences with my neighbors as Forrest Gump did, I spent those endless minutes mentally separating out and appreciating each of the moments that had become blended together in the fast pace of life.

Monday began with the deepest sorrow I had felt in years. I logged into Facebook and read on one of my cousins' status that my beloved Nana, affectionately known as Maa (Mother) by many, my last surviving grandparent, had passed away. This sad news was confirmed a few minutes later with a phone call from my Dad. I was dazed. While Nana's passing was not sudden - "rather expected" as put by one of my uncles - it did hurt me at my very core. As I've learned to do after hearing of such news over the past years, I read Sura Ya Sin, a chapter from the Qur'an that reminds the people of their impending return to their Lord. Even though I had read the chapter countless times, this time it was the hardest ever. Every few verses, I could not help but choke up a sob and remember the happy moments I shared with my Nana. But somehow, I managed to finish the chapter. I was supposed to be preparing for my dissertation defense, which was to take place on Wednesday, but try as I might, I could simply not focus. Instead I turned to Facebook to chat with my brother and cousins to try soothe my troubled heart. recounted my trip to Tanzania in January, where we spent many treasured moments with Nana, and I told my brother Adnaan that I was glad that I joined him after initially planning to go after I defended my Ph.D. A couple hours after I initially got the news, I called my Mom. Our conversation was filled with more sobs and tears than words, especially unusual coming from me, but I think it was a necessary early part to our grieving. The rest of the day became more bearable and I did manage to go over my slides for Wednesday's presentation.

Tuesday dawned, and while I was still deeply saddened, I was more poised to tackle the day's sole challenge, and that was to be prepared for the Defense. After waking up and getting ready for lab, I presented (to myself) without my notes for the first time. Then I headed to lab and busied myself with some of the other tasks I had planned to work on the following week. Then I came back to my presentation and practiced one more time. I visited the scene of my upcoming showdown, the Bioengineering Conference Room, to ensure that all the necessary equipment was in place. And then I went home and tried to re-read my notes to make sure I was prepared for potential questions that might arise the next day.

I tried to sleep early, but it took me nearly an hour to fall asleep. I suddenly awoke at 2:30 a.m. and tossed and turned fitfully for about 2 hours before finally falling asleep. I finally got up again at 7 and got ready for the Defense. Most people who know me know that I don't like dressing up in dress shirts, pants, ties, and suits. But today was different. Today was the most important day in my graduate career, and probably the most important day in my 26 years and 363 days thus far. Today I was going to earn the signatures that opened the gate to the Ph.D. degree and allowed me to carry the humbling title of "Doctor". More anxious than anything, I spent the hours prior to the Defense browsing the internet aimlessly, reading the news, checking the weather, making my fantasy football picks, anything that wasn't even remotely related to my dissertation. With 1 hour remaining until showtime, several of my lab colleagues and I headed over to the Bioengineering building to set up the conference room. I made sure to arrange the coffee, juice, donuts, and sugar cookies in a way that wouldn't be distracting to me during the presentation. While I wasn't fasting that day, it was still the holy month of Ramadhan, and I was mentally in fasting mode. With the computer, projector, chairs, and food ready, I sat down and twiddled my fingers. The audience members and Dr. Jesty, the chair of the defense committee, started streaming in about 20 minutes before the presentation, and while I made casual conversation with them, the room started to fill up. At 1:28 p.m., the room was packed and it was literally standing room only, with 3 of the audience members hanging out by the door. At 1:29 p.m., Dr. Frame, the final committee member, made her way to the last remaining chair in the room. The clock struck 1:30 p.m. It was time for the Defense! After a brief introduction by Dr. Jesty, it was up to me to impress and prove to the audience that the research I had done was important and beneficial to science and the society at large. After an initial shaky start (due to my unfamiliarity with the handheld clicker and laser pointer and slight twinge of nervousness), my slides began flowing together smoothly, and exactly 40 minutes later, I was done! Not quite. The audience and I were booted out of conference room, where the committee convened to prepare their game plan to grill me. After a couple minutes of chit-chat with the last stragglers out of the room, I was left in solitude and sat outside the room. After 10 minutes, I was beckoned back in. The cross-examination was not as I feared. The committee members gently prodded me about the intricacies of some of my results and methods, and proposed several suggestions on how to improve my dissertation. Fifty-three minutes later, Dr. Jesty asked for my signature sheet, and all 4 committee members unanimously scrawled their John Hancocks on this now-all-important sheet of paper, unofficially agreeing to allow me to conclude my long but rewarding graduate school travails. The official commencement of the next chapter of my life would occur on December 22nd. I presented a small token of my appreciation (from Tanzania) to each of the committee members, prompting Dr. Frame to quip, "You're supposed to bribe us before your defense, not after!" Dr. Bahou responded, "The donuts and sugar cookies were pretty good though!" The members strolled -- no, rushed -- out to their next engagements, while I cleaned up the conference room, trying to entice whatever students walked by to grab whatever sugary delicacies that remained. I finally left the building at 4:00 p.m., and walked back to my lab on the East Campus, where my colleagues awaited to take me to John Harvard's for a nice small meal. I should have been jumping for joy, but I was still a bit subdued by the loss of my Nana just a couple days earlier. However, I slept well that night.

On Thursday, I woke up before the crack of dawn to catch the 6:30 a.m. morning rush hour train towards the city -- for my 10:30 flight to Buffalo. My attempted nap was fitful, as I was often interrupted by the loud snores of a well-dressed executive across the aisle from me. My two-hour wait at the airport and subsequent 1 hour flight was quite uneventful and boring, and I arrived on time for the first time in many trips across the state. After a short stay at home, I went with Mom to Buffalo Hearing and Speech to pick up new hearing aids to replace my museum pieces. After a quiet dinner at home, we were joined by Adnaan, who had driven up from Philadelphia. We all went to bed early.

Friday was an eventful day, both in terms of significance and activity. It was Eid-ul-Fitr, marking the end of the holy month of Ramadhan. It was also my 27th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the passing of my Dadima, my paternal grandmother. Looking back, I think of it as an honor that the peak of my academic career was bookended by the departures of two of the most important people in my life. We all woke up early, showered, and dressed very nicely and drove the two hours to Brampton in Canada to participate in Eid congregational prayers. Now I think some family members paid off the Imam, himself a distant relative of mine, since he mentioned that young people these days put off marriage until later because, "Mom and Dad, I can't afford to marry yet. I need to get a job first and become independent." While he said it in general, I think it was directed at me. I whispered to myself, "Okay, I surrender. No more excuses." And then repeated it one more time aloud to the Imam himself after the prayers. We briefly met some of our family members and then drove across town to the northern suburbs of Toronto to visit and condole two of Nana's sisters. Finally, we ended the long day at Aunty Amina's house, where we enjoyed a peaceful dinner and post- food coma conversation with my Uncle, Aunt, and cousins Javed and Nuzhat. We three brothers played Monopoly to a draw and went to sleep at 1 a.m.

On Saturday morning, Aunty Amina and Javed made us a nice breakfast of omelette and (real!) French toast, after which we went to Uncle Mehdi's house for a small program to celebrate Eid and reminisce about the good ol' days and remember departed elders of the family. After the sumptuous umpteen-course meal of biryani, kachori, samosa, and Nestle chocolates, Aunty Zainab surprised cousin-in-law Nishaat and me with a September birthday cake. I was truly pleasantly surprised, as I thought no one would remember my birthday. After a group photo consisting of 30+ people and as many retakes, we finally departed for home sweet home. Not being able to eat anymore despite it being dinnertime, Nabeel and I resorted to playing knee hockey in the basement, after which the aforementioned knees were baby smooth and hairless for the first time in years. Oh yeah, the carpet burn was painful too. Then Adnaan, Nabeel, and I played Monopoly yet again, but this time we played to a draw, at 1 a.m., because we were keeping Mom and Dad awake.

Sunday dawned and Adnaan left early, eager to return to Philadelphia and recommence his endless studying. I departed for the airport a few hours later. While my flight was only slightly delayed, the luggage in New York took a while to come out, and I ended up missing the 4:20 p.m. train back to Stony Brook and had to settle for the 5:50 train and a cool seat on the platform at Jamaica station.

While bobbing along to the last few strains of sing-song patois, my ears suddenly perked up to the mixed Noo Yawk-Caribbean voice that boomed over the speakers, "Tha Five Fiftee traaainn to Hantingtan stayshun is now approachin'....oll aaabooard!" I tipped my head to patois-chattering ladies and boarded my ride home.