Rice...

Man has indeed, come a long way, when it comes to his journeys and experiences in the demesne of food. From the natural instincts of survival to the gourmet style of life, the sheer mind-boggling variety of food items available, has always been a wonder to the author. This post marks a new beginning of a series of articles, ranging from rice, the first grain that he had received as a child, to the others. The simplest things in life are the most extra-ordinary. Imagine, the first of our ancestors, who had the courage to draw out the grains from a rice plant, and then, consume them. Would you merely pluck something from an unknown plant, and consume it? In fact, what differentiates food from poison.

After that most important first step of overcoming the fear of the unknown, who ever thought of steaming it or boiling it with water, so as to get to the right required consistency that one is used to now. Then, did man, just stop with eating plain steamed white rice? No, even here, he has amazed us. A simple seasoning and the right use of various spices, (even here, one must heavily appreciate the courage shown), transforms white rice to lemon rice, coconut rice, tamarind rice, jeera rice, pulao, pongal, biriyani, etc. Further, he developed beaten rice, to help make different kinds of poha; and puffed rice, to be had plain with kadalai (groundnuts), or as that important ingredient of bhel-puri. Then, what did man do?

To obtain the batter, which is used to make idli (pancake), dosa (crepe) and uttapam (indian pizza), he grinds the rice along with a few pulses, after soaking it over-night. How did he come up with the right ratios of the ingredients, so as to obtain, the different consistencies? And, here, he goes on experimenting and improvising, so as to come up with different varieties. With his brainchild, he then, comes up with chutneys, of all different kinds, molaga podi, sambhar, potato sabji, etc. to go as accompaniments to the dosa/idli/uttapam. He decides to have dosa with potato sabji and not idli with the same. Likewise, he develops the concept of rava idli, which, leads to a totally new form, that includes garnishing with coriander leaves (just an another random plant), and cashews, carrots, and peas, etc.

Then, be it the dumplings from China, or the kozhakottai's from India, which are products made from rice flour with different kinds of stuffings, man has ventured into newer territories. Further, it does merit a mention of the wonderful rice based vadams (crispies) that are now fried in oil, which totally lend a unique taste, if had as a side-dish with sambhar rice. And pray, what all items go well with rice? Sambhar, Kootu, Gojju, Vartha Kozhambu, Kadi, Dal, Rasam, etc. Another feather on his cap, was to use rice flour, as a thickening agent in sambhar. Of course, for the health-conscious people, or for those recuperating from an illness, you have the simple rice ganji (gruel), which is, in fact, one of the healthiest options.

Last but not the least, he did research on the various steps involved in the processing, right from the time of harvest, to the storage and distribution of rice; and how, the right temperature and moisture settings, helps minimize the wastage of rice in terms of yield. Further, he came up with several developments in the field of agriculture, to make cultivation of rice, more productive. In parallel, one of the important things to learn about rice, was its nutrient content and importance to one's health; be it the more healthy brown rice, or the plain white rice, or the more celebrated basmati rice. He did all that, and with it developed a systematic way of characterizing food in terms of minerals, vitamins, carbohydrates, fats, etc. and calories.

The author has tried to paint a picture of the different options available, from rice, and it is no doubt, not comprehensive. Most of the dishes mentioned here belong to the Indian vegetarian cuisine. Just imagine, as to how mind-boggling it could become, if one were to talk of all the different forms of cuisines. Further, what is of most wonderment, is that, all these events have happened, in almost all parts of the world, almost independently. Obviously, the rice-eaters of Mexico had little in common with the rice-eaters of India, during those old days, of limited travel. Likewise, the same about the rice-eaters of Japan. So, how did everyone converge on the same plant, rice, possibly, at different times, and at all these different places in the world. Isn't it a wonder?

PS: The only reasons that the author can think of, for all these wonderful achievements, are, good judgement; willingness to try, experiment and improvise; and not having that fear of the unknown. And, good judgement, reminds the author of a profound saying, "Good judgement comes from experience; and experience comes from bad judgement".

PS2: Replace all references to he/him/man with she/her/woman. The idea for this exclusion is not to portray the author as being a sexist. It is more so to imply, that he and she, mean one and the same. Further, the author acknowledges the fact, that, women tend to contribute equally, if not more, when it comes to all the wonderful achievements in the world.

PS3: When you have time, and would like to play word-games, you may do so here, where, you also help the UN World Food Program with its "grains of rice" collection drive to end hunger, depending on how well you do.

Of Grand-fathers....

Today happens to be the Maha Aalaya Amavasya, of the Mahalaya Paksham fortnight. A fortnight of activities in thought and action, towards and in honor, respect, love of our fore-fathers. Amavasya, or the new-moon day, which occurs every month, is also set aside for the same purpose. It is therefore apt and appropriate to write about two of my earliest heroes, my two grand-fathers, Thatha(father's father) and Aja(mother's father) on this special day. Both of them taught me certain important lessons, during my childhood and youth, and some of my thought processes were, are and would be heavily influenced by them. This post is rightly dedicated to them, and to all the grand-fathers and the grand-mothers of the world. I am sure that the bonding a grand-parent shares with its grand-child is something really special, no matter where. What makes it special, is the fact that the grand-child becomes an important part of the grand-parent's life, post retirement, and it is the time to revisit or experience certain experiences, that one would have denied oneself in the past, with one's own children.

Needless to mention, there could be wheels within wheels in such relationships, like any other, due to the relationships of the parents with the two sets of grand-parents. When one realizes that no one is perfect, this, at least makes it possible for the grand-child to accept the idiosyncracies of the person, made more so difficult due to their iconic status during one's childhood; and respect and love them for what they were/ are. Further, most elders are neglected, when they go past their primes, and become a liability in terms of time, health, money and getting about their daily activities. Ironically, during these times of neglect are when they need our love the most; and not when, everything is rosy, prim and proper. To make matters worse, there could be the eye on the inheritances, if it be so applicable. This is something that the author has seen happen, in India, the US, and heard so from a Taiwanese friend. I am sure that the fact of the elders becoming a non-issue with time, would be an issue in most parts of the world, since time immemorial.

Moreover, every rose has its thorn, and it is up to us, and us alone, to think of the rose or the thorn or both. And every behavior, be it warranted or un-warranted, polite or impolite, nice or rude, is more so because of a reason. Two hands are needed to get the sound of a clap. It is pointless to point fingers at one side, without truly knowing what is it that makes one behave the way one behaves. What complicates matters, is that, all of these incomprehensible behaviors are the off-shoots of love. Love can be as destructive as constructive, if not more, when it comes to human relationships. Most of the wrongs in the world, are again, off-shoots of love, love and love alone. (As a brutal example, love for one's vision/ country/ religion is what makes a person a terrorist, who goes about killing the harmless victims, without an iota of guilt). With that as a long aside, the author would want to paint the portrait of the two gentlemen, thatha and aja, out here; for an essay on the human relationships between the aged, mid-aged, youth and the children, is not the real purpose of this post.

Thatha

My earliest hero, for all that I can remember. Pampered me beyond any doubt and I was evidently his favorite grand-child. Memories of my earliest childhood revolve around thatha, chocolates, playing all kinds of games at all odd-times, walking with him to the Srirangam temple market with a fancy little red shoe that would squeak in a playful way to my delight as I walked, pens, pencils, colors, street cricket, dresses, Raghavendra Swami Mutt, encounters with the temple elephants, brown covers on note-books and books before the start of a new academic year, etc. He was extremely religious and used to perform sandhya vandanam and pranayama, twice every day. He possessed an assorted variety of sanskrit sloka books, ranging from the Bhagavad Gita to Vadiraja's treatises. And, no matter what, he used to write the entry for the day in his diary, in his beautiful handwriting. The surest way to win his heart would have been to present a beautiful diary during New Year's eve. His writings were simple and effective, sans flowery elements; and he was fluent in Marathi, Kannada, and Tamil, as well.

From what the author remembers, the author was scolded once by thatha, much to his shock and astonishment. As someone very particular about coffee, and, sadly, tobacco; he used to have raw green chilli's too, with curd rice, to the author's bewilderment. A very simple man, the father of three children, the youngest being my father, had retired as a Commercial Railway Inspector, from the Southern Railways, Tiruchi. His work was known to have taken him here and there, to the remote parts of Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, and Tamil Nadu, all by trains, much to the amusement of his grand-child, and very much to the dismay of his family. Unfortunately, thatha had lost his mother at a very tender age, and his father had re-married again. Being the eldest, he was responsible for all of his siblings and step-siblings too..... Thatha passed away at the age of 78, after a brief illness, when the author was 12. Hence, most memories are from childhood.

Aja

One of my earliest heroes, I grew to respect aja, a real lot, with space and time. An extremely simple person, with a penchant for writing. His lambastes of many a politician tinged with satire would often make a conversation amusing. Like thatha, aja had lost his mother at a very very tender age. His father followed soon, and exact information on his siblings is not very clearly known. After his marriage, I believe, he had no living relative from his side. He fathered nine children, the sixth being my mother; and he saw to it, that everyone was educated well, in the domains of both academics and music. A man with a vision, he believed music would be the panacea for all problems in one's life. He being the sole bread-winner of the family, did struggle to get his children the education that he envisioned; and, marrying off his five daughters, indeed, proved to be a greater struggle (especially during those times). He retired as the Post Master General, Hyderabad.

My earliest memories of him, would be his trips to the market and the delicious Banganampalli mangoes and his harangue of the shop-keepers who he believed where out there to loot the common man. Not to forget the time when he had come over to Madras for 15 days when the author was in Class III. That, and, banana chips (used to get them everyday, for me), cold drinks, colors, pens, pencils, TT racquets, etc. His English was impeccable; and he was fluent in Marathi, Kannada, Tamil, Telugu, and Hindi as well. He had correctly spelt out "mountaineering" for me, when I had made a mistake in a home work. Further, the author vividly remembers an incident where both of us were lost from the family crowd during a trip, and as to how cool he really was. The author believes he was fortunate to have been involved in several intimate conversations with aja, post his undergraduate education and before his graduate study phase...... Aja passed away at the age of 86, after being in coma for 3-4 months, when the author was 23.

*****

Both thatha and aja, had the same name. Seshagiri Rao. The author would consider them to have been successful men, who made the best of what life could offer to them, and who provided the best that they could offer to their families. May their souls be at peace.

PS: Of course, both these men, did make a few mistakes in life. That, is not the purpose of this post, and, who doesn't make mistakes in life?

The Pilani Express...

This post is a tribute to the harmless ones killed and injured in the Delhi blasts. Further, dedicated to my companions during the various train journeys on the Pilani Express.

The author was reminded of his Pilani days and the umpteen train journeys from New Delhi to Chennai Central and vice-versa, courtesy, the Pilani Express, which used to be otherwise known as the Tamil Nadu Express (we never really cared about the Grand Trunk Express); when he first got to know of the highly deplorable and unfortunate Delhi blasts. With a government that is pretty soft on terrorism, and, a coalition that follows the deplorable vote-bank politics, just like everyone else; it is beginning to seem like, nothing much can be done about the blasts. Going after the terrorists, should be done more so, because, what they are doing, is evoking terror in the minds of the people, by the means of cowardice. Moreover, the bomb doesn't really care for the religion of the people it endangers; and for reasons of political gains and victory of their point of view, harming the harmless is downright detestable, deplorable and unpardonable. The government and the political leaders, should rise above from politics and mere soft talk; for it is high time for action. On that poignant note, the author would like to delve more onto the topic of the post.

New Delhi is a beautiful city, pretty well-planned, and rich in terms of history and heritage. Connaught Place is a great place to hang out; and everything about New Delhi has a distinct charm for the author, maybe more so, because it was the author's first experience, on his own, up north, after living a majority of his life till then as a madrasi. Moreover, the author and his group of friends, were, exposed to New Delhi, at a time, when their hormonal reality levels were pretty high or beginning to kick in. Girls in tight, thigh-caressing and low-rise jeans; and equally tight body-hugging tops, were a heady whiff of change, from the "usual". It made so much more of a difference for the students who were from Chennai and the other parts of Tamil Nadu. (Indeed, Bengaluru and Mumbai would give a healthy competition to New Delhi.) And, no matter what, be it their attitude, or their ways of life, the girls were indeed highly impressionable. And, the New Delhi guys, who were termed TDCs, were never really in the picture, for us guys. With quickly overflowing counters, courtesy, the abundant amounts of ocular strain, New Delhi was an important part of the author's life, in terms, of his growing up.

Who can forget those umpteen train journeys? Sarai Rohilla station of Old Delhi, the New Delhi railway station, journeys to Kalka, Loharu, Allahabad, etc. The open dis-respect for the concept of reserved compartments. Sumo's and filmi episodes with drunken and rash drivers. The bus rides in winter, with most people smoking beedi's in that suffocative environment. The visit of the hijras on the train near New Delhi. The visits to Connaught Place, Palika Bazaar, Karol Bagh. The often repeated feeling of "being cheated" at the markets of Palika Bazaar. The sly glances at media material containing pornography, be they compact discs, or the famous magazines for men, or the extremely rustic stories in Hindi printed on the lowest quality paper. The roadside dhabas, serving amazingly unhygienic, yet, extremely delicious alu gobhi, shahi paneer, tandoori roti, and matka lassi. The Madras Cafe. MacDonalds, Burgers, Fries, Pizza's, Nirula's, Wimpy's, etc. The strains of all possible, filthy and extremely commonly used swear-words, that would ideally shake one's balance. The cosmopolitan mix of Punjabi's, Madrasi's, Bengali's, Sardarji's, immigrants from the villages around Delhi, the rich and the poor. The smoke, fog, chillness, cold, of the winters. The sand storms of the summers.

Now, it does merit to write about the train journeys too. With a group of 6-8 friends, travel over those 2500 odd kilometers, was great fun. Sharing stories, food, munchies, ideas, opinions, etc. were indeed, unforgettable experiences. The Pilani Express used to mostly run for BITSians alone during those special days. And, oh, boy!, we were notorious for sleeping late at night, and waking up equally late in the morning, to the dismay of the normal co-passengers, wherever they were. Talking of nights, the birthday parties on train and the "bumps" sessions, where all were invited. Word-games, Card-games, DumbC's, gossip about the happenings on campus and off-campus, the high-profile and low-profile "psenti" couples, discussion on "babes" and their hotness quotients, crushes, the actresses, fights over Aishwarya Rai and Madhuri Dikshit, movies, Metallica, Nirvana, G&R, Pink Floyd, Sting, Savage Garden, MLTR, Boyzone, and others, the comprehensive examinations, the instructors, the grades, GPAs, jobs, and what next; well, pretty much anything and everything. Not to forget the mention of the extreme dependence on the Railways food, during breakfast, lunch and dinner while returning from New Delhi; and the equally sheer boycott on the way back from Chennai.

Well, even the visits to the pantry car, on the train, were great fun. It gave umpteen opportunities for both boys and girls, to check out each other. Not to forget the inevitable going through of the reservation list pasted at the entrance of the coaches, so as to have an idea about the co-passengers. Then, there was the more fruitful, catching up with friends, about the New Delhi based incidents. Moreover, incidents of ragging of the first yearites by the psenti-semites was great fun for all, with most inhibitions gone for the juniors. The gorgeous journey on the ghat section from Itarsi to Nagpur and the beautiful sceneries. The customary halts at Nagpur, and the purchase of Dinshaw's ice-creams, be it Winter/Summer, Haldiram's soan papdi and the santara's. After a good two nights, the Pilani Express, would ultimately, arrive at Chennai Central. The dirtiest portions of Chennai would seem like heaven along with the lush green fields, the hoardings in Tamil, and the PTC or the MTC buses. And, the final homecoming. The platform would be filled with the family members, who would have come to welcome their wards.

Well, it is indeed strange and pretty natural, as to how a lot of things change for the better, as we grow up. Some of the things we did were down right stupid and silly. For one, girls are not sex objects. (The reader is recommended to read the author's post on what beauty is). Some of the things we did were more on the lines of being naughty and playful. And, nothing that we did was wrong. We were obviously within our limits, in terms of everything that we did. Overall, those umpteen train journeys and the associated happenings, were an important part of our growing up, then and now. Many things, indeed, cannot be taught. One has to experience them, the way it is meant to be, so as to get the most out of them. All said and done, these experiences evoke sheer memories of memorable nostalgia.

PS: The reader is strongly recommended to read this post, from a BITSian girl's point of view, which the author happened to come across by chance, later on, after writing the post.

Time....

This post is inspired by the grand visions of the Grand Canyon and the midnight sun by Gobbler's Knob in Alaska, two of the greatest "live" shows on earth. And, in an indirect way, the movie Rock On(2008), and Pink Floyd's Time.

Time, time, and time, a space, in which even non-causal events become a surety with time. We are gifted with a limited amount of time, to learn as many lessons as possible; and to seek, suffer, soar and surrender. We come into this world, and leave this world, when the time comes. And everything that we do, is to do so, to bring in a purpose into our lives. Make the best of what we can, and take all efforts to lead as complete a life as possible. In a way, given a blank canvas to an artist, time shows us as to what all masterpieces the artist comes up with. Similarly, given a blank canvas called life, it is up to us, to come up with whatever we can.

Often, most things, happen, because, there was no other thing that could have happened. Like, whatever has to happen, has to happen. Well, some of my friends, find it difficult to believe that the author believes in such a philosophy. However, from the author's limited experience, it is more so vindicated. You want something badly, at one point in time, to the extent that life without it would have seemed meaningless and empty. Later on, it could so happen, that the non-happening of the event would have been the best thing to have happened. All this goes to show, as to how limited our understanding is, and how little we know as what we really want.

Does the Grand Canyon really care as it goes on making love with the sun's rays, at different times of the day, in different positions, almost every day? It knows what its purpose is, and it doesn't do anything to trumpet about its greatness. People who miss out on this great show, practically, miss out on it. As simple as that. Likewise, people who seek, finally surrender to the greatness of it all. Does the show really care for time. This is something that it has been doing for centuries, with we, the mankind, a mere insignificant speck in the vastness called time. Similarly, the loving interplay between the clouds, sun, mountains, etc. that goes on everyday during the Alaskan summers for almost 24 hours, that sadly goes unnoticed by most people.

The inspiration from the movie Rock On, and Time by Floyd, comes from the fact, that, ten years is a lot of time, at the personal level, for your idealistic dreams of the tender adolescent youth to come crashing down on you, as you embrace life in its more developed form. A few compromises, here and there, that could haunt you for life. At times, one would feel, that, it is better to not be dangerously crazy about anything, and lose it all; than be really really passionate about something. Anything could happen with time, for one never knows what life has in store for you. But then, wouldn't it better to live the fullest during that time, than compromise on issues, that are veritably, metaphors for your own life?

PS: Likewise, ten years is a lot of time, for you to actually lead the life you want to, and take it into the realms of dreams and fantasies. For, if that is what has to happen, that is what will happen.

PS2: Of course, one important point of mention. Not doing one's duty or following one's calling, in the name of, "whatever has to happen, will happen", is foolishness. It is more so with the idea of fixating the concept on the result or the outcome, rather than the very journey, itself. The journey is ours; and it could be tortuous, difficult, baffling, and incomprehensible, at times.

PS3: Everything happens for a reason, and for the best.

The Olympic Gold...

The ever-elusive olympic gold in an individual event, finally came to India, due to her hero, Abhinav Singh Bindra. With this, the common man is elated. Likewise, the politicians are extremely happy. For all one might know, the ruling government, might treat it as an another(?) feather in its cap. Till now, the Olympics was something of a painful event, that used to occur every 4 years. Shame, resolve to do something about the dismal scenario, helplessness over the lack of resources and encouragement, etc. over a period of a month or so, to be soon morphed by the euphoria over cricket and its activities and players. If only cricket had been an event at the games!!!! Well, even then, could we assure ourselves of a gold, if not, a medal?

Well, the author belonged to a generation, where, cricket was necessarily considered a spoil-sport for the child's education, and dreams of becoming an engineer or a doctor. Now, cricketers, who make it, definitely make more than the smartest engineer, and can further retire early. Thanks to the Indian Premier League and the Indian Cricket League, the process of getting rich quickly, is made possible. It wouldn't be surprising if the present generation of parents, in fact, encourages their children to play more cricket than study. Maybe the Indian parent would further tout for an Indian Woman's Premier League. Nevertheless, cricket does and would continue to retain its #1 position, sadly, so, at the cost of the other sports.

Recently, the author came across a few comments in a newspaper portal, that was down right shocking to say the least. The main theme, was, as to how the North Indian's are performing and getting medals for the country, while the so called South Indian brainies, slog for an IT firm, both, in India and overseas, and hog on idli-dosa-sambhar. Well, talking more on this ridiculous argument or point of view, would be utterly insane. So, what does the future hold for us? China, courtesy, its 32 year boycott of the games, got its first gold medal in 1984, in Shooting. Can we expect, India to top the gold medals tally, in Olympics 2032, and further expect India to be the hosts? China was clear in its mission 2008, maximize the gold medals in events where it is good. So, if we were to follow a similar policy, then, what options do we have, and do we have to do?

By the way, one genuine question - why isn't Chess one of the sporting events in the Olympics.

The Indian in America...

This posted is dedicated to those readers, who have tried their best in encouraging me to start writing all over again. This absence from blogging is both inexplicable and inexcusable.

The author, as in the Indian in America, turned five, a few days ago. Five years back, living on American soil, for such an extended period of time, definitely seemed impossible, if not insane. Ten years back, US was all about the rich, the developed nation, and the megalomaniacs. Fifteen years back, US was all about the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Alaska, Denali, Rocky mountains, Yellowstone, Pueblo Indian civilization, New York, San Francisco, Pacific Ocean, Golden Gate, Chicago, Wodehousian characters in America, etc.

Anyway, over these five years, one thing is utmost certain. Never ever rely on the judgment of your unjustified assumptions, ideas and opinions. Lack of culture, heritage, spiritualism, family values, "neighbourliness", etc. are some of the oft mentioned critiques at the US. US is definitely the land of the immigrants, and, is conspicuously lacking in any of those ancient monuments. History in the US is a mere 300 years old. But then, the presence of the national parks, and the care/maintenance towards them, with the sincere wish, of making them a legacy for the future generations to come, is worth, appreciation.

The culture in the US mostly revolves around the natural topography of the land, the musical history over this century, sport, cinema, entertainment, etc. Los Angeles, the Hollywood capital, has a distinct culture of its own. Likewise, the small and beautiful beach towns of the Orange County. Austin, the blue dot in the red lone star state, has a fairly off-beat culture in terms of music, cuisine, arts, etc., with Lance Armstrong, being a happening phenomenon. New Orleans is all about jazz, and Miami is all about reggae, dancing, and the likes. Broadway in New York is about theater and musicals, and Minneapolis is all for the lakes and related activities. Nothing really wrong.

My experiences with Team in Training, for almost a year, in Orange County, CA, was so different. That to me is what US is, and what Americans are and can be. Not necessarily rich, they are normal people, for whom family means a lot. Surprisingly, quite different from those notions we have about the lack of family values in the West. (Of course, the divorce rates can get high; and the probability of a man or a woman, under 18, being a virgin, be almost zero.) Setting aside the side note, weekends are meant for family. Vacations to national parks revolve around camping, hiking, biking, fishing, etc. with family.

Further, this lack of "neighbourliness", stems from the fact, that people keep to themselves. If you need help, and you ask for it, you normally get it. It is not that people are unfriendly, (of course, there are the rednecks!). People are very respectful of you, and respect that space around you. Also, a perfect stranger, asks you, as to how your day is going, and further, wishes that you a great day! Often, it is a mere greeting scenario. Then, there is this extreme case of thanking people, to the point that, it seems like a mere formality. All in all, surprising behaviors.

The true purpose of this post is to not justify the American way of life. It is more so, to amaze myself and see, as to how unjustified, assumptions/notions can become. Further, no matter where we live, it is always good to take the positives, and try incorporating it into our way of life. The negatives are always there, everywhere. After all, isn't life all about opposites?

Love...

This post is dedicated to Jason Cooney, Tara Hussey, John Gronnel, Vicki Varela and the other survivors who are true intrepid fighters. Also, written in memory of the angels.

Love, one of the most exalted of all emotions, has always been an enigma for the author. Wherever you go, love is the most potent force in this planet. A beautiful thing, that finds itself manifesting in a myriad of ways. The love of a child for its mother, the mother's love for the child, the love between father and son, the love between siblings, the love between friends, the love between a man and a woman, and what not. What exactly is love; and can it be defined, if at all. Well, even the very thought of definition of love sounds so crass and vulgar. However, the exact purpose of this post, is not to delve into love, but to celebrate the true victory of love, which was very evident during the author's first marathon with the TEAM in training.

The TEAM in training, is the largest endurance sports training program in the world. It is a part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, whose mission is to fund research to fight blood cancers and to improve the quality of life of the patients and its families. The unique feature about TNT is that, they accept and train people, of various fitness levels and all shapes and sizes, and get them across the finish line, in return for the fundraising, that goes towards fulfilling the Society's mission. The strong motivation for this otherwise rare and dream-like goal of an endurance event for the participants comes from the heroes battling with these dreaded cancers: both, survivors and angels.

In the moment of gloom, when one of their near and dear ones is fighting with cancer, the patient and their family choose hope over despair, with the hope that the cure can be found so that no child or adult along with its family has to undergo the pain of anything and everything associated with cancer. The author has come across quite a few inspirational people, who train themselves for endurance events, battling their own aches and pains, all for love. Like they say, "26.2 miles is nothing when compared to chemotherapy". The author did the P F Chang's Full Marathon, recently, and out there, was the true picture of USA. It was a purple movement, that didn't really care about the red and the blue; and for that matter, the white, the brown and the black.

So many runners/walkers/runners-walkers/walkers-runners, including survivors, were battling against their bodies to complete the full marathon in honor of their beloved survivors and angels. They were the "elitest of the elite" athletes. Outside the course of the run, and without their purple TNT singlets, you wouldn't even think for once, despite, batting your eyelids so many times, that they are the proud marathoners. That's what love does to you. This is a wonderful victory for love. A true celebration of life. The author considers himself highly blessed to have seen this all in live action. Now he is able to comprehend this enigmatic and wonderful love better. Go TEAM!!!

Peanuts....

Time...

Malignant Cancer IV : Domestic Violence....

The author was inspired to write on this real and blood-boiling issue of "domestic violence", courtesy these three events. The South Asian Arts Festival, the annual fundraiser of SAHARA (a helpline organization for the battered women) from Nov 16-17, in Laguna Beach, CA, that he happened to attend; a discussion with friends over coffee on the same issue; and this poignant article, very well representative of the grim reality and the times, that he had come across long time back.

No matter how educated the society is, domestic violence, continues to create an havoc in the lives of the innocent and often, helpless, victims. In the earlier years, the issues of dowry, and lack of proper financial support of the wife's family, the wife's inability to conceive/ give birth to a son, etc. used to be major reasons for the same. At a time, when large families with just one bread-winner, say the father-in-law, were not uncommon, it was natural that a daughter, say the wife, was considered a financial burden. What made the issue even more ironically depressing, was that, the mother-in-law of the bride, a woman, herself, was the most cruel and demanding. This pregnant issue has been well conceived in the form of thought-provoking literature and cinema, since time immemorial, and is not the purpose for this post.

While none of the above can be justified, it is highly frustrating to note, the manifestation of this evil in an even more grotesque form. Gone are the days where the female child was deprived of a formal education. These days, most of the girls, are equally talented, if not more, than most of the prospective grooms. Most families strictly adhere to the 2-child norm, and hereby, there is some form of financial security. However, the most shocking fact, is that, this evil continues to exist; and is an issue in a land, far away from home, US of A, where, even the stereotyped, cruel mother-in-law's policing hand is out of reach. So, how does one explain this? The author feels that the answer lies in the Concept of the Indian Marriage and Society. Plus, the age old adage that, whatever happens within the four walls of the house, has to remain within.

In a heavily male-dominated society, in terms of its ideas, beliefs and opinions, a woman, is often considered to be the cause and affect of marital problems. Since their birth, the fact that, you need to do everything possible to make your marriage work, has been drilled into the girl child. If a man strays in a marriage, he is condoned, because, he is a man. He can drink, lust for a woman, have illicit relationships with women, squander money, batter/rape/harass his wife, etc., and the helpless victim, would often not find words of comfort, even, from her mother. A divorce is a stigma to her, and what about her children, who, despite their being the symbols of her entrapment, happen to be the sole reason for her existence. So, she is often trapped, in a meaningless relationship, that offers her no emotional, financial, psychological and physical comfort and security.

As an aside, the issues of male ego would be a botheration in the western countries too. However, there is that fear in the male, that, the wife might just go ahead with a divorce or complain to the rigidly strict law. She is given the freedom to speak out, which, bears no stigma at all for her. A divorce in this extreme form of atrocity on the women need not be justified. While the existing conditions of domestic violence, can happen, anywhere in the world, this grostesque and virulent new form is happening in the western countries, where, the women, are dependents for legal purposes. A groom, with an H-1, is a lucrative option for the girl child, because she can join him, immediately after marriage, unlike the case of the green card. For some, marriage poses the gateway to the US, the land of dreams for many. In these days of hurriedly arranged, arranged marriages, little is done to verify the actual professional and financial status of the groom. Sadly, in some cases, even the parents of the groom are oblivious of what is happening in their darling son's life out here.

A highly educated bride, comes to the US, as a dependent. In some unfortunate cases, she is harassed because of dowry. Sadly, the more so the number of elite degrees from great institutions after his name, the worse so, is the form of dowry. While education is expected to mould a person into a well-rounded, empathetic and honest persona, it fails miserably so in this case. He treats her as a door-mat and as an outlet for his sexual frustrations/ desires. In a land far from her parents and home, the woman is often helpless and trapped by the legal laws too. She cannot work. She doesn't have a social security number. In some cases, she is, purposefully, not taught to drive a car. How can this well-educated, Indian, woman, manage on the freeways? Does the husband ever think of how impotent he was when he had just arrived in the US. Naturally, for routine groceries, she has to depend on her husband. Pray, why she needs to do groceries: only, to not default on her duties as the cook of the four-walled house, her cage.

.... If you think the author is painting a grim picture and providing a pessimistic view of things, who knows for what purpose, you are sadly mistaken. Please do not be surprised if a person you know very well happens to be either the victim/aggressor. Every face has a story to tell.

PS: This post has been written from the Indian mindset. However, talks with my friends from other countries, reveal, that these issues could very well be so, in other countries too. Blame it on the pyschology of the male, that, has been so very well nurtured in all different cultures and religious followings, all across the world.

PS2: An interesting article, on a related theme of violence on women, with the neat solution of "give it to them".

PS3: The reader is strongly recommended to watch the movie, Provoked(2006), which is based on the theme of domestic violence.

People Watching : Laguna Beach....

A series of posts on the SoCal experience. The previous one is on Huntington Beach.

Laguna Beach, a beautiful beach town, of Southern California, is a great spot for people watching. Endowed with a wonderfully curvaceous coastline lined with small mountains and a serene and not-so-crowded beach, this enchanting Laguna Beach further offers a chain of art galleries along the Pacific Coast Highway; apart from the usual entertainment and dine-out places.

It is further known to have a few charming and aesthetically lit, Italian and Mexican restaurants with live music going on inside(appears expensive though!). Some even offer the view of the ocean, more so like, just by the ocean kinds. With this mild introduction to another SoCal wonder, this author of greatly nomadic virtues, keys in a few notable people watching incidents, courtesy those few visits:

• A newly wed couple - the bride in her delicately beautiful virginally white wedding gown, and the bridegroom in his dark black suit, taking a stroll on the wet sands of the beach, with the waves gently caressing the shore. There is that loving interplay between the rays of the sun and the gentle waters of the Pacific Ocean to make it more memorable.
• A couple, presumably, the parents of the bride/ the groom, animatedly taking videos of the newly wed couple on the walk of their lives. Quite understandably, a few relatives also contribute to the festivities.
• A few American adolescent girls, on their girls' day out, totally oblivious of their surroundings, and having a whale of a time. Somehow, it seemed to the author, that the glow on their faces, silently conveyed the fact that they were very much aware of their beauty.
• Some one had written "Spread the love (the symbol of a heart)" on the sands of the beach. There were hearts everywhere, both in action and in words.
• A group of boys, of different nationalities, playing basketball, on the court, by the beach.
• A couple, playing volleyball, just between themselves. A highly impressionable romantic statement of the so-called public display of affection.
• An woman eyeing the author's ice-cream as he was walking down the road. This reminds me of the beautiful ice-cream parlour, Gelato Italiano, with its really soft and it-simply-melts-in-the-mouth ice-creams. The sheer variety of flavors available was bewildering to the author, to say the least. The lady at the counter was at her hospitable best; and in fact, was offering small spoonful offerings of whatever flavour we wanted to help get over the bewilderment.
• An artist at work, painting the beautiful Laguna landscape, in live action, giving finishing touches to his oil painting on canvas, on the pavement of an intersection.
• A couple, sitting on a bench, facing the vast expanse of an ocean. No words spoken. Just, each of them, drinking in the spirit of the surroundings and their partner, in silence. Those moments of silent eloquence.
• A family of four, with the parents watching their kids build a sand-castle.
• Of course, no people watching activity is complete, without a mention of those bicyclists, on their beautiful attires, with their lustful bicycles. What a beautiful way to spend the day, bicycling along the beach!

.... and so on.

A Point of Mention: It is a great mystery to the author as to how he went about writing 85 posts in 2005 alone. Posts have dried up, at a mere 18 for the year of 2007. October 2007, has been a good month for 2007, despite, being just about average by the statistics of 2005. The only silver lining is this present template and layout, which, the author is really really fond of. Suggestions to improve the blog are more than welcome. For those loyal patrons of the blog, a special thank you.

SoCal is Burning....

About twenty wildfires, have been burning since Oct 21, 2007, all along the beautiful Southern California coast, from Santa Barbara to San Diego (and even parts of Baja California, Mexico). With so many homes destroyed and quite a few people dead/injured, Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya prays for the fortitude and the strength for the families of the victims and the brave fire-fighters. A few of my friends and acquaintances had to evacuate their homes; and now, thankfully, things are fine with them. Ironically, natural disasters, often, brings out the best in the people. They show such amazing sense of camaraderie, and concern for fellow human beings and life.

Southern California (SoCal), is a nature-lover's paradise, with its beautiful, pristine, beaches; chapparal based mountains; plain valleys; and the desert vegetation found in Mojave and other places. And, in parts, it is beautifully green too. Surprisingly, this region often records the lowest amount of rainfall, much lower than the national average. This year, the rainfall received has been lower than the driest Death Valley regions of the US. The author wouldn't hesitate to say that SoCal, is a true geographical wonder. The lack of rainfall, dry vegetation and the strong Santa Ana winds, provided, the more than necessary fuel, for these wildfires.

The air is unclean. Lots of small and coarse particulates in the air, that is not good for the lungs. The distinct smoke on the horizon over the usually, beautiful, scenic landscapes. The smell of something is burning. Overall, an atmosphere of gloom and disaster. Around 900,000 evacuations (the largest in peacetime history in the US), huge loss in property, 1500+ homes destroyed, official reports of ten dead and around hundred injured (mostly, those, brave, fire-fighters), overall acreage of burning close to 300,000 acres, four days of continuous burning and spreading due to the winds; this would be in the who's-who list of natural disasters.

*****

The author has been at Madras, Tamil Nadu during the Tsunami disaster of 2004; College Station, TX during the hurricanes Rita and Katrina; Pilani, Rajasthan which experienced mild tremors during the disastrous Gujarat earthquake; and now, the Wildfire 2007 of SoCal. During these times, one is often made to rethink on how insignificant we are, and how, no one can truly stop nature's hath and fury. With so much of a damage to life and property, hell breaks over, and people are always on their toes, wondering as to what would happen next. These are definitely bad times, and no one, really wants disasters.

All these, make the author to wonder, "There is no way of stopping natural disasters. But, then, why not stop all the disasters in the name of war and peace. Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan, in the modern times, Japan when it was nuked in 1945, etc. must have been subjected to great misery and hell, because of the severe damage to life (infact, the Japanese episode has affected future generations forever) and property (does one count the number of houses shelled and the number of evacuees)." But then, if one were to delve deep into the history of nations, the world has always been in a state of chaos and war. World peace is nothing, but, utopia. This would definitely respect a new post, and the author would like the to end this post, thus,

Life, is the same, everywhere, no matter where.

Indianness XII - Golu....

This post is heavily inspired by two events in the author's life: a friend's seemingly innocuous question, "What is the significance of Golu", and my childhood friend's keeping Golu at her own sweet home. Further, this post is dedicated to all the women in my life, keeping with the spirit of this heavily women-oriented festival of sublime joy.

Golu or Bommal Kolu, is a beautiful tradition followed in the southern parts of India: Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. Fortunately, for the author, he has been born into a family that is steeply rooted in its influences from all of these three southern states. Moroever, with the heavy migration of people from these places, to all parts of the world, Golu is more or less associated now with the entire world. For e.g. the Malibu temple of Los Angeles, sports its own 11-step and 5-step Golu display for this year. The exact importance given to the odd-numbers is a mystery to many people. The quaint excuse given by many elders is, "Don't question the wisdom of our ancestors". Reading about this fanatically upheld rule revealed interesting insights into the concept of the One. The simplest reasoning would be, there is that enchanting continuity with odd numbers, which is a sign of fertility, prosperity, growth and development.

The Golu is associated with Navratri, the festival of nine nights, to be culminated on the tenth day of Vijayadasami, the day of celebration of the victory of the good over the evil. This festival is usually in the month of October, and the festivities begin in the months of August and September. Usually, the dolls are stored in the attic/ the legacy trunk(s), safely wrapped in pure white dhoti's (now dusty with that claustrophobic smell). To the commands of the women in the house, be it the wife, mother, daughter or sister, the lazy weekends for the menfolk during the month of late August/early September are spent, getting the dolls down from the attic. The womenfolk now proudly take over, having been waiting for this, the entire year.

Ragini erupts with pure joy, when she sees her favorite Saraswathi Devi with her veena again. Raga goes crazy when they take out the cricket set, with its eleven players, and the neat stadium. One by one, the dolls slowly come out. To the dismay of the lady of the house, she, Ravana's nose, in the expensive Shiva-Parvathi set purchased last year, has been broken. Mythology states that Ravana tries to dislodge the divine couple by attempting to shake Mount Kailash, their place of residence. She blames it on her husband for his usual lackadaisical attitude. One can see the stage being set for a battle, when, Ragini smartly chips in, "Amma, why do you worry about Ravana, the evil kidnapper of Sita. Look at this set of Rama, Lakshmana, Sita and Hanuman. Just see, as to how beautiful it is." He gives a naughty, understanding, and an all-knowing you-saved-my-day-i-owe-you-an-ice-cream look to his beautiful daughter.

With that timely distraction in place, Ragini, Amma and Paati/Aji/Avva, get hyper-excited with the dolls to be purchased this time. Not to be left out in this, Raga recommends the new LEGO based "City". He, so as to not be outnumbered by the women in the house, supports his son, telling her, "It is good for them. Encourages them to use their minds. Worth the expense". Paati/Aji/Avva's fear is that such things are purely satanical, and gives Thatha/Aja a look, which makes him tell his son, "They should know the traditions of our culture. Why don't we get a huge marriage-based set this time". Like this, the discussions/ arguments/ suggestions keep going on for most of the weekends. The womenfolk, however know that the final veto lies with them. In fact they would be the ones to make the purchases. Why do we need the menfolk to interfere in these feminine aspects of life. Everything is fine, as long as he doesn't object to the use of the joint-credit-card.

Usually, the family decides on a theme, and it definitely brings out the creative and aesthetic juices flowing in everyone at home. With the dolls purchased, and arranged in a neat odd-numbered-padi stand, with the feminine trinity - Saraswathi, Lakshmi and Parvathi, gracing the highest step, the entire golu display, displays sheer grandeur, majesty, beauty and energy. With the onset of Navarathri, the womenfolk are busy with the sundal preparations. One must admit as to how ingenious our ancestors were, when one thinks of the sheer number of different varieties of the sundal. Friends and relatives, especially, women and girls, are invited. Ragini sports her new peacock blue, pattu-pavadai, and she is beautifully dressed in her new haldi-kumkum Kancheepuram silk saree. Both sport a string of jasmine flowers on their well-oiled, amazingly long, well-braided hair; and are well-dressed with that dash of pottu on their face with the sandalwood powder and fair-and-lovely cream giving it company; and the kajal lining on their eyelashes, with the minimalist glistening gold jewellery, greatly enhancing their beauty.

To the tunes of Himagiri Thanaye, in praise of Parvathi, Ragini's friend captivates the audience, with her sweet, and mellifluous voice. Ragini does a short recital of Jagadhodharana on the Bharatanatyam. The womenfolk sing songs in praise of the divine. Most of the menfolk are blissfully ignored. When such amazingly aesthetic musical festivities are going on inside, Raga is found playing street-cricket with his friends. The menfolk are involved in their seemingly endless and infact, pointless, arguments and discussions on the state of political affairs of the country. One often wonders, families do a better job when it comes to honing the aesthetic sensitivities in a girl. Their main line of reasoning being, "She will go to an another house once she gets married. In times of trouble, when we are not there, only music, dance and arts would help her remain centered."

Time just flies by, and the nine days are over in no time. With almost tears in the eyes of Ragini, she moves the sacred kalasam, signifying the end of Navaratri. But then, there is Vijayadasami, and the eternal favorite of all, Deepavali, to come. The thought of the new crackers to be bought, and the new dresses, makes this compelling and yet painful, routine, of keeping the dolls safely packed, to their journey back to where they came from, the attic/trunk, possible with heavy hearts. From this post, one can evidently see the heavily women-centric nature of this festival. In fact, as men, all that we can do, is to encourage the women to have a great time during this festival. And, it would be a great idea to inculcate/hone the aesthetic sensitivities of the boys too. Think beautiful.

Both these festivals, signify, the victory of the good over the evil. May the force be with all of us. One, doesn't need to crassly generalize such beautiful customs as mere tradition. It is a great quality time with the family for the family. Creative talents are greatly encouraged. The benefits accrued there of are many. In the name of modernism, one often wonders, as to what would happen to such beautiful things that exist in this world. But then, the eternal optimist says, "What has withstood the tests of time, be it the Mughal invasion, dis-unity amongst the people, British rule, etc., will continue to exist. It is just that people would miss out on the beautiful things, rather than, the beautiful things becoming a non-existence". A thing of beauty is a joy forever. A very happy Navaratri to one and all. The author ends this post, with a heavy heart, thus, with one of the most sacred sayings, Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya.

The Fortune Cookie....

Over the past few months, the author used to frequent an Asian diner, by the name, Pei-Wei, with one of his Taiwanese friends. The highlight of the luncheon would be the fortune cookie, something that the author used to look forward to, every time. Whoever, came up with the concept, must have been very spiritually strong.

Similar to Jeeves' buck-me-up potions, these fortune cookies, have the sheer capacity to bring in positive energy and high spirits, over just a piece of paper. Only good things are written out there. Thankfully, the fortune cookie doesn't discriminate too. So, everyone, is positively affected by the same mysterious, wonderful, oracular, prophecising cookie.

This only goes to show, as to how wonderful a strategy it is to, focus and harness on the positive, beautiful aspects of life. If one were to go by the law of averages, the meandering journey of life, would takes us through both the best and worst times of life. It just so happens, that, thinking beautiful, no matter what, helps us face those undeniable moments better.

Further, the concept of focussing on the beautiful, helps one to understand the psychological significance of the age-old custom of seeking blessings from the Divine and the elders. What could be purer than the fact, that, someone thinks highly positive for you, and goes one step ahead, in blessing you. Just to have a dear elder bless, "I am sure you can/ will do it", makes one do things that astound the doer itself.

Think beautiful. Thankfully, there are so many beautiful things in the world. Like someone had said, "Both an optimist and a pessimist have equal chances of winning. It is just that the optimist leads a more exciting life."

A Public Library....

Recently, the author had been to the Newport Beach Public Library, in Newport Beach, CA. It was such a beautiful place, with an amazing collection of books, audio CDs, DVDs, etc. Anything and everything to make you get addicted to that place. With really friendly librarians, beautiful in every sense, it is definitely a heaven on earth.

Moreover, the architecture of the library was amazingly done, so as to allow, natural light to illuminate the interior surroundings, for most of the open hours of the library. Very very environment friendly. The library is open on all days of the week, with 9AM-9PM schedule from M-Th. With a checkout limit of 50, and 5 CDs/DVDs, etc., it cannot get better than this. And if one doesn't default, the services are completely free.

And how can I forget, there was this cute little girl, carrying a pile of Harry Potter books, notably, #4-7, towards the checkout counter. Ms. Rowling has done a fantabulous job with her HP series, and one must bow down in reverence and love to this creative genius. I am sure the little girl will have a great time with those books.

This only made me wonder, "Taxes are fine, as long, as they are put to good use". The goodness and badness of the use is open to interpretation; but then, investing in a public library is definitely good for all. I guess, we all, need to learn a lot from the beautiful things in the world, and hope to be the change we wish to see across in other parts - India and the rest of the world.

A post on a similar theme can be found here.

People Watching : The Indian Experience - I ....

A long-pending post finally gets written now, courtesy, India, celebrating her 60th year of independence; my friend's heavily-flattering appreciation of the people watching section, and my blog-friend's wanting to know more about my concept of Indianness. Most of the incidents given here are now, purely, the author's imagination, and solely, built upon his rich experiences in India.

#1. The Indian Woman (Nari)
There she goes, beautiful in her glamorous Kancheevaram silk saree with a glistening zari border, and a matching blouse; with "minimal" jewellery - matching ear-rings, nose-ring, a necklace, her bangles, her toe-ring, her ring, and her mangalsutra. The red kumkum pottu on her forehead, the mark of nuptial bliss on her parting of the hair, the dab of chandan powder on her face, the kohl lining in her eyes, the virginal red mehendi on her hands, and a string of jasmine flowers on her well-oiled, braided, plait, greatly accentuate her overall beauty. It merits mention that the saree, provides just the right amount of exposure of her delicate skin to both the sun and the human eye. If the husband were a talented vocalist, he would immediately start singing, "Lage tose nain", upon seeing his wife, dressed thus.

#2. The Festival Season

A secular nation with a myriad of customs and cultures, India can easily be regarded as "Europe minus Russia", both in terms of size and the sheer diversity. Further, Hinduism, is characterized by the infinite manifestations of the divine. Each festival has its own appeal, and associated "goodies" therein. Deepavali, Christmas, New Year, Pongal/Sankranti, Holi, Id, Krishnashtami, Buddha Purnima, Mahaveer Jayanthi, Guru Nanak Jayanthi, Ganesh Chaturthi, Dassehra, Saraswathi Puja, etc. Be it the celebration of dolls (Kolu) during Dassehra, the victory of the good over the evil during Deepavali with fire-crackers, the ushering of the new year, the thanksgiving for harvest season during Sankranti, the joy of colors during Holi; the main underlying theme is counting one's blessings in the company of one's near and dear ones. Infact, the entire nation does erupt with pure joy.

#3. The Scene at the Railway Station

With so much of an importance given to the concept of relatives, friends and guests, it is not uncommon for familes to go to the railway stations to send-off/receive their near and dear ones. Moreover, since, the train is the cherished form of transportation for many a person, irrespective of his/her economic status, it is, but, natural that the railway stations are pretty crowded places; thereby providing an amazing setting for the best possible people watching.

An entire coach has been reserved for the bride's marriage party. A group of college students, late adolescents, with their parents and siblings having come to the station to bid them good-bye. A family on a vacation to a distant land in their own country, brimming with excitement. A family reunion in the platform with the long-lost and estranged brother's family coming down over for their niece's wedding. The public service announcements blaring in umpteen languages. Some on a run so as to not miss the train. Jostling and Hustling. A little bit of push here and there. The hawkers and coolies on the platforms. Vocal strains of "coffee-coffee-coffee-ya". An altercation somewhere in the middle of it all between the coolie and the newly-wed couple... and so on.

To be continued....

The Market - The Restaurant - The Game of Street-Cricket - The Indian Classical Music Scene - The Temple Towers - The Brigade Road Experience - The Indian Wedding

The Undeniable Moments...

This post is dedicated to Tara, Jason and John. The author knows that this post is heavily incoherent in nature, with each sentence, being there, just because it needs to be there. Heavily deviant in nature from the original idea. Kindly excuse the so many loose ends.

Most of us, at some point in time or the other, excessively indulge or wallow in self-pity. The moments, often, undeniable and unavoidable, take us by surprise, and further ensue a lot of pain. While experiencing an undeniable moment, one is often tempted to define it as the darkest and the toughest moment in life. The past one's seem bearable when compared to the present one, and the future always holds forth joy and happiness. Who knows as to what the future beckons us with? Thus, we gradually, miss out on the present time of our lives.

Space and time, prove to be one of the most natural healers for such times. Getting immersed in one's passions does help one blissfully become unaware of reality. Often, it so happens, that the mind proves to be treacherous with its tendency of complicating simple things in life and likewise, simplifying the complicated things in life. It doesn't take a long time to make a small worry a big worry and vice-versa. If we finally are able to look at those undeniable moments with clarity and true lack of emotion, we can see, that their purpose is to provide us with some really important lessons for life; and move on in life. The experiences makes us richer in being, well-rounded in thought, and more empathetic in nature.

What is universal, is the fact, that each and every human being has to face these moments at some point in life. Every face has a story to tell. It is all right to indulge in self-pity. It is all right to crib about life. It is all right to be hurt with failures, be they related to academic, professional, financial or matters of the heart. But then, however, there is a limit to all of this. Suddenly, this thought struck me - chaos is all pervasive and is mostly illusory and in the mind. We just need to look deep within ourselves and see that we are blessed in so many different ways, something that we always fail to respect. These "undeniable" moments try to average out the blessings, but then, allowing this to happen, again depends on our own self.

Recently, in one chance conversation with the owner of an Indian restaurant, we got to know that he recently suffered from a stroke affecting the third nerve to his eye; sadly, a totally new case for the doctors. Further, I happened to meet a father, whose 3 year old son, has an acute form of leukemia, for the past 2 years. Today, I met an 8 year old survivor of some form of leukemia, preparing for his 8th marathon. Such a nice person totally exuding with a certain positive energy, despite being in a battle for life. These people are facing the true tough moments in life that are very much real.

With such tremendously huge real undeniable moments in life, does it really matter, if you stand defeated on almost every possible front in your life? Most defeats are usually within our circle of influence and control. But then, when it comes to the body, all other defeats pale in their illusory significance. Each day that we live is a blessing. As my teacher glibly put it, "Ranga, it is best to not compare yourself to anyone. No matter what, there would always be someone better than you, in every aspect in life." Lastly as another of my teacher puts it in one of his favorite songs,

Oh! my mind!

You think you understand so much!

When your own faults and shortcomings have no limits,

You go on looking for blemishes in others!

PS: A post on a similar theme can be found here; and a post on blessings in general.

Sanatana Dharma....

Disclaimer: The author is a Hindu, well, more of a pantheist. He respects all religions and belief systems. He is not in a position to draw parellels between the many religions. Nor is he an authority on the principles of any religion. The viewpoints presented out here are solely his. Some could be credited to certain conversations with his friends. If there be a pro-Hindu tinge, it would be more of a sub-conscious shade.

Hinduism, the Sanatana Dharma, is more a way of life, or so they say. One of the few philosophical systems with a neat response to the conundrum of the "Problem of Evil", it is veritably in great danger right in its own homeground - India. A gradual and slow erosion of Hinduism, by far, one of the most tolerant belief systems in the world, is clearly evident.

Most politicians, refrain from the Hinduism chime. While one section is jingoistic in its behavior towards Hindutva, the other section (majority) distances itself from Hinduism. While, Hindutva or the so-called "Hindutva jihadi's" have come to tarnish the pro-tolerant pantheist image of Hinduism, little is being done to restore this system to its original glory. Sadly and unfortunately, Hindutva has come to mean Hinduism. The pro-Hindutva group does as much damage as the pro-secular group.

Certain thought-provoking instances in the life of the author and around him are cited below:

• The Kuala Lumpur International Airport, Malaysia; boasts of a first-class facility. It further provides a separate prayer room for Muslims. With due respect to Muslims, and their prayer schedules, Malaysia is free to do what it wants to. Moreover, Islam is the majority religion in Malaysia. But then, why does anything related to a temple bound to create a great controversy in India?


• One of my good friends told me that he couldn't find a place to eat in Qatar, during his transit on his way to India from the US, during the Ramadan month. How can an international airport not service its visitors with the basic amenities of water and food? Not everyone in the world is a Muslim, right?


• In the United States, the author has met quite a few missionaries trying to convert the author. With all due respect to Christianity, why is it that people want others to convert to their religion? Is it a sign of insecurity? All religions are beautiful on their own, and no religion prescribes the victory of the evil over the good. If that were be so, then, why should one necessarily have to declare, "My way is the only way; and yours is a path to perdition".


• Few people understand Hinduism. Most of the people of the author's generation are disenchanted with the heavy ritualistic principles of the same with their apathy intensified due to the esoteric nature of its sacred texts. Sanskrit is known to only a few, and we ourselves define our own limits by not taking any step towards learning Sanskrit. Even otherwise, transliterations of most of the works are available. Then, what is stopping us?


• The increasing breed of a class that goes about professing atheism, agnosticism, religious humanism, etc. Of course, when it is a conscious decision towards embracing such a philosophical system, it is well within one's own fundamental rights and independence. But, when it is more like a rebellion against the established norms of the society or as an ostracization of the "rustic" religious/spiritual beliefs of the age-old systems; so as to be labelled hip amongst one's peers, it is a clear sign of immaturity.


• Most of India's political policies center around the appeasement of the minorities. One can get away with almost anything in the name of secularism. Poor maintenance and sheer neglect of the astonishingly beautiful temples of India is one such example. So many temples in the south are in decay and no politician ever talks of their renovation, because is is not a secular thing to do.


• Most of the Hindu Brahmins, related to the priestly class are poor. They depend on the religious functions for a living, and their remuneration is not high. Their salaries for being temple priests is not high. Their standard of living is mediocre and they often find it difficult to educate their children and get their daughters married. However, the Indian political system recognizes them as being amongst the Forward Community, despite their economic backwardness, and fails to encourage their children. This article reads " Are brahmins the dalits of today". An obviously better yardstick would be a classification on the basis of their economic status; and reservation, if necessary, based on that classification. An even better solution would be to focus on the paradigm of primary education for all.


• The sheer apathy to the actual living conditions of Hindus because of its anti-secularism viewpoint is making India blind to one of the most ancient spiritual systems of the planet. With most systems advocating the middle path, why is that the so-called proponents or followers fail to do so? Why does the word Islam, one of the most beautiful religions and the fastest growing religion of the world, raise fear in us? In a way, Islam is also in danger. The heavy influence of the state on the church is detrimental to Christianity too.

As an analogy, music exists in various forms with its foundation being on the essentials of rhythm, melody, harmony and bass. Each form of music generates its own unique appeal and aesthetic bliss. If that were to be so, then, how can anyone claim as to what he/she is passionate about is the only way and the only way to bliss? What about the so many other people for whom the form they like is their religion? Does that mean that the other forms are nothing but noise?

Lastly, the renaissance for this spiritual system would come from the West. The author is amazed to see so many people dedicating their entire lives towards the study of the Hindu texts, Hindu way of life, etc. out here in America. The chantings of Bhajans in the heavily accented tones and the respect for Yoga, Kriya, Satsang, meditation, etc. that people have out here is heavily inspiring to the author. Most people in America have their basic comforts taken care of. In the sense, one need not be worried about the acute water problem or frequent load-shedding of electricity. Like Swami Vivekananda once said, "Spirituality is for the rich".

Importantly, why cannot one live and let live others too?

People Watching: Huntington Beach

Huntington Beach, one of the beach towns of Southern California, has a long stretch of a pier extending onto the ocean for about 0.6 miles. It does give the bystander with a brilliant top view and side view of the majestic waves of the beautiful Pacific. A thrilling experience, and the first of its kind amongst the quite a few beach experiences for the author. In an absolutely wonderful romantic locale, people watching was the next best thing to do for the author.

• A couple on a walk with their baby on a stroller, with the moonlight being a welcome companion.
• A rather young couple who would have made the French real proud, courtesy their kissing style.
• The young lady surf-riding on the pure white waves, despite the untimeliness(?) of it all. The spirit of adventure and the passion for following one's own passion.
• Groups of people trying out their luck fishing. One poor fish, being a victim, grappling for its own life.
• A group of "old" ladies on a walk.
• An old couple walking hand-in-hand, totally oblivious of the surroundings.
• A family with their family friends having a great conversation on the waterfront.
• A girl posing for a photo amidst a real dark black background of the limitless expanse of the ocean.
• A man sitting on a bench and smoking a cigar.

Malignant Cancer III : Atrocities on women...

The author happened to watch 1947-Earth, a film by Deepa Mehta, recently. It is a romantic love(?)-triangle, set amidst the backdrop of the partition of India. This post, as a reaction, serves as a medium to express the author's opinion and anguish.

Since time immemorial, women have been subject to various atrocities, be it, physical or emotional. In one of the conversations with my Persian friend, she put it very brusquely as, women are told to prize their virginity, in the most discreet manner. As an aside, the society is such that a man need not prize his virginity. Naturally, parents warn their daughters to be careful of every other man that they would meet, be it the public transportation system, school, office, playground, etc. The fear of being touched looms large. All men are generalized as a class of sex-craven and sex-deprived maniacs.

If we deeply think about the reasons for the so-many atrocities being committed on women, in the name of love-turned-obsession, religion, war, riots, male ego, etc., it boils down to this shocking revelation. Man uses a woman to give vent to his frustration. What else would otherwise be the reason for women being raped, or their breasts being cut from their bodies. Not to forget, a gang-rape. Is it all about the insertion of the man's penis into a woman? The counter example of a woman cutting a man's penis is rare.

If one were to look into the atrocities committed on the women all across the world, one can very easily sense the same attitude everywhere. Certain examples are given below for the sake of completeness:

• The war victims - be it the women of China during WWII, or those of the colonised latin american/ asian/ african countries.
• The husband raping his wife during the first night; A cold-blooded, yet, warm-blooded head of the family, giving vent to his frustrations on his unfortunate wife.
• The Hindu women in Pakistan, and the muslim women in North India during the partition of 1947; the Hindu women in Bangladesh during 1991 following the Babri-Masjid episode, etc.
• It is not healthy for a widow to experience feelings of love or lust.
• Women, stripped bare, and lynched in public; in various parts of the world.
• In Cameroon, women are "breast-ironed", ao as to reduce their chances of becoming rape victims.
• Women, forced to adopt burqa, so that, their body remains concealed so as to not give an iota of scope for a man to imagine how she would be naked.
• Female infanticide, because a girl child is a burden.
• Pouring acid on her face because she didn't reciprocate his feelings of love(?)
• Forcing his way onto her, when she is way advanced in her pregnancy. Making her work, beating her up, etc. during this critical time.
• Not allowing a woman to succeed in her professional life, because it would hurt the male ego.

....

If this post leaves you with a feeling of disgust, anguish and helplessness, then, it has served its purpose.

PS: The author is neither a male chauvinist nor a feminist.