They Came for Them

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me--
and there was no one left to speak out for me.
- Martin Niemöller

There's a lot of coverage in the media about the Park51controversy - aka "Ground Zero Mosque" about which Sarah Palin, Newt Gringrich and other extremist opinion leaders are buzzing. The building being constructed is neither a mosque nor at Ground Zero. It's not being built atop the rubble; it's an existing building that has been used for interfaith prayers and is being renovated to capture more functions. There are mosques that already exist in lower Manhattan. Here are some pictures of the area and it's definitely not the "hallowed ground" as it's being promoted. As soon as you enter NYC, it's obvious that it's the most multicultural city in the US. You hear different languages and you can see vast diversity in people.

The extremist opinion leaders need "a theme" to spoon feed fear to public. It could be Obama's birth certificate or death panels. It's unfortunate because the people who accept this probably do not know Muslims or New Yorkers. Rather than extinguishing these flames, CNN and other media outlets pour kerosene upon it by highlighting this as a controversy, rather than xenophobia. Bloggers are saying it's not "American" to have mosque built because it will promote violence and jihadism, and it will disrespect the memory of those who died on 9/11. It would be important to remember that people of all religions and races died in those buildings --  Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Catholics, Protestants to name a few. When the buildings fell that day, my thoughts turned to all the folks running those newstands and Dunkin Donuts on the lower level.

I was shocked to hear a caller on the radio say that Muslims would instill sharia law in the US and not follow the Constitution. Why, this is just the first step on that road to craziness! We'll be donning burkas and Taliban will set up shop on Pennsylvania Avenue. After all, our President's name is Hussain and we don't know where his birth certificate is.

If these people had talked to a Muslim in the US, they would see that they want to be recognized as Americans. They're in the US because they believe in the American dream. It's a shame that some Americans don't realize how fortunate they are, but allow themselves to perceive themselves as victims. 

Had the terror attacks been performed by the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and the Irish wanted to build an Irish Catholic community center a few blocks from the site, would this be an issue? If a Hindu lunatic conducts an act of terror, should the rest of the Hindu community not be allowed to convene? This is why we have to speak now.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Sorry -- one final comment about Palin:
“If the purpose of this mosque, as we are lead to believe, is to create this tolerant environment, to avoid anything like a 9/11 ever repeating, you have to ask why didn't one of those 100 [existing] mosques already accomplish such a thing,” Palin said.

That's so funny.. I've wondered if she had raised her children with such "traditional strong family values," how did her daughter get pregnant in high school and have a boyfriend who has become become a talk show boy toy? The 'abstinance only' church sermons didn't accomplish such a thing did it? Hmm.

Patience - It's All About You

One of my greatest assets is my patience. My colleagues are always impressed with how calm and focused I am. I don't like drama at all and dubbed myself the 'anti-drama queen'. Really, what is the purpose? When you create drama, you bring the spotlight to yourself. This drains everyone's energy, including yours since you have to sustain this attention-sucking disorder. I'm patient at home with my husband and child. This is not to say I don't do my fair share of freaking out at 8:30 before the school bus comes or during violin practices when my daughter doesn't focus. I probably should be less patient with some colleagues, but I understand their position.I'm probably the most hardest on myself than others. By the way, because I am so patient, it often gets misconstrued that I don't care about a situation. Ironically, it is because I do care and have a strong belief in it that I can be patient.

The key is to keep everything in perspective when unexpected situations arise. How important is this issue when you zoom outwards? What would be the worst thing if you are 5 minutes late standing in line? Is it really that awful?

When I find myself being angry and impatient, I ask "why" until I can whittle down the answers.
      "Why am I angry at her for eating breakfast so slowly?"
       Because we are running late.
      "Why are we running late?"
       Because we should have woken up 15 minutes earlier.
      "Why didn't we wake up early?"
By drilling down, I realize my anger is not at her for eating slow, but at me for not waking up early.

The important thing about patience is to lose our judgement of others. It's so easy to blame others - the 'moron' driving slow in the left lane, technology for failing, clients not providing full and timely requirements. It's everyone else's fault, but our own.

Why do we judge others so harshly? We expect perfection and absolute stellar performance each and every time. And, when that fails, we become impatient and angry.

When you're angry and impatient, it's because you feel out of control. This is all a choice. You can choose to be angry or choose to let go. If people realized this little fact and implemented this as a mindset, it would change everything.

I've taken the perspective to look at delays as something important. A friend commented on her FB status that she sat in the doctor's office for 1.5 hours. However, she finally learned to use her iPhone. This is really the way the universe forces us to slow down. We were recently stuck in traffic en route to a family event. We were anxious in the car thinking it was badly planned construction traffic flow. However, there was nothing we could do but sit. When we moved up more, we saw that it was an tractor trailer accident. Obviously this was unintentional and unplanned. We said our prayers for those involved. We reached our event and learned everyone was behind schedule! Stewing in the car for 30 minutes would not have helped. Also, people don't remember what time we rushed in, but that we were present and participated in the event.
By the way, by accepting these delays, we are taking control of our situation. We are not allowing the traffic or the doctor to control our temperment, but ourselves.

I have a lot of thoughts on this topic and various scenarios that are too lengthy to detail. In the end, it is all about you and how you choose to accept or reject a situation.

Wanted: Muse Who Can Water Ski

Sign of a bad blogger: clicking on my own website and being surprised by the template change I did a few weeks ago!

I suppose the vibrant colors feed the need for energy in my life. With my subdued colors, I was looking for peace. I've been consumed by a lot of activity in my real life the past few months, which caused me to suppress my creative writing and blogging. I read a good quote on writer's block that it only seems to inflict writers who have day jobs. True, if my income subsisted on my productivity of my writing, I'm sure I'd find a way to overcome it.

I've always been happy not blending my professional career with my writing, as it extends the leash for creativity. It's like being on water skiis. One foot on the creative platform while another is technology/management. Unfortunately, it's been hard to maintain balance with work taking more of the effort - leaving me to balance on one foot without the the creative outlet to sustain me on the other side. All the while, I hold onto the rope/boat, which represents my family - never letting go.

I tried all the tricks of the experts - keep writing jibberish, pick random words, go out and do something else, etc. I tried to read other poets and exceptional writers to be inspired. Instead, I felt more depressed that it was so easy for them to be so talented. Maybe I've been fooling myself all along thinking I was a writer. Then I would read some of my own work and be surprised.

What worked for me was talking to other people, engaging in discussions for topics that were outside my normal scope of work/home. It was as if someone cranked up the gears in my brain and it started ticking again. Very slowly.

What I needed to do was use my peripheral vision. I was focused on what was exactly straight in front of me. Writers and artists need to look at what is to their sides and find what others are missing. So, rather than writing exercises, I should have been doing eye exercises!

Vampires, vampires everywhere and not a drop of blood to drink..

The vampiremania is just too much for me to handle. Firstly, I have to say I am a vampire fan. Back in late 90’s, I was right there with Anne Rice and LeStat, the lean rockin’ vampire. I was a vampire for Halloween my senior year of college. I loved Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” and craved prequels and sequels to the classic story. I tried to fall for Keanu as Jonathan Harker and Tom Cruise as LeStat, but I prefer my men real and vampires literary.

Secondly, I must state that I have not fallen victim to the current wild trend of vampire stories. Haven’t read “Twilight” and feel less inclined to do so after seeing the movie. I've wanted to get engaged with "True Blood", but I missed the beginning and now I believe it might be difficult to join midstream.

My real problem with the cinematic vampires is the whole blood thing since I'm not into gore. Somehow it's easier to accept reading a vampire saying "I have to feed" than actually watching him feed and come back all bloody or hanging over a dead body. That was the cool thing about Rice's vampires - some were happy with small animals.

With so many choices these days, I decided not to make a choice. I pulled "Dracula" off my shelf and decided to reread. I had read this years ago, some time after college. I had read "Frankenstein" for a number of English lit classes and loved it. Shelley's book is a beautiful story about relationships, responsibilities, desires and emptiness. There are underlying themes of parenting. So, when I landed upon Bram Stoker's book, I simply figured it'd be similar. Sure, why not?

Well once I started reading this, I was quite surprised! What the bloody hell -- people are dying? Ok, I'm really creeped out by this vampire that changes forms and climbs the walls outside window. I was genuinely surprised by the fear evoked by this story.

When I read this again, I had to laugh at my notes in the margins, which were obviously leftover from my English major days. For example, there is a scene where a female vampire kidnaps a child and laughs wickedly and luredly at Jonathan. I wrote "antithesis of motherhood... excessive sexuality is animal.." (Oh wow.. I totally missed that link.. glad I wrote that note! Didn't realize I was so astute!)

Stoker's "Dracula" is one of my favorite books for its use of narrative. Every chapter is either a diary or a letter of sorts. It did seem funny that Lucy had the blood sucked out of her, yet she managed to scribble her encounter on paper.

Nonetheless, the feminist themes in this book are quite evident. I loved how the men remarked that Mina was a woman with a man's brain. She's probably the most practical person in the mix, and rather than a straight forward compliment, it has to be in context with her gender. Sexual politics and desires are also evident in this book (e.g., women are proper ladies, until they are defiled by the vampire and become sexually aggressive).I don't want to turn this blog into one of my old term papers from 19th century English lit. But there's definitely lots of material in this book.

By the way, I also found the xenophobia intriguing. Dracula is from Translyvania creeping into English society. On the other hand, Quincy & Van Helsing are American and Dutch, respectively. Van Helsing's "foreignness" is important because he has knowledge of other cultures and practices.
The most exciting part of reading "Dracula" is remembering this is where it began. In 1897, the idea of an un-dead man sleeping in a coffin was new.  Today, it seems obvious to us that is where all vampires are found. All the traits of a vampire - lack of reflection, fear of sunlight, the elongated canine teeth - are identified in this book. I don't know if Stoker took these from folklore or took artistic license to invent them.

Of course, vampyric folklore has always been around. There was evidence of vampire stories circulating in the regions. Theyv've even discovered vampires in Indian folktales. What ties these together is the innate human fear of the dead stealing life from the living. There is the fear of untimely death. This fear embeds itself into different cultures.

What I find fascinating about my interest in vampires is that I don't believe in them. I don't read ghost stories or alien encounters because I do believe in them. With vampires, it's so far off that it's unfathomable. Hence, it feeds my imagination even more. If I were to write a vampire story, I know the first task is to create "rules of engagement."

Regret Factor

I know someone who spends a significant time and energy on regrets. After making a decision, he will think of 10 other things he could have, should have, would have done. He tends to look at all options and consider all viewpoints. However, the more viewpoints you have, the harder it is to gain a solid perspective. When you have regrets, you can't move forward. Anger and frustration at oneself sets in.

I once had a friend who questioned her own judgement and it led to fear and paralysis of action in the greater schema of her life. The incident that I recall clearly is when we were ordering lunch. Once she placed her order, she questioned herself and regretted not ordering another item. I had reminded her this was one meal. There would be another meal in a few hours. Not every decision is critical to warrant the worries and stress.

I'm not here to declare I don't have regrets in life. Definitely there were some decisions made that I did not agree with, but I didn't have much control. For those decisions that are under my control, I always reminded myself that when I take an action, it's based on the information I had at the time. If you know a Stock A and Stock B are certain values, you buy Stock A with the best intentions. You don't know that 4 months from now there's going to be 15 minute DOW dive that will happen and your stocks are going to plunge. You can't regret not buying Stock B, which was untouched.

There will always be opportunities that seem better than what we have in hand. However, we have to remember why we made certain decisions and need to stand by them. Of course, if we're given the opportunity to steer into another direction, we should. We have to look at the decisions we make and see how they fit into a larger picture. You have to ask yourself what's the long term impact. A friend told me that you shouldn't make long-term decisions based on short-term situations. People make decisions based on their children ("kids are so young"), forgetting that kids grow up.

So having regrets is definitely tied into the decision making process and the ability to have confidence in yourself. And, if it doesn't work out, we have to learn how to deal with it better. Anger and frustration are a fiesty pair that lead you down a tumultuous path. You're better off not inviting them into your lives.

Top 10 Things I Love About Being a Mother

I'm borrowing this idea from someone else. Great exercise I think.

Top 10 Things I Love About Being a Mother
10. She's allowed to sleep in our bed on special occasions (i.e., Dad's not home). The clingy hugs when we sleep together. As if we're trying to meld our bodies into one again; I know her body as well as I know my own.
9. When I pick her up from school, her eyes light up and chatter bursts like a neverending stream from her mouth about school, friends, teachers, what she ate.
8. When I look at her, I don't see me. Yet, when I look in the mirror, I see her.
7. Just when I think I recognize her and know her, she changes into a different person. Not like me, not like my husband. She's like a flower that changes colors as it blooms.
6. Watching my husband become an incoherent fool when they play together and speak their own language and games.
5. Surprise when she does something on her own and asking her how she learned to do it. "You showed me." (You paid attention??)
4. Watching her read "Otherwise Known As Sheila the Great" and "Tales of Fourth Grade Nothing" and discussing what we think Sheila, Mouse & Fudge look like.
3. Eating ice cream on the couch together - Turkey Hill Extreme Cookies and Cream with Hershey's chocolate syrup.
2. Holding hands to cross the street and not letting go on the other side.
1. Realizing how hard my mother worked raising 3 kids, running a household and working physically taxing part time jobs in a foreign country. Becoming a mother finally made me realize how much my own mother did for us.

From Cubicle to Cubism

The only thing motivating me this week was to step out of my Dilbert-esque cubicle world and step into Picasso's world of Avant Garde art in Paris. I love the cafe scenes that set the stage for paintings, and the complicated and intriguing people who sneak themselves into them. After all, there must have been something that inspired the painter to do this.

The Philadelphia Art Museum actually just raided their own vaults to do the exhibition. Nice move in this economy to bring people to the museum. The best part of this exhibit was the audio tour. It's great to have someone take the time to explain each piece and what the overall direction of cubism says.

I was particularly intrigued by the other artists like Juan Gris and George Braque. It's as if they took the idea and just ran with it. I loved Juan Gris' The Table. This image doesn't do it justice because it's a collage with chaulk shadows around key areas.

I have to acknowledge that my introduction to the great artistic masters of the world was due to the Hoechst Corporation. My father was on a mailing list for their art calendars, which had gorgeous paintings. I collected these for a number of years and always looked forward to the arrival of these calendars. I still have a number of them in my basement, always hoping to frame a few or ate least use it as an art history collection. Anyway, there was a great cubist painting, and every time someone walked into my room and glanced upon the painting, they would say "Oh, Picasso!" However, I'd look closer and say, "Um..no, George Braque." Not sure who that is. Figured he was a Picasso knockoff.

After this exhibit, I have a better understanding of how George and Pablo were closely influenced by each other. Another intriguing concept of cubism is to show all perspectives at one. You're not looking at a face straight on, but looking at the face from multiple perspectives.
Another favorite of mine was a Marcel DuChamp's "Nude Descending the Staircase". Apparently this was a controversial painting since nudes generally "reclined" and having one descend made it impossible to "find" the nude. I loved the movement of this painting.

Art has inspired some of my poems. So, I was definitely captivated by the concept of multiple perspectives and made a note to myself to play with "cubist" poetry. Unfortunately, this was not a novel idea. Apparently, Senor Picasso already did this. Nevertheless, I will try my hand at it and will hopefully cause readers to til their heads and say "Where is the guitar?"

The Road Not Taken

Someone today asked me “Why was the step not taken?” And, it reminded me of the Robert Frost poem about the "road not taken." We’ve all read this in high school, but I had to read it again this morning.

Keeping the broader context about life's paths in mind, it really moved me. I had to sit back and think about the paths I've taken that led me to where I am now. I have to wonder what other steps I did take and the ones I should've taken.

By the way, it's important to remember that Robert Frost was American, and this is an extremely American attitude - to pioneer, try something adventurous and know there would be rewards for the hard work.

Quotes are so often plucked from poems and tossed around in commencement speeches, greeting cards and mugs. Sometimes we have to go back to its origin, see it within its place in the poem.

The Road Not Taken -Robert Frost

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Speak to Me

This week I did a presentation at an industry conference. We had about 20 people in our workshop, and I already knew the fairly important ones in the audience. My copresenter has the charm and grace of a talk show host. She fell in and out of jokes and stories casually to make her point. I was impressed with her ease of public speaking.

Two weeks prior I had a poetry reading and I've been advised by experienced poets that it's important to memorize your poems. Brillant idea! But it doesn't really work since I was editing and flip flopping between the poems as I waited for my name to be called. In the end, I read 85% , improvised 10% and memorized 5% of the poems. The one thing I learned from my disasterous experience in high school when I forgot half of my poem for a French language competition is to always have paper in front of me.

Nowadays, I'm comfortable with public speaking as I'll ever be. I'm used to discussing workflows and technologies in front of clients. I deal with the challenge of facing 25 seven-year olds every Sunday at culture class. This alone has forced me to learn to maintain my audience's attention and be flexible with the program.

Last week's presentation was a new situation where the topic was definitely familiar as it was related to my work for the past two years. I had spent a lot of time on the presentation slides, adding color and custom animations. Fast forward to the day and it's not what I thought it'd be like. I'm used to standing in front of my slides and pointing out key items. This time, my slides were projected on a large screen while I was behind a podium on a stage! First of all, I had the microphone too close and had to adjust. My copresenter didn't need a microphone since she knew how to project so well. I started reading my notes for the introduction and I sounded so awkward. Let's go to the slides.

I wanted to talk about something on the screen and felt at loss because I couldn't point it out. I panicked for a moment and then I clicked the Enter button on my powerpoint. Voila, little arrows and message boxes! Oh, yes, I did add these pointers to highlight the areas because I thought it ahead it may be hard to define those.

All of a sudden, I relaxed and trusted my slides. I had spent a lot of time on them, and thought through the design carefully. And, so what if I say something incorrect. It's like the poetry reading where I improvised some of the poem. No one knew I did that, unless my face expressed it.

More importantly, I had to trust myself to say the right thing. I had started off trying to be very formal and was reading my notes (remember the poetry reading?). This was all wrong. I needed to just speak the way I would - not the way people expect me to speak. It feels like running with someone else's shoes, and all that will happen is I will trip.

So it's not so much about being able to perform in public, but to trust yourself and have confidence when all eyes are upon you. Some people thrive in this environment, while some of us have to come around to it.

Connecting Across the Universe

Our school district is in the middle of a teacher's strike. As of today, it's day 4 and I heard 7 days is their max. Apparently, they haven't had a contract all year and the school board is not yielding. I don't want to comment about the actual contract negotiations since I'm not directly involved and don't know the details.

However, people have been saying the kids are the ones who are losing out. This is true. Mine has been moaning "I'm bored" for two days. She's done just about every activity possible from arts, crafts, dancing, read a stack of Geronimo Stilton and Super Fudge books, biked, made milkshakes. It's also "Turn off TV Week" and she's adhering to it. Her friends told her it's not necessary because there is no school, but she's oddly committed. She's got signs on the TVs and computer.

The impact is further than the kids and the parents. It's the whole community. I'm fortunate enough to be able to pop into work for few hours and work virtually the rest of the day. However, another colleague isn't able to work virtually, so he needed to take a day off. This meant, his team needed to balance their load around his sudden time off. His clients may have needed him, but he wasn't available. Someone else paid for a babysitter for her twins while she went to work; the next day she swapped with someone else so she could stay home. Others are sending their kids to grandparents' and relatives' homes.

We're so connected that one element does not exist on its own. These are the handful of connections that I know. Multiply this by the 12,000 students who are home this week.

Let's move to another connection. The Icelandic volcano eruption. A friend of mine has travelled to a conference in CA this week, representing her company. She's going to be working longer hours at the conference over the weekend. Why? Her colleague in England is unable to get an airlines ticket for another two weeks and won't be joining.

We think we're isolated and absorbed in our own activities. We don't believe we belong to a larger realm. Why should we? Our vision extends only to as far as we can see. But this is one of those times we need to stop seeing, and just think about what we can't. Every incident eminates ripples beyond our own sphere.

This week, we've made some crazy discoveries on Facebook of people from different circles, old and new friends, actually knowing each other. Again, more unseen connections.

Review: Everybody's Fine

I was so excited to see an American remake of the Italian movie "Stanno Tutti Bene." Marcello Mastrianni's role as the father would be played by Robert DeNiro, and Drew Barrymore and Kate Beckinsale as the daughters. It's about a widower who goes to see his children and tries to reconnect with their lives, but they all have secrets. It's beautiful and sad, and touching. I remember in the Italian movie all the kids were named after characters in operas.

This new version was definitely sad and touching. I had tears because I felt guilty for not calling my parents. (I dutifully did so the next morning and listened to my dad ramble on about books and tv shows, and allowed my mom to scold me for not feeding my family - even though we were getting late for lessons). Also, you could look at it from the parent's point of view and wonder what do you have to do with your own kids to stay connected over the years.

This movie was just slower and depressing. Maybe it's the American landscape. Taking a bus from one Italian city to another is not a big a deal as taking bus from Chicago to Las Vegas. Acting is very good, but there should be more life to it - maybe better dialogue, maybe less quiet landscape shots?

The ending was nicer I think that the Italian one, as I recall. So, it doesn't totally leave you flat, but more hopeful for reconnections.

March 2010

Now that the healthcare bill has passed, there is much uproar on the net. One of the boards I had read had a post that this was "the saddest day in American history". Really? This is it? The day a parent doesn't have to tell a kid to wait a little longer to get eyeglasses or their teeth fixed? An elderly person decided it was cheaper to buy Depends over the bladder control meds. Where's the dignity in being an American? If I had to truly point to the saddest day it was this month 7 years ago and we learned that "shock and awe" is not really a strategy.

I wrote these poems on March 19, 2003 11:30 pm, as the invasion would begin March 20, 2003 . The first poem is what I imagined it would be like to be an Iraqi in Baghdad, just waiting for the war to start. There were interviews with citizens on the radio - debating whether they would stay or flee. I always wondered about on particular family that stayed. At the time, my daughter was 2 and she'd get frightened by low flying jets from the naval air base. I could comfort her easily knowing it would pass. I don't know what that mom in Baghdad was doing. I usually edit my poems perpetually. This one I kept it unpolished.

We have fear
to pull over our heads at night
to shut out the prying eyes,
the fingers that crawl through the blinds.

We have fear
to protect us from the
Invisible Evil that
may fall from the sky

or hurt as we breathe.

let the fear harden our lungs
so it may not let out the
cries of anguish,
the turmoil we feel inside
should be hidden.

Tell me how one strikes
upon a city
that sleeps.

A city in a stupor
of silence

Do you feel stronger and braver
knowing you have concrete targets?
Had someone thrown the first punch
and you fought back with that awesome
left hook,

I would understand.

I would know where it came from -
a fire inside sparked.

Yet how do you light a fire
when there is only ice in the air?
Sand in your eyes?

We cloak ourselves in answers
knowing what we do not know
but say we do.
Is it all Right?

We will find out tomorrow
if...

Review: Up In The Air

So, we're catching up on the movies we didn't know anything about during the Oscars. I had heard enough interviews on NPR about this film, so I was quite eagar.

Jason Reitman is the guy who did "Juno" (seen it dozens of times) and "Thank you for Smoking" (also on my list). So right away you know it's going to have a lots of witty dialogue and quirky quiet music. Yes, the characters are witty, yet real and say the truth. Conversations we all have, but never see in a film. The plot and the dialogue are so well-crafted so actors just have to flow with it.

We recognized Anna Kendrick's character immediately - we've all met the eager 23 year old, trying to be taken more seriously than her age, but put into positions where she's limited only by maturity and experience. Vera Farmiga was good, but I wasn't impressed until the twist at the end. So that elevated her performance. I kept trying to imagine the Ryan character with another non-George Clooney actor. But, George really does fit the role of a polished, seasoned exec. He's such a subtle actor too - doesn't have to say a word, but just through facial expressions you know what's going on. That's my favorite type of acting. (Robert Downey Jr does this really well too!!)
And I can't forget that Jason Bateman is in this too -- I see him and I'm 15 again and want him on my locker.

The relevance of the subject matter stands above everything else. Systemic corporate downsizing, living in airports, virtual meetings, texting, and dynamic relationships with people -- if there was a cinematic time capsule, this movie would be a snapshot of our current times. I loved the aerial shots of the cities because that's how business travellers get to know each city. You're not walking down to the historic sections, you'll be going to your hotel and the suburban offices.

I plan to watch this again before we return the DVD just so I can revisit the dialogue and the story development.
Ok fine.. and George Clooney.

My mantra these days..

Peace

It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work.

It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.

- Anonymous

WYSIWYG

I've had an unbelievable day today and needed to sort some thoughts (lucky readers!)

In the morning, I was awash with "bad mom syndrome." I was frustrated that I hadn't spent time with my daughter practicing her violin.. she doesn't know her multiplication table.. needs to see an eye doctor and I haven't had time to schedule an appoint. I become "grumpy mommy" in the morning before school. This is just not right. Demands of work are consuming again and I'm losing my balancing act.

As parents, we take the blame. It's our fault they can't do something or they can. I know this is not right - she's her own person and all I can do is show her the door, and she has to walk through it on her own. Speaking of doors.. this morning I dropped her at school for early morning orchestra practice. She's carrying her violin case, her roller knapsack and needed to pull open the large school doors. I wanted to jump out of the car and help her open the two doors. She looked so little! However, she had told me she didn't want me to get out of the car. So, I sat in the car, waited as she struggled with her bags and she did it.

This evening, she pulled out her homework papers and showed us her science test. She got 10/10 on description of electrical circuits. They do this in 3rd grade? She said, "Yeah we did the experiment so I knew." Her handwriting was neat, and she knew what she was talking about. They were also making flashlights in school with paper towel rolls and batteries. Then she sat down to read a book of silly poems that I had once bought for her. I loved how she giggled while reading it. She said she was looking for "figurative language."

I felt relieved this evening. I'm looking in the wrong places. She's doing well in so many ways, but I'm just looking at the part that makes me nervous.

And, I think that's so key about our lives. We are surrounded by wonderfully delightful things all the time, yet we choose not to see them. Since yesterday, the one thing that has made me smile and laugh is a colleague's IM to me where he mistyped some words (i.e., "he knee keeps jerking"). It's silly. However, we all need to laugh a little to break up our day. I always remember years ago my colleagues and I were in an intense meeting. At the end, one of the colleagues told a story about how her two pet chihuahuas had died (one was crushed by an ironing board and the other accidently stepped on by her brother). The three of us laughed so hard we practically cried. The poor chihuahuas (I don't condone animal cruelty!), but the relief was what we needed.

And, happiness doesn't come in one size. It can be something as small as a silly IM or it can be as big as the Super Bowl. We all have some element of joy and happiness in our lives. If life is about making choices, we make a decision on what we choose to see in our world. And, how we react to these things. We can laugh or we can cry.

Driving in India

On my last trip to India in 2007, I wrote this piece about Traffic Guidelines. I need to expand those.

I think the key to driving and walking across the streets is the attitude. To cross the street in Mumbai, one must be bold. There are taxis, motorcycles, buses and cars. There are other pedestrians walking, so one car may stop. However, the guy behind him may want to loop around to pass. I tried to adopt the mantra "Maintain my stride and the driver will accomodate me." When I did that, I was pulled aside and told "You're gonna get hit! What are you doing?"

We have a friend who lived in the US for some time and now returned to India. She said she tried to drive conscientiously, but it was wasted effort. She said people honked at her and told her to shape up and drive. After that, she found her attitude and started driving like the rest of maniacs on the road. Her husband doesn't drive in India.

The problem in cities is that people walk in the street, not on the sidewalks. "Sidewalks are for the hawkers and parking motorcycles." So, in a way, you can get to your destination faster by walking and dodging traffic than on the sidewalks. Quotes by my friends who were driving:
"You're banking on your luck when you drive in Mumbai"
"[In Delhi], drive by instinct"

These are some pics from our roadtrip from Delhi to Agra
We're coming out of parking lot. Pick a lane to drive, buddy!





This is a morning car pool. This type of rickshaw can accomodate 6-8 people inside (including the driver). Note the guy holding the orange bag. Next to him is someone holding a water bottle that you can't see!

This is the business class seats!

So we're driving through a town and everyone jumped on the truck for a ride! We were right behind them and took some neat pics!

And, just when you think you're done with people, you run into goats!

Trucks in India all have decorations and statements painted on them, especially requesting honks when driving around the truck. The classic is the "Horn Ok Please", which lead us to an interesting discussion. I always thought it meant "Horn Please, OK?" We saw "Horn Do" (Do in Hindi is give, so it meant Give a Honk) . This one just said "Blow Horn." There were also statements in Hindi.

By the way, I loved this moment when we driving to a town called Gokul. It was an unpaved road with construction in spots and just generally dirty. Yet, this man was washing his truck so passionately. In one way, it seemed so futile to do it. However, there's such a sense of pride in what he was doing it. (I always wondered about this male phenomenon - they can wash a car for hours.. a sinkful of dishes, well that's just too much to ask!)

There's never a dull moment on the roads in India!

Avatar - Really?

After 4 weeks of trying to get tickets and babysitting logistics straightened, we finally made it to see "Avatar" in 3D IMAX. I liked the IMAX screen, but the 3D experience was personally rough. The flimsy plastic in the glasses were not straight and distorted images, giving me a headache. Periodically, I had to take off the glasses to relax my eyes.

Is it worth seeing? Yes. Is it worth the hype? Not really.

The utopian planet that's been recreated is just luscious and gorgeous. During this time, I actually thanked the filmmakers for creating such a beautiful and creative landscape. I loved the stones that were naturally carved into perfect arches, the "hallelujah mountains." For the "humanoids", the design of having a tail that was like a "universal plug" into the earth was a cool concept. The connection of living beings to the spiritual world and the planet is beautiful. The experience of flying at high speeds is exhilarating.

Spoilers Alert!!

Can we make the characters not be such caricatures? The military colonel was pumped up with testerstone and conglomeration of every cliche of power hungry bully. It was interesting that they didn't depict a specific country leading the take over, but a corporation. We don't know exactly what was the benefit of the stone. It would've been more justifiable to say that stone would help repopulate earth or something like that. But, they left it at shareholder greed.

The indigo indigenous people were a mix of all the tribals known to general audiences - African and Native American. The filmmakers really stayed with the stories and practices of Native Americans. Maybe it's a purposeful action so the audiences can connect. But, you have tribals in all parts of the world that have nature based practices. I don't know why Na'vi had to hunt in the first place - they have a plentiful resources.

The action scene at the end reminded me of the battle scene from "Chronicles of Narnia." We already know about the "Dances with Wolves", "Pocahontas" and 'The Last Samurai" connections. There's also a nod to the "Transformers."

Also, we were flipping through the new "Planet of the Apes" on TV the other night. There's a part where Mark Wahlberg tries to inspire the human prisoners to revolt. He says human history is full of humans fighting back and succeeding. It would've been nice if the people from Avatar had tapped into human history and seen what happens when the land and its people are sacrificed.

When the Home Tree is destroyed, it conjured the Twin Towers falling. My friends pointed out it reminded them of Sadaam Hussain's statue being torn down. In case you missed those "subtle" references, the Colonel has to say they have to take "pre-emptive action" and "fight terror with terror". I loved how "Shock and Awe" is still going to be a phrase used century from now. So, if they did not want to identify a country as leading the effort, they just slapped a label on it.

But overall, this is a movie about race and white men taking over. Note - Sigourney Weaver is a white woman who wanted to pursue scientific and diplomatic options. Here's an interesting POV on the issue of "white guilt movies."

By the way, Mr. Cameron, in the future will there be a computer space station with no Asian techies on board? Are they still going to call India for tech support from Pandora? Talk about your fantasies!

I'm stealing this quote from an online forum:
Man, was it amazingly beautiful, but it's gotta be the first one-dimensional 3D movie I've ever seen.

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

- Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Reflections Upon Return

I've been home in the US for a two weeks now, and still trying to hold onto the magic and peace I found in India. For me, it was a wonderful vacation because I was away from my daily grind. My life is generally so hectic as with a demanding job where multitasking is an expectation, as well as the obvious juggling of home and family. There, I spent a lot of time with our family and our focus was on how to optimize our time together. There were maids and nannies tending to all the tasks that usually overrun our lives here. So, even when I offered to help, I was told not to worry.

Normally, I'm constantly checking my work email on my phone. In this case, there wasn't much I could do due to the time difference. My colleagues were forced to adapt to the situations and come up with answers on their own. Before I left for India, there was a lot of anxiety around me leaving for 3 weeks out of the country. People were shocked when I said 3 weeks. People are out for 2 days and there's chaos. I tried to remind them I would return and the whole corporation won't collapse because I'm on vacation. I identified 6 people to cover various projects and tasks, so the burden wouldn't be on one person. Before we left, I was trying tie loose ends at work and prepare for the trip.

They say that on one's deathbed no one ever says "I wish I had spent more time at the office." I felt it more so with this trip.

I'm much happier that my daughter spent a few lovely weeks with her cousins and grandparents in India. She got a better taste of India as a country and the lifestyles that exist. We all had a good time bonding with our family and securing those relationships. When I grew up, we weren't able to go to India frequently, so we only have a handful of memories with my cousins and grandparents. However, the connection is still there with my cousins.

Even in India, I felt so clear headed. My life wasn't cluttered with promises to fulfill and negative energy. Part of my stress is the need for perfection in everything, which could make a simple task as writing an email into a stressful time consuming task. There wasn't the need to come up with solutions and answers all the time.

While in India, I also recognized some physical health benefits. I didn't need to have so much caffeine to get me through my day/evening. We had balanced meals, though we're not used to widespread. I've noticed that when I'm typing emails back to work, I tend to snap more at others around me. We had happier moments when I wasn't checking my phone. The one downside I felt was that I didn't get enough exercise as I needed.

After seeing how simply people live in India, I do want to make changes in my life. There isn't a lot of space for things, so you keep what you need at hand.They buy fresh vegetables everyday. We have such a "just in case" mentality where we buy everything. Maybe it's our environment. It's 20-30 degrees outside right now. I'd rather go into my pantry and dig out soups rather than go to the market for fresh veggies to make my own soup.

I'm looking to make changes in simplifying our schedules. Kumon is out. My family is much happier that we're not fighting over Kumon. We regain almost an hour in the evenings, which my daughter can spend more time practicing her violin and finishing up school projects. She's agreed to work on other math workbooks to keep up her skills sharp.

Delegating is an art that I need to master. My problem is that I enjoy doing certain tasks and will take them on just for that sake. But, I need to devote my energies on primary tasks that cannot be done by others. I see this being critical for an activity coming up in April, for which I'll be co-directing a children's program.

I've definitely returned with my head on straight. I can say my head was 100% turned the other way before I left. I don't want to be "Grumpy Mommy" anymore. Someone suggested to me that I meditate to find the peace I'm seeking. I thought about it and I realized I'm not seeking peace. I've found it.

It's as if I'm holding a cup of a precious liquid. My challenge is to go through my life without spilling it or having someone taint it! I think my key will be to conjure the feelings that I had in India.

Horses, Monkeys and Puppies - Oh My!

We went to Matheran, a small "hill station" outside of Mumbai. It's about a few hours drive and a pretty mountain vacation spot for Mumbaites who need a respite from the heat of the city. To maintain the rustic charm of the town, no cars are permitted. People get around on horseback, hand-pulled rickshaws or plain old walking. Though one has to be alert where one steps due to all the horses! And, by the end of the day, everyone's shoes and clothes are covered in red dust. There is a train that goes up the mountain, but apparently it's quite slow and people can just walk next to it.

The mountains are made of red dirt and rocks. There was one lookout point we dubbed "Mars" because of the large red boulders. I rode on a horse years ago in high school. That's been it. So, getting on a horse now was a bit precarious for me, and walking on the rough roads made it a bit jarring experience. It took me some time to have faith in the horse and the guy leading the horse. And, having to turn off my imagination. There was one part where Annika's horse faltered a bit because he heard a noise. However, she wasn't scared at all and understood her horse was only 2 years old. She forgave him. We got quite comfortable with the horses quickly, especially Annika who wanted to ride it without a lead.

Monkeys are all over the place. We stayed at the Lord's resort, which had separate buildings for the rooms. During the day, windows and doors must be kept locked because monkeys know how to creep into the rooms. They're jumping on the roof in the morning! One morning, we were sitting under the tree having our tea, and a monkey snuck behind us. He made himself comfortable and sat on the table to eat the toast. He snatched some sugar packets and opened them under the tree. (Great, a monkey on a sugar high!). We all sat still because these guys are quite aggressive. The hotel staff is all equipped with slingshots (yes, super technology here!) They sling rocks at the monkeys, and the monkeys run from the sight of them. So the staff will hang around the poolside and tables. The kids loved the slingshots so much, they got their own.

Now the puppy story. My brother-in-law, nephew and I went for a walk in the late evening. We saw a small white puppy on the side and we stopped to pet it. First of all, there are lots of stray dogs everywhere and we usually just stay away from them. But, this puppy looked about 1 month old and was so adorable. We stopped to pet. My six-year-old nephew thought getting permission "to pet him" was the same as permission to "make him a pet". He planned how we should take him home and coddled him like his parents have never seen him do. We stopped at a small store and bought biscuits and borrowed warm milk from the store owner. We called everyone else out and at 11pm, we were standing on the street outside the hotel feeding the puppy biscuits dipped in milk. The kids named him Biscuit and Tiger. Annika pointed out he was shivering and I should give up my shawl. (No.) We convinced the kids to leave him on the side and that's where he belonged. He was gone in the morning. We know that puppy has not received this much love in his entire life and probably will never again.

The next morning the kids wanted to go out and look for a new puppy of the day. However, the hotel owner had a cocker spaniel Rusty, which entertained them. Rusty was helpful in keeping away the monkeys.

I loved the simplicity of the life we experienced for 3 days. It reminded me of going to my father's small town Rajpipla when I was young. You're allowed to get dirty. You're allowed to run around at night. You're allowed to interact with animals and random people. Our overprotective American parental instincts were going haywire!! Also, it's amazing to see these kids fight over slingshots. We're not talking about Wii or Playstation or whatever. Just a wooden slingshot with cheap rubber tied around it.

Oh, by the way, monkeys don't come out at night. Only the bats do.

Absolutely Mumbai

If I had to describe Mumbai in simple terms, it's not the "Maximum City", but the "Extreme City". There's nothing in moderation as it rises from poverty to luxury, from pollution to green consciousness, as well as my own emotional roller coaster. The other night, my husband and I took a cab into downtown area by the Gateway of India. We always do this. It's a touristy spot, but it's fun and always reminds us that we've arrived in this city.

Delight: Seeing all the sidewalk stalls and picking up silk scarves for $1.50 each (easily $25 in US). The earrings and jewelry made my mouth drop.

Disappointment: my husband pulling me away.

Anger: Walking into the Taj Hotel and remembering how one year ago terrorists walked through its halls gunning down people as they wished. "26/11" is still on everyone's minds when you walk through the metal detectors and security.

Awe: Seeing Tulsi Pipe Road wall where people painted and expressed their pride and strength in the city in the Wall Project. It's not just one block of wall - it's a serious wall of length with intricate work. It raises street art and graffiti to the next level of community expression and pride. This is the voice of Mumbai - not anyone else's. By the way, I love the murals all over Philadelphia and it changes the way the city is perceived.

Pride: Speaking of art, we went into Jehangir Art gallery and strolled through Art Plaza. We love the Indian artists and we always pick up a few pieces. The Indian art market has been on the rise. Not only are the new artists getting recognized, but digging out the old artists from 1920's at Phillips Antiques. My husband priced the two 6" wooden sculptures of pink raging beasts that would guard a doorway at a mere 1.2 million rupees. We just don't have the space for it, you know.

Gut-wrenching pain: walking past a child sitting on the sidewalk with her arm extended, too weak to raise her head. How many children will go to sleep hungry tonight and wake up hungry - no one knows. We dropped a coin in her hand and we walked in silence.

Homesickness: Going into Cafe Mondegar. My husband was surprised I wanted to go there for coffee since it's a fairly dark pub/cafe. However, I heard the Black Eyed Peas and felt terribly homesick. We had a really good espresso and latte while listening to Def Leppard.

Knowing You're Not at Home: (Don't know what the opposite of homesick is): Looking out the window at Cafe Mondegar and seeing 5-6 motorcycles lined up for McDelivery for McDonalds. Yes, for those times when you need your Maharaja Mac or McVeggie in 30 minutes or less. I can't tell you enough about how much I love the delivery services in this country. You want ice cream or bottle of gin, you just make a phone call and someone brings it over.

Frustration: We needed to take an air conditioned bus back home. Sounds simple? We walked at least 20-30 min in circles trying to find the bus stop, calling family, asking strangers, policemen, and bus people. You just have to "know" these things. Fortunately, we finally found the stop and as we were walking towards it, the bus came. We ran for it!

Life Threatening Perilious Adventures: Also known as "crossing the street". (New post to come on that!!)

India Diaries 2009

Live from Mumbai!
Last time we were in India in 2007, I maintained a log of our trip and experiences (see "India" on my links on the right). We're here this month and again, I'm waking up at 4:30 am with nothing to do, and the urge to write.

The last trip was memorable because it was my daughter's first trip to India. Everything was new and unexpected. Now, we're going 2 years later and she's 8 now. This trip is about rediscovery. She's looking for those things she remembers from someone's beaded curtain to the bathroom where she floated boats with her grandfather.

I'm happy that we found an art studio nearby that offers arts and crafts for children. Since we'll be here for a few weeks, we'll have Annika take some workshops. We asked specifically for a class with girls her age so she'll have a chance to make friends.

For me, India is always about people. I wrote about this before where as someone who grew up with feet firmly planted in the US, I always felt that for me, India was a good place to visit, not live. I'm here now and still pretty sure I could not live in Mumbai. I'm not a city person at all. I need my rolling hills of Pennsylvania and the ability to drive to Target needed.

However, the other night I landed my brother-in-law gave me a hug and said "Welcome home!" That's a powerful statement for me. I'm daughter of immigrants and grew up with dual identities. I've long since reconciled who I am, so I don't want to go into the cliches that pepper Indian-American literature. However, I distinctly remember the moment when I decided I was American, and knew I wasn't an Indian. Yet I always describe myself as Indian-American because I'm not one or the other. It's gratifying to have to an "official" welcome such as this.

Follow up on Recent Blogs

Kumon You're Killing Me: We're done. I told them we were going away in Dec and we'll come back in January. I was relieved the owner didn't try to convince me to take homework with us on vacation; she simply asked me to call her.

The benefits of not doing Kumon:
- we get back 30 to 45 minutes every evening

- restore peace and tranquility in our family

- chance to explore more creative methods of learning basic math skills. There are some great websites and I've found some fun workbooks.

- know that any other math workbook that I put in front of my daughter's nose will be welcomed because she's faced the worst.

The benefit of doing Kumon:
- she is a quicker with doing math calculations in her head. However, it's the result of consistent practice.

Separating Fantasy from Reality: So, we had the talk. She asked me while we were at the mall. I told her there was no Santa Claus.
"Oh, so it's you?"

"Yes."

"OHhhhh.. so I can tell YOU what I want for Christmas and don't have to wait?"

"Yes..?"

"OHHHhhh..Great! I want a DS!! a Wii!! Wait.. did you eat the cookies too?"

"Umm..yeah."

"Now..there's no Easter Bunny?"

"No."

"What about the leprachauns? Did you put the sprinkles?" (When she was in pre-K, she wrote a welcome note to the leprauchan for St Patrick's Day and the teacher put sprinkles on it. So, I really didn't put the sprinkles.)

Now she believes there is no Santa Claus or Bunny, but leprachauns are real.

I also told her not to tell little friends of ours, and let them believe. There's a bit of relief.

Separating Fantasy from Reality

Last year, I posted this blog about my daughter questioning Santa Claus. She's still not convinced, and I heard her ask my husband the other day if Santa was real or if it was just us. He bypassed her question. She's 8 and a half now and this is the age where it's going to come together. I was about this age when my bubble was burst by friends across the street. She had asked last year because Anna on the bus (whose brother is 2-3 years older) said so. My response was, "What do you think?" and she said, "Yes, he's real."

We're at a tricky period of peer influences where her friend F is announcing "princesses are for babies". I know some girls quickly got bored of princesses at 3 or 4, but for my girl, this is a lifestyle. Her whole raison d'etre is to live the royal life, but she's appalled to carry Disney Princess paraphenalia in public. We resort to Hello Kitty now. I've told her that she's allowed to play with dolls as long as she wants. I was actually playing dolls until I was 10-11 years old; I would read books and act out the stories, fashion objects and scraps into houses and wardrobe changes. I definitely felt like doll play challenged my imagination.

Returning to my Santa Claus dilemma, I sought the classic response from the 1897 editorial known as "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus." Reading this now, I found it so poignant and so beautiful. It hits the deeper meaning of all these stories we tell our children. There are parents who don't propogate these stories, and tell the children like it is. Like Francis Church said, "You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside," but then we lose the charm of the rattle and it becomes a mere noisemaker. I will share this article with her and hopefully she'll recognize what Santa represents, if he is not real.

Honestly, if she gives up Santa this year, I'll be happy. I've been exhausted holding up pretenses as we shuttle between my house, my house and India, where did he leave gifts, and the whole cookie thing. I even got caught mid-year. I said to a sales person, "Oh, I had gotten her this last Christmas" and she piped up, "No you didn't give it to me. Santa gave it."

Oh. I forgot.

And, the fact that Virginia's father asked her to write to the newspaper proves that parents don't have the answers.

The Choir Boats

This book fell unexpectedly into my lap. I wouldn't have picked this book off the shelf since I don't particularly read fantasy genre books. While I loved Harry Potter, I could not get through Tolkien. I decided to read this book based on the website of the author, Daniel Rabuzzi. The site had a strong presence of fairy tales and fine literature, as well as fantasy, so I thought there might be something for me. We have to diversify our reading repetoire, don't we.

"The Choir Boats" is definitely a unique book as it takes place in 1812 London. So right there, my imagination is charmed. By setting the story 200 years ago, the territory is known and unfamiliar at the same time. Also, the time period brings another element to enhance the story - it forces a certain honest sense of time and technology. Our world today is interconnected - we're virtual, we're overnighting, we're tweeting, we're googling, we're just overall faster global community. So, now we're pulled into a quiet era where Atlantic trips take months.. letters get lost and change lives.. letters arrive mysteriously followed by equally mysterious people.. the world you know is the one in your backyard.

The protaganists - two practical British businessmen - are lured into this alternate realm with a key and a promise of gaining their hearts' desire. Sally and Tom, the orphaned neice and nephew, are lured by a subconscious calling that now surfaces. They discover hidden talents, and achieve recognition and acclaim for these unknown skills when they enter Yount. To get your head around Yount, there are special portals to access it, such as the Bermuda Triangle. There's no moon on Yount. Some of its people want to merge with the karket-soomi (our world), while others are hungry for power and domination.

The writing in this book is superb. There's representation of the Yountian language and traditions - the world and culture is well-defined and tight. The language used is poetic, crisp and erudite. I saw the nod to Lord of the Rings (sailors joking about Fred and Sam who had to return a ring to a mountain) and our favorite Hogwartian Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure there were others, which I could identify had I been more aware of the genre. The characters' values and belief are set to represent their own society. However, once out of nineteenth century England, one does loosen up a bit. It's intriguing to see the feminist twist on the characters from 1800 falling into a female dominated society, and reaching to the point with females holding the powers to save others. Rabuzzi also layers the fantasy with love stories, as well as political conspiracies. It's definitely set itself apart.

This is the first book of a trilogy so there are some threads left to tease and carryforth into the next book. There is a certain steadiness to the story and I could have used a glossary at certain times (e.g., exactly how does the fulginator work).

Once you enter the world that Rabuzzi has created, you're pulled into it quite easily and end up being in it for some time; I found myself wondering about different aspects throughout the day.

Five Thousand and One Year

For the past three years, my daughter has been enrolled in an Indian Cultural/Religious program on Sundays. The organization offers instructions for 4 languages and a culture class, which covers religion and India (geography, traditions, history). I like this organization for being professional and well coordinated for a volunteer group. We never had anything like this when I grew up, and I definitely like the results I see. My daughter's language skills are still lacking, but she's got a lot of confidence about her religion and heritage. She has a lot of friends there so it's positive social experience. I've gotten to know more people and enjoy my time there on Sundays. For two years, I've helped design and compile the program brochure for the annual show. It's usually a lot of last minute changes and late nights. This year, I've decided to give more by teaching a Culture 2 class (2nd graders). There is a lead teacher who did this for two years and there is a curriculum already in place. We just have freedom to enhance it.

Our primary topics right now are the 10 incarnations of the Hindu God Vishnu. (Nutshell: Hinduism has a trinity of Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Protector/Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. When the earth is in turmoil, Vishnu appears.) I've been a bit panicked because I don't know all 10 incarnations myself. So, I've been cramming before classes and researching online.

So, my research has brought me to this point - in great awe. When debates regarding Darwinism and Intelligent Design arose, I paused to think of what my religion says about this. I didn't give it much thought because there are so many myths and magical events, it didn't even make sense.

Now, looking at the Avatars of Vishnu, I see more here. If ancient Indian scientists determined that evolution of humans did exist, they needed a vehicle to carry forth their theories. Blanketing it in religion probably helped give the history its durability. We have the documented stories, but we also have oral traditions. Ram and Krishna stories are told in the cradle.

The Primordial Human Evolution
"No. Incarnation: Physical — Conscious evolution

1. Matsya-avtar or Fish: Water borne life — amoebae or primeval evolution.
2. Kurmavtar or Turtle: Water/Land borne life — amphibians.
3. Varahavtar or Boar: Land borne life — mammals.
4. Narshinghavtar or Human-lion: Semi-human — primates.
5. Vamanavtar or Dwarf: Homo erectus — primitive human.
6. Parshuram or Divine Seeker: Homo sapiens — conscious human.
7. Ram or Perfect Human: Homo sapiens — God conscious human; outer awareness.
8. Krishna or Supreme Yogi: Homo sapiens — Self-conscious human; inner awareness.
9. Buddha or Consciousness: Homo sapiens — Self-Realization; inner enlightenment.
10. Kalki (Christ) or Spirit Being: Homo spiritus — God-Realization; Resurrection (en masse spiritual evolution.)

For the actual story synopsis, here's one site. It's also fascinating how certain events seem to align with Bible stories, such as the story of the flood. I'm actually excited to learn all this because it hits one of the core points of Hinduism of tolerance. Rather than denouncing separating science from religion, it's actually bridging them. There was a reason and purpose behind every evolutionary advancement.

Five thousand years later, I'm passing the same stories down to a new generation.

Book Review: Abroad at Home

Desijournal was a lively website that addressed an Indian-American audience. Its articles were about the every day immigrant concerns with the observations and ironies of American life, as well as movie and book updates. Actually, I had a few book reviews published on their site when they were thriving. Coincidentally, I get to review the heart of Desijournal now.

Though the website is now defunct, the editor Nandini Pandya was able to lasso over 30 essays and short stories into a collection, Abroad at Home. It’s definitely an atypical collection because of the variance of work included. It begins with articles profiling Indian-Americans doing remarkable work, such as an active duty female soldier, a late-life artist and a Unitarian minister. There are personal essays covering topics from relationships with religion, parenting roles, as well as interactions with American society. There are some fictional stories and "Cab Driver" stands out in my mind.

Because some of these essays were originally online articles, they don’t have the polished type of writing one expects in such a collection. I enjoyed the stories, but I felt they could be stronger and more honed. On the other hand, the casual openness draws the reader, as if they were friends having a discussion. Some writers take a humorous view of certain situations. After reading a few stories, I was inclined to check out the authors’ websites, such as “Heartcrossings."

By the way, there is a different dimension to this publication effort. The articles started on the internet in an interactive forum. They were pulled together into a published book, the tangible form of the stories, which one carries. And, now the website promoting the book allows readers to comment on specific works in the books. Therefore, it's come full circle. Writing and reading are not solitary activities, but connected.

While this collection focuses on Indian immigrant experience, I've always felt the US immigrant experience is shared among ethnic communities. While the traditions and languages may be different, the culture shock and ideological struggles are always there. A thread of guilt runs through immigrants who feel as if they're giving up parts of themselves to become someone new. At what point do you feel you are you home?

It's also worth mentioning that the authors portray a more mature and more recent point of view of the immigrant experience. That extends it outreach, too. It's not just Indian parents who worry about their children becoming infatuated with designer labels. And, for the non immigrants, this would give them a different perspective on the Indian consultant in the corner cubicle.

Random Acts, Surprises

I was involved with 29Gifts.org project last year, in which you give something to someone for 29 days consecutively. I had extremely positive results during that time, and I've tried to make it part of my every day practice. (A gift doesn't need to be tangible item, but could be an email forwarded that helped someone else or even a compliment. It's an act of giving.)

I was travelling this week and found two opportunities to give and received warm results. The first was in line for coffee. I was waiting for mine, and the cashier took the order of the guy behind me. They were two friends, probably out of college, with the back packs and all, and like everyone else, they were in a rush at the airport. He needed to give $.17 and he was fumbling around with change in his pocket. He actually dropped some of his change into the fruit basket on the counter. The two guys were going back and forth "Where is it? Do you have it?" One of them was counting pennies out, while other was looking in the fruit basket.

Another cashier handed me back my change, which I checked. I turned around and placed a nickel in the one guy's open palm. They were so surprised because it worked out. I asked, "Is that all?" and they said "Yes! Thank you!" They both actually gushed about it. It was just a nickel! But, it really saved them time and they could run to their gate.

My second random act was on the return flight. It was a full flight, we were told. I had an aisle seat and another man was in the window seat. Then, a man came down the aisle and said "I'm right there. Oh boy!" He was about 6' and pretty large, so I first got up and let him in. He could barely get his legs in there and looked quite squished next to the other man, who was fairly tall too. I asked him, "Would you like to switch?"

"Do you mind?" he replied.

"Not at all. We'll all be comfortable then."

So, since I'm 5'2, I could comfortably sit in the middle between them and he was able to stretch better with the aisle seat. He thanked me so many times, and I'm sure the window seat guy was happier not having elbows and knees jabbing into him too. Really, we're all just numbers to the airline. We get what they give us.

Just a reminder it only takes a small action to make a large impact. Please take some time to go the 29Gifts website and watch her video.

The art of acceptance is the art of making someone who has just done you a small favor wish that they might have done you a greater one. - Russell Lynes, editor/critic

A lady in a man's world

I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it.
- Marilyn Monroe

I'm drawn to this phrase because I love being a woman, and don't want to be a man. Though there are times I've looked upon with envy as the guys just go out for a beer with nary a thought of others, while my girlfriends and I are wrought with guilt and disaster scenarios before we leave the house. But, I'm happier being the complicated woman rather than a simple minded man (*ducks*)

In my previous career, I worked with all females. Never had any issues with female managers, and actually preferred it. I had a male intern complain to me he worried about sexism and didn't think he could advance in the female dominated environment.

Once I switched into IT, I felt the change immediately. To me, gender is more powerful than race. I walk into a conference room and do a quick scan of male to female ratio and it's always less. There may be more Asians than Caucasians, but that doesn't concern me so much.

When I first joined my current company, I was thrilled with my IT team. My technical manager was a woman with three grown children, so she knew what it was like to be a working mom. My network administrator was 5'1, 120lbs red-headed ball of steel - woe is the soul who asks for permission to change access rights! Everyone quivered before her and her word was final. There were other female developers on the team as well. There was great synergy among the smart and competent women; we did have one token male developer.

Fast forward some years and personnel has changed and borders expanded. My team is national with over 10 individuals, though I work with many more. On my technical team, we have only 2 women, and I'm the only mom. Yes, we have some fathers and grandfathers, but we all know that fathers are not equal to mothers.

Sometimes I get frustrated with the battle of bloated egos. And, it is very hard to keep up with the demands of IT as a working mother. Recently, I was guiding another developer through a lengthy process 20 minutes before my daughter's Indian dance started; my client called me en route to the performance. It's when my two worlds collide that I have a problem. Can I go out for a drink with my colleagues after work? Yes, but it has to be planned so arrangements can be made. (Though, I brought my daughter along to the last one when my former boss had come)

I was travelling this week and noticed that the business travellers on the flights were mostly men. One benefit: While I can pull my suitcase in the overhead compartment 90% of the time, if there's a tall man available for 10% of the time, I'll take his help. Second benefit: I don't take up much seat so I could squeeze into the middle comfortably between the big guys.

Chivalry came into play at a recent conference where the female attendance was low. So, if I was standing at the booth waiting, I got immediate attention. And, even some cavalier men said "Please go ahead," which was great for me.

So, just because I am in a career dominated by men, it doesn't mean I want to be a man. Still like being treated like a lady (although I have crawled under desks to plug in connections, if required).

Eloise Today

My daughter is an Eloise fan and loves the books, animated stories and movie; a live action film was done in 2003 with Julie Andrews as, of course, the Nanny. The stories take place in the 1950's Plaza Hotel and the central character is the rambuctious and precocious Eloise who lives there. What a dream, isn't it? To have the run of a hotel - order room service, have adults wait upon you - How awesome! Eloise's self importance and sense of adventure go beyond her 6 years. And the energy she has to climb stairs and elevators is remarkable.

We were watching the film on the Disney Channel the other night and a couple of things struck me. This story could only take place in 1950's. Mom is in Paris (we're not sure where Eloise's father is), but she's quite glamorous as she was once a debutante. She leaves her with Nanny, who is obviously not doing a good job if Eloise is running amuck in the hotel. Nanny relaxes in the evening by smoking and watching boxing and horse races, while enjoying her scotch.

Could there be a real life Eloise in 2009?

- Nanny would not have passed the background check --she must have some betting circuit going on the way she's so enthusiastic about races. The smoking and drinking while on duty would have also eliminated her.

- The new licensed Nanny would be driving Eloise to various lessons and classes everyday. That child has so much energy she should be channeling into dance, gymnastics, acrobatics and acting, since she has a flair for melodrama.

- Don't forget playdates to keep up her social interaction with her peers.

- In one way, I have to wonder if renting a room at the Plaza is cheaper than paying rent, maid service and take out in NYC?

- To keep Eloise in isolation at the Plaza, her tutors came to her. She might be taking some online tutorials if she needed to today.

- The Plaza would have put a stop to Eloise's antics on day 1 because she created risky situations that may result in potential legal ramifications against the hotel.

- Not to mention, there is probably stepped up security so unauthorized people couldn't enter the laundry rooms and kitchens.

- Mom would be emailing and IM'ing and texting the child constantly. She would want to make sure she had an active presence, if she couldn't physically be there.

I understand good heroes and heroines need to have absent parents in order to come forward and have adventures (e.g., killed by Valdemort, mysteriously disappear, tragically die). Also, kids like seeing other kids be bad. Eloise set the foundation for Junie B. Jones and probably Zack & Cody.

Max at Sea

I can imagine how much fun it was to write this one!
Max at Sea: newyorker.com is David Eggers' short story, which colors in the pictures drawn by Maurice Sendak in "Where the Wild Things Are." And, he colors outside the lines, which makes this more delightful to read.

By the way, I had mixed emotions about WTWTA when I was in kindergarten. I loved the creatures, the island, the boat.. I hated Max. I thought he was an obnoxious boy, who didn't listen and he talked back to his mother! How rude! When I was in my 20's I sought out the book to find that line that was so offensive. He had said to his mother "I'll eat you up!" That was it. In my mind, you never said something like that to an adult. And, I was sure that animal suit was smelly too.

So, now there's a film adaptation of the story. I just watched the trailer to this, and I'll have to say I'm intrigued because Max does not seem like the angry boy I described above, and as designed in Eggers' story. He seems like the lost dreamer who finds acceptance. The film looks beautiful and creatures are warm and cuddly, so my daughter will definitely enjoy this.