Birju In Bharat

Birju in...Amrika?

2006-04-05T11:55:00.000-07:00

-Today, I woke up to snow. Snow? In April? What gives? I came back from 110 degree weather for this? [Ed. soon after Birju wrote this, it rained one day and sleeted another]
-Um, but I was thinking...if Birju's in America, then the title of this blog is kinda like false advertising, so it's not cool for me to continue with this blog. As such, I've decided I'll stop here.

The Home and the World

2006-04-04T10:48:00.000-07:00

This is the book by Tagore that I was reading. The back cover says it's set against the backdrop of the Bengali Swadeshi movement, but I think the movement played a more intimate role than that. It has three main characters, Nikhil, Sandip and Bimala (Nikhil's wife), and is mainly about the struggle between Nikhil and Sandip, who have very contrasting natures/philosophies, and about Bimala's transformation as she goes from being influenced by both men but truly understanding neither, to slowly understanding them and choosing how she herself should be. Though Nikhil, of the two men, is definitely our hero, and Sandip may amaze and inspire the other characters, but is presented far too transparently to fool us, the reader should not be so foolish as to experience this story as one of good vs. evil. Life is not so black and white and Tagore did not become a Nobel Laureate by being so shallow. In Nikhil and Sandip, we see the struggle between strength of character due to virtue and strength due to possession, force, and opportunism. Tagore has to present arguments for both sides and does so whole-heartedly. He does a remarkable job of portraying the weaknesses, failures and hyopcricies that are either characteristic of Nikhil's side, or are invoked in argument by Sandip's, and does so convincingly. For anyone who sides with Sandip, this book can do much to strengthen your conviction. This happened to be one more in a modest list of books and characters during my trip that have strengthened my conviction in Nikhil's nature/thinking. Well, sorta. Not so much with his many doubts and worries regarding his wife, but in all other aspects of his interaction with her in relation to his feelings about Sandip's influence over her, and the motivations behind his treatment of her, I hope very much that I can have the strength of character and be the kind of husband that Nikhil is. Of course, I wish for much less formality and much clearer avenues of communication between my wife and I, but that's to be expected as there's a world of difference between Bengali life and etiquette of their class and time period and what I will have. I have SO far to go before I have the character and strength of character that Nikhil has, but I do see similarities in our natures and I find it reassuring (though people who agree with Sandip and the other youth in their criticisms of Nikhil would find it worrisome) that I share many shortcomings, doubts and inabilities with our hero. Again, it's all a matter of perspective. Most people who consider themselves and each other to be "in touch with reality" would agree with Sandip that these are shortcomings, inabilities and even failures of Nikhil's and other people who, like him, are idealistic dreamers, who don't have control over their lives, are weak, passive, out of touch with reality, too caught up in their books and scriptures, etc. Nikhil, his master, and others like them would recognize that they're different, but not necessarily agree that they're lacking or unsuccessful. I have a question for you though. What does it mean that I am so strongly in agreement here with Tagore and Nikhil, and elsewhere with Tolstoy, Hugo and Jean Valjean, Thoreau, Gandhiji, and others when they've said similar things to varying degrees of directness, but I can't, for the life of me, remember the arguments put up against those of Sandip (which are very logical, strong, and based in reality/truth indeed), let alone have the ability to make them myself in my own words? All that remains with me is a strong feeling that it's just not right or not for me to go about things in the way adopted by these people no matter what their arguments for their way, or their smug conviction in it being right, logical, and accepted worldwide, beat out anything I could offer in retort three times over and more. For example, things that my Jijaji, the one who went with us to Massoorie, did made me uneasy about him. For the most part, as is common with me, the specific incidents have escaped my memory (yes, already), but the feeling of uneasiness remains. I do remember that, though I've forgotten to what he was referring, he said to me several times during the trip, "Birju, aavu badhu chaale," which is to tell me not to worry, and just do whatever it is that he wanted me to do, it's all good, especially here in India. Again, I don't remember most of what he said this about, though I'm pretty sure he said he said it at least once in regards to something that people here commented on to me dozens of times here. That is, in regards to littering. So many times, I've taken wrappers and other trash and put them in my pocket and bag and carried them around all day until I could find an appropriate receptacle for them (India produces much less trash than America and has many less containers around in which to toss it). They would tell me to toss it on the ground and let me know that it's okay here, that everyone does it, that there's a whole caste/group of people whose job (paid) it is to clean up that trash (yeah), but I just can't do it...not in America and there either. Anyway, enough with that tangent. The other thing I remember him doing was that he would smoke, but sneak the bidis and cigarettes only when my dad wasn't around. Now, I don't care that he smokes in terms of it being a vice or anything, and neither would my dad (though, as a doctor-to-be, I have to say that the amount he smokes is staggering and can't possibly be health). It's just, well, anyone who knows me knows that I feel really uncomfortable around people who show one face to one person and another to another, even if the reason is harmless or, as in this case, unnecessary. This is besides the fact that I find the keeping and showing of all these different faces to be difficult and overly energy-consuming. Well, what I wanted to say about my jijaji was that he was over my foi's the day before yesterday to visit us before our departure. He took me out with him to hang out with my foi's son's friends (my jijaji is my foi's son-in-law, don't cha know), with whom I'd spent most of the evenings lately, chilling outside the cyber cafe that one of them owns, and talking about nothing important. It was crazy, all the stories that these guys told about different times they've cheated on tests, bribed and tricked job interviewers and visa sponsorship agents (my jijaji, his wife (my cousin-sister) and their son have work-permits to go to England. I don't think my cousin realizes all the underhanded, scheming things her husband did to help their chances, though, relatively speaking, they weren't extraordinary by any means), and forged degrees, job recommendations and certificates galore. They spoke about it so casually. I must be the most naive, ignorant guy in the world to continally be so surprised by these conversation. I'm not judging these guys. I like much about them and they were all certainly very good to me without much reason to be (they think of me much as Sandip thinks of Nikhil, more so because of my lack of ability with the language keeps me out of their conversation, and I'm frankly bored and unable to participate in all the hours of chilling everyone does everyday in India. I love to sit and talk, and I love to joke around and be trivial and whimsical, but I can't do that for hours everyday without feeling my life is being drained of all significance and purpose). But it's exactly because I like them that I wonder how they can be so content and comfortable with such a life, and how they can feel they've truly achieved or they truly possess anything going about things that way. It just doesn't sit right inside of me to be that way, no matter if anyone knows or not, what anyone thinks or how "successful" I am relative to anyone. But yeah, I can't make arguments for the kind of success I DO seek so effectively in my own words and, even if I were able to memorize anything, don't think it's dumb when people go around name- and quotation-dropping? Like one time, this guy we know--I don't want to say his name cuz it'll stay here for people to read for a long time and he said this to a girl we also know whom he was talking to about marriage, but didn't end up marrying, largely because (and I say this though I've known him for years and he's still my boy) he's a cowardly dork, as we'll see--when talking to this girl either on the phone or in person, just didn't say anything for a long time. She kept bugging him about it, so he says, "If you can't understand my silence, how will you understand my words?" What a freakin' dork! He was repeating the words of I forget which important character from Indian culture/philosophy, but he hadn't stopped to think about how it was originally used and to realize that it's important that the purpose is preserved and not that it is used so literally, especially in a situation where, if you didn't speak, what the hell is the other person to do, read your mind/face? I wish I could tell you his name so you could all go up to him and slap him across the back of his head. But the point is, it's probably most important that I believe and live what I believe and best that I don't do what this dork did. He got a wonderful wife, which just goes to show that God really cares.
So anyway, about this book and some of the things that I liked and got from it...
Early on in the book, Bimala says, "But my husband would not give me any opportunity for worship. That was his greatness. There are cowards who claim absolute devotion from their wives as their right, that is a humiliation for both."
Then, a little later, Bimala says something about her husband that Martha Nussbaum quotes in her essay, to start off her book of essays discussing "Cosmopolitanism," all of which influenced and strengthened my own cosmopolitanism and also resulted in my not liking the song Vande Mataram, though it is one of the Indian national anthems and THE national cry at the time of the pre-independence Swadeshi movement in Bengal. Perhaps it's not fair of me to think so negatively about a song that might not have any of the implications I now associate with it, but I can't help thinking of people around even now who think and act the way described here in regards to India (haha, one day, Devendrabhai got into one of those "India is better than America" coversations with me and pointed out that people call India Bhaarat Mata - "Mother India" - and asked laughingly if anyone says that about America. I said that there are many people around the world who refer to their countries as "Mother" or "Father," even in the US, but even if there are less or a smaller percentage who do so than in India, my question is...who cares about this convention, this tradition that you have here?...this habit that you have of saying this...if India is your mother, than what have you done for her as her child? [this is aside from the question that I'd ask so many so-called patriotic people - if your country is your mother, then, if you wouldn't have much respect for me or my mother or my love for her my mother if I was always always talking about how every other mother out there is garbage, then doesn't it work similarly for one's motherland?])

"And yet, it was not that my husband refused to support Swadeshi, or was in any way against the Cause. Only he had not been able whole-heartedly to accept the spirit of Bande Mataram.
'I am willing,' he said, 'to serve my country; but my worship I reserve for Right, which is far greater than my country. To worship my country as a god is to bring a curse upon it.'"

I'll just list some other excerpts I wanted to share with you.

"Bimala had failed to understand me in one thing. She could not fully realise that I held as weakness all imposition of force. Only the weak dare not be just. They shirk their responsibility of fairness and try quickly to get at results through the short-cuts of injustice. Bimala has no patience with patience. She loves to find in men the turbulent, the angry, the unjust. Her respect must have its element of fear."
"I know Bimala finds it difficult to respect me for this, taking my scruples for feebleness,-and she is quite angry with me because I am not running amuck crying Bande Mataram...What I really feel is this, that those who cannot find food for their enthusiasm in a knowledge of their country as it actually is, or those who cannot love men just because they are men,-who needs must shout and deify their country in order to keep up with their excitement,-these love excitement more than their country.
To try to give our infatuation a higher place than truth is a sign of inherent slavishness. Where our minds are free we find ourselves lost. Our moribund vitality must have for its rider either some fantasy, or some one in authority, or a sanction from the pundits, in order to make it move. So long as we are impervious to truth and have to be moved by some hypnotic stimulus, we must know that we lack the capacity for self-government. Whatever may be our condition, we shall either need some imaginary ghost or some actual medicine-man to terrorise over us.
The other day when Sandip accused me of lack of imagination, saying that this prevented me from realising my country in a visible image, Bimala agreed with him. I did not say anything in my defence, because to win in argument does not lead to happiness. Her difference of opinion is not due to any inequality of intelligence, but rather to dissimilarity of nature.
They accuse me of being unimaginative,-that is, according to them, I may have oil in my lamp, but no flame. Now this is exactly the accusation which I bring against them. I would say to them: 'You are dark, even as the flints are. You must come to violent conflicts and make a noise in order to produce your sparks. But their disconnected flashes merely assist your pride, and not your dear vision.'"
"'Those who make sacrifices for their country's sake are indeed her servants,' he would say, 'but those who compel others to make them in her name are her enemies. They would cut freedom at the root, to gain it at the top.'"
(again, keep in mind that he's referring to Sandip's recruitment for the movement for India's independence)
"Then were all eyes turned on my husband, from whose estates alone foreign sugar and salt and clothes had not been banished. Even the estate officers began to feel awkward and ashamed over it. And yet, some time ago, when my husband began to import country-made articles into our village, he had been secretly and openly twitted for his folly, by old and young alike. When Swadeshi had not yet become a boast, we had despised it with all our hearts.
My husband still sharpens his Indian-made pencil with his Indian-made knife, does his writing with red pens, drinks his water out of a bell-metal vessel, and works at night in the light of an old fashioned castor-oil lamp. But this dull, milk-and watery Swadeshi of his never appealed to us. Rather, we had always felt ashamed of the inelegant, unfashionable furniture of his reception rooms, especially when he had the magistrate, or any other European, as his guest."
(Swadeshi means domestically-made, and was a movement during the independence struggle to remove dependence on foreign production. At least, nominally, this was the reason behind the movement. As the above excerpt shows, the motivations behind the movement were varied and complex.)

Another interesting thing about the book. If you know of Tagore's and Gandhi's conflicting thoughts on idols and their use in worship in India, you'll notice Tagore's thoughts on the subject come through subtly in the characters' arguments about images, illusions, etc.
A final note: there are a lot of typos in my book which seems a fault of the English translation, and not the publication. It's still fairly easy to figure them all out, and I think many of the other thoughts in the book are just unbelievably amazing with the translation as it is. Nevertheless, I hear that Tagore's writing is much, much better in its original Bengali, so you may want to check that out.

Arrival!

2006-04-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

-I slept last night in Mumbai Airport. Well, I got maybe 20 minutes of sleep and spent the rest of the time trying to sleep, thinking, and reading.
-This morning, I got to do my yoga in the middle of everyone on the airport floor, which was SO cool, cuz of the A/C and all.
-At Kuwait's airport, we got a weather report for NYC - less than 50 degrees celsius and rain. Rain! Oh yeah, April showers. Damn.

Departure/return

2006-04-03T10:09:00.000-07:00

-My foi arranged for us to have shrikhand from a place that makes it very well around here...all because I had mentioned how much I love it. That was very nice of her. I highly appreciated it.
-India kicked ass in cricket today, especially Yuvraj Singh. I felt bad for England and their very talented, hard-working, intelligent, classy and attractive captain, Andrew Flintoff. If I were a woman, I'd so have the hots for him. England put up a decent score considering the goal was set so high from the start and they were getting picked apart methodically. One of our bowlers is so roly-poly and cute. He reminds me of Neha Kiri's brother, Ajay.
-I have a distant niece, Ayushri, whom we call Bittu (like the game...you know, saatodyu, the game they play int he beginning of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam). She's beautiful, adorable, sweet, intelligent, spoiled, annoyingly persistent, and somewhat violent. I know I'm not her father, but I committed a cardinal sin of parenting (in my book) today by letting her watch a movie (entirely too long, as she watched it repeatedly, and though it was a bad idea in any case, considering she was watching it on my dad's computer) to get her to shut up and leave me alone and let me watch cricket (or simply live) in peace. I wasn't pleased when I realized I was using TV (in a sense) to babysit her (she's 10, by the way) when I tell myself always that I will never do that with my kids, and that my kids will have an imagination, and I'll put aside entertainment and pasttimes for myself to come up with clever activities for my kids when they need something to do. But I didn't get up from my cricket to find an activity for her and force her off the computer. Whether or not this seems to you like an effective justification, here's my reason. This girl's parents live in the US and she lives with her grandparents and her mother's youngest brother, his wife and their child. She never hears the word No. She's adorable, but she cannot be controlled. Though she had formed an attachment to me, I didn't kid myself about my influence over her. I was happy with some-most-aspects of my treatment of her. I listened to her and talked to her even though she talks incessantly. I didn't ignore her ever (actually, I tend never to ignore people, though I do miss or forget much tha people say because my mind is just numb-but what can I do about that? I'm trying my best). I was very patient throughout all her abuse. And I took her seriously and talked to her at the level of an adult. So these are all good things, I think.
-Did I mention that there's a Munaf Patel on the Indian Cricket team who's actually Muslim and how cool I think this is? I'm doing all I can to unite people of our faiths. Maybe I'll marry a Muslim chick. You think that'd make waves? I'd probably have low attendance at the wedding, which is fine by me.
-We flew to Mumbai on Jet Airways. Did you know that Jet Airways does international flights too now? You should fly them cuz they're the bomb! They're still my favorite airline of all time, relatively speaking (as I've only flown them domestically). They gave us lemonade upon boarding, followed by dinner! For a 45 minute flight! Oh, we didn't get any scented towels from the fridge, but it's all good.
-A kid was selling books outside Chhatrapati Shivaji domestic airport in Mumbai, which I thought was cool. I'm definitely addicted to this reading thing. He had less than 25 books and at least 5 were on my to-read list, along with Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, which I have a strong craving to reread, only a certain Ms. Parekh soon-to-be Mrs. Patel borrowed it from me around this time of year in 2003, and she probably has yet to read it, and I like to promote her reading habit, so I'm thinking of telling her to keep it, maybe as a wedding gift, and buying myself another copy to read. But yeah, we are already barely under weight (luggage), and I would have struggled to pick just one or two books. Did you know they changed the per-bag weight limit from 32 kg to 23 kg? This is a big deal.

My foi is an axe-murderer

2006-04-02T10:59:00.000-07:00

-Actually, no she’s not, but she IS really funny. She makes me laugh so much, especially when she’s talking to my fua. Yesterday, she comes over from the kitchen, asking him, “Did you remember to take your glasses from the kitchen table?” while handing him his glasses. I love that about her. I don’t remember other examples off the top of my head, but when I pointed out to my dad how she talks to him (you understand what I find funny in this situation, don’t you? It’s the rhetorical question [to be honest, I HATE rhetorical questions when directed at me. If you have a point to make, make it. Don’t waste my time. But that doesn’t keep me from finding humor in what my foi does. Here, let me go back to explaining and you might see why]. It would be faster to hand the glasses to him and make the point as you do it, but, this way, you prolong your possession of the upper hand, which is key), he said, “Yeah, I thought it was just your mom who did that sort of thing, but from our time in India, I see that it’s pretty much all women. They can’t just make their point. They have to make their husband feel like a child.” I think he said something like that. Don’t quote me on it. Anyway, he’s obviously generalizing. It’s not all women who do this, but he got my point immediately, because it was exactly that that I was trying to say. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself again. Back to explaining…I responded to my dad by pointing out that I enjoy it with my foi even more because of how respectful she is in her language. See, my mom is an assertive, loud woman who speaks to my father in the informal, not purposefully respectful “tu.” But my foi not only calls my fua “tame,” and doesn’t say his name, she calls her son-in-law tame and my father, three years her junior, and who grew up with her in the same house, Indravadanbhai and tame. So when she puts her husband in his place, she does it VERY respectfully, but she puts him in his place nonetheless, and she does it often. That’s what I find funny about her and so many other Indian women. They so obviously are talking down to their husbands and putting them in their place, but they don’t abandon the respectful or indirect approach, which I find hilarious. Personally, I don’t have the patience to deal with all the wording, aside from the fact that I like things to be out in the open, so I would never do this sort of thing and I would really not want anyone to do it with me. But I do find it entertaining to observe. My mom might make my dad feel like a child from time-to-time, but she, like me, has no patience for doing it covertly.
-You know what I’ll miss when I leave India…the stray dogs. They are SO cute and innocent with their hesitations and shyness and everything (yeah, it’s not really cute when you think about the real reason behind their behavior being the fact that they have no guaranteed meals and that they’re chased away with yells and blows from any place they get comfortable or look for a meal…but still). I’m probably the only person in this whole country who thinks they’re cute. Well, no, there are other immigrants. So I guess we’ll all miss them.
-You know whom I won’t miss? The mosquitoes. They’ve been absolutely devouring me these last couple weeks. I don’t know what’s gotten into them. I don’t think I’ve been doing anything different. I might be eating better now that I’m here and my foi is trying so desperately to fatten me up (it’s only giving me stomach pains. I think I’m only losing weight, somehow), so that might have to do with it. I haven’t made any changes in my non-violent policy towards them though, to be fair, Gandhiji, Dadaji and others, probably including Vivekananda, point out that it is not enough to be non-violent. You must love the recipient of your non-violence and, as I’ve probably explained already, I’m not yet ready to love mosquitoes. Maybe someday. For now, though, I’ll honestly be very happy when I fly out of Indian airspace and put some distance between me and those insects.

The Argumentative Indian

2006-04-01T02:28:00.000-08:00

This is a book by Amartya Sen. It's very difficult for me to give a review of it or to recommend (or not) others to read it. The book is a collection of essays on Indian culture, history and identity. They're certainly important and relevant to Indians and non-Indians alike these days only...well, at least one essay was almost completely indecipherable by me. People with intelligence and an English language proficiency that are comparable to mine may find some (okay, much) of these essays to be not-so-accessible. Nevertheless, I'm very happy that I read this book, even though it was not what I expected (I expected it to be less academic and basically easier to read). Sen is a very open-minded and, I think, objective writer. He addresses India's diverse, cultural makeup and history, not only pointing out that the Indian people are religiously too diverse for India to be rightfully looked at now, or at any point in the past, as a Hindu nation, but also that looking at and representing India as a primarily religious/mystical country/people ignores a large number of other identities its people share and contributions it has made to the rest of the world. Hindus who are easily offended when they or their religion are not addressed in just the properly sensitive, knowledgeable and laudatory manner will probably not like this book, though it's hard to imagine anyone sharing these views, which the just-mentioned Hindus are in great need of hearing (I feel), in a more objective and non-confrontational way than Sen does. Taken together, these essays are actually rather, as was Arundhati Roy's book of essays, critical of Hindutva Nationalists. Neither author seems to think Hindutva Nationalists make up the majority of Indians, and I don't think I have many of them, for example BJP members/supporters, amongst my friends, but I do know a LOT of people who have very closed-minded views of Hindu/Indian identity. I think I mentioned earlier in this space that I know some cowardly people who rejoiced when Hindus "straightened out" Muslims four years ago in Gujarat. My God, I've seen some of the desolated temples. What a scar on the face of a country that has such religious diversity precisely because of its religious tolerance that spans back more than two millenia. I like the discussions on these historical events and the identity issues behind them in this book. For example, a distinction is made between religion as faith and religion as identity. This reminded me of something that makes me very uncomfortable with the way many people say Swadhyay is THE work. I think everyone is entitled to feel and say that Swadhyay or any faith or religion is THE one for him/her, but many people say it in such a way that seems to put pressure on anyone who wishes to make any similar proclamation to declare it as their ONLY set of beliefs. These people seem to introduce others not so much to novel ideas provided by Swadhyay as much as a choice. Either this or that. And, I dunno, as much as I feel the brand of Hinduism that I've experienced and understood (and people, let's be real...there is no one uniform thing called Hinduism...if it is but one path amongst many in this world and this life, than it is split up into many, many paths of its own) is right for me and I'm not looking to leave it for some other one, I would be extremely reluctant to declare it as exclusively the way for me. Rather, I am always eager to describe what I have learned and what I follow on my path to others so that they can adopt what appeals to them and follow that as well from where they are, without being forced to switch sides. I've been influenced a lot, to take just one example, by Christian thoughts from various sources. If anyone were to tell me that I have to convert completely over to Christianity if I wish to get complete benefit from implementing those thoughts into my life, I'd be very upset. If anyone were to argue that Jesus has the copyright on, say, turning the other cheek, and that Hinduism as a whole or, say, Mahatma Gandhi in particular, plagiarize off of (that is, steal from) Him, I'd think that to be pretty absurd, but this is exactly what so many Indians do when they attempt to prove that everything good in this world came from India, specifically from the Vedas and "Hindu" scriptures. I don't know if people of other religions are actually doing this sort of thing and Indians are motivated by some inferiority complex reactionism or something, but it's all absurd all the same.

Along these lines, I was once part of a DBT discussion which I'll never forget. People in this discussion were trying to convince me that you can tell Indians apart because they have a certain style of dress, speech, diet and thought that is common to them. Haha. This is even funnier to me after spending all this time in India. It's funny because one would think that these people have not spent much time in India, but they have actually invariably spent more time in India than I have (not that prolonged residence in India has this effect on all people...just some). Take a look at the pictures of my guide from the river rafting trip on the Ganga. He looks rather like he's from any number of other Asian countries and nothing at all like the people who expressed the above beliefs, and yet, based on time of residence, diet, language, or lifestyle, I would say that he is much more Indian, or at least as much so, as any one of us from that discussion. India and its people are a lot less homogenous than would be convenient for the arguments of many of these kinds of people. Essays, like these, that shed light on this fact, are not anti-Hindu or anti-Indian anywhere as much as they are just in tune with reality. The patriotism in Rang De Basanti or Arundhati Roy's writing, like the sensibility demonstrated in Sen's writing, will ruffle a lot of feathers and fail to excite many other people, and I will always have a hard time understanding why. Personally, I'm so glad that I read this book because it seems to have fallen into my lap like all the other writing that has helped to shape and strengthen my love for cosmopolitanism and humanity as a whole. I don't understand how both Tagore and Gandhi would motivate me so strongly in this direction and so many people who are super-Indians/Hindus/Swadhyayees/etc. imply that they're followers of these two and seem, in this regard, to be anything but. Oh yeah, speaking of which, an interesting related point made by Sen:

"Indeed, the concept of Hindutva was elaborately discussed in a book of that name, published in 1923, authored by Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, often called 'Veer' (valiant) Savarkar, a Hindu chauvinist leader of remarkable energy. While it is often assumed that in pre-partition India the claim that the Hindus and Muslims formed 'two distinct nations' - not two parts of the same Indian nation - was formulated by Muhammad Ali Jinnah (in the context of making a case for the partition of the country on religious lines), it was in fact Savarkar who had floated the idea well before - more than fifteen years earlier than - Jinnah's first invoking of the idea. Nathuram Gudse, who murdered Mahatma Gandhi for his failure to support the demands of Hindu politics of the day, was a disciple of Savarkar." The BJP actually removed this fact from school history books at one point because of its negative connection with its own Hindutva movement. Hmm...I kinda just put down my thoughts instead of trying to argue points systematically. Oh well, more on these things when I review a book of Tagore's that I'm reading.

Anyway, this book looks in depth at a LOT of very important issues related to India. Also, it cites many other very helpful sources for anyone who ever has to discuss or write on these topics or is interested in them for his/her own thinking. Sen, a Bengali, quotes Tagore (another Bengali) often, and I'd like to include two quotations of Tagore's that I liked very much.

-"The idea of India" itself militates "against the intense consciousness of the separateness of one's own people from others."
-If "in his eagerness of power," a nation "multiplies his weapons at the cost of his soul, then it is he who is in much greater danger than his enemies."

April Fools Day!

2006-04-01T02:12:00.000-08:00

Happy April Fools Day! I know, what a dumb thing to say. You don't celebrate April Fools Day by wishing people to have a happy one. You celebrate it by pulling pranks on people. But who am I going to prank here? I hope you all had fun pulling pranks or having them pulled on you today.
Life wished me a happy April Fools Day in its usual ironic way. Today I found out that my sunglasses, which were misplaced by my cousin around Christmas, when I came back to Gujarat from Udaipur, back when winter was tapering down and making way for the blistering heat and blinding sun that we have now, have been found, and will be returned to me on, no joke, the day of my flight home. It is REALLY, REALLY bright here right now. Nevertheless, I AM happy to be getting my sunglasses back. Not that they're anything special. They cost $3 I believe and Kamakshi scratched one of the lenses badly I think three years ago, but they're still mine, and I've managed to keep them so long after losing every previous pair within two or three weeks. Now, if only my dad could find my SIM card, as I wish to keep my T-Mobile account for more than just sentimental reasons.

The Road Less Travelled

2006-03-29T07:54:00.000-08:00

Did I mention I was reading this book? My psychiatrist assigned it to me for homework and even had me answer questions out of a workbook that was inspired by and corresponding to the book. The book’s by M. Scott Peck, who happens to have been my doctor’s mentor. Anyway, I finished the book today and it was awesome! You should check it out. You’ll definitely find it helpful, even if you’re not crazy. My dad picked up it up and read through some sections and said it was a great book and that he felt bad for the ignorance behind his actions in the past. Anyway, if you read it, you’ll surely find it easier to understand than my dad would (it’s a little difficult English for him) and find all kinds of steps and strategies to being a better person/friend/child/parent/etc. and to growing and progressing in life. It’s so thorough in its helpfulness that I don’t know how else to describe it without making this paragraph one big hyperbole…so check it out. Just read a few pages in Barnes and Noble one day and decide for yourself.

Shopping

2006-03-29T07:44:00.000-08:00

-Bought the Rang De Basanti soundtrack, about which I’m very excited. I notice I’m naturally attracted to soundtracks done by A.R. Rahman. But also…you can’t beat a soundtrack that has a song that starts with the words “Eh, saalaa!” I also like that the CD cover has the main movie poster picture on it, because it reminds me of why we watched the movie. I knew nothing about the movie and my dad just felt in the mood to see a movie and picked this one because he liked how natural and goofy Aamir Khan looked in the poster. And boy, was it a good choice. I really love Aamir Khan’s patriotic movies. Speaking of which…

-Bought Mangal Pandey DVD. Um, but that’s all I wanted to say about that.

-My dad can’t find my T-Mobile SIM card. This is not good. I fully intended to go back and use my phone with the same number and plan. I’m not gonna be happy if I have to change either. I even bought a new battery today (the charger we bought here screwed up my old one) so that I could continue to use it.

Back in Udaipur

2006-03-26T10:08:00.000-08:00

-My dad has gotten used to clearing his throat in violent and disgusting ways. I wonder if he'll learn to tone it down upon our return.
-We stopped at a place where we can buy swords, but we didn't.
-I visited Dr. Rai and Dhupiaji in their homes

Taxi No. 9211 (Nau do gyarah)

2006-03-22T03:01:00.000-08:00

We saw this movie last night. It stars Nana Patekar and John Abraham and has two women in supporting roles, all of whom I’d never seen before. My dad, my foi, and one of the village guys went with me. Of the group, I’m the only one who liked the movie (that is, that which I could hear, considering the sound system was poor). I liked it first of all because it was outside the usual formula. The direction was so unlike most Hindi movies. It reminds you of Snatch more than any Hindi movie. At least the music and camera work, that is. Also, the acting of the main two guys was very good and natural, and the acting of the actress whose character was Nana Patekar’s character’s wife was powerful, emotional and deep. Oh, let me pause to comment on this for a second. Now, both actresses were pretty. The one whose acting I loved was very traditional. The other one was more of the hottie for filmgoers. But yeah, they were both VERY pretty, and the “hottie” was especially made-up. And I mean, it’s great that these moviemakers are finding such hotties for movies these days, but I don’t know any of their names and, if I see them again in another movie, my mind never makes a note of it. Couldn’t they find women who are just a tiny bit less hot and insist that they be capable of memorable acting some more? I’m not saying that the hottie in this movie was terrible at acting, but she, in my opinion, kinda fell to the side considering the other three main actors. And I point this out only because it certainly seems as if hotness matters a lot to moviemakers. They seem to be insisting on it. I find myself wondering where they dig up all this hotness or if they somehow have been manufacturing it for the last 19 years in a factory somewhere, especially as the women are starting to seem less natural and everyday, which stands out against actors like Nana Patekar, who is very natural and everyday. Maybe they can keep 2/3 of the hotties for all the other guys and get a few actors to make things go smoothly in movies for people like me and my brother, so we don’t lose our heads in the theaters. Don’t get me wrong. My brother loves hotties as much as the next guy, but he doesn’t confuse hotness with acting ability. Okay, I’m done.
Okay, so there were songs, but almost no dances, and the movie ended in less than 2 hours. The characters grew and learned through the movie, but they didn’t hit me over the head with feelings and messages. I had to look for them deep inside the eyes and expressions of the actors, and isn’t that how things should be? Nana Patekar’s lines and delivery were also great deadpan comedy.
-And oh, I saw a guy at the theater who looked exactly like Mehul Dalia. Same weight, build, hair, posture. He pulled money out of his wallet the same way, and then he spoke like a FOB. Until that point, I thought for sure Dalia had come to India unexpectedly in the middle of the semester to watch a Hindi movie with no subtitles in a rundown theater with bad sound.

Dipu’s Getting Engaged!

2006-03-22T02:56:00.000-08:00

-That’s right, Dipu (Devang) is using Tax Day to get engaged (speaking of which, I really gotta find a way to do my taxes). That means only one person is left on my most eligible bachelor list: Amit (and he says he’s in no rush). But Dipu was always my #1, by far. I gotta meet this girl he’s marrying (bhabhi, I mean)!
-I went to a cyber café where they were inexplicably playing the Backstreet Boys song…oh man, I forget what it’s called. Something with “heart.” Tearing up my heart? You surely know which song I’m talking about better than I do. They were playing its video on repeat. That was fun. I got reminded of how much everyone had the hots for those guys, especially Nick Carter, who looked a lot like many of the girls who wanted him, no doubt. And the facial expressions they made in the video…it was all good for a nice laugh. I’d say that they are probably ashamed of themselves, and maybe they are, but then again, maybe the New Kids On The Block invested the close to a billion dollars they made well and now own all of us somehow, so, if money matters a lot to you, I say do whatever it takes to get your hands on some, and have no shame.
-This kid was driving around in a big Chevy 4x4 (I later told him that I’m all for him buying all kinds of American things [as he was very proud of his Nike shorts, and I have no problem with that], but that it shouldn’t extend to American cars. Stick with Japanese, European, even Indian. Not American) with his CD player blasting and I found myself, for the first time in over 5 months, missing my car. You know what about it though? The music. I miss my music.
-They have crime shows here too, in Gujarati, no less. My Foi was watching one and my dad and she were making “Can you believe these people?” comments. I scold my mom for watching Cops and even America’s Most Wanted and I’ll tell you the same thing I told my foi and tell my mom: don’t watch these shows. They mess up your mind. They’re made to make you feel good about yourself at the expense of these people and make you feel fearful about your world by giving you a disproportional representation of its darker side. “Why,” ask some researchers, “don’t good deeds get proportional air time on TV shows like the News and news magazines?” I’d add, “Why do so many of us find accounts of good deeds boring and crime tales exciting?”

Pictures

2006-03-20T02:22:00.000-08:00

As I post these pictures, they're coming out not so clear. I hope it's just my computer. Otherwise, the Arti and some of our faces will be hard to make out.

Part of the view from our Padmini Nivas Hotel in Masuri

Me paragliding
Another funny billboard. There’s something to be said about honest advertising, no? No ripped guy, nothing sexy, just some ordinary people in undergarments.
Look closely and you’ll see people doing Arti to Ganga Maa. These are, I’m sure, the biggest flames you’ve ever seen in any Arti.
These are scenes from the beautiful Ghat that was behind our hotel.

A pink Herbie. Okay, actually this is the Ambassador car that took us to the starting point of our rafting trip. Ambassadors come only in white. This one, however, was not spared during Holi.Our stellar crew, set to embark on the dangerous Ganga whitewater river rafting trip
Our intrepid and cool rafting guide
One of the fun sections of our rafting trip. The rapids are as tall as our raft. It wasn’t seriously dangerous, but it was a lot of fun

A few pictures that do some justice to the beauty near the end of our rafting experience. The bridge you see is called Ram Jhula. It, along with the smaller Lakshman Jhula, is one of two bridges that cross the Ganga in this area.

My dad, chilling with his nigga, Shankar. In person, this statue is ginormous!

The “Lotus Temple” in dilli. I was sick in the car and saw it only from a distance.

How I puked my guts out in Heaven

2006-03-17T00:59:00.000-08:00

-Our hotels keep getting more modern. This one wasn’t as aesthetically pleasing as the last, as it was being renovated, but get this…it gave us our choice of the butt squirter and toilet paper. I used the latter because it’d been a while since I had and I gotta keep in practice with the technique. Otherwise, my first trip to the bathroom back in the US could be very embarrassing.
-Last night, I didn’t get to eat dinner until 10PM, and I normally consider 8PM to be late. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten, especially since I’d been overeating at all my meals and had heartburn and an upset stomach. Still, when my jijaji said to just come out to look for something to eat with him and have something small if anything interested me, I agreed. We went out and I saw a Pizza Hut, and though my conscience told me it was a bad idea, I threw all reason out the window and insisted we eat there. I got a combo meal when I should have just had a bite to eat. Well, this morning, I woke up at 4AM and couldn’t fall back asleep. My stomach was unsettled and my meal felt undigested. I was fine through my morning routine, after which I promptly started vomiting (you know, I had a 7-or-so year vomit-free streak going…then I threw up three times on my birthday, did a lifetime’s worth of vomiting on Shruti’s wedding day [I’d consider it her revenge for not showing up, but it was part of my treatment], and, though there was nothing to celebrate, I ended up vomiting about 30 times today…I don’t know when my body decided it doesn’t mind vomiting so much but my mind is still firmly against it). All day, I vomited up everything I ate or drank, including last night’s undigested pizza. Turns out I had food poisoning. I could feel it in my stomach…this feeling that, contrary to what everyone around you would have you believe, there is nothing that you could eat or drink that will be good for or feel good in your stomach, and that it will ultimately reject everything you give it. Still, though I threw up everything all day, my dad and jijaji didn’t learn and, right ‘til the early morning, kept giving me things to eat and drink. My dad at least accepted it when I refused. My jijaji really annoyed me today, cuz he thought that I was thinking myself into vomiting, and he would offer everything for me to eat and laugh at my discomfort (just the thought of eating made me feel like vomiting). I don’t know for sure if it was the pizza that made me sick, but I deserved it in any case. I’d been overeating and eating a lot of risky things the whole day previous and throughout the trip. Granted, it’s difficult to eat properly while traveling through India, especially outside of your state, where the food is unfamiliar. But still, that’s no reason to display such a lack of restraint. I’m still a sucker when it comes to eating the food remaining at the end of the meal that nobody wants to finish even though it’s their fault for over-ordering…even though I’m against continuing to eat beyond the point of physical satiety (and, after all, we eat for the sake of physical nutrition, not mental satisfaction, no?) and I’d promised myself that I’d be firm with people (which is to say that I’d be firm with myself) about this. Everyday, I pray to God to give me direction in life and to remind me to live like a human being and I promise to eat to live, not live to eat. I think He was trying to make a point to me.
-Ooh, Brad Pitt also went white water rafting on the Ganga, though he beat us to it by a little over a week.
-I slept in Heaven today. That is, Akshardham. We had a lot planned to do in dilli today (isn’t that such a cool name for a city? I know, they spell it Delhi, but not only is it cooler spelled as dilli, but that’s also how it’s actually spelled/pronounced in Hindi), but I could hardly support my head, had a fever, a bad headache, bad body pains, and I kept throwing up, so we didn’t get to see much, as I wasn’t willing to leave the car. We decided to skip most everything and go to Akshardham, where I could get a room with a bed and a bathroom, and be seen by a doctor. I still threw up all the medicine I was given, except the injection in my backside, but it was nice to lie down. I wish I’d gotten to see move of Akshardham. I didn’t care for the mandir. It and all of the campus and architecture are staggeringly beautiful, intricate and painstakingly constructed. There’s no question of that. The question in my mind is whether there isn’t a better use for all the money and the 30 million man-hours of labor that went into this. Though this place may go some distance in glorifying Swaminarayan/Hindu/Indian culture, I wonder if the majority of Indians couldn’t use some food, water, education and job opportunities, and if a healthier, more successful (self-sufficient) Indian people wouldn’t add more glory to the country and culture. Another question, of course, is if India is in need of any more temples.
-I had heard that there are good exhibitions and shows at Akshardham and that’s what I really wanted to see. I was hoping that it would be like CFI (The Cultural Festival of India), which was held in Middlesex Community College some 15 years ago, I believe, and which I absolutely loved. I have yet to see any Swadhyay function with such diverse, open-minded research and as well run as CFI was. That’s really saying a lot considering BAPS is known for being very exclusive and narrow in its view of Indian culture and history. I got to see an amazing musical fountains show and a beautifully extravagant mandir, but little else.
-The staff at Akshardham was wonderful. My dad reminds me that this is characteristic of BAPS volunteers worldwide. They are immaculately dedicated and demonstrate what Dadaji talks about when he explains sadhan bhakti (instrumental devotion). Most of the people we met had been working there, as electricians, plumbers, doctors, etc.) non-stop for upwards of five years (Akshardham has been being constructed for five years now, but has been open to the public for only as long as we’ve been in India, so the plant management type staff has been here for long, while the interpersonal type staff has been here for about 5 months). They get a place to stay and food to eat (just for them, not for the rest of their family) and that’s it. And they’re so friendly and helpful, and they work tirelessly and cheerfully all day, no matter what their duty. At CFI, there were people working in the parking staff who worked for hours in the summer heat every day for weeks.
-Wow, I thought the Fair and Lovely skin lightening cream and its commercials were shocking and sad enough, but they have Fair and Handsome too now? Unbelievable.

I took a shower!

2006-03-16T00:57:00.000-08:00

-That is, I bathe everyday, but for 5 months, that’s meant filling water into a bucket and pouring it onto myself with a cup. Today, I showered. It was awesome, let me tell you. Whenever you bathe, I highly recommend trying the standing shower technique.
-This hotel is pretty good. It has an amazingly beautiful ghat behind it (Named Janki Ghat) into which the Ganga’s water flows. The hills surrounding the ghat, like the morning sun, reflected in the water and we were just blown away. The hotel itself is beautiful, completely made of marble. It is just 6 years old. It’s very modern in all the simple little things that matter the most. I felt like I was in a hotel in America, only surrounded by all the beauty of the Indian hills and the Ganga, and with a very nice garden too.
-There’s an Omkar Anand Ghat here. I’m trying to see what other members of their extended family have Ghats named after them here. If I find a Birju Ghat, Imma flip.
-There’s all different combinations of (and I mean this only in terms of appearances, not literally) black, Native American, Korean, Pacific Islander, and all other kinds of blood mixed into the people here, and everyone speaks the same languages. It’s so cool, like a truly world culture/community.
-How cool a name does Amanatji have! Makes me keep wanting to sing Kabhi Kabhi.
-We went white water river rafting on the Ganga! We’d talked about doing it, but my dad and jijaji weren’t keen on going. They thought they’d send me with another group and I only wanted to go if they went. Otherwise, I’d be by myself on the river for several hours while they waited. Well, the only way we could go is if we all went, which we did, and it was great! It was lazy and calm mostly, punctuated by some modest rapids in three sections. Those were the best, paddling while the raft bounced up and down and waves jumped aboard and onto our waiting laps. Our guide was cool too. He had a nice laugh.
-Man, I had no idea we’d get to do this stuff during our trip, or at any time in India. I’ve had so much excitement in just a few days. And oh, you know how much this rafting trip cost? The equivalent of $9 a person. Granted, we’re thinking in Rs. here, not dollars, but still…it’s so expensive to do this there. The key, though, is…when was I going to get a chance to go rafting on the Ganga? (haha, in my haste, I switched the r and f letters while typing “rafting.” That was a rather sacrilegious thing I almost said). Actually, my dad loved this stuff so much that he wants to plan a trip to just do these sorts of things the next time we come to India, and to put just a couple days aside from meeting people—and that too to do by having them come meet us, not the other way around. He says we’ll bring my mom, brother and wife after my marriage (actually, I was thinking my brother should just move here and become a rafting tour guide. The work and lifestyle here suits him very well). Now, that’s easy for him to say, as he has one foot firmly planted in retirement. But I have my whole life’s work ahead of me. Still, this is certainly my kind of honeymoon. We were thinking of making an application form to be my wife and explaining that the successful candidate will have to be willing to do (“eager to do” is, of course, preferred) these sorts of things in our honeymoon. I definitely will not be happy spending my honeymoon in comfy, lavish hotels and cruises, waking up late on soft sheets. We’re gonna rough it, and my parents are coming with us. Everything except that last bit is non-negotiable.
-Don’t get me wrong when I talk of all these requirements and applications and such...I’m not saying that there are only a couple people around who are good enough for me. On the contrary. Think of it as a waiver process. I may not be so demanding, but living with me will be. I just want to give my future wife the heads-up.
-Wow, the US launched its biggest attack on Iraq of the last 3 years today. I wasn’t aware there was anything or anyone left to destroy there. Don’t we need to give reasons for these sorts of things anymore?

I SWAM IN THE GANGA! (And oh, happy DhuLetti)

2006-03-15T00:55:00.000-08:00

-Amazingly, yesterday, I prayed for the weather to clear up (it was so foggy that any pictures would have looked like blank sheets of paper) and it did. It’s actually sunny today on and off.
-We’re over 6000 feet up. I wasn’t insistent on being IN the mountains. I just wanted to see them. It’s clear enough to, but we’re in the hills, not near the Himalayan peaks, so no mountains, sadly.
-At night, I felt short of breath and I was wondering why. My sinuses have been very clear for some time now, and my daily yoga has done wonders for my lungs. I’d totally forgotten about the height. The yoga was a new experience today at this altitude.
-There are shaggy baboons in Masuri (they spell it Mussoorie here, but I don’t like that transliteration). They look like dogs.
-I don’t know if you’re aware, but most of India is unfamiliar with the concept of heating. So, we have no centralized heating system in this hotel. Plus, there were gaps and huge drafts in the windows which comprised the whole wall facing the valley, so we were almost completely exposed to the cold even in our room. Our heater stopped working at night. Still, under our blankets, we slept nice and toasty and hardly stirred ‘til the morning, which came very early, since the dawn reaches this height sooner.
-I got to experience those toilets that have the faucet that squirts your butt, which was…an experience.
-Some of the youth in the town felt bad that we were so uncolored, so they colored our foreheads for us.
-My bath was very quick. The water was decently warm, but the air and floor were so cold that I hadn’t the courage to stay out of my clothes long.
-I went paragliding from a point near Masuri down the hill 1500 meters. There were different lengths available and I jokingly asked to go to Haridvar, since we’re going there later anyway. They said no, but I can go to the City below, which is called Dehra Dun, and which is some 20 km away. While we were waiting to take off, a crowd of workers and inhabitants gathered and kept asking, incredulously, how far we were going (a trainer jumps while strapped to me. I don’t go alone, of course) and how much I was paying, all of which was a bit disconcerting, but the flight went off without a hitch. The trek back up was somewhat tiring, especially with the thin air. As I was slip sliding on the steep graveled path up in my New Balance all-terrain sneakers, I passed an older woman who was making a relaxed trek upwards in flip-flops, which seem to be the footwear of choice for the hardy, sure-footed local folk.
-I had some fresh-squeezed orange or tangerine juice, along with some of the fruits themselves, whatever they’re called. I’ve gotten into the habit of eating grapes, pineapples, pomegranates, and all kinds of citrus fruits everyday. They’re so sweet. They taste like candy, which is cool, since I don’t eat candy and I have a sweet tooth.
-There was a nice little lake near the paragliding site, fed by a waterfall/stream of melted runoff from higher up. This is where I had the orange juice, and where these nice, white flowers-irises or something, I forget what they’re called-grew. Shruti would have loved them for sure.
-We had to do so much climbing in this town. It was like being at one of those fat camps. We should have our Bal Sanskar Camps here. It’ll be a long commute, but we’ll have a lot of fun once we get here.
-Oh man, the people of this state—Uttar Anchal—have hardly any skin that is uncovered with various fluorescent colors today. Cars, clothes, scooters, dogs, almost nothing was spared. Everyone looks like parrots or Braveheart extras.
-I like scenic driving, but the ride up was, what with the poor visibility, narrow, wet, uneven roads, and crazy drivers, too exciting and eventful for my taste. Thetrip down, especially since visibility cleared up and the roads dried up, is much more to my liking.
-I SWAM IN THE GANGA (that’s the Ganges for you corny folk)! Oh man, it was awesome. It’s such a beautiful day today (especially down here closer to sea level) that I thought I might never get this chance again…let me go swimming. Forget how cold the water is. And it WAS cold, but oh, it was so nice. And I drank my fill of the water and it was SO sweet. I filled some water in a bottle. It’s crystal clear. I think we’re gonna fill some more big bottles when we get to Hrishikesh to bring back for everyone, especially Urmil. He made it a point to bring back dust from Anand and Chowpatty seawater, I expect he’ll value Gangajal.
-There’s so much trash and dirtiness all around Haridvar, and a huge market (something that all religious places and large temples have surrounding them. The shop owners set up there because of the crowds, and the shopping has increased the crowds).
-I saw a bunch of bikes named Neelam here. Like the bus, though, they spelled her name wrong. If they weren’t inanimate objects, we’d have to rumble. I’m very upset about this.
-Speaking of being upset, I got into a verbal tiff with two people in Hindi. See, we’re parked over by the Shri Ganga Maa Mandir for the big evening arti. My dad sat on the steps of a bridge overlooking the mandir, and I remained standing. A man came over and sat by me, then moved closer and closer until he was pushing me out of position and making it uncomfortable to stand there. Then he started doing that overly politeful patronizing way of speaking thing with me, saying if I would like to sit, I may. I told him I don’t and asked him why I should. He didn’t like what I said and said I wasn’t being a gentleman. He said, as if I was not understanding his point, that if I sat down, he could see better, and I asked him why he came to sit right behind me and then complain that he can’t see when there are so many other places to sit. Then a lot of people started getting annoyed at me. If everyone were sitting and I came to stand in front of them, I could see why they’d think me a jerk. About 30 seconds later, all our points became moot because they cleared the steps of people. But I wasn’t going to let up if they didn’t. I didn’t care so much for the position. I just can’t stand when people are patronizing in that way or when older people take advantage of younger people’s respectfulness to push them around and have their way with them. I’m not one to go around disrespecting people. Some people just think too highly of themselves and can’t handle honesty, which I have a habit of dishing out. You know those shirts: I have a Ph.D. in “Keeping It Real”? I’d wear them if they didn’t make a joke of something I take very seriously. Keeping it Real is basically my purpose in life.
-Hmm, some woman’s child was just playing with my bottled water and she took it and started letting her child drink directly out of it, which I found odd. The first thing I did was to check if it was indeed mine. The woman was so unhesitatingly intimate in her handling of my bottled water that I thought I’d done something wrong. I’m not saying her child has Herpes or anything. I just find it odd when strangers drink directly from my water without even asking when we ourselves bought the water and still drink it from above.
-An interesting thing I’ve observed lately…couples walking around holding hands, walking with their arms draped on each other’s shoulders, sitting on each other’s laps, and so on. It’s a bit new and surprising and I’m seeing so much of it, especially, interestingly, at these places of pilgrimage. It’s like becoming fashionable.
-Tonight, we’re staying in Hrushikesh in a hotel called Janki Devi Somany Bhavan. I thought they named it after Ramchandra’s Janki Devi or maybe after Daksha Auntie’s Janki Devi (haha, I should call her that). But apparently, when they made the place, someone put up a painting of a woman named Janki Devi Somany, so they named the bhavan after her. Also, they have cheap lodging downstairs…simple beds without rooms. This is why they can call it a bhavan (hostel) and get a tax break as well. We’re stayin gin the hotel part though. Our room comes equipped with S. Radhakrishnan’s Bhagvad Gita, the SunderKand, and some other cool Hindu books.
-We went out to make some calls and do some shopping, and I noticed Baghban playin at the place where we were making phone calls. It was sappier than I remembered it being. Why do they have to make these family movies suck so bad? You know, where the acting and line delivery is so bad and forced, where it’s like everyone’s a terrible poet trying to suffocate each other with sweetness? Plus, you know a movie’s suspect when Salman’s character calls up his [adoptive] father and starts the conversation with “Tvameva mata cha pita…” (he later does arti to two huge pictures of his adoptive parents that he keeps on his wall). And if I were Hema Malini’s character and Amitabh’s character called me “meri makhana” (what’s worse, the movie’s makers translate it as “my butterball” for the English subtitles) in front of my whole family, I’d punch him in the teeth. Now, I’m not ordering you to hate the movie without seeing it or denying you the opportunity to see it, but, if you watch it, please do some things. Ask yourself first if people do indeed talk and act like that in real life. Ask yourself if, no matter how much you love your spouse, you could stand being with him/her as these two are with each other 30 years into their marriage. Ask yourself what exactly the message of this movie is, if it’s a realistic one, and if it’s realistically portrayed. If you were the parents in this movie, would you react to your circumstances in this way? If you were one of the demon children, would you react to your father’s success in this way (are real parents so naïve and obedient, and are real grown-up children, however evil, so reactionary?)? Now, some movies aren’t supposed to have any bearing on reality, but if this is one of the ones that is, and it doesn’t, isn’t that bad?

Holi ke din, dil khil jaate hai, rango mein rang mil jaate hai…

2006-03-14T00:54:00.000-08:00

-Our trip begins…
-More wonderful experiences with domestic airlines in India. Unfortunately, I had to wake up at 2 AM this morning to make our 5:30 AM flight out of Amdavad, which makes 3 days in a row of early wakeups and not much sleep. Actually, I think 4. But the airline service was brisk and smooth, the airplane spacious and clean, and the service good, though not on par with Jet Airways. Wow, I have a bright as hell full moon in a pitch black sky on my left and a “cowbow cliché” (as John Mayer would put it) dawn breaking on my right (my good girl, Usha). The moon is so bright and perfectly round that I initially thought it was some sort of globe light attached to the wing, maybe inspired by those attracting lights on bioluminescent fish haunting the deep sea floor (haha, like in that funny scene in Finding Nemo…ahh I love that movie…speaking of which, who has my DVD? Why don’t you pricks [no offense] ever return my movies?).
-Love the name: Spice Jet. It’d be even better if it were Masala Jet. They even have a cool white and red motif in the plane and on the staff’s uniforms.
-Speaking of the staff, why are airplane passengers so childish? The more frequently they fly, the more childish they become when it comes to putting their seats up, turning off cell phones and music players, etc. The staff plays the part of babysitters more than anything else.
-Cute…the planes have spice names. We were in Coriander. Another one was Chilli. If I had a choice, I’d want to be in Hing. So would Dupal. She and I love Hing.
-The part of Delhi we flew over on arriving here had scattered large buildings in sharp relief of the flat surroundings. It looked like a Life game board.
-Guess what else we had to welcome us. Rain. Cold, fat, wet drops. And oh, we have a flat. Our driver, Amanat Khan, is working on it. We have a car and driver for the whole trip. Poor guy, out in the cold rain changing a flat. This is a bad start to our trip. There’s cold weather fronts coming up from Gujarat and down from somewhere North that are making a noreaster type thing over Delhi. Luckily, we’re going straight to Massoori, cuz the people in Delhi on Holi stop cars on roads and mess up the occupants (with colors) and it’s hard to get anywhere around here on this day, so we’ll come back to Delhi later. Oh, and I should mention who “we” is. My dad and I and my Jijaji. Now, I should explain. One’s Jijaji is one’s sister’s husband. We all know I have no biological older sisters. But the Indian culture is very inclusive with its family focus, so cousins’ husbands are also called Jijaji. Pritesh Kumar, however, is my dad’s cousin’s daughter’s husband, so our culture is THAT inclusive. My dad’s cousin (Tushar’s mom), who leaves for Bihar tomorrow, said goodbye to us today and cried and cried because we won’t be seeing each other again for a long while. She’s my dad’s cousin and she expects to be invited to my wedding…not that I wouldn’t want her to be, but I’m just saying, you see how Indian weddings get to be so big?
-Bleh, it’s so cold and dreary. I feel like I dropped into an American March day. Rain! What were they thinking? You know, in Gujarat, this is the first time in years that it’s rained in March. They say it was caused by something connected with the earthquake. This is the second earthquake we’ve experienced while here. The first was in October, I believe. That was massive. Some obscene number of Pakistanis died in that one, along with many thousand Indians.
-We stopped for breakfast at a restaurant on the road somewhere North of Delhi. That was fun. There was such a variety of people in a variety of clothes. The people span the spectrum and include my favorite, the ones who look half “Asian.” I like them because I always am amused when people who look distinctly foreign speak Indian languages better than I do, and because they look like they had Indian and Chinese parents who said, “Screw it, let’s have kids (haha! That sounds funny. Maybe they should’ve said, “Screw you…let’s have kids). One day, the whole world’s gonna look like them [our kids] anyway.”
-My God, what’s with all this rain? I haven’t seen a drop in 5 months except for some drizzles that came and went before I woke, and now the Heavens open up and it’s raining like it’s gonna go out of style. It’s like we’ve dropped into a giant mud bowl. It better not be like this further North! I better get to see some mountains!
-I forgot to complain about mass transportation yesterday, so I’ll do it today. Actually, truthfully, transportation has improved in terms of convenience and speed in India even in the last few years. But we still spent like 5 hours in buses and rikshas not going so far in commuting to and from Vadodara from Narsanda. Did you know that my Nayana Foi will leave for Bihar today (Tuesday) and arrive on Friday? Well, now you know.
-ESPN is re-airing the ODI match in which Australia scored 434, a record (no one had ever scored 400 before), only to have South Africa catch them with one ball and one wicket remaining. I know, you don’t care…humor me. With upwards of 8 overs remaining, SA still needs to go at upwards of 10 runs per over. I already know they win, I’m watching a repeat, and I’m still sitting here wondering how they’ll pull it off. Boy, did they make it dramatic, what with wickets falling, boundaries coming and being barely prevented left and right to the end.
-I’m walking around Masuri in a jacket, sneakers, a wool cap, and gloves, and people here walk around in open-toed shoes. My friends without nerve endings in their feet, like Kanchi and Shardul, would be right at home.
-They thought the actress who played my favorite Hindi movie character was so beautiful, they named our hotel after her. The Padmini Nivas Hotel. We got a nice suite too, with a wonderful Bob Ross paining view. We’re still bundled up in it with a convection heater running.
-Coke seems to have a monopoly on this town. The only thing that rivals the number of Coke signs in town are Ramdev Swami signs. How ironic.
-All I want to do here is eat. I think it’s the cold. I don’t want to drink. I can’t sit still. I just want to eat.
-We had a Gujarati Thali for dinner and I got to experience a large holi fire. I met a beautiful cow there with velvety black and grey hair and holi powder on its head. It was going a little mad, unfortunately, and kept shaking its horns at people nearby.
-I also met many beautiful, big shaggy dogs and a bus named Neelam.

An Ordinary Person’s Guide to Empire

2006-03-12T00:52:00.000-08:00

12/3 – An Ordinary Person’s Guide to Empire
This book is by Arundhati Roy, the poetic, vitriolic, adorable author of The God of Small Things. This is a collection of essays and speeches of hers. I was gonna recommend it to students of Narendra Modi’s and George Dubya Bush’s, but I realized it can be useful to many people. If you’ve ever wondered why people get so worked up about the WTO, and if those people are really violent militants (as we’re told they are), and if they would be hypocritical if they were; if you’re not sure why our current elections being described as choosing “the lesser of two evils” effectively makes them undemocratic, and why some call it the tyranny of the corrupt two-party system; if you’re wondering what’s the big deal with the IMF, or if it’s hypocritical to fight a war on terrorism (or even possible to fight a war on terror); if you’re under the impression that the press in the US is freer and the people better informed than everywhere else in the world; if you think Bush is just dumb, but not bad ultimately, and certainly that accusations of him being a murderer, thief and criminal are exaggerated; if you think there are people in this world (called terrorists) who are against “freedom” and “justice” (and that our government is for them); if you don’t take it for granted that our government and media work to distract us through fear and a push for greater consumption from steadily declining social spending and the fact that we have nothing [external] to fear…then read this book. You’ll find it to be a very short overview and answer to all these and other related issues and questions. I do not recommend it to anyone who wishes to remain blissfully ignorant and in support of the pointless (and unfortunately harmful) stances we’re asked to take by our mainstream media. In fact, I wish a book like this were required reading for all inhabitants of the US so no one could plead ignorance. Unfortunately, being out of the know is in the vogue for us.
You’re all very welcome to borrow my book whenever you want (so long as you read it) and learn about this all in detail. I’ll just elaborate a bit on the Narendra Modi issue since I’m here and it’s so necessary that the people of my state be well informed (which they’re not). Narendra Modi is, for the second term in a row, the most highly Chief Minister (governor) in the country. I think his approval rating is upwards of 90%! Guess approximately what % of Gujarat is Muslim, as the Hindus point out so eagerly as an explanation that should be a bit frightening. That’s right, 10%. Now, a few years ago, we had riots in Gujarat, during which several thousand Muslims were killed, many thousand were raped and injured, and one hundred fifty thousand (!) lost their homes. Guess how many arrests and convictions were made by the authorities that, if they didn’t sponsor and support (as critics allege) the fascist pogrom, looked the other way. That’s right, not a one. People took to the streets in broad daylight with their swords and dicks flailing, and somehow no one was caught red-handed. What’s worse, a bunch of people back home in the US who make themselves out to be the children of Gandhiji applaud the violence though they neither would have had the balls to take to the streets in India or voice their opinions in America, and they’d be hard-pressed to explain to me how anything was proved by the statement made on hacked-up Muslim women of all ages, and how that is sufficient and effective retaliation for anything. Modi was Chief throughout this whole time, he pooh-poohs the accusations that he was and still is unfair and unconcerned with the plight of the Muslims, and the Hindus seem to see nothing wrong with how all the Hindus love him and all the Muslims don’t. Now, Modi is a simple man. He can’t be swayed by bribes, so he’s cutting down on corruption. This is very necessary in India. Modi is doing many good things and, more importantly, there is a need for these things. This doesn’t change the fact that Modi and his government are fascist, and that this is always a bad thing everywhere. Fascist governments in history have come into power by taking advantage of pre-existing shoddy conditions by either using them to distract the people from the fascism, or directly blaming the target of the pogrom for the shoddiness. This is the former case, with the added twist that the Hindus are looking for legitimate ways to disadvantage the Muslims and justifications to keep in power the administration that will do it. 90% approval! That’s some real enthusiasm and solidarity. The thinking, loving Gujaratis, the people who hear only of PEOPLE dying and don’t think to count how many of OURS died for how many of THEIRS…these people will have to be very, very careful. There are worse things than fascism, but that leaves it far from good.

India: What Can It Teach Us?

2006-03-12T00:50:00.000-08:00

This book was recommended to me by my boy Dipu. But, before him, the author, F. Max Muller, was recommended in general by Dadaji. But, long before all of this, the book was recommended very highly by my #1 Nigga, Gandhiji. What you’ll think of this book depends on what you’re looking for. It’s a good book for anyone looking for some facts amongst all our claims regarding ancient Sanskrit literature and Vedic culture. It’s a bit overwhelmingly academic for me, and I feel like Muller loses me with all his examples. Still, no one can accuse him of making unsubstantiated claims or having a lack of love and respect for India, it’s people and its culture.

A short, one-day pre-trip trip/pilgrimage

2006-03-12T00:30:00.000-08:00

-Apparently, from what my dad says, Sunil Shetty will no longer act after March 31st of this month. My dad is very saddened by this.
-The advertising companies have their own billboards that say something like Contact Sujal in big letters, with the company phone number underneath it. The “contact” word is small and the company name is huge. One such company is named Chitra, so I was thinking of renting the billboard and keeping it exactly the same, only putting my niece Chitra’s house and mobile numbers (well, her dad’s) in place of the company numbers. You think they’d mind? I’d think it to be fun. Maybe I could spice things up by putting a huge close-up of her face on it.
-We went to a Jain mandir, an assorted Mataji mandir (which was cool, but also frightening), and an Ambaji mandir. I had a sneezing fit there and my dad said, “Ambaji,” which I got a kick out of. We almost got into a fight in line there. I just let my dad jaw with someone—they were arguing about our places in line—but then someone grabbed my dad’s collar and I stepped in between. I wasn’t looking to break it up. I was looking to knock his ass out. He and his friends (they were in their 30s) kept saying “[we’ll fight] afterwards”…meaning after we get out of line, and they kept instigating with my dad. I was really looking forward to getting out and introducing their fobby slap-fighting selves to my fists, which were feeling more energized today, along with the rest of me, but oh well.
-We passed a Kamakshi mandir. I can’t wait to tell her. One of you do if I forget. Is her email kammy something at hotmail.com? I feel like I don’t have her current contact information.
-These are strange modern tirth yatras people are doing. We find a big car, pile in, race each other from temple to temple, nearly running over everyone and everything in our path, and return.
-I got to listen to the Rang De Basanti soundtrack as part of some 16 movie compilation mp3 CD. Have I mentioned that I like this movie? Or that it’s made in the modern activist style? It’s crazy and strange…and it’s perfect.
-I think I make funny faces when I drink water from above (without letting the glass touch my lips). I can’t tell for sure cuz I’m too busy drinking, but I have this feeling.
-Tushar is so funny. He was somewhere where Lalu Prasad Yadav was making a TV appearance. He went up and stood next to him, got on TV and had his picture taken.
-Amitabh is a product-hawking whore. He’s in like every other commercial, I swear. And how is it that this guy has been acting for so long and he still hasn’t learned how to dance? And how has he lived in India all this time and not run into a yoga center. He’s supposed to be this macho athletic guy in his movies and he’s stiff as a board still.
-My dad got a shave at a place with a bunch of pictures of Leonardo Dicaprio in its decorative name plate thing, which would have made it very convenient for me to get one of those haircuts that make my mom call me Leo, if only my hair were long enough. My hair can’t grow long quite fast enough for me.
-I should explain what we were doing at all these temples. I think in Gujarati it’s called “baadhaa maanvi”…to make a promise to God to do something for something to happen or when that something happens. In this case, my Nayana Foi, I believe, or maybe Chandrika Foi, had said to God that she would go to the Ambaji mandir when I get better or start to…and it’s especially important when doing these sorts of things not to forget and go back on your word afterwards. We thought it would be nice if I went along too, and anyone else who was free (in all, my father, my two Fois, and Ayush, who is my Apuben’s and Pritesh Jijaji’s son and Chandrika Foi’s grandson, and I went) and that we might as well go to some other important temples along the way, so that’s what we did.

Man, I suck at tennis

2006-03-11T21:45:00.000-08:00

-I went to a country club today cuz my dr. wanted me to go play tennis. I played a little bit, as much as the old farts would let me...but yeah, I suck. Also, my body is slightly better, but that's all. Not tip-top. My knee was hurting while I ran and I'm sore now that I've finished and I only played a little bit. But oh, if they let me play ball or some American Football, watch out...I woulda started a Nuclear War. So I guess it's just as well.
-I got Gmail...cuz lil neh wanted me to. Khelan and HP will like my address... hellobirju@gmail.com (Not only is it a good inside joke with them, but also, it will help fix the spelling problem everyone had with Thiswaytobirju@yahoo.com, which I thought was very easy, but I guess not) I'll just check out this gmail thing, see if I like it better before forcing everyone and everything to switch. If only there were a way to archive my yahoo and hotmail mails into gmail and organize them there. I bet there is.
-I go on vacation today until the 20th. I'm going to an Ambaji mandir, Bhilvada, Udaipur to visit Dhupiaji and Dr. Rob Roy, and then maybe (hopefully) the Ganga and Himalayas...all I really wanted to see during my trip to India. I hope I hope I hope I get to see them.

Rain

2006-03-09T07:56:00.000-08:00

-Yesterday, we had an earthquake. Today it rained...in India...in March. Crazy.
-Oh man, true to its name, bhurji is smooth going down, not so smooth coming out. Well, I blame the bhurji...my dad thinks it was the sip of water I had in the restaurant. I've been here 5 months. I can't accept that my body would still be unaccustomed to drinking regular water here. Oh well.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

2006-03-08T07:54:00.000-08:00

-I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory today. The newer, Johnny Depp version. I liked it very much and I liked him in it. I didn’t think I’d like him as Willy Wonka from seeing the ads. I thought not even he could add anything to the Gene Wilder character. Now I understand that he wasn’t supposed to add anything to it. It’s a different story…the original, funnier, darker, rougher story. It was really good though, really funny. Unfortunately, it was a VCD with some bad closeup angle throughout the movie, so I didn’t get to see all the facial expressions of the kids and all of Depp’s body language. So I guess those of you who see the original DVD will enjoy it even more than I did.
-I also saw Deewane Huye Pagal. I got it cuz it was a Paresh Rawal, Sunil Shetty, Akshay Kumar and Om Puri reunion (we have Hera Pheri at home and were in such a big mood to see it that we rented it recently here and watched it). It turned out to be almost an exact copy of There’s Something About Mary (Hindified of course). It’s nowhere as good though. I like the Vivek Oberoi cameos though. And the main actor guy, who plays Karan, he reminds me of Amit. He doesn’t look exactly like him, but he’s good looking in the same way, with the same kind of look.
-I ate out today by myself cuz my dad went to Narsanda. I had garlic naan and paneer bhurji (just so I could say that I had it). The paneer bhurji was garlicky, just like burji was after eating all this. Ooh, someone be sure to tell Mehul Dalia that I ate this. He’ll be so happy. I also had a strawberry milkshake cuz eating them always makes me feel like a kid. Today, it made me feel like an American kid.
-I love all the dogs that are around. I pet them every chance I get.
-The good dr. has three cell phones and he keeps them all on his desk while we’re meeting. That’s crazy. I haven’t had a single cell phone in over five months.
-The end of this Deewane movie is getting more ludicrous by the second. But the technology has improved so that things look smoother and more real even if it’s not realistic. Ooh, Aftaab plays the part of Brett Favre.
-There are so many thin, fit, young Hindi movie actresses these days, like the girl in this movie, Rimii Sen or something. I’m still much more attracted to Rani, Aishwarya and Kajol. Ooh, I saw Kajol in some old movie on TV the other day. I miss her. But oh, none of these people compare to the woman in the DVD that I recently bought. That’s right, I got my favorite Hindi movie again (had I already mentioned this?)…Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai.
-Oh, there was an earthquake here last night at 11:50. I had just fallen asleep though and my sleep is deeper these days, so I didn’t wake up.
-After going outside, people assume a permanent squint cuz the sun beats down like a bully and an angry stepmother these days. The sunlight is hot as a MoFo.

Books to help you not be like me

2006-03-07T07:48:00.000-08:00

-My hair is too long to stay forward, too short to stay back, and just right to FOBbily flop to the sides.
-I don't think I explained this fully. The ECT makes me feel good, but it doesn't last. The permanent solution is psychotherapy, which my dr. is doing with the use of two books that I'm recommending to you so that you can avoid my fate.
-The first is Friedman's Fables. I've only been told to read three stories so far, in this order: The Power of Belief, Burnout, and Narcissus. To clarify, the first is about dealing with people that I want to change but can't, the second is obvious, and the third is about the dangers of an overexamined life (not about me being overly attracted to myself).
-The second is M. Scott Peck's The Road Less Traveled. The author of that book trained my Dr. in psychotherapy. The book is simple, but really thought-provoking. It's all the thought-provoking and -challenging that my dr. is doing that's making me feel poor physically again. When I permanently change my beliefs, the way I feel will change permanently too. Luckily, the process started seemingly automatically since I came here and my dr. is accelerating it.
-Really, though, these are both really good books that everyone will find simple and helpful. I have a copy of the second and am using the dr.'s copy of the first, though I'll get it when I return home, so you guys can borrow them if you'd like...well, those of you who return things.

The One With the Shrikhand

2006-03-05T05:57:00.000-08:00

-This morning, we came back to Vadodara in a bus. Man, you have to see these buses. *Sitting in the seat, you ask yourself when was the last time you had a tetanus shot and if you enjoyed the experience. *You have to open the windows to see out of them. *If you’re constipated, you’re in luck. But be careful: the bus will loosen your bowels, but it may also loosen your fillings. *If you look at the bus from the outside, you’d say it is in need of a hug, and then some. And yet, we had a good time, and the driver drove maad faad (that’s right, like a MoFo) and also quite dexterously, and we got here safe, sound, and soon.
-I had shrikhand with lunch today. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve had it the whole time I’ve been in India. I didn’t go crazy and finish all of even the small amount that I could have eaten. I have to control myself. I was very excited though…deep inside.
-Ooh, I had shrikhand with dinner too. Again, I only had some and didn’t go crazy. And trust me, there is no limit when it comes to how much shrikhand I can eat. I can eat a whole plateful. But I made do with a few spoons full. The auntie whose house we had it at said another auntie had brought shrikhand to our hospital before and I had commented how much I love it and that’s why she gave us some today. I don’t remember the previous time, but that’s how it goes with my memory these days.

Bush meets bhes, bizzy day

2006-03-04T05:54:00.000-08:00

-There’s a picture of George Bush meeting a bhes on the front page of a newspaper here (we saved a copy of this and a bunch of other pictures of Bush during his trip here. My dad’s collecting them). Now, if I make fun of him, he’ll know what I’m talking about. It’s all good though. If I ever meet him, I’m not gonna call him bhes. Mark my words, if I ever get to shake George W.’s hand, I’m taking the opportunity to knock his ass out. Georgie boy, if your Patriot Act and your Homeland Security has you reading this blog, if you know what’s good for you, you’d better watch out, nigga.
-If I say I’m attracted to my anesthesiologist, would you believe me, or would you chalk it up to her being the last sight I see before blissful sleep and pain reduction?
-I think it’s sad how diminutive our PM looked next to Bush. On a positive note, I gotta hand it to him for rockin’ that baby blue turban. He’s a Sikh after my own heart. Ifr I were a Sikh PM and were excited to see Bush, that’s what I’d do.
-My dad has very similar tastes in movie actors. He’s encouraging my distaste for Shah Rukh. I was in a cyber café today, the one I frequented in Nadiad, and my dad was reading the paper and he came across some article and a picture of Shah Rukh holding a laptop and saying how much he likes it. My dad excitedly came over to show me the picture of my “friend.” I started up an impression of what Shah Rukh must have been saying… “I. Just. Really love. This. Computer. Frankly…I’ve. Never. Been. This. Excited. About. Anything. Before. In. My. Life.” Haha, my dad and I got a good laugh out of that. When we were watching Mangal Pandey, one of the Englishmen got mad and started yelling in English and my dad commented that he’s just like Shah Rukh, only the odd thing about Shah Rukh is that while most people revert to their most comfortable, natural language when they get mad, Shah Rukh goes to English, in which he sounds awkward and goofy at best.
-Oh, I’ve been thinking some more about Rang De Basanti and going back to some of the things from the movie in my mind and I realized that I really like this movie. I highly recommend it. It seems like the logical successor to Lagaan and Mangal Pandey. The task for those two movies was easier than this one. They were historical period pieces. How to create that spirit and tell that story now, though? The characters at first struggled to relate to and retell the stories of history’s freedom fighters in today’s age. A spark was needed to waken them and make the story real for them. The spark, true to Aamir Khan’s movie-making tradition, comes from outside. And then, something happens that makes history not only real, but possible and necessary. The transition is masterfully done, I think, as is the parallel story-telling. I’m a sucker for that smile that Aamir Khan gives near the end, just as he had before collapsing after being beaten in Mangal Pandey. It’s really unfortunate that this movie, made in the modern activist tradition, and which does such a great job of examining what it is to sacrifice for one’s country, what are the risks, the criticisms, obstacles one will face, and who/what is the enemy today…that it will almost certainly not be anywhere close to as successful as a movie like Veer-Zaara, which is purported to being able to unite Pakistanis and Indians forever when it is just the usual Hindi movie love story done once more. I also like how the characters are so lackadaisical for so long until it all hits close to home for them and they can finally step into the shoes of their heroes. It’s, all around, a very realistic movie, I think. Check it out.
-Did I mention that I’m having a lot of fun with my dad and feeling really close to him? A year, year and a half ago, I would struggle to find something to talk to him about. Actually, I think that’s true even 3 months ago. I think he’s changed a lot lately (I guess we both have). He’s so relaxed and relatively carefree here and his nature and personality seem to have significantly changed. I mean, we can all feel relaxed on vacations, but I’m with the guy 24/7. I can tell if he’s relaxed on the surface or relaxed to the core, and he’s close to being the latter, if not completely so. My dad’s a cool guy and he’s becoming cooler by the day.
-So I went to the Ayurvedic hospital in Nadiad yesterday to visit my friends. I met Jayvirbhai, who’s chilling, doing better, but not progressing as fast anymore since Isabell and I both left him at about the same time. Devendrabhai wasn’t around. He’d just gotten surgery done on him the day before so he had taken the day off. I didn’t get to tell him that I’d met Pramukh Swami. As a Bochasanwasi Swaminarayan, he’d surely have been insanely jealous to hear that, but what can I do? I probably deserve to meet Pramukh Swami more anyway, haha. I met Deepakbhai, some of the other familiar staff, and Jayvirbhai’s mom, who deserves her own section.
-I met Jayvirbhai’s mom, who instantly started crying like crazy. She calls me “my child.” I felt so bad instantly after meeting her cuz when I asked her how Jayvirbhai’s doing, she said that Isabell and I had both left him and so, with no one to help him through exercises, he’d stopped progressing at the previous rate. When I met her, I did “page laag” to her (bowed down and touched her feet). Even though my parents often want me to touch many different people’s feet…every time we meet or leave someone special in some way…I resist as much as I can and I don’t like being told to do it. Mann thi namvu joyye (it’s important that you “bow with your mind”) is what I feel. I don’t like the idea of doing it to show respect. It’s a very meaningful gesture. If I don’t wish to walk in the person’s footsteps, then I shouldn’t be touching his feet. It’s not for the sake of the other person as much as it’s for the person bowing…that’s how I feel at least. Well, anyway, Jayvirbhai’s mom is a simple, uneducated woman, but one with a very sincere, faithful nature. More than praying for Jayvirbhai’s recovery, I prayed that this woman would be given strength and patience. Hmm…sorry if I’ve already said some of the following…I don’t remember…but yeah, she’s going through so much and so much is demanded of her…and really, God’s miracles aren’t the way we imagine them. We get what we wish for, but not in the way we want or expect. If Jayvirbhai has a savior, it’s this woman. Jayvirbhai has lost faith in God. He asks where He was when he fell, if He’s really looking out for him. He doesn’t like doing prayers and talking about God and such. His father believes that God sends more hardship to those who have faith in Him and so they’re paying the price for being devout. His mother somehow keeps up her faith, laughs off the thoughts of her son and husband, encourages their faith, and gets them to do little prayers and make little changes in their thinking. Also, she has the other patients to worry about—that is, their influence on her son. JVB has the mind of a child, since so much is new to him. So some of the other patients amuse themselves by getting JVB to say and do funny things. JVB enjoys it…and I gotta hand it to him and his parents for the way they’ve raised him. He’s a gentleman and has clearly defined limits. But still, he’s impressionable, the way children are, and should be treated accordingly…as an adult, but one who is in mental rehab and needs supportive encouragement. Instead, people use him to pass their time. His mom tries to keep him away from them, but he resists her, pushes her away, pooh-poohs her cautiousness, and she relents. This is why she’d encourage him to spend so much time with me when I was around. When I wasn’t exercising with him, I was usually doing Su-Doku, and he’d go through newspapers, remember people, words, etc. and ask me questions, and we’d go back and forth with little quizzes and things to test his memory and understanding. Now, I dunno. They don’t have much money. He’s a good looking, likeable, educated guy. He was, that is…and he was their pride and joy, their future. Now she’s willing to spend any amount of time or money to fix him, but what she needs is perhaps some more strength and patience…and some more people to help them…at least to get by until Isabell returns. Well, anyway, I can only hope that things work out for the best for them. Things like these happen to good people for good reasons…but we have to be strong and patient long enough to find out those reasons. In the meanwhile, I just wanted to let you know how amazing and strong and patient I already think this woman is…I hope and plan to see her at least once more while we’re here.
-Did I mention that I met someone here who is in a laughing club and attends it every morning? Yup, I just did.
-So we went to another marriage, including another wedding procession. The way it works is, since the guy’s and girl’s villages are far apart, the guy’s side processes around in his village, then proceeds over to the girl’s village in cars or a bus or something, then proceeds to process around there a bit, causing a ruckus and raising a general hoopla or something, and then they proceed to get married. We made an appearance during the part of the procession in the guy’s village and I got to experience another level of hotness and uncomfortableness. It was the afternoon, so it was hot, the village was dirty and dusty, we had a lot of people packed together walking very slowly while people are dancing and very loud music is playing far too close to our ears. Oh, speaking of which, I realized two more things I definitely must have at my wedding…male-on-male dancing and a drunk, dancing uncle. Haha, just kidding. Sadly, though, this has been a theme at a lot of the weddings I’ve seen during this and the previous trip I made to India. There’s nothing that can be done about the all-guy dancing…that’s how these tend to go. It’s mostly for the bridegroom’s friends to have an opportunity to dance. The girls in the family also get involved. But a recent trend has been that all the guys get plastered beforehand and they all collectively act a fool for several hours. This leads to a lot of other dumb things when they reach the site of the wedding…like lifting the groom up when the bride is putting the garland on him and stuff like that. Sorry, it’s too much to explain if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Again, suffice it to say that things will be different at my wedding.
-From here, we headed over to a temple on the way to the wedding. The temple was for Ranchod Rai…that is, a mandir with an idol of Krushhna Bhagvan when he “ran from the battlefield.” Something like that. This is apparently a big place of pilgrimage and there’s a lot of significance and a story behind this place, this temple and this idol, but unfortunately I didn’t know any of it, so it was all odd to me. The idol was a big black thing with big white eyes. I wish I had some context to appreciate all of this. People were going crazy when they opened the doors in front of the idol and let everyone do darshan, and I was just confused. Oh, they let the women go up closer than the men, which I thought was a nice reversal considering the back seat they get in so many other places in religion. A really sad thing about the whole experience—and it was naïve of me not to see it coming, but then again, I didn’t know we were going there—was the business of it all. There were so many beggars outside, most children or women carrying children. I made the mistake of assuming two small ones that came up to me were related, and I gave one all my money. They then argued with each other and me and I got one to relinquish a bit of her money, but that’s it. My dad gave money too, but several children actually asked for more money from me and him, and he and my Kaka ended up taking money back from some of them and sending them on their way. The shop people in the area treated the beggars with disdain when they bothered us while we were buying their wares, but really, all I saw was a temple, some pilgrims, and a whole lot of beggars. There were the lowest class, the children and young mothers who were straight-up begging. There were all the people trying to get us to buy their various wares (what’s that called…hawking? Man, in some ways, my vocabulary has worsened). They held their heads higher, but the fact remains that they’re profiting off of people’s faith. People come from miles away, many on foot, to get a glimpse of this one idol. And these people live there and set up shop everyday to take their money. And then, there’s the third class…they work in the temple and they have the greatest dignity—or ego, rather. They are in charge of opening the viewing doors and collecting donations. They sit around and joke with each other as they watch the people aching with anticipation and count down the seconds until they can give the people what they want, as if God is theirs to give. Then they open the doors with a flourish and lean over the crowds holding ropes and rolling money around in their collection bins with flair, as if they’re putting on a show. They’re like house performers, jaded by it all. I really wish I knew whatever I needed to know to feel more so that I could focus on that and ignore all of this, but I guess it’s hard to miss for me. Of all these people, I like the people who openly begged the most. I wish I had come prepared with small change and coins, so that I could give a little to each until I ran out, and just give to each as if I’m giving to God, but I’m sure no matter how I did things, I’d have left there feeling unsettled.
-We then went to the wedding itself. Let’s see, this was my dad’s cousin’s wife’s nephew’s wedding. That’s enough to qualify me for attendance (or I could just be some random guy passing by the hall with an empty stomach…no one would really know).

Is it possible to be a pure non-vegetarian?

2006-03-03T07:26:00.000-08:00

-I wore my boxers backwards all day yesterday…just to switch things up a bit. Then today, I almost put them on backwards again and I realized the real reason I put them on backwards yesterday. The woman who’s been washing our clothes here folds my clothes the opposite of how I do them. That’s it. Sad, huh, how mechanical I can be?
-A fun subplot to our days lately has been my shoddy memory. The ECT has scrambled my short-term memory, so I’m always asking my dad to clarify what happened, what didn’t, and what was a dream.
-I don’t have to take medication anymore!
-Okay, so the issue is more than just me getting upset once in a while. It’s about showing proper responses when I am wronged. We’re working on this through cognitive behavioral therapy, so I’ll leave it at that.
-Bush is in India. As I type this, he’s on TV making a speech. Jerk. He had to follow me here and ruin my vacation. I tell people here that he’s visiting India because he’s tired of ruining our country, so he’s here to destroy theirs. The sad thing is that this isn’t a joke that has some truth to it. This is a truth that has some humor in it.
-There is a fundamental difference between me and celebrities. Take Sania Mirza for example. She drinks Sprite. But she doesn’t just drink it. She smiles at it, sighs, shakes her head, closes her eyes and takes it in as if it’s the nectar of the Gods. Me, I don’t smile at my food or ask it how its day went. I just eat it. If it’s liquid, I just drink it. This is why I’ll never be a celebrity.
-India fell apart today in cricket. Kaif and Kumble tried to salvage something, but went down together at the end of the day.
-I’m gaining weight. I’m looking “healthy,” or as much as I’ve ever looked. We’re eating fruits by the bushel here. It’s as if all we do here is eat and prepare food to be eaten. It sure would be nice to have 10 fruit carts on the same block as me back at home.
-There’s this Sikh guy on England’s team. He’s a bowler. He’s a stocky guy, but when he celebrates, he runs around with his hands flailing and gives bent-elbow jumping high 5s. It’s something you gotta see. There’s something to be said about the sheer joy he expresses, aside from the hilarity of stocky bearded men giving bent-elbow high 5s.
-Bush is doing his post-speech meet and greet…and he’s meeting all white people. We have white people back at home too. He’s come this far, he might as well see some brown people. Here, there are brown people outside of the museum. Live, wild (and tame) brown people…all over the place. You can’t miss them. You’re sure to run into them…unless you’re Bush, who has had entire hotels and cities swept clean of dirt, bombs, listening devices and brown people. Some people’s reputation precedes them. Bush’s whiteness precedes him.
-Did I mention there was a son of a test player here? Well, even if I did, his dad was at the first-class level, not international. Anyway, so the son is funny. He has no kind of memory. He sounds like he’s stoned all the time, except I’m pretty sure he’s sober. It’s fun being a sane guy in a mental hospital. Crazy people have a way of making you feel insane. I asked this guy where he’s from and he said, “Baroda, of course.” I said that I wasn’t going to assume he was from this city (after all, I’m anything but). He could be from anywhere. He answered that he’s not from anywhere, but it would be nice to be. He later told me he’s a world citizen, not an Indian citizen. He refers to religion as “tradition” and is so surprised that I follow that stuff. He’s also surprised that I’m a vegetarian. Families make people vegetarian….that’s what families do, that and asking where you’re going when you go out. He’s a pure non-vegetarian. Anyway, I’m not completely sane and he’s not insane. He’s just free and different, and it’s cool to run into people like that because they look at the world from a whole other perspective, one that’s very fresh.
-Haha, my dad browses the internet with his mouth open. He looks like a little kid, like the internet is so exciting for him that he can't take it all in at once.
-After seeing the muslims in this country, the way they dress and their facial hair and how they talk and seem, I feel Dipu was meant to be muslim. He'd be so happy if he were muslim. Trust me. At least, I know I'd be happy seeing him play the part.

What's Eating Birju Blueberry?, Mangal Pandey review

2006-03-02T07:15:00.000-08:00

-Yesterday, we rented a DVD with Mangal Pandey and No Entry. No Entry was a bootleg. It has Salman in an adulterous role, trying to corrupt other not-yet-adulterous men. I was going to say that this means I don't like him in it, but then I realized I don't like him in any role. Neither does my dad, so I feel encouraged in not liking him. It was a really bad shooting, so I didn't finish watching it.
-Mangal Pandey I did watch. However, because of scratches on the DVD and the unbelievably loud music coming from the area behind us--some sorta party or wedding or something--I missed a lot of the dialogue and details. Even so, I really liked this movie. I really enjoy Aamir Khan's movie making. We got to see a lot of the same cast in this movie as in Lagaan, but the movie was perhaps even more open-minded and the direction even more remarkable. Oh, I got to see Rani, which is always good. This movie proved that even when bashing people over the head with blunt objects, Rani is still really cute. Ameesha Patel also had a cameo. It seems the producers saw her remarkable job of crying in Aap Mujhe Achche Lagne Lage and so they gave her this role (just kidding...I need to take it easy on her). Like Rang De Basanti and Lagaan, this shows good and bad white people and good and bad brown people, cuz guess what...that's how people are in real life! For its open-mindedness, its thoroughness, its ability to provoke thought, its powerful and visually stunning cinematography...I recommend at least checking out this movie. I have to watch it again in its entirety in silence to really take it in, but I've seen enough to know that it's worth seeing. If you don't know, it's about the Sepoy Rebellion, I think it's been labelled as, when Indian soldiers in the British Army in India fought back because of various injustices, including the use of pig and cow fats on the casings of gunpowder, I believe.
-Oh man, did I mention that the pineapples here are so good that eating them reminds me of God? I kept saying Omigod, Omigod, Omigod while eating them. They taste like jolly ranchers, or better...I can't believe they're real and natural. It's as if they were soaked in syrup.
-My dad is a nifty judge of talent, at least of genuineness in acting. He likes the three guys from Dil Chahtaa Hai, Sunil Shetty, Shruti's guy Anil Kapoor and yesterday, he pointed to a picture of Ajay Devgan (sorry dunno how to spell his name) and said, "I haven't seen his movies, but he seems like a good actor." Haha, just from seeing a picture of him, he determined that.
-Englishmen have such cute eyes. They look like filled-in greater than and less than signs.
-Had my first counselling session today. I ranked honesty high on my list of valued values, even though the majority of people wouldn't do the same. What does this mean? Well, that I have to be flexible. If I have a lot of musts and shoulds in my vocabulary regarding other people, I'm going to spend a lot of time upset, as the good doctor believes I have up until the present. Here's the problem. I let myself get upset about things I cannot change, and about which people around me don't care so much. This emotional pain becomes physical pain through my subconscious mind, which relieves some of the emotional pain, thus creating the primary gain. My physical pain grants me compassion, sympathy, attention-all of which my earlier complaints didn't get. This is the secondary gain, which reenforces the first process. Something like that. I need to be careful because I set high standards for myself in uncommon ways and get upset when others around me don't live up to them. Again, this is all I've been told about myself. I'm still trying to figure out and understand how it's true about me. I'm wondering if it directly explains my illness. What was I so upset about during the greatest summer of my life? And was I really getting external reenforcing in response to my physical ailment? I dunno, but let this be a lesson to you and I both on what not to do in the future. I'll keep you posted on further developments.
-My pulse is very good, strong, in the 70s.
-My appetite is increased, though so is my pooping.....................................what?
-Oh, the Englishman comment isn't completely random. I was watching the India/England test match which started yesterday. That's when I mamde this observation, which I've made before, just not out loud (what's that? You think maybe I should have kept it that way? Oh)
-Speaking of Tests, a fellow patient here is the son of a former Indian Test player. He's here to get off a heroin addiction.
-Most of the patients here are getting off addictions of some sort. Most of the staff are former addicts who are volunteering their services now that they are back on the wagon (or is it off? -- little Seinfeld allusion for ya)-The moon tonight looks exactly like a cheshire cat's smile following me around. If you act quick, you can see what I mean.

Rang De Basanti review

2006-02-28T00:23:00.000-08:00

We saw Rang De Basanti today. I really enjoyed it. In some parts, the direction was odd, but in most, it was quite wonderful. For a patriotic film, I thought it was open-minded and outside the ordinary. In presenting the various feelings, motivations, misgivings, and repercussions of martyrs and their actions, this movie goes beyond the formulaic, cookie-cutter model in which Legend of Bhagat Singh was made, where everything is black and white, good vs. evil. It's easy to trust a movie that shows the harmful effects of its protagonists. It's hard to trust one that groups Gandhiji with the enemy and portrays him as being a weak, misguided fool. I don't remember Spike Lee having to portray Dr. King that was to get some respect for Malcolm X (then again, Jose was talking to me while I was watching X, so who knows how much I missed). You know, this movie probably would have been fine if most of its "songs" were removed. Oh, and Aamir Khan's a nut. But everything from the youth's lack of seriousness in the beginning to their reluctance in awakening, to the spirited end...the more I think back to the film, the more I love it all.

You think YOU'VE had a mild winter?

2006-02-27T07:22:00.000-08:00

-Get this...day before yesterday, it was 40 degrees Celsius here. That's 104 degrees Fahrenheit. And that was still 15 days before the end of winter here.
-I had the best pineapple and grapes of my life today. My God, the pineapple was so sweet that it seemed like the ones that come in cans with sweetened syrup. My brother and mother missed out...they would have loved these.
-I really like Vadodara. The streets and the air are clean and there are a lot of cool shops and places.
-My dad loves Sunil Shetty, haha.
-I think we're gonna go see Rang De Basanti soon. My dad likes Aamir Khan, I believe, and his girl, his favorite actress of all time, Waheeda Rehman, is also in it.
-Yesterday was MahaShivratri. They were selling bhang on the streets. Ask my brother's roommate and he'll explain all about it. My dad had a teaspoonful as prasad, his first sip ever of it.
-The weather's been so nice in the mornings and evenings here. I love the way the air feels on my skin.

How’s this for a news flash?

2006-02-26T05:07:00.000-08:00

-I’m feeling better! 20-30% better. And I’ve only had one ECT treatment so far. I went out for lunch, to an internet café, and just to walk, three times in all yesterday, and my body felt great. My headache is lessened too. Oh, I can’t describe how this feels. I was so happy, I felt like skipping. My mind feels so clear and free…it’s like springtime in my skull. My body felt like it moved so effortlessly. I thought I had remembered what it was like to be healthy, but I guess I’d forgotten, because it caught me by surprise. I found myself thinking, “Does everyone feel even better than this while playing basketball and football with me? That’s not fair!” Oh man are you guys gonna pay for it, especially in football. No wait, I’m only kidding, I swear (God forbid that God reads my blog and thinks, “Hmm, I guess you’re not quite ready for this, my child”).
-I went for my night walk in shorts yesterday. I haven’t worn shorts outside, except while playing sports, in years. I’m very conservative.
-The doctor speaks very good English. He got part of his psych education in England. With me, to be casual, he curses a lot in English. But, of course, he curses like an Indian, so it only startles me or makes me want to laugh.
-I’m having strange déjà vu and flashbacks. You know how sometimes, you’re in the middle of an event or something and you step back in your mind and take it all in and say, “I wish I would never forget how I feel right now”? Well, I’m having a deluge of such déjà vu/flashbacks of different feelings from different times in my life and different activities. It’s really strange. A lot of the things, I had all but forgotten and am now being reminded of. Maybe it’s because my memory is being shaken up. I hope this means that my recall will improve. It could use some improving.
-I got cereal! I’m just waiting for them to give me some milk to eat it with. I have mango corn flakes and some kind of muesli. I’m very excited.
-Wait, isn’t today my brother from another mother, rajU’s (Rajiv’s) birthday? It’s somewhere around today. Happy Birthday to Rajiv, who’s not reading this, but oh well, what can you do?
-To celebrate Rajiv’s birthday, I went out and had some real American pizza (the stuff yesterday was a sad mockery of it) at a place appropriately called US Pizza. The place was nice…clean too. We had the unlimited pizza combo. I got some lemon and vegetable soup, an unlimited salad bar pass, some garlic bread, as many slices of two kinds of pizza, coke (they didn’t have any non-carbonated beverages, so I had to stick with this), and a brownie sundae for dessert.
*The pizza was good. It was like Pizzeria Uno, you know, deep dish.
*I forgot…Indians have a habit of putting ketchup on their pizza. Ajitbhai, one of the staff guys here (remind me to tell you more about him/them), who took me there, encouraged me to put ketchup on my pizza. Hemantbhai, another, older, staff member, who works at the restaurant, which is owned by Dr. Patel, took out some spicy brown mustard and encouraged me to put that on my pizza. I tried both on a small piece of pizza, but didn’t enjoy or stick to them. I think these condiments are more novel to them and that’s why they enjoy them here. I stuck to the usual peppers and oregano.
*There was a guy in the table next to us who had a full-blown, curly-haired mullet. He looked like something right off an 80s album cover.
*The sundae was so good. The brownie was nice and warm, and the ice cream cold.
*The doctor has the Swadhyay “What is Life?” thing on the counter (you know, “Life is a challenge…meet it” etc.). I got excited to see that.
*I saw a big movie theater on the way home (it’s showing 5 movies at once, which is huge for India). I might go see Rang De Basanti there soon).
-The dumb pigeons keep walking by on the sill outside our window and poking their heads in. When we leave the window open, though there’s a grating outside of it that makes their entry difficult, they still come in and walk around before I can scare them out. Amit would have a field day with them.
-My dad drank bhang today. What’s in bhang anyway? My dad says it’s not weed. He had just a spoonful, his first ever, as “prasad” for Shivratri, which is today. He didn’t want any; he just wanted to ask the guy selling it if he was really selling bhang and if he was doing it for the holiday/utsav. The guy held out a spoonful to taste and as prasad so my dad finally took it. The guy stated that Shivji himself drank bhang. My dad pointed out, as has Dadaji, that Shivji drank poison too, but we don’t drink that as prasad.
-Most of the staff here are recovered alcoholics who were successfully treated by Dr. Patel. At least one of them has learned counseling and has assisted in the treatment of someone else’s alcoholism.
-I have to keep the IV thing in my arm for anesthesia…in case they suddenly need to restrain me. Actually, it’s there because I’ll be getting ECT again tomorrow. I can’t wait. I’m only 1/8th of the way through my treatment and I feel 20-30% better. At this rate, I’ll be between 160-240% better in all!
-Oh, my dad and I are getting along wonderfully right now. I mean, really, we haven't gotten along this well in....well, I don't remember when we last got along this well...maybe when I first came home from school four and a half years ago.
-Um, I'm using a computer running on something called Windows FD right now. huh?

The first try a successful one

2006-02-24T05:46:00.000-08:00

-I had my first ECT session yesterday. I hardly remember anything at all that happened around that time. I had to keep asking questions to my dad to be able to piece things together. I don't remember being anesthesized (sp?). My head, jaw and throat hurt, probably from all the biting and grinding and such that I did in my induced seizure. My dad was shaken up afterwards, as I knew he would be, which is why I told him to stay outside during the process. He saw at least part of my reaction and got really worried. He was more compassionate afterwards than I ever remember him being.
-I went out to an internet cafe today. I also ate out at the restaurant that provides my tiffins. I had "Italian pizza," which was a tiny pizza with sweet peppers and onions, and Vegetarian Hakka Noodles, which was quite good. I also had a pineapple milkshake.
-I've been reading a book by an author I've mentioned before (I'll discuss it in greater detail when I'm done). In it, it's revealed that Narendra Modi, Chief Minister of Gujarat, was heading Gujarat during the state-sponsored pogrom against Muslims, and that this is understandable when you consider that he is part of the RSS, which has fascist ideology and has openly admired Hitler and his tactics. That said, I've made my decision on whether or not to admire Modi. Here's a good excerpt from this book:"Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them."
-I still have an IV needle stuck in my arm since the 23rd. It's actually not uncomfortable and I haven't had bruising. Still, if Amit knew about this, he wouldn't be happy.

On sincerity and shrikhand

2006-02-22T04:43:00.000-08:00

-Yesterday, I ate shrikhand. Only a half teaspoonful. I wasn't in the mood to eat anything at all.
-This was because I was feeling quite terrible. I stil had a fever and diarrhea. The medicines I'd been taking here were making me extremely sleepy and dizzy. So much so that when I woke up at 4 AM to go to the bathroom, I fell twice inside the bathroom. The first time I fell, I actually went to sleep. I awoke soon afterwards-I don't know if it'd been a few secondes or minutes-thinking I was in my bed and realizing that I was on the floor next to the toilet, with the water in the toilet and sink still running. Whta had happened was that when I was sitting on the toilet, I had started to feel nauseous. So, I finished up so that I'd be able to throw up in the sink if I had to. I washed my hands and flushed the toilet. The toilets here mostly do not have tanks. Water keeps flowing in until you turn it off. At this point, I was overwhelmed with dizziness so, though the sink faucet was still running, I lowered my head to rest it on the sink edge. You have to understand, my state was 10% awake, 90% in a state of sleep/unconsciousness. I'm still unsure how I managed to get out of the bathroom and into bed, considering there's a step there that could easily be missed by someone not in control of his senses. I put my head down and the world changed its orientation so that when I reset my coordinates, I found myself on the floor. Then I ot up, turned off the flush and sink faucets and went to leave the bathroom and again somehow found myself on the floor with my back soaked, as I had fallen onto a bucket of water. All this is I pieced together afterwards. All I understood then was that I was sleeping in the wrong place. Then, I got up and successfully stumbled out and into my bed. I slept all day yesterday and it took a lot of prodding to get me up to drink milk, eat lunch, give samples of my stool and urine for testing, and take medicine. Oh, but with lunch, of which I ate very little, I decided I wanted some fruit juice, as it would go down easier and still give me energy. I got fresh-squeezed pineapple juice! Oh man, do I love pineapples.
-My dad is staying here now, ever since he heard that I fell. If he could adopt a lasseiz-faire (sp?) policy, his presence would be wonderful. Instead, my weakened state seems to encourage him to take greater control over all matters concerning me and freedom to make decisions for me. This would be fine if he were accustomed to "putting himself in others' shoes" and thinking/deciding accordingly, only he's not. Not at all [Ed.: As I post this, I'm feeling better and my dad is here. He and I are getting along well and he's more hands off. He seemed to just have been very fearful before because I had fallen twice. I've never fallen like that before].
-Anyway, something funny just happened. I said to my dad, who is bringing his computer here soon, that it would be good if we had a phone line here. We could go online from our room and not need to go to internet cafes. My dad told me to mention this to the doctor and see what can be done. He said to say that it is my computer, not that he was using it to do his company work. He said that he had told the doctor that he had quit his job when he left for India, "so that he can see that we're sincere [in our commitment to get me healthy]." Haha, do you see the irony in this? Friends, from what little I've practiced and understood of sincerity, I can say with conviction that it is not so easily practiced or conveyed as that. His statement and its irony struck me immediately and I started to think about it. My dad stopped talking and asked why I was smiling. I wasn't aware that I was. Really, I wasn't aware of myself at that point. I was lost in my thoughts. It was probably in my eyes and the corners of my mouth that the hint of a smile showed, but my dad has gotten used to picking up that little bit of a smile that shows on my mouth, and I will probably never improve at hiding what I feel inside.
-After the good doctor read my autobiography, he said one thing-that I had led a difficult life. I think and responded that there are many others that have had much worse. The failures and rejections I've had over the last few years, especially as they've come almost on top of each other, have been tough, for sure, but I think it's my home life that's been the real difficulty. And there, as much as my parents are responsible, I am equally responsible for taking everything they are, have said , and done to herat. I see the wisdom of my younger brother and some of my friends, who seemed so insensitive when they demanded to their parents that things be a certain way, and were stubborn about it, and my foolishness in accepting things I didn't like, which didn't sit well with me, and thinking it noble to do so. My dad's friend's friend, who was an allopathic doctor, but who had studied therapeutic yoga, and whose instructor had told him to give up medicine and practice only yoga, as he was able to cure people now without the use of medicines, this man, I say, listened to my symptoms and said that there's nothing wrong with my body. I had just undergone an emotional stress that was too much for me to handle. I've heard many such explanations, but I don't think such an acute experience is the cause of this. Rather, I believe in what Melanie said, that I've led an existence that doesn't sit well with my mind, and my body is trying to tell me.
-Based on my test results, I show signs of an infection in my stool and urine, have high ketone levels in my urine, and low levels of potassium. I've been getting IVs of antibiotics and electrolytes. The doctor asked me what it means that I have high ketones in my urine, and I responded that it means my body is breaking down muscle, which means I'm not eating enough. This was just the point he wanted to make. Now that I think about it, though, if that's the right answer, I wouldn't be able to explain why. I kinda just said it. I don't remember what happens when you don't eat enough. My mind is so numb. I'm forgetting things more than usual and making so many mistakes even when speaking simple Gujarati. My English is still good, though I don't bother with grammar. this should all subside as I get used to the medication and start treatment, which I shall do shortly.

I wrote an autobiography

2006-02-22T04:37:00.000-08:00

-You know those trees...I thinhk we cal them "vaad." They're called banyan trees in English, I believe. Their branches touch the ground and become roots. When I see them, I get a strong desire to go and sit under them.
-I'm admitted into this psych hospital. The staff are nice and do whatever we ask of them, since we can't go out without a chaperone. My window lets in a lot of sunlight. I have a good view of the surrounding poverty. They get me "tiffins" from across the street, which is convenient, but wasteful. I'm not in the mood to eat though because I still have diarrhea and a fever. I also am unbelievably sleepy. I saw the Crazy 8s scene from Kill Bill on TV just now, along with the fight between Thurman and Liu's characters, and a bit beyond. I especially love the Crazy 8s scene though.
-The good doctor had me write down my whole "history," so I wrote an 8 page autobiography. He says I have schizoeffective something or other with mass depression. I'll be having ECT done on me.

When you're drivin' in a Chevy and you feel something heavy...

2006-02-20T04:26:00.000-08:00

-Please excuse me while I gush a bit more abou the Indian cricket team. They rested Tendulkar and Pathan, as the series was already won, Sehwag already wasn't playing, and they had five bowlers, and they had lost only two wickets on the way to winning. Even while Dhoni and Singh were both playing the required run climbed to 8.5 per over, and still they plugged away, patiently until Dhoni just went buck and a limping Singh found boundary after boundary. But what I can't get over is, unless I'm mistaken, Dhoni is my age, Yuvraj is younger than me.
-Meeting Pramukh Swami was nice, too. There's so much sweetness in his eyes, speech and actions. I'm sorry though that people like me waste the time of big people like him with petty personal problems, especially people like me who get in through connections when so many others can't, especially considering that half the population can't see him at all. I pray that he can work with God to remove the petty fighting that separates so many Swaminarayan devotees. That's much more important than helping me.
-I got the runs. 4 1/2 months into my stay in India, I get it. It's an inevitability. It happened the same way as last time. I had a lot of meals out, at weddings and such, and little rest for some time, followed by home- and temple-cooked food and an attempt at rest, only to get diarrhea as a result. This started yesterday. Today, I also have a fever and incredible body pains. I'm hoping now that I'm at the psych hospital in Vadodara, I'll get rest and feel better soon.
-Yesterday, we (Lala Kaka's kids, Rahil and Hiten, and Lala Kaka's sister's son, Tushar, and I) took the picture of the bathroom at Udaipur, in all its original 4 Megapixel glory, and enlarged the toilet and made it my dad's wallpaper. He's gonna have a pleasant surprise today

I met Pramukh Swami!

2006-02-19T08:56:00.000-08:00

-Yup. I met him. I got his ashirvaad. You can guess why we went to do it, though I'm naive. I didn't realize until I was there for quite some time and we were getting a private audience with him why we were there. Silly me, I didn't want to wake up this morning and I was going to tell my dad that he should go on without me, I was going to sleep in. This event and talking to some other people who were with us about my health had similar results to everything I've done previously, so you can figure it out. I don't feel like discussing my thoughts or decisions on this, except to say that I feel bad for my dad...people have him quite confused and worried. I'm not sure if I should snap him out of it (well, I'd have to completely snap myself out of it first) or go along with some of what he wants for the sake of not destroying his faith or something...you know, when your parents feel something so strongly that you do something small for them even though you don't believe in it because you know it'll mean a lot to them. That sorta thing.
-If you're not in the know about all that is swaminarayan-ism-osity, as my friend Hetal once called it, let me explain a bit. They have several different sects, including two big ones that are fighting to the death or something. Their main bases or roots are Vadtal and Bochasan. We met Pramukh Swami in Bochasan and then went directly to Vadtal to do darshan there. This is quite blasphemous, but that's how we roll.
-I miss listening to the Gorillaz and the Mars Volta. I miss my car CD player too, especially since Khelan got it working just beforfe I left to come here. I guess I miss all my music, but especially these two CDs lately since they don't have the kind of songs that I can sing from memory and I had grown to love them before I left.-India did really well in bowling at first today, but then gave up a lot of runs at the end to end up with a chase target of 287. They started off really slow, but Singh and Dhoni put on an AMAZING chase at the end. Dhoni had four 6s in the last few overs...towering 6s. It was unbelievable how fast they came back. Singh got over 25, I believe, with a hurt hamstring, hardly able to walk, with a runner running for him. Anyway, check it out. Oh, in the under-19 final, also India vs. Pakistan, India destroyed Pakistan with its bowling, and then got doubly destroyed when it had its turn to bat. Pakistan ended up winning easily. The records for bowling that were set are astounding. Check it out too. Bye

Aap jaisa koi meri zindagi mein aaye to BAP ban jaaye

2006-02-18T08:55:00.000-08:00

-Don't you hate being in between haircuts?
-But don't you love those topless convertible trucks? How free it must feel to drive them!
-Today we left for the house at 4 in the morning and went to Saadangpur to a famous Hanumanji temple there. I took a dip in a pool there into which was pumped water from holy rivers (don't you wish we had holy rivers there? Imagine the Hudson, East and Passaic rivers were considered holy? Hmm...maybe it's better they weren't). It was good. This mandir is famous for performing "miracles." That's why I'm here. After my bath, I took part in a small ritual and am told to now do certain maalaas (turns chanting certain mantras on rosary beads) and light a divo for certain murtis everydya for 17 months. 17! That's a lon time. I feel bad saying this already. It's easily possible if I really believe in it, but it's a long time to do something that all around doesn't agree with me. I'm wondering if I'm just trying to talk myself out of it. Then again, why should I so easily do something that doesn't fit my beliefs? And why is it so difficult just to understand my own mind, let alone my life or anyone else?
-Aap jaisa koi meri zindagi mein aaye, to BAP banjaaye...I know that's not how it goes but wouldn't it be cool if it were?
-Just as there's a gas station franchise named after me there (BP), there's one here named after HP. It's called HP.
-Lala Kaka's eyes are always red. I'm with him most of the day and yet it seems he's finding time to sneak away and toke or hit something.

My hopes are so high that shrikhand might kill me, so won't you kill me, so I die happy

2006-02-17T08:15:00.000-08:00

-Indians repair and reuse everything. At the internet cafe in Udaipur, I saw a repairman fix a swivel chair that had screws falling out under the seat and would long ago have been thrown out of most offices or house in the US (I could use a repairman for the seat at my computer at home. It has only one of four screws holding the seat on remaining). Today I saw my dad's second oldest brother's bike still being used today, thirty years after he used it, maybe longer. The guy using it had the seat replaced. There, good as new. Clothes are used until they are utterly threadbare, passed on if they are too small. Why keep them for so long? You can easily replace them. Well, for answers, read where Thoreau talks about clothes in Walden or the mantras repeated to children in their sleep in Brave New World.
-Lala Kaka reminds me of my brother. The way he stands, walks, talks to and looks at people, drives a scooter or car...I think my brother will be like him when he grows up.
-I went to Lala Kaka's farm today. They're growing potatoes right now. Sitting on the maachado, I think it's called (a platform with hay on it and some potato bags on top of it) under a mango tree in the middle of the potato field, with the wind blowing past...it's so peaceful and comfortable and soothing. All the birds are singing and the air is so crisp and clean, it was an indescribable experience...and there I went, messing it up by trying to eff the ineffable, as one of the bhaio in Vidyapeeth would say. Before we did anything, Lala Kaka cleaned up the area under and around the mango tree, fed the watchdogs, lighted some agarbattis (incense sticks), and prayed to (I think we call it agarbatti/divone chadaave in Gujarati, but I don't know how else to describe it in English) the fields, the sun and the soil, touched the soil and touched his heart and head, all while saying some shlokas, I don't know which.
-Later on, I was reading a book and Lala Kaka wanted to see what else I had. He pulled out my greatest hits of Kahlil Gibran book. Now, I forgot to mention this, I think, but the book is interspersed with black and white drawings of naked people. The people are doing all sorts of strange things, and in many, if not all, cases, I could see that they had something to do with the poems. But still, why naked people? Was/is Gibran an artist too? The covers also have these drawings. I guess I'd thought nothing of that fact or ignored it when looking at the book, though I certainly thought it odd when I would come across the pictures in the book. Lala Kaka was shocked, which is a funny expression coming from a guy whose every expression is funny. He thought I was looking at pornography and reading things that relate to that. He said, no no, we can't have this, and said we should tear them out. He asked if he could, I said yes, so he started tearing them out and then burned them with some trash and leaves that he'd gathered. Haha, I took the pictures as art, which they are. It's not meant to turn you on while you read beautiful poetry. But still, why that? I dunno. It is kinda odd. And that's to me. The look on Lala Kaka's face was priceless. He's a funny guy, and is a bit intrigued by me, so he just gave me a look that was askance... I think that's the best way to describe it.
-Oh, I forgot to mention that monkeys come to the farm, pull out the plants, taste a few potatoes, throw them away, and start over again. They come in gangs and by the time they are tired of it, they've uprooted and ruined some 40 plants, which means upwards of 160 to 320 potatoes. We didn't have much work to do at the farm other than pull weeds and sleep on the maachado, but one big responsibility was to scare the monkeys when they came, which we did cuz they did...we did so with the use of the dogs and yelling and firecrackers. It was fun
-We went to two meals today at the same hall as yesterday's wedding. Tonight was the wedding, but I think they also have this custom where they invite everyone on one side just to feed them, so we went for that for lunch. Oh man, with dinner they had mango maTTho with some sorta nuts in it, copra pak, and mug no sheero. If they had had shrikhand too, I might have died. I only eat a little of everything, but there's so much that I've been overfull after each of the meals I've eaten lately. Plus, my appetite just seems smaller lately...that is, my stomach. I stay hungry, but my stomach gets full fast. It's odd.-Arnold asked me what I think of the Denmark cartoons and the response to them. I've read and heard a little about them but am not as well-informed as I would have been there. I don't have people to discuss these things with, or news channels to see it on, at least from a Western perspective. Arnold and I have talked about similar issues in the past, so I had a lot to talk about and refer to, but I thought I'd share an excerpt of what I wrote in response to him with you. You should know, as you may not already, as you're not Arnold, who has a way of bringing out a lot of the best in me, that I have a very similar sense of humor to his, though perhaps I'm less vocal with it. We can both seem, and perhaps are, rather irreverent when it comes to what we find funny, but this might also have to do with our outlook/perspective and state of being informed, which are all also similar. Still, should any of this be shocking or disagreeable, let me know. "In any case, darkness can't remove darkness. I don't know how war and boycotting and diatribe will remove ignorance. More and more, I laugh when I see cartoons like this one, not so much because I find them funny by themselves (though I'm trying to imagine a man with a bomb turban and it seems like it would look funny) but because I have to hand it to the guy who has the balls to do that. Such people need to be kept around because they remind us of the things that are around that we might have been successful in forgetting..in this case, that many people do believe that war is the message of islam, and that there is some truth in this belief in practice. One reason I think people should visit India is that all the evils in the world can be found here but, as in most countries in the third world, and maybe more so in India, which has a foot firmly planted both in the first and the third worlds, the evils are right out in the open to see. All the bad things you find here you find in America too. For example, if women are degraded or underappreciated here, they are done no less so in America. There is no greater love and respect for them there. Perhaps there is much less. But in the liberal west, political correctness and fear of authority is great enough that people supress these things and keep them hidden, even from themselves. Sometimes they need to be reminded that they still exist because when the PCness is gone, when authority breaks down, then you see what people are really like. The people who were devastated by the tsunami and earthquake in quick succession in this part of the world point to Katrina and note the exaggerated complaining and lack of perspective of the spoiled Americans, and how the devastated people and the government that was supposed to assist them so often completely lost their sense of humanity when the usual order had broken down while the people in this area did so much better for themselves though the catastrophe was greater (mindboggling, really) and the resources thinner. If you look at the reaction of the people in this case, perhaps this is all that you really can gather. Order broke down and people went into full-blown riot mode. Does it make sense to destroy your own country's property and people? Maybe along those lines you should all go to Denmark and destroy it. Then your response would be more understandable, albeit exaggerated and not quite justified. Something is bothering these people very much and it needed to be vented. Maybe it's the way the West, I think, is emasculating them in public and destroying their people, resources and power in private. This needs to be addressed by the religious and the powerful in these areas, in all areas. These people need their self-respect and independence back. All good things will follow."

How India got its groove back

2006-02-16T08:13:00.000-08:00

-India did very well in the field today and got Pakistan out in less than 42 overs, giving up 161 runs only. I'm watching our batting right now and our guys are mandhandling Pakistan and doing it while very relaxed. Oh, I wanted to say something about cricket in general, not that I just realized it now, but cricket is hard. When you look at all the demands on the players physically and mentally in one day matches, let alone test matches, Pro Baseball players seem so lazy and spoiled [Ed.: India went on to win with 5 wickets and about 18 overs to spare and thus won the series 3-1 with one match remaining to play after initially being down 1-0].
-We joke about goin to weddings to eat, but we actually did that today. Well, the family was invited (maybe not I in particular), but we went, ate, and left. I went to eat immediately as it was already 7 or 8 and I'm not a fan of eating fancy, late-night meals as we always seem to be doing in India. It's not as if I'm a lover of weddings by principle. I just think you should only invite people who should really care to your wedding and, if you're one such invitee, you should really care. Haha, it's so funny how a half hour before we're supposed to leave, someone mentions that we have a wedding to go to. "Whose? -Oh, so-and-so's. Alright, give me a minute to get my shirt." And that's that. It's no big deal to be going to weddings, everyone does it all the time. The women (the married ones at least) go through the trouble of wearing saris and straightening their hair somewhat. They at least seem to earn their dinner.

Discharge

2006-02-15T08:11:00.000-08:00

-Somewhat emotional goodbyes to Devendrabhai, JVB and his mom (Deepakbhai didn't come to work). Dr. Gupta prescribed 6 months' worth of medicine, which I did not buy, and told me to contact him with any questions and check any possible other treatments with him. I feel bad because he really tried very hard and is still doing so, but 1) I can't continue treatment simply because I feel bad, 2) 6 months is a long time to continue a restrictive, demanding regimen that is exclusive and hasn't yet helped me and 3) I can't hand over responsibility for my health treatment to anyone else.-I'm now at my Lala Kaka's house. All his brothers and sisters are over right now and I made more mistakes in recognizing them properly. I had another nice home-cooked meal of "fruit salad," aandvo (haandvo to some of you) and milk.-It's cool having so many people together in and around the house, but I definitely need some time to myself to read or think in peace everyday.-My fuaa (Dad's sister's husband) has a dial-up connection and password for the internet here, so I'm able to go online from my dad's laptop for as long as I'm here, which is such a relief. I get to use this keyboard and don't have to go out to post. Even at a speed of 28 kbps, perhaps because the computer is so good, clean and running on XP, surfing the web is faster or comparable on this computer to the ones in the internet cafes.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2006-02-14T21:36:00.000-08:00

I'll put up posts from yesterday that I had to finish writing down today. By the way, I hate this keyboard with a passion.
-Wow, India just completed an amazing chase They lost two wickets in the second over, I believe, and then Tendulkar and Dravid calmed things down (this was necessary asthis team has perhaps the largest, most pessimistic fan following of anysporting team in the world when considered with the ability of the team), but Pakistan's bowlig and fieldng were so good that they were falling far behind of a formidable target of 289. Dravid got close to a half century before he was ru out. Tendulkar and Yuvraj then did well, but needed to get over 6 runs an over and weren't quite doing it. Tendulkar fell five runs short of another century. He played very smartly and deftly. Kaif was out for a couple, and then Dhoni came i. Singh and Dhoni scorched Pakistan's bowling from that point on. Snigh got less than 20 after Dhoni's arrival. Dhoni treated the bowling with contempt, ending up with 72 runs, maybe 60 ofwhich were off of fours, all in 46 balls! They fiished with 5 wickets and 14 balls to spare. Tough pakistan was, for most of the match, miserly in giving up runs, they gave exttras generously...like this keyboard.
-Oh yeah, forget Arafat. Salman Butt is definitely the coolest name o the pakistan side. Mohammed Asif has acool last name too. Say it with a valley girl accent.
-Interestingly, India has Nike uniforms and Reebok endoresements on its bats.
-Teh Medo was fun! It's, of course, nothing compared to anything we see in the Us when it comes to the level of the rides, and wein NJ are especially spoiled. Remember how bored we were in Busch Gardens Tampa? But remember, as DMB says (did I say ths already here?) "Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters." Hmm, sloppy on the grammar, Dave, but I forgie you. The fu of the Medo isthecrowds, theexcitement of the people, and having your friends with you. The rides are no better than anything in Bowcraft, but oh, I had so much fun on them, leaning, screaming, standig up, jumping, scaring people. That's the real fun of the rides, I think, all that you add to them tomake them more frightening, more fun. I had to teach Deepakbhai ad Devendrabhai how to scream. They're novices. Devednrabhai took the place of my mother. Not MY mother who, like my father, would probably make fun of these guys, but just a stereotypical mother He held on to me when I tried to stand up or lean, and scolded me for screaming or stretching my legs out, saying that they would stop the rideor I would get hurt. In all, we went on four rides. We spent a third to a half of the money we brought. Frist, we went on that thing that looks like a big tissue box being swivelled around, only it didn't tilt orturn upside down as in Great Adventure. Ten, the spinningswings ride, then the pirate ship, then those thingswith two people carts that they spin up and down in a circle on a tilt. There's no chance to go upside down in the whole fair, but I LOVE the swings ride and pirate ship ride and make sure to go on them at every theme park. My screaming and excitement were contagious. People mostly scream only when they're really scared here, it seems. As an aside, so many of the girls andwomen were dressed in saris. Imaginegoingto Great Adventure in a sari. Anyway, so these two fools are a couple of sissiies. After two rides, they were talking endlessly about how dizzy they were and they feltuneasy in their stomachs and made us all drink these lemon juice and soda drinks to clear our mindsand ease our stomachs. Haha, people here are so funny. After drinking it, they aske dme, "Hey, that was good, wasn't it? Doesn't your mind feel clear now? Don't you feel less dizzy and better in your stomach?" Uh, no. They were all fine before. (maybe we should have just stayed home and spun around incircles?) I was thinking that if these guys come to America and I took them to Great Adventure and stuck them on the biggest ride, they'd surely soil themselves, lose their lunch, and insist on gonig straight back to India. In fact, I think I'll do this. So, back to Devendrabhai's motherliness, he also didn't want to go home because thevillage was dark, he'd be alone, and hewas afrid the dogs would bite him. He wuldn't sleep in my room or go to Deepakbhai's house and said he'd sleep in the bus station. This got Deepakbhai worried. They then went back and forth both giving each other reasonsto worry and then exhorting each othernot to. This s a big part of friendship for people like them. Theirs is a heroic, dramatic friendship. They need to show people how much they worry about and lose sleep over each other. Not that it's for show. They really feel and encourage these feelings in themselves. Anyway, so these tough-guy bigshots who made me sleep during the day because we'd be out ALL night were tired at 11 PM (we left for the Medo at 9 PM). We sat at the bus stand for a whie and then ate some things and came home. The gate was locked, so I had to jump it to get in without waking the night watchman. Haha, ironic.
-Some other thingsabout the Medo...we went around holding hands or with our hands on each other's shoulders...not just because it's the in-thing for guys to do here, but also because once you lose someone here, you're never finding him again...esp. not without cell phones. Also, some things are very different about fairs here, at least compared to theme parks there. You can get all kindsofshopping done here, and not just trinkets. you can buy pots and pans here and get tattooes right out in the open.
-Hmm, Southern Comfort used Druga Mata in a whiskey ad? That's real classy, guys.
-Happy Valentine's day to everyone! I won't be doing anything scandalous like giving flowers to the nurses or staff here, though I find some of them to be attractive (I'm a sucker for big, shy or twinkling/smiling eyes). Valentine's day is odd here. All the thingsthat have been inspired by western culture that have to do with love and sex and style are corny here, I think. There is a lot of good in the propriety, modesty and conservativeness of this culture (though I'm not sure how much of it is taught or understood by everyone here), but all these other things need to be experienced and understood by people here. There's such a thrill and ignorance with all things sexual and romantic here. All the guys are so respectful towards girls when they're around...you'd think you'd stepped into Don Quixote's novels. But when they're alone, they have such dumb dirty jokes to share with each other that are so redundant and of which they never tire. It's so childish. I exaggerate jokingly all of my knowledge and experience in these matters when talkingto these guys, and those of Americans in general, and make the point that, "we've been exposed to these thingsfrom a young age. we see them for what they are and nothing else...we don't see anything new, special or spectacular in them." Anyway, back to the day, isn't it bad enough how much people waste money on expensive and unnecessary trinkets and gestures in the rest ofthe world to celebrate a holiday that is another example of the church's transforming a pagan ritual, butwhich has been taken over by hallmark and russel stouver's? Is it really necessary to bring this here, where people have much more important thingsto save up money for? There are all these articles in newspapers with people sayingthat they don't care about propriety, they're going to celebrate V-day as they wish...and about howtheyshould be able to without anycurbs (what?), and how love is dead and so on.. people, have we lost our minds? The question isn't should we be able to give cards and candy and flowers on this day and eat out, it's why should we make such a big deal about doing it at all... that is, if it is, as it seems to be, a replacement for the thingsthat actually do matter, that are supposed to be underlyig these outward acts. anyway, i gotta get back and sweat to the oldies with JVB, but one more thing...
-This masala thing, I don'tget it It seems so disgustng in all ways ad yetpeopleare hooked. Do we hae equivalents where we live? Maybe scheduling your life around binge-drinking get-togethers is akin to this.

Valentine's Day, vindicated

2006-02-14T08:07:00.000-08:00

-I wore red today and then realized it was V-Day. How fitting! Don't get me wrong, I love Valentine's Day. When I was at Rutgers, I would love going around wishing everyone a happy Valentine's Day, even the boys, who seem to think that that's not allowed. That was my Valentine's Day celebration, spreading Valentine's Day cheer. Words can't express how much i love candy, and I love giving and receiving flowers. Well, I've only received them like twice, but still, I enjoyed those times very much. It's just when it becomes such that I SHOULD give or do something on Valentine's Day that I don't like. If I give because I'm supposed to, if I receive, but I expected to, then what's the point? And why do we act surprised? Enjoy Valentine's Day, but remember what's supposed to be behind the gifts and cards and don't wait to be told by card companies, jewelry stores, newspaper articles, and polls of the stupid youth masses what you feel and what you should do. Do what you want.-I celebrated Valentine's Day with hot sex. Well, at least, I did sleep with Devendrabhai, sorta. I went home with him at night. I had a wonderful dinner at his place, met his parents, went for a walk in the dark with only the almost full moon's light to guide us, and surrounded by mist (which was all very beautiful), saw so many stars (which are so clear that they seem fake or like a scene from a planetarium when seen from a village away from the city lights and with India's clear night skies), and slept on the floor in a very small space next to Devendrabhai. He was complaining about leg pain and I gave him a massage, which made him very happy. He was always saying that he gave me such good massages everyday and that I should repay him from time to time (should I think this way when I'm a doctor?). I was surprisingly good at finding the muscle that was tense, but really, it was very painful for me to apply so much pressure using just my hands and no weight, and I was relieved when it was over. The mosquitoes and Devendrabhai wouldn't let me sleep at night. Devabhai moves around at night. I feel bad for his future wife. If he wasn't hitting me or swinging his arm over and dropping it on me, he was practically sleeping on top of me. I wake up from movement and noise in the room, let alone someone touching or crowding me. I know, all this talk of massaging guys' legs and sleeping next to them in the space of a twin-sized bed is odd, but things are different here. That isn' tto say that all Indian men are gay. There just aren't the same social taboos. This is cool as it partially (only partially, since homophobia is alive and well here) eliminates the machismo that are so prevalent in supposedly enlightened, liberal countries like America (Haha, when I was staying with Melodie and her family in California, we discussed all kinds of things and, as I could be myself with her and she understood, we discussed things like which actors/actresses we thought are beautiful and other such non-macho topics. Melodie said to me, "You know you're androgynous, right?" I took it as a compliment). I still like personal space and the obtaining of at least non-verbal consent before assuming levels of increased familiarity, but I also enjoy living here somewhat in the way that people do here.-This is a good segue into telling you something abougt some of my favorite people from the hospital--the open-minded foreigners, namely Melanie, Isabell (I realized today that I'd been saying her name wrong after hearing Dr. Gupta say it wrong initially), a patient named Michael, and others like them. Of those people who came to India completely by choice, India seems to attract some really great people because of what it requires of them, which is to let go. Interestingly, letting go of comforts and the lifestyles to which they're accustomed seems to be these people's natures and not even something they decided to do upon reaching India and finding it to be necessary. They are so easily adjusted and can't understand why others find it so difficult. I appreciate how these people are, but I don't exactly blame NRIs and, especially, straight-up foreigners for finding things difficult. India is certainly different. Still, it's a very good thing for us all to move in the direction of these people, who need less to get by and are more in tune with what's truly necessary. I love so much to talk to foreigners here and share experiences, opinions (interestingly, Michael, when talking about world violence and catastrophes, said that he's lost all sympathy for America-man, it's so eye-opening seeing the world/America through the eyes of people outside America), and all their opinions and observations are in some way valid, as I love India and want to share all its good and bad points with others, I'm so glad I met people here who are so simple, honest and open-minded.

"Hu to gaiti............................mede"

2006-02-13T22:02:00.000-08:00

-I'm going to the Nadiad medo (carnival/fair)tonite with my boys. I won't get any sleep tonite, it seems, and tomorrow I have a full day, including leading JVB through yoga twice and having my own 2 1/2 hour final training session. Dunno when I'll get to tell you how the medo was. We're bringing 100 Rs. each for 9 PM to 5 AM, so I dunno how that's gonna work, but we'll see.
-How cool is it that Pakistan has a player named Yasir Arafat?
-My mommy leaves tonite for Amrika.

Marriage (wedding) reform

2006-02-12T06:53:00.000-08:00

-This Jayvirbhai thing is interesting. i was helping Isabella a bit with him but she couldn't help him as often as she'd like, so I offered to help. Isabella was very pleased with my work with him. She'd say that I have a knack for this, and that I should consider being a therapist for a living. She wants me to attend the training through which she went. There's nothing like a few compliments to make a reluctant, mediocre teacher an enthusiastic, improved one. Isabella is right to insist that only I, of all the patients, lead Jayvirbhai in these. The other patients aren't as good at folowing directions or understanding Isabella, as sensitive to theirs and others' body positions, etc. or simply physically able to do yoga well enough to lead someone else in it. They are, after al, patients. But it's not my skill that made me mediocre. It's my struggle to be enthusiastic. When JVB (I'm getting tired of spelling it out) wasn't being focused or serious or following directions, I had such a hard time being patient and positive. I would feel that I'm trying to relax and run on my own schedule, and now I have this new tension, two yoga sessions to fit into my packed schedule, and guilt if I can't manage it, tjhough i have to run around finding JVB and negotiating our session times. Lately, my annoyance with everything in this treatment, and some of the other patients, led me to being frustrated and fed up. And I ended up not having as much patience for JVB. Butoh, the look of hurt and disappointment on his mom's face when I can't work with him twice in a day or, to a greater extent, when she now talks about me leaving...I feel so bad but, sorry to say, this is how it is: she is like a drowning woman clutching at straws, I am one such straw, and I'm just not ready to be clutched. I'm feeling better about this today, and so is she, and we're both gaining perspective. She still cries whenever she talks about me leaving and thinks about who will take care of him afterwards and how she doesn't trust the other people here. JVB is like a smart, forgetful child. Everyone likes trying to get him to do things that he wouldn't ordinarily do if he were in complete control of his wits, and they're constantly making dirty jokes with him and teaching him slang and how to taunt people. He's a source of amusement for them and they're not so concerned that he's once again been rendered very impressionable and should be given more positive thoughts and influences. He's been raised well, though. People try to see how far they or he can go with jokes, but he has a strong, intact sense of propriety.
-I'm having so much fun here since I decided to leave. I'm always this way. When I knew the last few weeks were coming at L'Oreal, and I was just preparing for my replacement, I was so loose, so free. My supervisor was so surprised at my open, biting, almost insubordinate joking, as it seemed like something had been lifted off me and I'd blossomed. He thought I'd changed, but that sense of humor was always there. It had been buried by the oppressiveness of my job, my supervisor and my work environment. At this point, I'd just stop caring about my job. This is a feeling I need to be able to keep alive everyday...working hard, but not caring if i lose my job, always acting as if I'm about ot leave and I'm not tied down in any way. I like it much more this way, there really is no security in anything in a worldly sense anyway, and I don't expect people to understand what I bring to the table...why should I care what they think of how I act? Yes, I definitely need to capture this..butis it possible to have children and still be so free? We'll have to see...
-Oh, a couple weeks ago, they started putting Mahanarayan tel in my neem decoction (they might have changed the neem part of it too...it tastes different), and I think it's reduced the mosquito deterring effects. I've been getting bitten.
-Okay, maybe I AM hating on the guy, but ever notice that SRK has A-Rod's lips? When he's with Preity Zinta and she's crying and puffed up, and he's doing his imitation of a crying/convulsing goat, and he does that romantic thing where his face is close to hers and he looks into her eyes and puffs his cheeks like he's about to vomit, and his puffy, purple lips are quivering close to her cheeks, I just think, wow...to get any more lip on one screen, you'd need a threesome of Ameesha Patel, Angelina Jolie and Dikembe etc. Mutumbo.
-Ahh yes, I went to Meghaben's wedding with Birjukumar yesterday. It was fun. My body had been hurting so much all day and I suddenly felt much better there. Before it started, i was sitting down, taking in the sights and the live music. The hired music group had a bansari (wooden flute) player. I don't think I'd ever heard one played live before. It was so sweet. I can see how Krushhna Bhagvan would make even the animals joyful when He played. And as I sat there, listening to the music and the sweet singing, I looked up and the sky was the dark, slate blue color that Banana Republic has in its classic shirts collection, and the few clouds there wer looked like wisps pulled out of cotton balls. The weather was between slightly cool and slightly warm. It was nice. The women were almost all dressed nice. My mom looked good, as she always does in saris, but she was wearing makeup and, other than when she wears the tiniest bit of eye liner, I don't like how she looks in makeup. She looks much better without it. The men were mostly shabbily dressed and disappointing. I know I feel I should be able to dress myself how I want where I want, but still, if you're at a wedding, at least make an attempt. Now I see how children and even grown men randomly pop into weddings for free dinners. I know that weddings are big here and nobody knows everyone at them, but you would think the guests would be dressed the part. Oh, and all the adults cut in the dinner line, which was very long. My dad used to tell us to cut when we were younger, saying that he did when he was little, but now he can't, but no one will mind if we do. These people were shameless. Oh, so I wore a plain white jabho lengho and my Old Navy flip-flops, and I didn't comb my hair. My kaka said he approved of my look, which is good. I've only put a comb to my hair twice in the last 5-6 years, and one of those times, he had made me do the fobby part thing for a wedding two years ago. Yesterday, I was the only one wearing a jabho-lengho, but I was comfortable and happy. I also got to experience again all the throwing of trash on the ground and abusing of the hired help and caterers, but this isn't limited to just weddings in India. It's just that I would hope people wouldn't do this at weddings, but again, I'm thinking from a different perspective. Oh, so one of the very bad things about my attending family weddings, especially in India, is all the people who come up to ask me if I remember who they are. I forget people almost immediately after introductions. Unless I really get to know people, I forget them even if I've spent several days travelling or staying with them. Kahlil Gibran has some reassuring words about forgetfulness though. "Forgetfulness is a form of freedom," says he, and it's very true. So I had a good conversation with my dad during the wedding. We were thinking of all kinds of reforms to do to weddings based on what we didn't like to see her. We thought we'd experiment with my wedding and set an example of something for people to consider, something different. Her are some points from this and other such conversations.
*Weddings use dto be long and thorough. Now, a lot of the ritual is cut out and so much time goes to bowing down to different people and getting gifts from them, which is all photographed. More on the gifts later, but as far as the relative time, we'll have a full wedding and, afterwards, we'll line up all the people and bow to them in rapid succession. The photographers will just have to keep up.
*Speaking of which, the photographers take up too much space and have too much control. We're going to hire spy photographers who will blend in witht the guests and take photos and video without interrupting the flow or drawing attention to themselves.
*My dad isn't crazy about me not inviting anyone to the wedding, but he likes the idea of telling people to bring their own food. It will be a good way to screen freeloaders out. If i have food, I want healthier alternative choices, like having "pawk" as an appetizer.
*There were a lot of annoying, whiny children at the wedding, asking to have all kinds of things bought for them. So we'll have none of them at my wedding. No children at my wedding unless they're mine.
*No gifts. If you come to my wedding, pledge your everlasting support and behave yourself. I can't imagine better gifts than that. I don't want your gifts and money. Neither does my wife. Whatever she wants and needs, I'll provide. Now, I think many people in families like mine might have a problem with not giving gifts. There's this whole giving gifts appropriately and keeping track of who gives what and keeping all this in mind when giving gifts and invitations and it's all too complicated for me. I don't have the genetic makeup to understand it. I'm honest in a way that's incompatible with its practice. Nevertheless, I think that once people realize they're not getting fed, those that still show up won't feel so bad not giving a gift. They might actually be motivated to regift their label makers to us, but this is strictly forbidden.
*Ther are a lot of atics and gimmicks at these kids' weddings these days. Two guys dressed as Tendulkar and Sehwag yesterday and donned sunglasses to complete the look for the photos with the newlyweds. All of Birju kumar's friends were pelting he and, especially, their new bhabhi while they were taking their turns around the fire. There will be no tolerance of such childishness at my wedding. These are such significant steps and the poor kids have their heads bowed to avoid getting hit in the eye with flowers. I'm gonna have a bouncer at my wedding under the madap-probably my brother-and anyone who can't behave himself will not only be kicked out, but also excommunicated. I'm not wishing to have a boring wedding. The guests who don't like this can just show up to the reception. This isn't to say that anything goes there either. Tasteless jokes and pranks will not be tolerated and you won't see me slow-dancing with, kissing, or even walking in arm-in-arm with my wife. Anyone who comes due to such voyeuristic motivations is just sick and not only do I not have such family members, but I also don't desire to have such friends or friends-in-law [my God, I hope you guys are aware of my use of deadpan hyperbole in humor, or you will think I've gone nuts or am very mad. Still, my point stands] The invitation to attend the reception as an alternative is just for the sake of those who are jaded by weddings. Anyway, the invitations to the wedding itself will be limited and will be determined only after a stringent screening process including the consideration of 3 non-relative character references, the collection and consideration of anecdotal evidence, essays, a questionaire and a complete background check-meaning we'll look into not only your police records, but also your wedding attendance history. Also, ther was a part of the ceremony during which meghaben and Birjubhai were feeding each other penda. Meghaben was getting Birjukumar to come close enough to take a bite and she would stuff the whole pendo into his mouth. He, in turn, would hold her nose until she opened her mouth to breathe, and then stuff them in her mouth. This won't be happening at my wedding. First of all, if I'm eating on my wedding day, we'll have sweets I like or at least will tolerate in moderate amounts. That means copra-pak, shrikhand, shiro, thor, kaju-katri, halva, and stuff like that. I'll happily eat bite after bite of shrikhand with dry fruits. I only get it once every 10 years anyway. Second, ther won't be all this level of publicized familiarity between us. If you get a kick out of that, go home and feed your wife for a change. Don't come to see me feed mine. Anyway, this reminds me of when, at Ingleside in 96, we forced Amit to talk on the phone to this girl...dhrupti or drupti or something. He clenched his jaws and lips tight as if he were trying to drown him or something when he could have simply, calmly, not spoken. Somehow though, this made sense to us then, just as it made sense yesterday that my cousin couldn't breathe through her mouth while technically keeping her teeth clenched/closed.
*Music-this was very good. The music and singing were live and the group was talented, though disorganized. They sang good songs, old and new. They confused and surprised me when the groom arrived and they were singing all this stuff about Birjukumar and I heard it walking around looking for something to eat (just as at Meghaben's brother's wedding, I ended up being the only guy amongst all the women actually watching the wedding). The only thing is, they play right through the ceremony, so we can't have none of that. Maybe there'll be a separate section with them playing and the people who came for them listening. My spy photographers will give me evidence of their doing so, and they will be promptly excommunicated.
*There was a lot of confusion under the mandap. The maharaj was always shouting at the family members to get this or that thing or person. i think a lot of this confusion will be removed when there's no blaring music and there is screening of the people not only near the mandap, but also in the wedding at all. The poor kids getting married have so much on their minds, but they're sweating under the lights, straining to hear anything, dodging projectiles, being given information and directions from a million busybodies, and having friends crack jokes at inopportune moments. Things need to be simpler. And they will. We're gonna go old school.
*Oh, but there's another issue. Firecrackers. Every night my dad loses sleep because people are lighting more firecrackers than we have at our town's 4th of July celebration (btw, 7/4 is Devendrabhai's birthday. Technically, it's 4/7 here). Many of them are Indian men from abroad impressing people with their foreign incomes for the sake of their one daughter's wedding. If I have it my way, my kids will desire and have the kind of wedding I've dreamed of having-just me, her and God. We'll see. Anyway, so I told my dad that we'd buy 10 lakhs (about $25,000) worth of firecrackers and set them all off until we cover all the village streets with a pile of exploded firecrackers a foot deep. We'll do it so big that for 10 years, everyone will be too embarrassed to have firecrackers at their weddings for shame of coming up so short. Now, this is the exact opposite of the kind of wedding I want (though falling short of the extravagance I told my mom all the time that i wanted when I was 19), but I'm willing to make some sacrifices for the good of the people. In this case, my wedding could give peaceful sleep to a whole village for a decade and it's hard to put a price on that.
*Anyway, a bigger issue than all of this is the fact that I place the groom and his father so low on the list of importance (think of it as an ESPN.com or Source magazine Power list) when it comes to the wedding. We'll see if my wife tolerates any of these ideas or if she has a dad who wants to dote upon her through her wedding. In any case, her thoughts on the wedding will be a good test of whether she's compatible with me or not.
-Totally different topic. There's a guy here who goes around saying Hari Om to people all day. I haven't really heard him say much else. He does it in such an odd way, like he has Tourret's. uhhhhhHariOm! HariOmHariOmHariOm. It's annoying, stupid-sounding, and persistent. He'll stand there and keep saying it to you in the same dumb way until you relent and respond in kind. I want to tell him that his sayingGod's name, which is ordinarily a very good thing to do, done the way he does only annoys me or makes me want to laugh at him. He always catches me, however, in the middle of something else and I just try to wave him off or throw him a bone. I wish Amit were here to laugh in his face or get mad at him and tell him to leave us alone in response to his ridulousness or pestering-ness. He sounds so dumb the way he says it, unless Amit's changed a lot, i can't see how he could help cracking up immediately.
-Devendrabhai was remarking yesterday that i had lost weight and my cheeks were sunken. I'd noticed it myself when I shaved yesterday, and we were confirmed today when my weight was shown to be back down to 66 kilos, down three kilos since last week. Last Monday, I had a Punjabi food feast on the way back from my trip to Vadodara, and yesterday, I ate a good amount of not-so-healthy wedding food, and I still lost 3 kilos, though I've been eating quite a bit. Oh well, again, it's surely nothing that my body should miss. Still, this up and down of my diet and appetite is strange for me. 3 kilos in a week. 6.6 pounds. I'm still down 15.4 pounds since I came to India (Lil Neh had a prophetic dream in which I came back and--her only comment about me--I was very thin). I feel like I'm Oprah or Shardul with these fluctuations, which are pretty big for me.
-Another headline: Ajit Agarkar was hit by a missile, following which play was halted for a brief while during the second one-dayer in Rawalpindi--This was actually just a random caption-like note with no further explanation. I assume they mean "missile" as in projectile, but still, isn't funny imagining that he actually got hit by a missile and this was their response? Imagine a scud missile comes flying into the stadium and detonates right on Ajit Agarkar, the two umpires calling the third one in the booth and discussing what they should do. They take a few looks at the crater that the missile left in the field and say, yeah, he could probably use some help, maybe a little tape from the first-aid kit. Let's take a short break.
-Speaking of the match, India did very well. Tendulkar almost had a half century, and the other batsmen out of the first four all had half centuries. Sehwag even hit a 6 and three 4s in one over. Yuvraj had the top score for the Indian side with 83* I believe. There were a lot of crazy run-outs in this match and some good bowling on the Indian side as well, all of which is reassuring. kaif didn't have to play a part, nor Pathan, nor Dhoni.
-You know, I may be the first guy to spend this much time in India, still suck at speaking Hindi or Gujarati, and actually improve in English.

Su-doku

2006-02-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

-It's settled then, I'm out of here by Wednesday, so nobody come visit me here. Word on the street is that I'm going to Vadodara to get treatment there.
-Jayvirbhai's mom is not happy that I'm leaving. She's referred to it no less than five times as "Birjubhai 'naahijaay' chhe," meaning that I'm escaping/running away. I feel terrible every time I look at her. Isabella hasn't been around for a few days--I believe she's been sick--and so Jayvirbhai and his mom have only me, as it were. I feel bad leaving him, but it's too much like me to stick around in situations where I'm not happy because I'm afraid of others feeling bad, so I must go.
-I've been hooked on this thing called Su-doku, a kind of number puzzle in the newspapers here. I believe I saw it in newspapers there before i left. I've gotten better at it in the 3-4 days I've been doing it, but I have yet to solve any "medium" difficulty puzzles, only easy ones (can't imagine how "hard" is).
-I've also been interested in reading newspapers here. I never was there. Actually, I do feel it's a step backwards for me. I agree with Thoreau's views on "news," as I've probably mentioned here before, but oh well...for now, I'm still reading them. At least, this way, I get su-doku, sports and opinion.

This place is a prison/these people aren't your friends

2006-02-10T00:16:00.001-08:00

-I'm tired of this place. I might be leaving. We'll see.
-It's getting hot during the day and, with the dust and pollution in Nadiad, it's getting to be quite stifling in the middle of the day in the sun. Another good reason to leave.
-Oh, I stuck in the Les Mis review near the beginning of January.
-Eh, I didn't stick this in where it belongs, so let me mention that "Everyone here sings. Whether they can or not, they (at least the young people and, especially, the guys) sing the songs they like while walking around and doing their work. Also, everyone here can talk. They talk the talk. From a young age, people learn to tell tall tales and make creative and all other kinds of threats. I'll never be in English what they are in Hindi or Gujarati. Also, though, there are a lot of people who "gappaa maare" and "feke." There are a lot of feku people here...that is, a lot of people are so good at talking and love to talk so much and they're really full of crap. You can spot the worst of these people because they make all the other people who are full of crap and sit around all day talking out of their nether regions say about them, "Damn, that guy/woman talks so much. Doesn't his/her head hurt? God, he/she's so full of crap."

Filled in the blanks

2006-02-09T21:58:00.000-08:00

So, I got my dad's flash drive with all my unposted posts and posted them today...between the 26th of December and the 8th of January, I believe. It's funny looking back and realizing how different my understanding of people is now compared to my first impressions. Also, I realize how emotionally and mentally unstable I am. And this hasn't changed. Everyday, it seems I have even further to go in improving myself...that is, I feel everyday that there are bigger, more important things that I've missed all along and have now to focus on. But, as you can see from reading this blog...I forget everything I "learned."

Also in these posts you can find my Angels and Demons review and a lot of notes on Les Mis, though I think the rest of my notes on it are still in my diary, yet to be posted. I probably have blanks to fill between and around 9/1 to 12/1.

Today's lesson in Economics

2006-02-07T21:28:00.000-08:00

"Successful investing is anticipating the anticipation of others." -John Maynard Keynes
-Clever quotation. Of course, it's by Keynes, one of the foremost macroeconomists ever, and not only do I not like macro (compared to micro), but also, I don't like economics so much. It's interesting, in its theory, but frightening in practice. The people who believe that here is such a thing as a free market that determines prices, that supply and demand exist on their own and are not created, that the biggest, most successful companies and countries are so because of sound, classical business practices are fools (or at least fooled). There is almost no such thing in the modern economy, and there hasn't been since as far back as More's Utopia. The economists and corresponding treatises one should read to learn and practice business sucessfully in the way that it's actually practiced by the biggest and strongest today are Sun Tzu and his Art of War, and Machiavelli and his Prince. What bothers me most is so many people in Economics and business who have themselves fooled. So many people in these fields make petty "boycotts" and impose restrictions on themselves and others elsewhere in their lives, considering themselves enlightened, disciplined, and lovers of reason, but they somehow shut off their consciences at work.
-Speaking of economics, Devendrabhai and Deepakbhai have their jobs back. Oh, but the other three guys don't. The girl in the group does, but she declined, because her fiance isn't working here anymore. These two will get paid from now on, but none of them will get paid for the last two months, which was the biggest problem before. They were all here yesterday and they were in a very good mood....though I'm not sure exactly why.
-Ashokbhai, if I didn't mention, is in this same staff. He's been around for a few years. Yesterday, he was the only member from his staff there. He had an unbelievable amount of work from 8 to 8. He also does massages outside of this job...he hails from a family with a tradition of being masseuses...he learned the art from his family and his wife was trained by his grandmother, and she does massages privately during the day, outside of any hospital. Now, Ashokbhai went to one massage early in the morning before coming to work and, for 45 minutes' work, he made 50 rupees. Then he did the work of 4+ people during the day...if you count just the individual massages, steam baths, etc. that he administered or supervised, and ignore the other fees that we patients pay for being admitted into the hospital, he was responsible for 2000-2500 Rs. worth of work. He was working for three other people who would have made over 300 Rs that day if they had showed up. So how much did he make from 8-8? 46 Rs. All that work, all that profit, he made less money than he did in 45 minutes in the morning. He brings home less than 1000 Rs. a month working from 8-6 or 8-8 every day, and his wife works from around 7-2 everyday doing massages for people in their homes and she has a waiting list several weeks long to get an appt. with her, and makes 5000 Rs. a month. This is exploitation, and the sad state that people all over the world are in...where even those who value enjoyable work environments, and who work sincerely and diligently, have to choose between helping a lot of people or helping themselves to survive and not go crazy. If Ashokbhai messed up in any of his tasks, if anyone complained about him during the day, he would be fined 100 Rs. If you look at the numbers, support and treatment I received, you could make a similar argument for my jobs at Examkrackers or L'Oreal. The Dean at Robert Wood Johnson, who knew how much they were paying EK to have me teach 30 of their students figured out my salary for the course and said, "My God, they're making a killing off of you[r work]." But at least I made enough to survive. In Gujarati, we have a saying..that such people "loko nu lohi chuse." That is, such people are "sucking the blood" of these workers, which is a quite vivid and to-the-point description (omigod, this is all nothing compared to what's done with illegal immigrants to America). I know different cultures and people have varying views on the respect and treatment we should give to animals, but how do people do this to other human beings?
-Okay, on a completely lighter note, John Legend has 8 Grammy nominations! I knew from the start that he'd pay dividends and I'm glad I invested in him. Three CDs I have of his. Man, I can't wait until they start giving returns. That's how this works, right? Hmm, Kanye and "Mimi" have 8 too. I liked a song or two that I heard from Kanye's CD...one of the versions of Diamonds from Sierra Leone, I think it's called, but I don't know if I liked the rest so much. I hadn't heard it more than once. And is Mariah's album such an instant classic? I didn't care for the singles she had out so much. They're catchy and...well, that's it, I thought. Oh well, Go Johnny Go!

"If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you...

2006-02-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

...but if you really make them think, they'll hate you." -Don Marquis
-This is another good thought in the newspapers I've read. A lot of them are in the way articles are presented, but also, there are sections that are straight-up philosophical and religious. And just the fact that there are these thought of the days I find to be remarkable. You notice this in the media here and it is due to the fact that India has great love for religion and philosophy. No matter how they are used, they have never gone out of vogue. India technically has a secular government, and I believe it is so in practice, but even politicians here, though they may not rule through religious law, do what Kerry said he does not--wear their religion on their sleeves. They are like most Indians in this regard. don't get me wrong, I applaud Kerry for his statement and sentiment. american politicians wear their crosses, etc. the way they wave their flags. Truly religious people are so throgh and through, and their religion covers not only their clothes, so to speak, but also pervades their character and actions. People are religious the whole world over, but it's interesting to see the kind of religiousness you find here and compare it with America. Most people here don't consider religion a Sunday morning activity, something saved for bedtime and pre-family-meal prayers, and they don't consider it a topic that is accepted, but not discussed in public or, if discussed, done so mostly in a political way. People practice faith here, along with religion, and they do so with pride and abandon. The many thinkers who have criticized the East, saying that here, custom/mythology ARE religion, are right, but are also at fault for not seeing anything behind it, as we are for ourselves fighting over the rituals and symbols and forgetting to focus on what they represent. These facts notwithstanding, faith is more palpable here. It seems alive. It's strange...on the one hand, I think this is even more pertinent than when people say that this is a karmabhumi or historical land...the fact that religion is so alive and vibrant here. The karmabhumi outlook is probably very helpful for those who really feel it. All the people who wish to be murderers, grafters, etc. here don't seem to mind how sacred/historic is the land where they work. I've found that this environment has been like an acceration ramp, or nurturing fertile soil for the advancement and growth of my thoughts. Things I could not accomplish at home with the thoughts that appealed to me there, and things I never would have thought about and noticed there, I've been able to do here. I still find it as difficult as ever to explain to someone who questions the decisions I've made in my life why they should come ot the same decisions (I don't think I should do such a thing, actually). If someone asks me why I want to live a certain way, I would feel like telling him, "Read these books, pay attention to these arguments/characters, and you'll understand." Now, I feel like also saying, "go to India, meet, talk to and live with these people, observe and question why they do what they do, and you'll understand." Of course, reading the books I've read and experiencing the things I have won't make you like me. It's just that I can't possibly package and pass on, summarize and recreate certain things. But they remain rather clear in my mind. I feel I've been made to witness certain examples and, once seen, they cannot be unseen. I will forever have to make a choice: be like this, or not. But I can no longer say that such a person, concept or lifestyle does not exist, that it is an impossibility. These things are vivid in my mind. If you experience them, then you too will have to make a choice. i can't tell you why you should be a certain way, but I can direct you towards the point where you have to make that choice. I'm not sure if my point(s) makes sense, or if this all connects. You'll have to think about it on your own. But to bring it back to the example given and conclude it, though all these good things are true about this environment in regards to faith and financial state and so on, it's also true that if you can manage to be without some kind of faith here, despite seeing it practiced in so manyu ways around you; if you can harden your heart towards low-class, uneducated, destitute people here despite running into them and working with and through them everyday, then there's little hope for you anywhere in this world.
-Doesn't seein gthose Ambuja Cement signs make you want to work out?
-The first of five ODIs in the India/Pakistan series was today. India did well in batting and sucked in bowling. I'm waiting for a consultation with a neurophysician in Vadodara as I write this, so I don't know what happened in the end [ed.: Pakiston won by 7 runs according to the D/L method when the light was too dim to play. India needed to have scored about another 22 runs or prevented Pakistan's scorching chase to win] Sehwag and Tendulkar opened. Sehwag was dismissed for 5. Tendulkar ended up scoring an even century. I'm happy for him. There'd been a lot of doubters of him lately, though the things said and written about him-that he is in decline and his peak is long gone-are anything but new. I read the same articles here in 2003. I hope this gives him, the team, and the fans a boost of confidence. The Indian team and the Indian public are like the Red Sox and Red Sox Nation of the years previous to the Dave Roberts game (that's his name, right?). Tendulkar got 100 off about 118 balls, so he must have been pretty confident and aggressive. Interestingly, the second wicket to fall was a bowler's, Pathan's. He batted higher in the order than Dhoni and even Dravid. He justified it too, with a score of around 65. Dhoni had a good partnership with Sachin and had 68. In all, they were all out for about 328. Pakiston was 170 something for 1 I believe at some point, but I last heard they were about 300 for 7 with 5 overs remaining.
-Okay, so I met the neurophysician, who turned out to be a neurosurgeon. He told me that Ayurveda is wack, that I have nothing wrong with my CSF flow, that I'm depressed and a hypochondriac, that I need CBT, and that he knows a good psychiatrist for it. I went immediately to that doctor, who listened attentively to me, suddenly called in my dad, told us that Ayurveda is wack, that he knows exactly what is wrong with me (though he wouldn't say what), that he'd treat me with medicines and injections (though he wouldn't say which until I was done), that in 21 days, he'd have me back to new (his word was, like a "pistol," and I love how Indians say that word), that I'm not assertive enough and hae low self-esteem (hmm...if he means indirectly because I don't assert myself enough, then okay, otherwise, no, I'm quite happy with myself), that I need to be admitted into his hospital for the 21 days and that I can do that whenever I please. I have a feeling his treatment is goig to be like the "anger management" treatment Sandler's character got in the movie of the same name. I like this doctor. He's confident, straightfoward and listens well. The other one must have been clairvoyant, because I hardly said two words to him before he made his diagnosis of endogenous depression (something like that) with stress headache. Anyway, what he really did, and which was very important, was that he said there's no need for seeing a neurophysician. I shold see a psychiatrist, who could help me much more. There's a big bookstores with tons of English books (from what I hear) in Vadodara, so, as long as reading doesn't interfere with the treatment, I can get all kinds of books and read them there.

Super Sunday

2006-02-05T23:59:00.000-08:00

-I had a very vivid recollection of and craving for peanut butter today. I imagined putting a spoonful in my mouth, and I could feel the creaminess around my tongue and on the roof of my mouth and, oh, could I taste it. It was wonderful, but I'm over it now.
-Steelers won! Of course, I didn't know this until 1:15 PM on Monday, the 6th, but oh well. Hmm, Big Ben was sloppy, but he got a touchdown run and became the youngest QB ever...I'm happy for the guy. I like him.

'Ranotsav will disturb wild ass sanctuary'

2006-02-04T23:22:00.000-08:00

(Some headlines, you just can't make up)
-"It is not for him to pride himself who loves his own country, but rather for him who loves the whole world. The earth is but one country and mankind its citizens." -Baha'u'llah. This was a nice thought in the newspaper yesterday. There are a lot of nice thoughts in the newspaper. One of these days, I'll explain why.
-I wanted to tell you more about Jayvirbhai and his mother anyway, and today, something nice happened to prompt me to be sure that i do. Jayvirbhai's parens are uneducated farmers. He studied science through 12th grade. He's good looking with his sweet, innocent face, his long, thick eyelashes, green eyes, and brown hair. He has a shaved head right now for his shirobasti (oil treatment on the scalp). He must look very nice with his hair. A month and a half ago, he fel onto his head and went into a coma. He came out of it a month later and was unable to remember even who his mother was. He's improved dramatically. He walks around fairly quickly without support (he was paralyzed on his right side and is slowly regaining control over it). I work with him daily on the exercises Isabella has given him, so I can attest to the improved motility...or mobility..in his right hand, arm, foot and leg. But still, he struggled to say his ABC's today and could not remember what city we're in right now. He was the pride and joy of his parents and now he's reduced to speaking and thinking like a child and needing his mother to bathe him daily. Today, i was doing his exercises with him in my room and I asked his mother to sit down on the unoccupied bed in my room. She declined but, as we continued, she sat down and noticed, on my windowsill, the photos of our Swadhyay murtis (idols). From that point on, her attention was focused there. At the end, she usually touches her heart with her hand (God, I LOVE when people do that) while saying Jay Maharaj (people in the area are big Santram Maharaj followers so this is the default greeting when you odn't know someone's faith her) to me. Today, she said, looking at the murtis, Jay Yogeshwar and started praying to them and to Dadaji. I thought, wow, she recognizes the murtis, knows a little bit about Swadhyay, and is one of those people who prays to all Gods she encounters. Then she said Vasude vasutan...shree guru ve namah. Oh man, my eyes started tearing as I asked her if she's in Swadhyay and realized that she is. How perfect that someone as patient, loving, caring and devout as her should have met up with this work? She was so happy afterwards. She said she must have been meant to sit down to see the murtis and find out that I'm in Swadhyay. She said you can always tell when someone's in Swadhyay by his thoughts and behavior (maybe this is true for people like her). She thanked God and said of course it makes sense that God would see to it that we would meet. He sent me to them so that I could be of service in her son's recovery. She started talking about how much Swadhyay means to her, what she has gone through to go to Kendra (they go to kendra in their gaam, Vaasad) and functions. She's only studied through the second grade but, she says, God somehow makes it easier for her to read bhavgeet malas and Swadhyay/religious books, though she struggles to read elsewhere. She is so sweet, so grateful for anything anyone does fo rher or Jayvirbhai. She cried when the six guys lost their jobs because she remembered how they came to get her son twice a day, helped him take his clothes off and put them back on, and made him so happy with their humor...and she worried about how their parents would take it and what they would do in their homes. During one of his exercises, I hold Jayvirbhai's foot and help him to flex it upwards. Since I'm touching his feet and am bent over, I teased him one time about blessing me, giving me his ashirvad. This brought tears to his mom's eyes, and she said that he should touch my feet (whoa!) and Isabellas since I'm like an older brother and she's like an older sister (actually, I say to people that he's Aishwarya's little brother) and we're both helping him. Also, I call him "tame" and "Jayvirbhai" even though he's 19. I shouldn't use this word, but it's become a "habit" for me to do so with people here. It's not a habit as it's done consciously and by choice. Ther's a sweetness in talking to each other in this way, and it's more proper and respectful to do this when talking to people who aren't the closest of friends or siblings. For his part, when he sees me, he yells out "Birju!" This is so exciting to me. He used to mumble everything softly and couldn't remember anyone's names. Now, when he sees one of his friends, he yells out his name and his face lights up. I don't think it disrespectful. The littlest kids in NJ cal me Birju, smack me around, insult me and don't listen to me. I'm not easily insulted by what adults here do. But his mom feels bad and tells him that he should call me Birjubhai, as I'm like a guru to him (whoa!). His mom's really pretty. Now, I don't mean pretty like my mom, like models, or like the physical beauty that all of you have. Indian women like her have a differnt kind of beauty. For us, smooth, soft, clear skin is a big part of beauty. For these women, considering the lives they've led, the quality of food they've had, this is an impossibility. They look 10-15 years older than they are. This auntie is beautiful because of her eyes, her smile, and her personality. Her eyes and smile show joy despite hardships, and purity/simplicity of heart. Her behavior, her speech-her personality, in essence-are saturated with her faith and gratefulness. There's a worker here who is very pretty and cute, as Isabella said about her one day. Now, her teeth are in bad shape, her hair is thinning and greying, she's wrinkled and a little bent over. She is probably 10 years younger than my mom, but she looks 15 years older. But, though she has to work very hard here, she is always so upbeat. Her smile, her eyes, and her voice always are filled with such joy, and she has a childlike face though she is wrinkled.

Four months!

2006-02-04T03:21:00.000-08:00

-Today marks four months since I left home. Four months! I've never spent so much time away from New Jersey. I've never been away from most of you for anywhere near this long. Wow. Before I left, an uncle I know asked me how my friend circle is, how the environment is that's set up by the people closest to me. I felt awkward because my dad was with me and his impact and involvement is just as big, if not bigger, than anyone else's. I said I have wonderful friends who are caring, supportive, and concerned. I owe all the best in me to them, including my strength and perseverence through these times, so I can't imagine that they'd be the cause. He said, still, sometimes it's good just to get away and have a change. Haha, so my change was to spend the next three months attached to my dad's hip. I don't think that's what I would have thought of as refreshing. It's all good though...and oh, a good note about this length of time. My deoderant is still going! This is amazing. At home, I could have sworn I was getting a new stick every few weeks. Granted, there were a few days there when I couldn't bathe, and a few days when I felt I was getting better deoderant/anti-persperant results without using the deoderant, and maybe a couple days when I forgot or didn't have the deoderant. But still, wow. My shampoo is still going, though I used my dad's for some time when I had shirodhara everyday and had short hair. I brought very little shampoo here, but it was enough, the way it works and the way my hair is, to last me for a year most likely. But this getting oil in my hair twice a day every day for over a month stuff, it's made me have to use so much shampoo, and I might run out soon. Now you know...and knowledge is half the battle.
-Oh, we have an update on the situation with the massage guys. They all came back today. Apparently, they all went together to the head of this hospital system to complain. They dragged Deepakbhai there against his will. The person they met will give an audience to their complaints this coming Tuesday. They came by to visit everyone today. They were laughing and joking and in good spirits and it was so good to see them. Oh man, their departure left four guys in the men's staff. One of them always takes Saturdays off. The other decided he would take today off. That left two guys and a lot of patients. I don't think they ate lunch today. Even with some help supplied by some of the student doctors, they still were working non-stop to deal with the volume of work to be done. When these guys came in the afternoon, they started helping out. They're not employed here right now, they won't be paid for this, and they might actually get hassled for it, but they felt bad and couldn't help lending a hand, and that's the only way things got done. My shirodhara alone requires two people almost constantly, and they had six other patients to take care of at the same time in other treatments.
-Tomorrow's the Super Bowl! Man, I'm so excited reading articles and wanting to see what happens. Someone who watches and is interested in it, please send me some sorta recap. I want to hear someone's actual experiences and not just read the articles, especially as every article assumes you've seen the game. I'll be the only self-proclaimed NFL fanatic who will miss it. Go Big Ben! I'm so proud of the big lug. Younger than me, and on the big stage!

The Reckoning, on friends, "The year of Sanket," etcetera

2006-02-03T23:06:00.000-08:00

-Today I got a haircut. Devendrabhai and Deepakbhai would pester me about how I don't comb my hair, go to a barber to get a proper shave, or change out of my pajamas and t-shirts when going out on the town, so I decided to please them today. I had a trim of my hair...just the sides and edges, as they had gotten bushy (though personally, I liked it that way. It made me look like those people who keep round, melon-like, though not puffed out, afros. Not only my hair, but also my head itself is lacking in volume). The edging gave me a rather goofy looking haircut, and the fade on the sides is a bit abrupt, but what can you do? I got an amazing shave which was also quite long and multi-staged. It left my face feeling very soft and also very stripped. I look truly like a little boy. And I got rid of my armpit hair, also to please these two guys. They complain that I have unshaved armpits when they give me a massage, and make comments about it everyday. When I say full-body massage, I mean just that. There is a VERY limited region that they do not cover and, in their zeal, they breach even those boundaries from time-to-time. But oh yeah, shaving my pits, what's up with that? Apparently, French women have hairy underarms and Indian men, at least ideally, don't. These two seem to think I should be hairless everywhere except on my head, arms and legs. Still, this is where I drew the line.
-Alas, the two guys I aimed to please may never give me a massage or see me nearly naked again. I know, stated that way, this is very good. Lemme 'splain. Today was a very sad day. Six young members of the massage staff (they do a lot other than massage-pretty much most of panchkarma-but it would be a lot to explain and so I call them the massage staff), one from the women's staff, five from the men's, worked their last day today, and they won't be paid for the month to two months that they've been here. They were told that this was unpaid training, and that it would last for six months ordinarily, only there's no longer any need for them, so skedaddle. They would be provided with certificates stating how long they've been training here. These guys were in bad shape. They each cried so much, and I ended up crying with them, though I didn't agree with or share their outlook. It was hard not to. They were so crestfallen, sad, and worried. They had their own dreams for what they would do with this paycheck crumble, but they felt they were the pride and hope for their parents and villages. They didn't know how they would face them. Deepakbhai didn't go home for lunch and was considering not going home at night. Amongst many things they thought and considered doing was a plan to borrow money, pay off the debts of the last two months, go to the bus stand as usual everyday, and fake having a job everyday until they got one and paid back their loans, and to never tell their parents what happened so they never feel the pain of this incident. Now, to be sure, these people are in a very bad financial state compared to anyone who's able to read this blog from a home PC. Nevertheless, I'm not cworried about them starving to death. Their thoughts andimpetuous plans are leading them to a much worse fate. I prayed for them today, but not for their wages to be given to them. I prayed that they be reminded of their strength to persevere, because life has many such shocks for the least suspecting, least deserving people, and if we tumble upon the first shock, we must go on living as the walking dead, as they were today, and that's no life at all. Luckily, the human spirit, like children, is resilient, and has a short memory, which is why I said to them what I could today, struggling to express my thoughts effectively in Gujarati, but I asked them to come see me in a few days. Though they think the shock will last several months, I'm confident in a few days their moods will have brightened and their perspectives will have widened. There is SO much that could be related today about what they said, what I said, what was said to them, what they did, their sadness, shame, rightful indignation, ear, and so much more, or I could say what I might feel is the bottom line, but all of this together wouldn't capture all that this experience was for all involved. Maybe, this could all become moot if theykeep their options open, complain to a higher authority, and receive compensation.
-Now, I don't wish to downplay the wrong that was done here. These people were hired for and kept through the busiest season of the year and are let go without pay now, when things happen to be much slower and fewer people are needed. Nevertheless, as this situation has reminded me of the fact, let me assert that Indian people are emotional. They take pride in, nurture, cherish and feed this emotionality (?). Emotionalness? You know. Along with their love songs, happy songs and devotional songs, they love and exalt their sad songs. When they sing for each other in the way I described earlier, they sing these sad songs too and put their whole bodies into them and make like they're crying, and the listeners clap and cheer and they all comment about how wonderfully sad and true the song is. I don't think we can find many songs in America that are so sad and full of despair and that are so oft-sung and oft-celebrated as the vast number you can find here. My dad has a CD that's a compilation of songs by his favorite singer, and it's called "Sad Songs." Now, Matchbox Twenty, Coldplay, and Dashboard Confessional are just three of many examples of artists from the list that I like that have made many songs, if not entire albums, about unrequited and abandoned love. But still, who makes a CD called "Sad Songs" and expects to get a lot of sales? Some would use that as a marketing ploy, but who else would do it as something completely normal? And odd thing about these kinds of sad songs that come from Hindi movies is that the songs are so extreme and they end up out of place in the movie. You know how dumb the little tiffs between hero and heroine usually are in movies. The guy thinks the girl likes some other guy, and he goes off singing drunk on the rooftops, comparing his love to that of the Gods, and all the most famous lovers of history and literature, and lets us no that no Atilla of the Huns or Ivan the Terrible was as cruel as this girl, but oh, then it turns out it was his misunderstanding and they make up. The fact is that as hard as life can be, it's very rarely so bad as to justify these kinds of songs and thoughts. But this is our Indian public. Some people are quick to anger and indignation, others to laughter and tears of joy, others to sadness that is reveled in and shared like the finest of sweets. Many are all of these things. Deepakbhai and Devendrabhai are amongst these last people, though you can remove anger from Deepakbhai's list. The poor guy...he know of their ending employment yesterday, and neither he nor Devendrabhai slept last night. Yesterday, he was in a state of gloomy reverie when a couple guys started playing some kind of prank or mischief on him. He got mad and blew up at them. Now, this is uncharacteristic of him. Devendrabhai says as many foul and incendiary things as he says sweet ones. He's always instigating and picking fights with Shankarbhai (another member of the staff who is smaller, younger and scrawnier, and who is one of the six people we've been talking about) physically and verbally. Deepakbhai is one of those people who laughs everything off, laughs at and scolds people who fight, but doesn't understand why would do so, and so he's never involved in them. He jokes a lot, but never instigates. He makes dirty jokes, but never curses at or about people. These guys who were bugging Deepakbhai felt slighted and, as they had a large group and he was alone, proceeded to pound his shins with field hockey sticks (if you didn't know, field hockey is a big MENS sport here, but, considering the topic of discussion, let's ignore that for now). He limped around today but, as is his nature, and as he was lost in reverie, he ignored it and went on with his work and his thoughts.
-Deepakbhai and Devendrabhai are very good friends. Very good. They are so close and intimate. They pride themselves on telling each everything, and I do mean everything. They took turns crying and reassuring each other all day. I'm not so happy with what they do with this friendship, how they use it. They form the kinds of bonds that leave them fallen apart if one person goes away for some time. They egg each other on into despair and hopelessness even more than they do with happiness. Actually, to many friends like these here, friendship is not a journey or a tool for betterment and advancement. But these people never feel alone. For people who scoff at the Indian idea that husband and wife are one, and that many people have died just from hearing the news that his/her spouse had died, these people should observe these kinds of friends. I wouldn't be surprised if they would die completely, whether metaphorically or literally, from having their close friend die. They consider each other their life. We love each other and form many close bonds in America, but there is always some formality, some distance, some awkwardness when issues of money, other friends, significant others, possessions, etc. come up. We hesitate to ask for and give money because there is still this concept of "
mine" and "yours." In times of trouble, we say things like, "You know, if you ever need help, or to taklk, I'm here..." These guys would think about each other's families and start crying. They would say, "Hey, you're going to come see me at the bus stand tomorrow, right? Whether we sit there all day, or we go look for work, we're gonna do it together." And also, "I can't face my parents alone, and you can't face yours at all, so don't go home tonight. Come stay a few days with me." And the other would respond, "Are you kidding? I can't face your parents either, and if I see you trying to talk to them, we're both gonna cry. I'm not going anywhere near your house for some time." Devendrabhai was talking to me one day and complaining about his shoulder hurting. He said "When Deepak comes, I'll have him massage it." When Deepakbhai came, sure enough Devendrabhai told him about his pain, and Deepakbhai started masaging his shoulder and continued talking to the rest of us normally. Devendrabhai didn't ask anyone else to do it though they were already around. That would require cajoling and leave him with debts and obligations. This was completely natural. One doesn't ask to massage one's own shoulder. I've heard Swadhyay youth who recently arrived in America from India talk about how close they were with their friends and what kind of a relationship they had. These people tended to be the people I liked and admired the least, and I'd wonder how they had such amazing friendships and manage to remain (or become) such crappy people. Now, I both have an answer for my quandary and belief in what they said. I often look at my closest friendships and those relationships that I consider like those of siblings, and I wonder how I love and am so loved by them, and yet there is so much hesitation and such a gap. I find I don't feel so bad about it now. This doesn't reflect, I find, on my caliber as a person, or theirs. There is simply a difference between how we do things in America and India. We're individuals with interpersonal relations in America, and the concept of merging seems an impossibility. But both Western individualism and the Eastern tendency to define onesef solely by relationships give necessary contributions to the ultimate goal. And friendship that consists of perpetuation and encouragement (without examination) of all that we are, friendship for mutual enjoyment, but not mutual advancement; these are symptoms of relationships worldwide. We Americans miss because we aim too far on the one side, and Indians on the other (on this, I fall distinctly on the American side). That's the only difference. There's no need to worry. As I improve on the things inside, the outside will change by itself.
-On to, if not lighter, at least things that are different. A funny thing happened during my shirodhara today. Shirodhara is a treatment in which a thin, warm stream of medicated sesame seed oil (or other things in certain cases) is poured onto your forehead and moved back and forth from temple to temple for about a half hour. I'm not sure exactly how it works, and anyway, the explanation wouldn't fit with our science, but suffice it to say that it brings your mind's activity to the levels of deep sleep or meditation. It's very relaxing, and it usually puts people to sleep (I mean makes them fall asleep). For these reasons, it's used for people with sleep problems, headaches, mental problems, and other related difficulties. Especially as my sleep has been erratic and particularly unsatisfying these past few days, I've fallen asleep all but one time, and I enjoy shirodhara very much. Today, I fell asleep and later felt a tap on my shoulder, as Devendrabhai bumped into me, and I heard some noises and talking behind me from Shantilalkaka, who was doing the shirodhara. I'm often very confused when awoken from deep sleep, as anyone who's slept with me can attest to (you know what I mean). My college roommates especially got to see this when they would wake me up during exam week to join them for dinner. I immediately thought that I was in my bed, it was morning, the doctors had come in for their morning round, and they were waiting for me to get up. I was so embarrassed and sorry that I got up immediately. This startled Shantilalkaka and Devendrabhai, who restrained me, fearing I would get oil in my eyes, which is very irritating even in small amounts, or upset the apparatus, which would be very messy. I "checked myself, fool," lay back down, and explained to them my confusion. Later on, I kept laughing as I would think to myself what they must have thought when, after twenty minutes of being perfectly still and relaxed, I suddenly got up, as if I'd come back from the dead.
-Oh man, I don't think I ever told you about when a monkey got into the ladies' ward here and perched itself on an empty bed. The women screamed and screamed and came to me to get it out, which I thought was funny. But I did it. I took an elderly woman's cane and brought it close to themonkey, who bounded out, perched on the back entrance steps, and left for good when it saw that I'd followed it. Monkeys are very powerful and can be violent when cornered, so I was worried that it might hit one of the unsuspecting women in the ward beds, but it jumped around them and left without incident. I only held the cane out and didn't swing it. The last thing I wanted was a fight with a monkey on my hands.
-Dr. Gupta had another meeting with foreign patients today. I attended. He talked about several things, including how we want help, but only in the way that we want it. We fail to see all the ways God's helped us and stubbornly demand the circumstances that we want. He told for support the story of the devout man whose village was beseiged with rising floodwaters, who, time and again refused help from his neighbors, saying that he would pray to God, Who would help him. He died, went to Heaven, told God he had beef with Him, and God said that He had come several times to help, but he did not recognize Him (the moral: In God's own words, "You best recognize!"). Also, Dr. Gupta talked about comforts and discomforts again and said what he thought was the main difference between Indians and Europeans, at least the one most relevant to this discussion. He said Europeans (though there are certainly many, many unfortunate people in Europe, I think his point is valid in general, or when you compare national psyches, or when you consider the staggering number of people who are in an unfrtunate state in India) grow up with comforts and luxuries and, when real difficulty arises, they are very shaken up...also that they're much more easily shaken by even small difficulties. Indians grow up with little. So many haven't proper or enough food to eat, and yet, when you ask them, "How are you?" they respond as if no one in the world is more free or fortunate. He added, "the mountains could topple over onto us, and we'd shrug them off and move on." I think there's a lot of truth in what he said. There are people here who really have nothing. Troubles don't scare them. They remind me of the African boy in South Park whose bowl/gourd the taunting missionary womantook away and as she stood there, asking him how he liked that and what he was going to do about it, a fly actually landed on his open eyeball (yes, I know it's animated), and he sat there, unblinking, unmoved, and didn't answer. God, I love/miss watching South Park! I had an interesting conversation with some other patients immediately after leaving this meeting. One of them also told me the difference between Indians and Westerners, and his point was similar and related. He said people here are simple, and they walk around wearing simple, coarse cotton cloth dhotis and jabhos, and yet, they do so in "vaT." I don't know how to translate this word, "vaT." I guess you could say that though these people's appearances and status are simple and humble, they walk around in pride and style. "If such a man were to run into twenty people in fashionable suits," he said, "he'd topple them all." That is to say, his confidence at having clean, pressed, albeit simple and inexpensive, cothes, would put them all to shame. He certainly wouldn't feel inadequate not having a suit, or think his dignity lay in that. I think there's a lot of truth in what he says, though it was more true before than it is now, when people are shifting more towards "keeping up with the Joneses." There were many people in my famiy from my grandfather's generation who walked around head held high because they lived regular, disciplined lives based on certain principles that they valued, and because they earned their bread with their own two hands and owed nothing. My grandfather would be much better at convincing me to comb my hair and wear nicer clothes than anyone else today. He was a humble, simple man, a relatively uneducated farmer, who never went out of the house looking anything but "up-to-date," who was smart and self-assured, and whose word had value for miles around (don't worry about me, though. My wife will straighten me out). Nevertheless, much smaller "toys," wardrobes and joys suffice for the majority of Indians even today than are sufficient for us.
-This year, camp is in our zone, isn't it? Oh man, and you guys are already starting preparations? Man, if this is true, NOW, I am really starting to miss being home. I wanted so much to be involved in the preparations for our camp. Nevertheless, it's not so bad. I really don't want to be going to meetings, planning things, preparing the site, materials etc. I'm interested in camp reform. Our camp should not be the most impressive or best decorated camp ever. I could care less about that. This year, our activities should not suck for a change. Everyday shouldn't be the same evening activity with a different name. I'm all divine buddied out. The palaks should actually have time with their groups at night, and they should do something with it. They should think of what to do on their own and not be forced to do (or rely on) the same corny ice-breakers. And this year should set an example for what it is to have responsibility and to take leadership, especially for the sake of the palaks. It shouldn't be a place to initiate the palaks and other youth with responsibility into all the evils and hypocrisy of taking responsibility. Still, it's all good. The camp-going youth are like children...they adopt the worst in each other, but somehow, they miss or ignore the worst in the palaks and follow the best in them. And, truth be told, the palaks have steadily improved these last few years, especially amongst the girls. Also, all I really want is to go to camp this year. If I return home with some semblance of health in time to attend camp, oh man...and if I have 17-year-olds or older, they better watch out...they won't know what hit them...in a good way. Remember the season Vick considered his season to greatness, only it ended early with him getting hurt in the preseason? This is sorta like that for me..."greatness" doesn't fit as the goal, but that's how excited I am about my next chance at being a palak, and that's how much thinking/preparation I've been doing for...wow, so long now...before the start of the last camp. But we can toss aside all these "year of greatness" and "year of OUR camp" monikers out. I christen this camp, "The year that Sanket became Palak." I have waited for this moment for years now and I am SO happy. God, I hope I'm there to see it and participate.

Technical difficulties

2006-02-03T08:17:00.000-08:00

-Oh man, someone just gave me a lot of work to do. Someone sent Ashaben a not-so-pretty email from my account...and I realized afterwards that all my mails were deleted and sent to the trash bin. I can undelete them, which I'm doing, but there are some 954 emails to do this with and they're from all different folders. This is a good opportunity to clean out and organize my email, but I don't really want to do it in a cyber cafe here, especially not now. It's late in the evening...I shouldn't be out this late, i have a lot to post, and I don't want to leave anything in the trash bin lest it be emptied anytime soon. I'm fixing this problem, but if someone has a way to get my password, even if I change it, or just to hack into my email, then this is going to be terribly inconvenient. On the bright side, I had thought of a good gmail name in case I'm forced to get a new email address. Also, on the bright side of things, the computer I'm using is working pretty fast right now. Otherwise this would take days. Oh, if any of you have gmail and know of reasons why I should change anyway, please let me know.
-Okay, this is taking too long. I'll have to finish it up and saving the posting of sad information that I had to do for later.

From the news today...

2006-02-02T07:10:00.000-08:00

-Bush's state of the Union address
*The only way to protect our people and secure our peace is to lead. -Ahh...wonderful.
*India and China are the new competitors and the way to meet the challenge is not to escape competition or wall off our borders, but to better educate and utilize breakthrough energy technologies. -Ahh yes, what we've always relied on. The subsidies and strong arm tactics and tariffs and such we can take for granted and leave unsaid.
*We will continue to accept legal immigration because the American economy cannot function without immigrants. -Really, now...why is that so? And let's be honest, only the ignorant public sets aside an exception for illegal immigrants, and that only in theory. The less legal they are, the better for our economy, though the worse for our citizens, which in the not-so-long run is worse for our economy, but who's thinking that far? Say, there can't be any connection between the need for immigrants in an economy with a great deal of unemployment and lowered wages and the fact that the government is unconcerned or ignoring the unemployment and lowered wages, now, could there be? And there's no connection with these new competitors on the horizon and the fact that our jobs are now there and this all leading to the economy needing a boost and "leadership" and whatnot, is ther? Nah.
*Bush defended our involvement in Iraq and said that if we back down and leave "These vicious attacters alone...they will simply move the battlefield to our own shores." -Now that's preventative medicine for you. We have a far-sighted president.
*"There is no peace in retreat. And there is no honor in retreat." -Look up the words peace and honor in the dictionary and you now know whose picture you will find there. Let's break the statement apart shall we? If retreat isn't peace, is the opposite of retreat peace then? Is that the point her? What is Bush trying to say? Is peace not the goal then? There is no honor in retreat. Yes, if we ignore strategy of war and just think in terms of chivalry, this is certainly true. Bush must have learnt this in the line of fire during his extensive military career where he developed the courage and conviction to never back down.
*Radical Islan is the danger. -Yes, and radical Christianity is the answer! Who's up for another Crusade? Wait, isn't that what we've been having all along?
*Bush masterfully linked Bin Ladin (is this guy still alive? I heard of speculation, but didn't get a chance to investigate. Someone please update me) and Iraq by saying "their aim is to seize Iraq and use it as a safe haven to launch attacks against America and the world." -Haha. Now, Bush is not a fast talker. How does this nonsense slip past people's defenses? This is his fear? Well, we certainly can't say this theory is without evidence (or can we? We're constantly under attack on our own soil). Bleh, let's move on.
*"Bush has proposed to train 70,000 high school teachers..." -wait, haha, oh, I get it. Sorry, for a second there, I thought they meant he'd personally train them.
*Bush also wants to "give early help to students who struggle with math, so they have a better chance at good high-paying jobs." -That's right children, with a decent grasp of arithmetic, you are qualified to earn $200,000 or more in positions such as...our nation's president! Is there a precedent for social promotion/advancement going past high school and right up to and into the Oval Office, or is this the first time? And don't people ever scratch their heads and question themselves when they hear Bush talk about education? I mean, say the village idiot starts preaching educational reform. If you're open-minded, you'll think, "Well, he's got a point." But when he starts structuring the new curriculum himself or taking on the responsibility of educating or choosing educators for your children, isn't that where you'd draw the line and kick his ass out? I know Bush is at his lowest popularity right now and that he can't be re-elected, so it may seem like I'm beating a dead horse, but I feel that people should be more than miffed or disappointed. They should have taken to the streets, littered the White House lawn with Malatov coctails, and so on. This is a public that has just been prison-raped and is still more likely to say, "Please sir, may I have another?" or turn the other chek, so to speak, than to raise a voice of protest. I know the analogy is out of character for me, but considering how our public is treated and how we and the media respond, there's really no sense in dressing up what Bush has done in pretty pink dresses and putting it nicely. Doesn't the whole, Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, thrice, 328,247,154,989...times, shame on me" principle come into effect her? And remember, as Kanye West said, Bush doesn't like black people. And yet, we put up with him and will continue to do so with people like him.
*As I've said before, though not in this space, when people ask why we should care about philosophy, I say that we already do. It's not even a question. Every ad we see, movie we watch, news story we hear...gives us philosophy that we consider and accept or reject. Usually, we accept the standards, the goals and the limits they set for us. "This is what's normal, this is the peak of civilization, this is what's available and posslble. Ther is nothing else." Until we seek for ourselves and realize there is. We are doing nothing different except the most important thing. We choose for ourselves and take responsibility for our chioce. The same is true of politics. Trust me, I hate politics and distrust almost all politicians. The workings of political decisions and deals make my skin crawl. I can't ever imagine getting involved in politics unless it happened for me the way it did for Gandhiji. But we all talk and think and complain about politics even if we're not one of the people who does it as intellectual calisthenics/showcasing. Shouldn't we start thinking for ourselves and not relying on music, flags, children playing and other such images in our political commericals to tell us what we need to know about our politicians? Shouldn't we trust our won research more than the opponents' ads? Did you know that if Bush ruled in India or the UK, he'd have experienced one or more of these fates: 1) death 2) expulsion from office 3) such a thrashing from the media that he'd cringe at the sight of any journalist, TV or newspaper 4) curses hurled at him, his name and his burning effigy by 90% of students, workers, and even children playing in the streets. Ooh, all this talk of politics reminded me that Jon Stewart is hosting the Oscars this year. Makes me wish I could watch.
-The All India Muslim Personal Law Board is not going to apply a Fatwa on Sania Mirza's on-court dress. Phew.
-I was going to comment here on SRK and an article about him in the newspaper, but I realize I'm getting carried away, especially considering the seriousness and ludicrousness that is Bush and his State of the Union addresses, even from this distance...and the stuff I have to put in the post for tomorrow. Let me make this comment about Bollywood, though...my dad's girl, Vahida Raheman (that's the technically correct spelling...but I think she more often goes by Wahida Rehman) is in a movie that's starring Aamir Khan.

Dada next door, you're the bhest

2006-02-02T02:30:00.000-08:00

-Omigod, the dada next door sounds exactly like a bhes. Everytime I hear him do this special type of burping, I laugh. Also, I think of the day Ashitbhai (his name doesn't lend itself nicely-that is, in a flattering way-to transliteration. Actually, I'm not sure if it's Aashit, Aasheet, Asheet, or Ashit) came to give me my nightly post-dinner basti and the dada started his moaning/grunting/burping and Ashitbhai, in his deadpan, tongue-in-cheek style of speech, said aloud, as if speaking to him, "Hold on a second, I'll be right there, youdon't have to call me, just relax, what's the rush?" and then, to me, "Look at the way he calls me. Is that any way to call someone?" Omigod, if reading this is even a tiny bit funny to you, trust me, if you could hear the burping and Ashitbhai's mock growing annoyance in his Gujarati delivery of those lines, you would understand why it's taken me two minutes just to write the last two lines through all my laughter at just the thought of it. God, I wish I could record these sounds and play them for you. I can try to reenact these scenes for you, but I'm not so good at imitations and I wouldn't be able to do it without laughing too much. Here, try this. Imagine you have a water buffalo-or, for that matter, a cow, an ape, or the whale from Finding Nemo-and it is very constipated and is trying to tell you that in its long, loud, drawn-out speech. And this annoys a caretaker, who is going to treat it in a second, and so he starts mumbling his displeasure to the beast, knowing full well that he won't be heard, understood or heeded. And, sure enough, the beast continues with its loud moans. Now, replace the beast with an old man your grandfather's age who, because of his bald head, big belly, and scrawny, gangly limbs, looks like a cross between Mr. Potatohead and Gollum. Replace the caretaker with a worker who always has serious eyes and speech and always the hint of a smirk in his smile, and imagine the scene again and you'll get an idea of why I laugh so much. Everyday, I want to make some sarcastic deadpan comments to him about how he should do his breathing exercises only in the morning if he wants maximum benefit, and not randomly throughout the day...and that this morning, I woke up thinking I hadfallen asleep in a water-buffalo's shed/hanger/stable. These comments are much funnier in the helpful, innocent tone I assume when speaking playfully in Gujarati to elders. Only, I don't think he'd take it well. Oh, the people here are so funny with their assorted noises. They would make Melanie stop in the middle of sentences during our conversations or treatment and ask, "What was that? Was that an animal or a person?" She would get very serious while asking this. Poor Sophie would giggle uncontrollably when she heard some of the noises, even if she was within earshot of them (that is, they could hear her laughing at them). It turned out that, it was one of the Germans upstairs who made odd noises most often when I was speaking to Sophie. I told you who Sophie is, right? She's the 19 year old Swedish girl who fell in love with Jayvirbhai's eyes and would strip off layers when she went to see him. Did I mention that she's only a couple inches shorter than me? She towered over the women in the food serving team when she accompanies them. All the other members would make Arnold want to line up to kick them through the uprights.
-Speaking of height, since so many Indian girls happen to be so thin-and I don't mean sickly thinness but just the thinness that comes naturally from the diet and lifestyle of young people here-they look that much taller, which is cool, because I'm fond of height. But then, I also noticed that it makes them look tall and confident only when they also have good posture, which is really the key behind it all. No matter what your height, good posture will make you look taller, more confident, strong and attractive. And so many of the taller (haha, I should say "taller," since these girls are only relatively tall at 5'3" to 5'5"...Sophie is about 5'8") girls hae terrible posture. This is not good, people (haha, sounds like something Amiben would say...people)a. Part of the reason why my friends make such generously wrong estimates of my height is that we're woefully dimunitive as a race, but part of it is also due to my posture. You can't imagine how painful and tiring it's been trying to sit and stand straight these last few years, and I still have better posture than so many of you. This is not good, people. Let's do our back exercises, do our yoga if necessary, and improve those postures. At the very least, it will make us all more attractive.
-Ooh, Oscar nominations...alright! Terrence Howard for Hustle and Flow got a best actor award...I'm telling you guys, you gotta see this movie, even if you just see it for him. He's incredible, unbelievable. I'd be so happy if he wins. I know he's up against some established, talented actors (ooh, philip seymour hoffman...has he gotten a best actor? oh, I wanted to see Capote...oh well), but still. I know people will say if he wins that Denzel took forever to get a best actor and I don't think Freeman and so many others have yet to do it...but still, I don't care about all that. His acting, his character were so deep. The story seems laughable sometimes, looking back on it... like, we're supposed to take this seriously? But somehow, when you watch him going through it, he's totally real, he makes you believe in him and the story. His portrayal and his acting are both so honest, unapologetic and real...even while you root for him, you see that he's flawed, as do the other characters...but there's a sincerity in him and a strength that makes them follow him anyway...and when he starts to realize for himself that they're right, that he's taking the most important people in his life for granted, My God, you can see it on his face and in his body language as that realization occurs. And oh, if you don't watch this movie, you may never get to see Anthony Anderson do real acting again...and it's also very funny in a way that I have never seen (or can't recall) black movies being funny, and few movies at all get right. They took my favorite kind of comedy, or the level of comedy that I really appreciate, and adapted black humor and culture to it and did it seamlessly. I was truly amazed. and none of you are on the academy. Oh well...please at least watch this movie. Get five friends together and, if none of you have any blackness in you, be sure that you include some bona fide black viewers...and split the cost of the rental between you, so there's potentially as little as possible to waste and as little as possible reason to be disappointed. Seriously, though, if you watch this movie and think it's dumb or corny, if you think the acting is bad, that Howard is decent at best, that the humor is flat or not there, if you're just disappointed with the movie overall...then I don't think we can be friends anymore. Seriously.
-Ooh, Keira Knightly has a best actress nod? Wow. I like her and all because she's charming (though not like Kate Winslet charming, but that's asking too much) and beautiful, but I was hesitant to decide if I really thought she was a good actress. She's this good at this age? Man, all this happens when I'm away.

Chokher Bali

2006-02-01T02:29:00.000-08:00

-I read Chokher Bali, which I bought with the Kahlil Gibran book and finished reading today. Oh, it's by Rabindranath Tagore, by the way.
*It's a story about many things and one that asks many questions. One of them has to do with the fate allotted to Hindu widows. Binodini, the prominent Hindu widow of this story (though she is one of three widows who are main characters), is jealous of the life led by a newlywed couple, Asha and Mahendra, a life that should have been hers, and so she exacts her revenge by playing temptress to Mahendra. Her life and case can, to a certain extent, be summed up by a plea of hers: "I may be bad, or wrong, but do try to see things from my point of view just this once and understand me."
*The story examines her and Mahendra's roles in their falls, the consequences, and the social implications, all of which are not the same for both. In this way, it reminds me of the movie, Astitva, though the stories are, by no means, the same.
*When I read about the innocent and artless Asha, I pictured War and Peace's Princess Mary, Les Miserables' Cosette, the Corpse Bride's Victoria, and even the corpse bride herself when she was only a bride and not also a corpse.
*You know those stories in which only enough is said by people that they can misunderstand, and you wonder how nobody asks one more question for clarification or how nobody slips up and reveals the whole truth, and how everyone can possibly go on deceiving themselves even more than each other...this is one of those stories. The only example that comes to mind is "The Importance of Being Earnest" by Oscar Wilde, though that was much lighter and more harmless than this. It also is one of those stories where there is a great distance and difference between what people feel/think and what they say/do in really unfortunate ways with unfortunate results, such as one makes another feel guilty because he needs to see that she cares, but this only makes her feel hurt because of his supposed doubt. That sort of thing. The lesson, then, is simple. While keeping in mind Prince Andrew's advice to Pierre in War and Peace, that one must not always say all that is on one's mind, we should still say what we feel and we should ask instead of spending all our time in conjecture. How unfortunate that one person should do so much for another out of love and the recipient of that love, accepting another's explanation for the motive behind those deeds, should accept them all as out of hate and never ask why or even state how she feels. You see, this is why in Human Relations class, we learned to make "I feel _______ when you _______ because __________" statements. I don't care if they sound corny. There's a very good reason for them.
*Oh, the effect that Binodini has on the people she meets...it reminds me of Jasmine from the book...Jasmine. I think only Arnold will have read the book, though. Oh well. God, that Jasmine...what a crazy woman. What was with those classes and the books we read in them anyway? How many psycho women were we expected to apologize for and put up on pedestals, and how many evil men and weak men and unfortunate, abandoned men did we have to go through before coming across just ONE strong, good man who didn't have his heart savagely ripped out of his chest and left to die without pity or mercy? Yes, I agree, women are great and strong and, sometimes when they do bad things, they're the products of years of abuse that they've undergone. I get it. No, really, I do. Must all men in the world jump off a bridge, prompting a slew of other books about how we just don't get it and make things worse when we try...or should we just sit here and take it? Okay, yeah that was a dumb question and I knew the answer before I finished it. Ahh, but I digress.
*Has anyone seen the movie of this? Aishwarya's in it, right? I want to see this movie now...I want to know how they played it out and who played which role. Aishwarya, I imagine, would have to play the role of Binodini, because of her beauty. There are few Hindi movies where they reverse the roles of the actresses playing the temptress, the way they did in Being John Malkovich. I can't imagine Aishwarya playing conniving seductress and strong, repentent woman in the same movie. It would be good for her to play Asha since it would force her to stay quiet, to be sad, soft and shy, things I think she can do well. Ehh, I shouldn't get carried away expecting to see all these layers and subtleties in this movie. Hindi movies are usually hardly more subtle and deep than The Three Stooges. Dipu wanted me to see this movie, but I think it was so I could get a glimpse at Bengali life, particularly during that period, if it was indeed shot as a period piece. I don't know what he thought of the movie. Oh, speaking of it being in Bengal, I recognized some of the words...probably from Devdas or Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. Dude, I coulda sworn Salman speaks in Gujarati in the beginning of that movie. Was he from Gujarat or was I imagining things? Oh, I think Aishwarya does play Asha, from the stills I saw during the promotion of the movie. But then, who played Binodini? Hmm...
-Dude, India freaking sucks, especially at bowling. Pakistan has kicked the crap out of them this whole series and they seem to finally be getting their due reward now, since India doesn't look like it will get a draw in this test. Oh, yeah, I think they just got all of India out and so it's over. Still, tests are awesome. They're probably the most complete, decisive format of determining a winner out there for most sports, especially because of the aggravation of seeing tests grind out to draws. You must be decisive and complete if you want to win a test. This isn't like basketball, where one play can take over and win it all, or football, where though we point to the Chiefs to say that Defense is necessary to win, we can point to the Colts of the past few years as a notable exception, or to baseball, the most similar of these sports to cricket, where you can simply have a rotation or a lineup that is so strong as to make the other unnecessary (witness the Astros and BoSox recently). This isn't One-Day-Internationals either, where if you prevent runs as a bowler, or if you swing away successfully for a decent amount of time as a batsman, you can be a hero. If you're bowling, you have to go for the kill. It's not enough to contain and then bat yourself ahead. If you're batting, it's not enough, and often not even desirable, to get lots of runs fast. You have to both produce and stay alive and out on the crease. When both parts of the team does its job well, only then do you get the win.
-Last night as I was going to sleep, someone nearby got a call on a cell phone. He couldn't hear well, so he went through his entire reportoire (did I spell that right?) of tactics. In order, they are the usual greeting, then the prolonged Piglet yelling for Tigger greeting, then the meek, "I hope I didn't offend the wrong person, maybe if I'm just gentle I'll get what I want" version, then the "I'm trying to sound real peeved and vexed and irked right now" method, then the pause followed immediately by the obligatory sneak up on and scare the crap out of the caller method, and finally, with a flourish of a finish that required a preparatory build-up pause, a desperate attempt at foreign dialects. In its entirety, the conversation sounded like this: Hello? Helloooo? hello? Hello!........HELLO!...allo? Haha, if I wasn't doing deep meditate breathing and being aware but not engrossed in my surroundings, I would have laughed aloud... oh, sorry, I mean LOL'd. It's not his fault...he's still a seeker on the path to conversation perfection, something I've already achieved...on the phone and in person, with Amit. All this drawn out speech, the yelling method, the foreign dialects, it's gaudy and superfluous. There is great beauty in simplicity. Please, try to observe, understand and practice. I beg you all.

100% guaranteed mosquito repellant

2006-01-31T02:04:00.000-08:00

-Last night, my migraine came back. It was heralded by a return of the pain in my nose from that thing that hasn't left. It brought with it the usual brain-tearing, eye-stabbing sensations that are peculiar to it and, doing so, insured that I didn't get good sleep last night. I actually had a dream in which I was a student/teacher and I wasn't getting good sleep and this resulted in me being late for everything, not knowing my schedule, mixing everything up, and having a lot of anxiety about it all. My dreams are always exaggerations of things in my life, but this made me remember all the fun of school and work with my health as it is. Let me give you an analogy that may better explain how I feel. Imagine every time you fell asleep, a man would wait two hours and then wake you up and tell you that you have to get up because there is work to do. If you tried to sleep during the day or fall back asleep at night, he'd be there to get you right back up, and he'd disappear immediately afterwards. How long would you valiantly carry on your duty before saying, the hell with that, and deciding to find and kill this guy? Well, that's one main aspect of how I feel everyday. I agree with the people who ask me, "But how long will you put your life on hold?" I ask myself the same thing, but I do it most adamantly when I've forgotten what it's like to wake up in the morning and feel that appeal (that is, NOT feel it) to start a brand new day when the old one has not worn off. People say, oh, you just have a headache? Just don't think about it. But really, if the fatigue of all the days previous never washes away and you're carrying around several years' worth of built up unrest, how do you ignore the headache that comes with that, let alone everything else that comes with it? I don't want to justify being a quitter to you. It's not someting I've ever been able to do with myself. I just want you to understand and relate a tiny bit.
-Oh, I didn't mention that because of the quoth or decoction or drink concoction that I've been drinking everday, Ih aven't had a mosquito bite in weeks. I still put those little mosquito repellant tabs into their heater units everyday, but that's because the mosquitoes' buzzing near my head makes it difficult tosleep or do yoga. I hear that if a mosquito were to bite me now (because of the neem in the quoth), it would die. That's incredible, though I only desire to repel them. I should bring a plant home with me and eat the leaves everyday. I'm used to the taste now and they have a lot of health benefits beyond simply repelling mosquitoes.
-I went to the ENT that Dr. Gupta recommended and he said that I don't have anything big. He gave me some meds and said it should be completely gone soon (that is, the problem with my nose, in case you don't know what an ENT is).
-The squinty-eyed guy is leaving soon. He gave me his address and took mine down, only in Hindi transliteration. I guess he doesn't want his letters to reach me. I freely admit that I am relieved that he's leaving and don't care if "that makes me a bad person."
-Why do people say stuff like, "You'll remember us when you're back home, won't you? Or will you forget us and never write to us and come see us?" Actually, I probably will forget you. I forget everyone and everything. There are few things I do better or more predictably. Besides, I don't intend to remember everyone and everything. Even I, who tend to not be socially forward, who don't go out of my way to meet people and make friends; I have met thousands of great people, made dozens of friends and loved even more people than that. I cannot "remember" them all by sitting down and calling/writing to them regularly. If I did, I'd do nothing else. I'd never have time to become the kind of person who's worth remembering. I take a little bit of everyone I meet and like with me. Even if I forget where that bit came from, I think it's worth it just to know that I have it, and that other people have similar keepsakes. I've had a good time with many random people (haha, for "a good time," now you know who to call). That's how life should be, full of such moments and interactions. If they mean indebtedness directly to those people whose good company I shared, then I won't be talking to new people much longer. People ask me if I'll take them with me to America or invite them to my wedding. The audacity! Who's to say the first is plausible or desirable for either of us, and do you really think I'll say no to the bride's parents and then invite you? Melanie may be the most influential person who's popped into my life in the last 5 years, and I have no pictures of her and have made no promises to keep in touch with her. She's given me an open invitation to mail her if I need help. But she can't expect me to repay what she's done for me in any way. That's impossible. If my life benefits from her thoughts, that's plenty. That she got to share them with me is enough. I can't do for her what she did for me or most of the people I've met and liked. I can only live my life and include the aspects of theirs that appealed to me. We bump into people randomly (though truly nothing is random) and we inadvertently touch people's lives in ways we cannot even imagine. Some of our love or hate, hope or despair, etc. rubs off on them, as does our smile or our frown. We should appreciate these moments for what they are and not build up our expectations that people will remember us and continue our friendships the way that we imagine that we will, only to then realize, or at least tell ourselves, that it was all in vain. And we certainly shouldn't put Birju in the spot when we know that he doesn't like to flat out lie to people. Then again, birju, other people, in your place, would realize that perhaps this is a need for people to say, think and do these things, and you're only supposed to understand and answer that you will email, remember, etc.--that is, that you will remain true to your way--and not instead go on all these rants. Okay, then, it's settled.

Aabhmaa ugel chaandlo ne jijibai ne aavyaa baal re

2006-01-30T03:46:00.000-08:00

I got Shivaji's halardu the other day too and though I had told Devendrabhai a couple days ago that I had a gift for him, I gave it to him today after I could make copies of it. He seemed disappointed. He seemed to have wanted a shirt or something. I tried to explain to him that giving shirts and money is nothing and means nothing to me...when I said I'd give him something not only he but also his kids would remember me for...I meant it. Oh well. I'm picking up the tune little by little. It's the first line of each stanza that I'm shaky on and I'm a slow learner of tunes. I forget them very easily and am not able to just repeat them back immediately the way everyone else seems to be able to do. Oh well.

Blood-sucking spiders, leaches, and other fun creatures

2006-01-29T22:14:00.000-08:00

-I had my weight checked again today and it's gone up to 67 kilos, which is about 148 lbs., if I'm right in my calculations, and I don't care to check. I'm eating more during and between meals. Still, when I looked in the mirror today, I could see where some of the weight has gone. For someone whom Amit already called Stretch Armstrong, I'm getting to be rather gawky looking. My wrists look like little boy wrists as well.
-There's this guy here who speaks in Hindi and comes around to recite little Hindi quatrains to me. I was thiking of writing what I think about him anyway, and today he came by and suggested that I write in my journal about what I think of him. Well, here's what I think. He's rather boring. He comes and takes me by thehand, sits me down, and recites these Hindi quatrains to me ad nauseum. I don't understand the Hindi he uses, which is plain to see on my face, and yet he continues and asks how I likeeach one. Also, we have a huge bench to sit on, but he has to sit almost on top of me. As I discussed with Melanie, people have different customs with personal space and touching in different counties, which is cool. Even different people in one country have different tastes. But everyone should be aware of the reactions of the people with whom they interact and, when it comes to personal space or use of time, this isn't the kind of guy to understand or be aware. On top of it, he's the kind of guy who then says, "You're thinking I'm a boring guy, right, a bad poet?" a half hour after the point of discomfort has been reached, danced on, and left behind in the dust. He has another habit that is annoying and strange to me. After singing for me, after reciting a poem that they themselves composed, people ask me, "How was it? Good, no?" Well, what do you think I'm going to say at this point? No, I find the poem to be cute, but ultimately a waste of time and a successful product of a craft, an art, that is overused and overvalued. And I might losemy wits if I spend the whole day, much less every day, sitting around talking, reciting the same kind of poetry, and praising each other on how we do one mundane thing very well. Few things are as unpraiseworthy as monotony. Do I hate the guy? No. But I do find him to be boring and annoying and it astounds me that he can sit and talk for so long. Plus, he has a whispery drawl and his walk and look reflect his manner of speech, and he has these small, squinty eyes and all of this combines to create the image of one of those people who seem to latch onto people who have energy and drive and who try to sweet talk them into staying a while, but they only create a bitter taste in your mouth, and they take your hand or your arm and try to calm and reassure you, but you only feel that they touch you too much and they're restraining and trapping you. They are like spiders that keep their victims alive to slowly suck the living blood out of them, people who not only desire to feed off your energy, but also to see you lose yours and become more like them. Is this too harsh? Could I be completely misjudging someone who may actually be the kind of person I would admire and emulate if I knew him better? Is that what you think? Well, I'll concede a 1% chance of that being the case. Still, people should realize when they're smothering others, no matter what their intentions...and I hate the feeling of being smothered.
-Oh, sorry for the terrible transition, but did I mention that they use leaches here? Oh, they're such fascinating, disgusting creatures!
-Another thing I'll miss from home around this time is teaching for Examkrackers. I haven't missed a regular course in a couple years now. I wish I could somehow be doing that while doing all of this...I enjoy it so much.
-Ooh, people here think I have nice eyes. Well, actually, they keep telling me that I do. Either way, I think I might just stay here. Suddenly "here" is so much more appealing.

Look for the "Classic" label to know that there's no more you need to know

2006-01-28T21:52:00.000-08:00

-Today, I had two samosa. They were good. They weren't part of my diet, but I say F the diet, I don't need it. But I continue to follow it anyway and not look for ways to cheat, not for the sake of my body, but for the sake of everything else. Today, I wasn't making excuses, rewarding myself for anything or anything else. I only decided that I would eat samosas, and so I did.
-I went book shopping today and got some English books to read. This worker there is quite a salesman. When I'm in India, I really miss being able to browse in stores and shop relatively unharrassed. I found and bought Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet." It's part of a collection I bought that's called "The Greatest Works of Kahlil Gibran." Phew (or as Melodie's daughter woul say, phewf), now I don't have to search or think for myself. It's a large book, so I asked if they have just the work I'm looking for, but he asked why I should settle for one work when I can have all these and the one I want too. He's full of such logic. He gave me a pile of books by Indian authors and told me I'll love this one and that one is being bought like crazy, and the other one is read worldwide. He'd point out that one book is a Penguin Classic, which means that Penguin Books has labelled several books as Classics and this is one in that collection. OH. He asked me if I'd read Brown's books. I said yes to Da Vinci and Angels and no to the rest. He asked me if I don't like them. Yes, because only hatred for them will free me from the obligation of reading the rest. I'm beginning to understand. He started to understand that I'm looking for classic American/British literature that I've already heard of and decided to read, rather than experimenting with new authors, so he pulled out a book that had all the markings of a classic, though I'dnever heard of it. He said it was great. I smiled and asked him if he had read it. He said, honestly, that if he sat down to read it (as it is in English), he would have to neglect the shop for a month. He's giving his opinion based on sales. I refrained from telling him that, forget the public, I wouldn't even trust my stupid friends who don't know their heads from their asses (no offense, of course); that I don't make their tastes in music, clothes, books, movies, thoughts or lifestyle my own by default. Why should I care about his other customers and what they like from the English section? And seriously, speaking of that, how do people here get Brown's books? Do theyread it just for the point or just because their readership has gotten to the point that everyone must? It's better, in that case, to read philosophy/science writing in your own language, I think. I can't see that people who learn English here and learn what it is to be American from hearsay and Indian foreign TV can enjoy the American style and allusions of these books.
-So Gibran's "The Prophet" and his writing in general is unbelievable. I finished all of The Prophet. It's not only beautiful but also remarkably, concisely philosophical. Here's a link to it online. http://www.columbia.edu/~gm84/gibtable.html Just check out the chapters that interest you and you'll see. Especially, ifyou want to see why I describe it thus, read the chapter on giving. A sample:

And is there aught you would withhold? All you have shall some day be given; Therefore give now, that the sason of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'. You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving." The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish...See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life-while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness. And you receivers-and you are all receivers-assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be overmindful of your debt is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.

-And I went to a psychiatrist-friend of a friend of my jijaji as the fact that Melanie's CST helped with my headache more than anything had me concerned that maybe I have a CSF blockage/buildup that's causing all this pressure/tightness in my skull, and I was hoping that this psychiatrist could direct me to a doctor who can check for such mechanical problems in my skull. Instead, he told me that I have no need for tests, I have a tension headache and need some antidepressant therapy. Of course, I must do that only after stopping all other treatment, to be sure of the results, so I'm going to wait to see how this current treatment pans out. My biggest concern with antidepressant therapy is that it could potentially take months and months before I find something that works with me.
-In a related topic, I find myself, when talking to God, asking that He stop giving me little lessons and blessings and just fix me first. That's it. I just want to be fixed. I'll make the most of all other things along the way, but I want to start getting somewhere outwardly too now. That is, I now want it very badly. I am tired of all this. I'm tired ofbeing under treatment, of being in a hospital, of having dietary concerns and prayer routines. These last two things, I feel, are unnecessary and I'e tiredof them. I don't especially miss home, friends, school, work, medicine, and I don't especially want to leave this hospital so I can eat what I want and sit around and talk to acquaintances all day. I just want to be free of these fetters on my body and mind, and then I will do with them as I please.
-Devendrabhai says my eyes are "limbu naa faad jevi," that is, like slices of lemon. He says they are big and beautiful. He actually has pretty eyes himself, but they're sneaky, and his speech reflects these qualities.

Admit it: you love your Billy Bob

2006-01-27T21:42:00.000-08:00

-Narendra Modi passed by in a motorcade when I was going to the Internet Cafe today. He has the equivalent position as Governor of the State of Gujarat. I've heard conflicting reports about Modi. Some said he's rooted/rooting out corruption from the state. Others ay he's a Hindu fascist, with which I'm certainly not cool, especially as this state is frequently the battleground for Hindu-Muslim tensions. Still, I craned my neck, metaphorically at least, to see him because there is one undisputably good thing about him. When he keeps a light beard, he resembles Billy Bob Thornton, and you all know you want someone who resembles him to represent you.
-I saw a good article on Coke in a magazine here called Outlook. Well, I dunno if it's a good article. I really just like that someone's saying what they said. Ramdev Swami is too, which I like because he's pushing both a return to a natural lifestyle and the patronage of domestic companies. This is a related important issue as people here talk about increased salaries/opportunities and India becoming a superpower when the reality is increased foreign dependence and economic slavery to foreign multinationals. But that's a whole other big issue. Apparently, there's a website for the protestors spotlighted in the article: killercoke.org. I haven't checked it out, but it probably has the articles and information that I've been seeing for several years now (and which are mentioned in the article). Even more interesting is a list of American universities provided that are boycotting Coke and on which is named Rutgers U. (so is NYU). Can someone confirm this? I could have sworn we had just signed a big contract with Coke a few years ago. Anyway, good for those students who forced their schools to have a conscience. Interestingly, Coke's practices in India are among the biggest reasons for the protest.
-Camels have knobbly knees.

Happy Republic Day!

2006-01-26T02:43:00.000-08:00

-Or happy January 26th, as people call it here.
-As I said, people here love to sing. They sing and sing and they sing to people and make little actions, hand gestures, and facial expressions to go with the songs' words. The massage guys made me sing as well one day when they were singing. I know very few Hindi songs completely by heart and usually can't sing unless I'm singing with the song. I sang to them most of Meri Pyari Bindu from Padosan, since I thought that would be funny, and I did some of the actions as best as I could imitate Kishore (which was very poorly). They enjoyed that. They sang in Gujarati too and, to their surprise, I told them I will sing to them in Gujarati too. I sang the garbo Hu Lu Lu Lu and Omigod did they love it. They've apparently never heard it before. They made me sing it over and over and have made me sing it for the last 15 or 20 days now. If you dont know this garbo, it is very nice and you should have someone who likes it very much sing it for you or find a tape of it. I have to find all the words. I only know through one verse and I make mistakes. Singing for them is good practice for me. If someone asks them to sing, they just sing, whether they sound good or not, though they usually do. If someone tells me to do that, it always comes out bad at least at first, no matter what the other person might think. I can't just sing random songs a capella. It will make me time to figure out the right pitch and even then I'll make mistakes. The songs I know very well and sing all the time-even these I struggle to sing well if I have to do them impromptu for others. When I'm alone singing, I lose myself in the song and somehow, I not only enjoy it more this way, but also I sing much better. I can't usually lose myself while singing to small groups. Is this a skill I should develop? I suppose it would be nice. I certainly wouldn't mind having it. But as long as I can sing alone and sing lullabies to my future famiy, that's enough for me. I hae ability enough for that and that's reason enough for having that ability.
-Another thing aout motorists beeping at pedestrians (sounds like a movie title, like Sitting In Cars With Boys)...they beep so much from so far away that it has the effect of "crying wolf."
-My cousin Meghaben got engaged today after a marathon of interviews. The guy she picked is so lucky, not only to be marrying her, but more so even to have such a beautiful name. Wanna hear it? Birju...nice, huh? Say it with me...Birju...doesn't it feel so good coming up your throat, rolling around in your mouth and sliding off your tongue? Like a party in your mouth, no? Now imagine...how beautiful, how wonderful must a person named Birju be? Picture him in your mind with me. There, see how nice that feels? If you're having trouble, just picture me. Ahh, that's it. Now just hold on to that image, caress it, hold it up and imagine being like it. Careful now, you might blow your mind. Okay, now let it go. No, really, it's time to let go. Okay, now you're just embarrassing yourself Please, please ju-there, thank you Wasn't that great? Was it as good for you as it was for me? Oh, I can only imagine what it is like to experience, or at least get a glimpse, of Birju through someone else's senses. Ineffable, I can only imagine. And so, I desist.
-I'll miss the Super Bowl this year. That's okay...I've seen a lot of good ones in the last few years and the ones I've missed weren't worth seeing. You know what I miss when I think of the Super Bowl, though? Pizza. I'm not so crazy after pizza and yet I've craved it lately. Maybe I'll have some here. Not Pizza Hut, though I had it in Chowpatty two years ago with dipu when I was SO hungry and it was SO good (some kind of paneer tikka masala pizza). It's just so expensive. We spent 1000 rupees between four of us that time. I want some cheap pizza at a small restaurant here. I wanna see what people are talking about when they talk about pizza here and what kind of varieties there are here.

Some more characters

2006-01-25T21:38:00.000-08:00

-So another guy here has a cough that sounds like a dog's bark, and another's burp sounds like a cartoon Frankenstein monster's groan.
-This Swedish girl who's here (not as a patient, but because she's the friend of a relative of one of the workers) has a crush on Jayvir bhaiya...b/c of his eyes. He's a ladykiller, I'm telling you.

And I really do think

2006-01-24T23:07:00.000-08:00

-There's another man here who coughs as if he's giving a verbal salute to Hitler.
-I took our mirror down and used it to look into my nose and let me tell you--it was so gross. I know you want to know what it was like and I don't want to keep you in the dark, but, alas, the sight was simply ineffable.
-I like Mahendra Singh Dhoni. He reminds me of Johnny Damon. That is, mostly because of looks. They’re equally good with a bat; Dhoni is probably even better in the field, especially at throwing. But the biggest advantage of Dhoni over Damon? You will NEVER see him switching sides to play for Pakistan.
-Ever since my dad left, I’ve been leaving my door open/unlocked pretty much 24/7. I like it this way. I feel freer. People ask why I don’t lock the door, since I am in a special room. That is, as I have my own room, which not only means that I am able to lock it, but also that, chances are, if I’m able to afford the room, then I also have things worth stealing. Now, if I leave the door unlocked, the people who clean the room or change the sheets, the nurses who bring medicines and yummy Ayurvedic drink concoctions, and anyone else who has something to drop off or change, can. Also, though, I tell them that I have nothing to steal, only the essentials, and it’s true. I have such few, such simple, clothes. And yet, my simple jacket, with its broken zipper, is probably better than what a lot of people have. My pants, though baggy, ripped, or simply unattractive, would be appealing to someone who has none. Hell, if someone lacks toothpaste, he might as well just steal mine. And, of course, there is a bit of money here if anyone wants to search for it, though a good amount is always within anyone’s read reach. But this is all besides the point, which is…well, you tell me. Can people steal from me? Yes. Even if I lock the door, there’s always a way. By leaving the door unlocked, will I prove it an effective theft-deterrent? Laughably not. If someone robs me, will it negate the point? No. So, what is the point? Tell me if you figure it out. Anyway, if people will not stop bugging me about this, though most have already grown to accept and like it, I tell them, simply, “My doors, like my heart, are always open.” Regardless of the reasons behind their response, the response is the same from all, to smile and stop asking questions. So, I find this sentence to be rather effective.
-My right nostril is now completely clear of the foreign invader, but the left one is still far from it. So, last night, I decided to take things into my own hands, so to speak. I found this blood-sucking vermin inhabiting my property, and I decided to use him to get to the root of things, so that I may remove this disease right out from its criminal headquarters, its lair, its hideout. I thought I’d squeeze him for information. Oh, I squeezed him alright. And, coward that he was, he spilled his guts and delivered ALL KINDS of dirt directly into my waiting hands. That is, blood, pus, snot, and something that seemed like a lot of water. I squeezed him last night and this morning like there was no tomorrow. Believe you me, I popped that sucker good. And yet, he didn’t leave, he didn’t de. He is alive and well and laughs at me through his continued existence. He has not even changed his residence, arrogant as he is, and he is slowly growing fat off the land all over again. I plan to squeeze him again later to see if he reveals anything new this time. Other than that, I don’t know what to do. I’m hoping the Cipro the good doctor prescribed will help to curb his growth by perforating the wall of his defenses, leaving him unprotected from the attack of the region’s native protectors—that’s right, the Killer Mr. T’s and the rest of the A-Team. “I pity the fool!”
-There’s another uncle here who, no joke, sounds like a bhes when he…coughs or burps, I’m not sure what he’s doing. If you’ve heard the noises bheses make, you understand. It unfortunately cannot be explained in words. One person also has a cough/throat clearing that is mixed with the sound of violent vomiting. I think this is the same person who has that 200% sneeze thing going. The way I have different laughs for different occasions and video game characters have several special moves (and unlike poor Achilles in Troy who had only the use of that “[jump] Tap Turbo x2” jump-to-the-side-sword-thrust move that looked so cool at first but quickly turned lame and predictable), this person has several different character sounds from which to choose. We should make a doll of him/her (I have only heard the music, not seen the musician), attach a string with a plastic ring to it, and make one of those kids’ toys. What sound will it make when you pull the string? Nobody knows! It’s completely random!
-Isabella looks very nice today. She’s wearing an actual Punjabi that’s of some sort of pattern in that blood-red color that I like so much in girls’ dresses. Considering the party dresses type stuff she’s been wearing, she looks all grown up today, like when an Indian girl first wears a bold, but not fluorescent/pastel colored sari/chanya-chori. As you may have noticed, though, she always wears Indian clothes and, get this, she rides around on a cycle! How cool is that! I’m teaching her Gujarati pronunciations, which is kinda ironic considering my own. For all words that I’ve seen written out, though, I’m aware of the proper pronunciation and am good at explaining it to someone in English. I’m just sloppy in my own speaking—in all languages. This will persist to some extent as long as the fatigue and pain in my jaw, mouth and throat persist. I may be the only person I have ever met who stutters or stumbles over his words because “his tongue is too tired.” Isn’t our tongue supposed to be the strongest muscle in the body? Anyway, I’ll be helping Isabella explain yoga therapy to the mother of one of the patients here. This guy had a stroke, I believe, and has become paralyzed on one side. He’s lost much of his memory. I tease him about being Aishwarya’s younger brother because he has such beautiful green eyes and brown, curled, long lashes. He has a nice smile and is a sweet guy, and it’s so sad to see the state he’s in. He randomly curses at people without provocation and then feels guilty afterwards. He’s improved greatly, though, physically, at least, and is persistent in his exercises. Oh, and his name is Jayvir. What a nice name!
-I think I have a swimmer’s body now. This is going to come in handy one day. I can feel it.
-I like to muse about people’s reactions to Dan Brown’s seemingly off-handed revelations in his books. “What! Christ wasn’t born on Christmas! What was He thinking? Where was His sense of propriety?” If you’re a fundamentalist Christian of any sort; if you are one of “those” Catholics (I mean the psycho ones); if you like Bush because of the way he practices his faith, then you might not want to read Brown’s books. Your head might explode.
-Another note about these books. The formula is very similar. Look at the cast of characters. Robert Langdon is shared. His partner is a younger woman who had a specific, significant family incident recently, very similar in each case. Though the foundation took centuries to form, the clock has started winding down relatively recently. This was started by the Teacher character. Consider this role in either book, his interactions with people, even his pupil, the killer. The killer is similarly built. The outward appearance in terms of looks and moral character seem exactly opposite, but they are really quite similar. The outside contrast is simply like changing the color of ketchup for Halloween, or St. Patrick’s day or whenever it’s done. Geez Louise! (haha, that was in honor of SuperNilam). The killer’s role, knowledge, previous involvement with the work (ideologically or otherwise), his hopes and expectations for the future, are all very similar. There seem to be no main women characters except the one. And there’s probably much more, but either I forgot or don’t care to find them. These aren’t similarities, really. What I’m saying is that they’re really exactly the same. Only the trivial details are different. Still, they’re both enjoyable. Anyway, two questions on them. Is Langdon a recurring character of Brown’s outside these two books? Does his story connect with some space in between (like the way I believe it does with seasons of “24”) or only superficially, like 007’s (only less so, since at least Bond’s staff keeps its names)?
-My hunger is back, and with it, I feel the need. The need...FOR SPEED! Haha, no, just kidding about that last part. I don't know what came over me. Maybe Tom Cruise. You know how he can be.
-ESPN.com read my blog and stole the super-size theme. Ehh, I was just being naive. It randomly popped into my head when I saw SUPER BOWL XL on my screen. For all people who have spent the season with the NFL, this surely occurred to them long ago.
-Wow...Isiah Thomas threatens Bill Simmons after all articles about Zeke's ineptness, Simmons writes an article saying Kobe was foolish for not going after 80 points, and now Kobe scores 81. What's going on!

On children - from Melanie

2006-01-24T00:10:00.000-08:00

One night I was talking to Melanie about my parents and my childhood and such. The next morning, she gave me a paper on which was written this (actually, I've found the poem online and posted it here in its entirety):

On Children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

(This is from a book/poem called the "Prophet"...reference courtesy of Apurvabhai Vyas)

Parents should give their kids two things for life: roots and wings!

I think that last sentence was Melanie's own thought.

I've never been happier that Barry is alive

2006-01-23T21:31:00.000-08:00

-Steelers and Seahawks in the Super Bowl? Hey, isn't this year's number great? Super Bowl XL? It's like...the Super Bowl! Super Sized! Woohoo! So we're all rooting for the Steelers, right? How can we not? They have a big teddy bear--Bettis, and also, a Big Ben. And though Ben's made silly mistakes and been erratic over his streak last year, his playoffs for sure last year, and his season this year, haven't you always believed that he was destined to make it this far? Is it really just his second year? I could have sworn that it was my loss of track of time from being in India that made me think that. Didn't you just know he wouldn't fade out in a sophomore slump and that he would continue to grow more solid?
-My apologies to Barry...I saw an article title just now that said that he doesn't want to bat second, and it was only then that I realized a dream I had about him earlier was just a dream and not reality. In the dream, I heard the news that he had died. He's an old baseball player, but not an old person...still, considering the effects his hand and body lotion collection has had on his body, it somehow made sense. The worst part of it was that I was glad inside that this would render him incapable of breaking the all-time HR records. My bad, Barry. That's not cool to wish on you. Go on and break all the records you want. Your standing on my all-time greatest people list should have no bearing on your standings on the all-time greatest ballplayers list.
-Either the bikes in India are really very shoddy, or most bike riders here are very poor, because they all look shaky and drunk doing it. If they see you from 15 feet away walking directly in their path, they start wavering and get all wobbly, the way I would while ice-skating (I'm a little better now with that).
-Anyone who's been to India has witnessed the interesting and different culture of using your horn while driving here. Considering how hectic and unorganized it is, this use is absolutely necessary. However, people do take it too far, especially with pedestrians. As a pedestrian, you should avoid great risks, and go your way without hesitation. Give the drivers an idea of where you're going and they'll adjust themselves accordingly. Sometimes, though, even after you've gotten out of their way, they still blast their horns loudly at you anyway. At that point, the horn serves little function and seems to be their way of confirming your surrendering of the road with an emphatic "Damn straight!"

Random posts, day 2

2006-01-22T04:06:00.000-08:00

-Okay, so about my health these last 5-6 days. It hasn’t been good. It started out with what felt like small pimples in my nose, and an increased headache. It developed into large, pus-filled fuscicles (soething like t hat) in my nose, ,a migraine headache, and a fever and swelling as a result of the infection in my nose. I must look frightful when I go out. My ose has a bulbous knob at the end, my eyes are bloodshot when they’re open, and when I close them to relax them and my head, they tear, and my hair is spiked fro mpulling it and running my fingers through itall day to give some relief to my head. Actually, if it weren’t for my eyes and nose, I think Id look rather good. I like my hair like this. Ahh, but the migraine, that’s the best part. I have now truly experienced a migraine and, as I may have said before, I feel for migraine sufferers and would not wish this upon my worst enemy. I have every aspect except t he nausea. I have sharp, shooting pains inside my skull all the time, includig what feels like someone stabbing me in theback of my eyes with a knife. My headache is sensitive to all light and loud or abrupt sounds, and to any movement or change inorientation. I feel as if my brain is floating in a space with spikes on thewalls. I walk aroundas I have a stiff neck. Of course, my example isn’t technically correct. Such a situation would have strange effects, for sure, butwould not cause what I’m feeling now, as the brain itself has no pain receptors. Isn’t this fascinating, ,then, that what causes these pains does not directly correspond to theway thatthey seem? Well, be that as it may, I am not too excited about having ths fascinating affliction. I am just trying to have a sense of humor about my situation, as there is little I can do to change it. Soetimes, we have to go through episodes like this so that we can rememberthem and persevere later in lie, ,when we face difficult times. As they won’t give me pain killers to help me deal, as this is on top of the problems I already have, ,and as migraines are bad enough without having to deal with having a cold, ,a fever, and a swollen, infected nose along with it, I can definitively say that I have never suffered through so much pain inmy whole life. I don’t think I am built for it. I fear that if thislasts muchlonger, andI have to tolerate it without any help, I will either go insane or die from the shock/burden of the pain. The pain I go through everyday already, I would say, is a very slow death, a progressive breaking down oftheinner strength we need to go on, a slow road to total destruction. Consider migraine pain, especially when endured without medication for it, to be a highwa going to the same destination. It’s difficult to find relief. When I lie dow to sleep, which is the best thing for me right now, the contct with the pillow or bed feels like I’m resting my head on an ice pick, and I get a pain ehind my eyes that feels like my skull is trying to expunge its contents through my eyesockets, paying no mind (haha, get it?) ot their occupants. Woohoo! As I was writing that last sentence, my prayers were answered. Well, sorta. See, the doctors here feel thatit is my nose problem that is causing the migraine. They’e been giving me cold medicine and yesterday they gave me an applicationon my nose that would reduce the pain and swelling, and dry out the “boils” as Dr. Gupta called them justnow. I was feeling just as poorly today, so dr. Gupta camewith stuff that he applied on the inside of my nose to pop the boils. I eel a bit of relief now and a lot of pain. Thisnose problem was terribly painful, as was this treatment. My nose was very sensitive, ,it was andstill mostly is swollen to the pointthat my nostrils are pushed completely open and it looks like a nose from Ren and Stimpy. Plus, I could feel my pulse, along with stabs of pain, in my nose. The boil is still in my left nostril, where it is especially bad, but the pressure seems less and the boil is slowly draining itself. When I blow my nose, a mixture of blood, pus, and snot comes out. It looks gross, but it feels great. I don’ think I’m getting any codeine, much less oxycontin, but I am getting something to help with the pain, though it won’t give immediate relief and my headache will be worse today. That’s the dark lining on my silver cloud. Also, I am getting Cipro for theinfection. Dr. Gupta’s squeezing of my nose was unbelievably painful, so I’mglad that’s over. Now, you may be saying to yourselves, “Fine, the infection caused themigraine, but what caused the infection?” You have no idea how glad I am that you asked. Thedoctors believe the medicated ghee drops they’ve been giving me have caused this. “Inconceivable!” you say. “An Ayurvedic medicine created new problems? Impossible!” Yes, it’s true, ,and let this be a lesson to you all. Don’t believe and repeat the mantra of “and anyway, it’s Ayurvedic/herbal/Yoga/natural, so it won’tdo anyharm at the very least” that people are so fond of chanting. All things in thisworld have good/bad, proper/improper uses. All things can potentially harm. This last week, in terms of my health, has been the worst I have ever experienced, and I am ina hospital. This isn’t part of the treatment, as Ayurveda often makes you feel worse before you feel better. This is a complication of my treatment. Ayurveda does not perform miracles. It is a science like all others, none of which performs miracles. It must be used properly and with patience. This is why doctors exist. And Ayurveda, like all other things, is not right for all people at all times. Oh, one more thing about this week. It’s been interesting having a fever. My body temperature is normally so low thatI haven’t exceeded 99 degrees in years. Even with a fever, it probably doesn’t exceed 98.6. Still, while it’s a gien that I have odd fevers, this is probably theonly real fever I’ve had in all these years. After all, I don’t recll the last time I had an infection of any sort. Oh, sorry, one additional thing…people’s advice to not think about my migraine…isn’tthat like telling someone who just broke his leg to walk it off, or telling someone who was stabbed in the eye and still has a knife lodged in it to look away? If it feels like someone is stabbing and tearing my mind apart, how do I use it to ignore this pain and find a way to entertain others with my presence and conversation?
-Let me mix in some lighter things with everything else. Prakash bhaiya has left as hiskidney problem is not an emergency and hes so tense about studying for his grde 12 finals, ,which stat on march 1st, that it’s best that he takes thema nd then returns. One day while he was here, he talked about his favorite Hindi movies and actors. Hetoo loves Baghban because it’s a “family movie.” Hindi movie producers know of the Indian population’s love for certain formulas, and it’s thisloe that enables and requires to shut their minds off during movies like Hum Saath Saath hain and Baghban, and which makes it blasphemous to question or criticize them, as to do so is to attack the family. No, actually, I love family, I love love, and that’s why I attack movies that cheapen them. I haven’t seen the second half of Hum Saath Saath Hai, and I’m not sayingthat it’s all bad. It’s justthat the first half was so sugary andunrealistic that I felt sick to my stomach, and Salman’s good-guy roles are so exaggerated and, though in harmony with hispretty and soft features, are insharp contrast to his swagger and his actual personality that I just can’t stand to watch them. This character of Salman’s is something thatthese two movies share in common, incidentally, though I dislike themfor independently strong reasons nonetheless. Prakash bhaiya also loved Veer-Zaara, especially SRK’s role in it. SRK seems to be one of his favorite actors. He said that Salman, ,Hritik, Aftab, Vivek, none of these guys can play that part. I said, yes, but the real question is, why would they want to? It’s the same role in every single movie and it’sa stupid one. People have had plenty oftime to figureit out and imitate it. It’s simply not worth imitation. Oh, and I love when srk gets upset and says things in English like, “Frankly, Miss Zaara, I have never been so disgusted in my whole life.” Haha, do you know what I’m referring to? Aside from the fact that it’s so exaggerated, why is it that they force so much English into Hindi movies? If you soundlike a buffoon, then please just stick to Hindi.
-Did I post my thoughts on Angels and Demons or even the fact that I’ve read it? Well, I have. Two things about it. 1) If your copy is light blue and shows that Roman building with sunlight streaming in through the hole in the roof (I forget what it’s called—perhaps the Panthenon), after reading this book, look more closely at the cover, front and back, and you’ll discover some interesting things. 2) Having read Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code, I have an even greater appreciationfor Iron & Wine’s song, ,Jezebel. If you read either of these books, read up on who the Jezebel of Christianity is and what’s accredited (actually, I use that word sarcastically..I mean attributed) to her even today, and then listen to this song, and you may grow to love it even as much as I do.
-So my mom’s admitted into this hospital, which caused a bit of displeasure for me and allthe doctors. Melanie was shocked and asked why of allthe hospitals around, she would choose to come here. Dr. Gupta had a talk with her and said that if she’s unable to stay on her own and leave me alone except to talk to me in passing whenabsolutely necessary or justto exchange greetings, then they would discharge her. Perhaps this seems mean and insensitive in regards tomy poor, ailing mther. Oh well, There are many things at play here and even if I were able to explain each in its proper place,that’s no guarantee that you will understand, especially not regarding someone else’s mother. First off, though theres an empty bed in my room, she’s sharing a room with someone else. The other patients and staffseem to think that mothers, bydefinition, do nothing but to heal. They ask me how I am comfortable sleeping alone at night and they seem to think that I miss my mother very much and that my face lightrs up when I see her (it’s true that my mom can be very cute and sweet and her mood more often helps mine than does my father’s, though she’s usually only able to do this when she’s completely worr/need/responsibility free. Incidentally, if I’ve never mentioned this or if you’ve never noticed, my mom is very pretty and cute, and she looks younger every year, especially nowthat she’s lost weight due to her yoga/fitness classes at the local Y. Everyone expreses surprise that she is my mother, which certainly refers to how we look relatively in terms of age, ,but also, perhaps, attractiveness?). My parents don’t give me the chance to miss them. Though they were told to stay away from me (whoops, I don’t believe I’ve posted the steps/reasoning that led up to that decision), in the last 9 days, my dad has dropped by 7-8 times. Now, ,why must my mother live separately from me? In terms of just my physical health, there are few, if any, patients here who take the volume of medications, have the amount of treatment, requirements and restrictions as I do. I am kept busy most of the day all week, and my mom is not the kind of person to adjust to another’s schedule or preferences. Aside from this, she acts like she’s my child. She comes into my room, sees me lying in bed, clutching my head, and asks me to get things for her outside the hospital in the local stores and stands, ,when she’s not only healthier than me, butalso actually fluent in Gujarati. She doesn’t think at all to bring the things she’ll need here, even after seeing what I’ve been required to keep, she comes into my room a million times a day to ask for things I have but need, or don’t have and can’t produce, and when any other person here would be better able to helpher, and ideally, she should learn to help herself. Would you visit an ailing friend in a hospital and ask him to do your taxes for you? No? Then why does this make sense here? And immediately, when my response isn’t exactly as she desires, ,she dumps her usual dose of guilt on me and leaves in a huff, ,only to return soon after and start again. I’m not saying that I expect my parents to miraculously learn the arts of comfort, compassion and mood-lifting immediately. But, if they lack these tools, then, during these delicate times, I ask that, rather than dumpingtheir problems on me, they at least leave me alone or get out of my way. Well, actually, the problem is that I ask this in my mind and heart, but don’t assertively state this loud, as thedoctors wish I would. Well, soon enough, ,I will.
-Isabella is so awesome! I think I spelled hername wrong before. Oh, she has facial features that are so close to Anuja’s, , and also the same smile and the same eyes that manage to remain sleepy even whens he’s ecstatic. Her half-smile at times and herlaugh also remind me of Lisa (Cho). And she comes by sometimes just to talk and she wants to take me out to orphanages and parks to give me a break nd my mind some peace. She looked so cute one day when she sat on my bed andI on a chair while we were talking. She sits in half-padmasan, which is like sitting down cross-legged, only one of your feet is out, on top of theopposite thigh. Anyway, she’s so colorful in her clothes, and she’sall folded up, all of which makews her look like a work of origami. Plus, sitting unencumbered by the chair, her face, hands and body are able to expand with her excitement as she talks. Isabella has had a very bad illness that has plagued her since she was born and, ,though she is currently leading me in yoga therapy, as recently as 4moths ago, she was unable to walk. She is a bundle of strength and joy, and she is also firmly grounded in reality. I feel like nobody in this world can be more fortunate than me, as I have so many wonderful friends, and I meet such great individuals seemingly randomly in my life. However, considering all of this, I think I’m a rather pathetic, ungrateful person, as I hae little to show for it. You wouldn’t look at me and think that this person must have had soe great characters for inspiration in his life, certainly not if you were only privy to seeing my behavior and not also knowing my thoughts. The night Melanie said goodbye to me, I told her that in any andall ways, she’s helped me more than anyone here. And yet, I’m worse off now than before. That is, I’m worse off physically, butthis seems to me to be the pattern generally. No matter what’s been brewing inside of me, ,it seems I’ve still yet to take off. This is probably what Melanieis waiting for and pushing me towards. In any case, my having become a slow or not-at-all learner is no discredit to people like Isabella.
-I was weighed today. I weigh 64 kilos, which isabout 141 lbs., and which is down 9 kilos or about 20 lbs from where I was when I came to India. Its all good though. My weight loss has probably increased lately because of thediet I’ve put myself on and because of my sickness. Oh, so about 12 days ago, I decided that I’ve been over-eating, as I would be hungry all day and then go too far at mealtimes, so I cut my meals down to less than a third of what they had been and found that my stomach still felt full, only without the pains of discomfort of overfilling. However, it seems my appetite had begun decreasing starting a few days before I started my diet and, due to my cold and fever, has been completely nil these last few days. Still, I eat the same amount because I have so many medicines to take with my meals. Maybe thisdiet thing comes a surprise from me, especially as I give such a hard time to all my friends who undereat, but I assure you there’s no need tow orry. I am not one to remain hungry, first of all. Also, you not be able to tell by looking at me, but I have indulged my cravings in thepast to such an extent as to make the worst of pregnant women blush. Considering howmuch I love and want to live the thoughts of people like Thoreau and Gandhiji, it is time I made a change.
-Oh, poor Melanie, I forgot to mention that sheis spending 10 days touring Rajasthan. There are two male doctors who are going in her group and, as they are both wealthy and fond of whipping it outand comparing, so to speak, ,their budget has tbeen inflated so quickly asto put the worst of Republicans to shame. Their 10-day budget is 400,000 rupees and they are staying in hotels that cost 10,000 Rs. A night. If Melanie were to spend inthis way, s he would havenothing left for the two months that are remaining in her stay in India. First, let’s examine the numbers. It would take 8-10 months for the staff here, outside of the nurses and doctors, to earn what theywill pay for lodging each night. I have never laid eyes upon andam incapable of imagining the level of luxury this wouldbuy in India. I don’t believe that in the three and one-half months weve been in India that we have spent a fourth of what they’ll spend on this trip. Unfortunately for Melanie, , this will not only break the bank, but will also keep herfrom really seeing India, ,which she really wants and is able to do. She’s not demanding of comforts, much less luxuries, ,and at night, she only requests enough room to lay down. She was planning on living in thehostels and ashrams usuallyused by backpackers, students and the like. Even more unfortunate is the solution offered by one of the men when she mentioned her concerns. He said that he has a double room, so she can stay with him for free. But oh, should he need a massage or therapy, she should indulge him. “Don’t worry,” he said, “my daughters are even older than you, so you can think of me as a father,” which makes the proposal even more disgusting. Melanie wonders if perhaps he is just hoping to see her naked or if he has more specific plans. She said, though, that she will see for a day or two and, if things turn out as she fears, sehwill leave the grouip. This all came up when I likened indebtedness to slavery, ,and she described herupcoming slaery and asserted that she is not one to be bought at any price. Melanie is not as needy or easily frightened as some would hope, so I believe her.
-I’ve started a Geetmala of my favorite songs to sing. I wanted to keep such a notebook when I returned home, but I one day got the urge to start one here nd I did. I’m doing this for the same kind of reasons that I write down inspiring thoughts that I come across. In this process, I’ve amazingly dredged up songs I haven’t heard in years and somehow know all the words to, but in general, I’m much worse than many of the people here at being able to recall songs by heart without the accompanying music playing.
-People around me here have such funny ways of sneezing, etc. Amit would have a field day. We have a cough thatis mixed with a sob, a sneeze that is actually 1/2 sneeze, 1/2 cough, 1/2 martial arts sound effect and 1/2 moan (crazy math, I know...It's like getting 100% more, absolutely free), and methods of clearing one’s nose and one’s throat that absolutely defy description. Once, during my yoga therapy, someone sneezed in the way described above, and though we were both supposed to be very relaxed and in deep/breathing/concentration, Isabella and I both couldn't help laughing.
-Sehwag, bum that he is, got out shortly after I expressed my hopes for him, but it mattered little, as all but two overs were rained outthat day, no one was allowed to bat after him, and the match was called a draw. The next test started yesterday. Ihave to see how they’re doing (update: Pakistan is kicking butt on batting again).
-My headache is significantly improved already as I sit in my room and write this. I had already decided that I wouldgo out to the internet café anyway regardless of my head, for thesake of my mind, but this development makes the prospect that much more promising.
-I’ve finally finished typing up my posts here in the computer lab and I’ve gone throughconsiderable pains to do it. My computer froze twice, the power went out for a long while, I typed this up in the dark for quite some time, and, now that I’m done, there’s no guarantee that posting will be easy…but we do what we can.
-Also, I don't know if I ever called him Jitesh Uncle but, ,if so, correction: the uncle who teaches me pranayam is named Jatinbhai Shah.

Random posts, day 1

2006-01-21T04:03:00.000-08:00

-So many things to comment on, I’ve fallen behind, I’ll start from the top.
-Melanie is amazing. Unfortunately, as of 5 AM today, she’s also gone away. Nobody here has helped me anywhere near as much as she has. She’s a talented and multi-faceted therapist, but she’s also a great…psychologist, I would say, though not officially, as well as a wonderful person and friend. She would do her therapy for half an hour or forty minutes and then sit and talk with me about my thinking, my experiences in looking for a remedy, my family, my friends, etc. Oh, her boyfriend has a similar problem as me—don’t know if I’ve mentioned this in the posts that are on my dad’s computer and, as yet, are unposted—so it helps her first to believe that I’m telling the truth—you don’t know how much this is a relief and how rarely people do it—and also to relate. Everyday, Melanie would have a few pearls of wisdom to help me with my thinking, and exercises to help me with my headache, breathing, etc. Everything she said and did overall has helped me to become calmer, stronger, more relaxed, happier, and more joyful. Yesterday, it seemed, she had saved the best for last. She gave me her analysis of my family, tried to get me to analyze my role in it, and then, when I failed to really do it, she told me herself. Some of what she said I’ve long ago realized, but had never put together so thoroughly. But only once before had someone, very briefly, questioned my role—the one that has both been given to me and accepted by me. I never would have been able to do this myself. I simply do not think this broadly. Now that I have heard, understood, and agreed to it, I only need to practice it. I’m working on it.
-Yesterday, I spoke to Dr. Gupta about something that’s been concerning me. It was prompted by this one assistant doctor coming in the day before, seeing me sleeping on my side, and saying to me in Gujarati, “What? Your head still hurts? Why? You don’t have any psychological problems, do you?” Haha, she can be a bit blunt, rude, and insensitive. Still, it got me concerned about the doctors’ mindset after seeingthat weeks of being here has improved my sleep slightly, has made me more relaxed, and has done little else. I said to Dr. Gupta that, just for his knowledge, I enjoy it here very much, I like the doctors, the nurses, the staff, the patients, the food, even the medicine. I have no problems with anyone or anything. I spend all my time outside of taking medicine and undergoing therapy in hanging out with and joking around with people. I talk about all things outside of my health and treatment. I’ve made a ton of friends here. Everyone knows me. People tell me a thousand times a day that I have tension, that I think and worry too much, that my problem is a mental one. I’ve searched and searched within myself and though I’ve had issues as much as the next guy, I don’t think they remain on my head or that I handle them so poorly. And I think I remain as tension-free about my health—see, this is my one source of tension, though people seem to think that it’s other tensions that are creating my health and that I am worsening it by constantly reminding and convincing myself that I am very ill (Prakash bhaiya’s father kept telling me these last few days that it is obvious to him that I’m a very tense person. Keep this in mind when you read below on what I’ve been experiencing these last few days, and consider that I was out and about when he said this to me, and ask yourself if you would expect me to be carefree)—as it is possible for someone who feels as I do, has been looking for a remedy since August 2001, and who is admitted into a hospital. So, as I said, I’ve looked all I can and can’t find anything that would cause this, at least not without professional help, so if he thinks I should see a psychiatrist, I’m eager and willing. He said no, the don’t think I have mental problems, they do think I’m doing my best, mentally, to help things along, they’re happy with the results of my yoga/meditation/pranayam, and that psychiatric help will not be sought for me. This is a relief not only because they don’t think I’m mentally ill, but even more so because we’re on the same page and they believe that I’m trying my hardest and working with them. Dr. Gupta also said that people use the ”Don’t have tension” phrase as a mantra. Only I can really know if I am tense. I can either assure them that I agree with and follow their advice, or, if they won’t relent, I can be content in my knowledge of myself. They know of no better way to help, but that fact need not make me frustrated, he said.
-My God, this keyboard sucks so bad. I may develop Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in just this one sitting.
-Did I mention the other things that my parents and others are leading me in doing to get me better? When my mother got admitted here (oh, remind me to talk about that), she brought another thread that was given to her by a sant or sadhu, probably after reciting some mantras on it and offering it to God, to tie around my neck. That makes three things on my neck now, when the only foreign objects likely to be found on my body at any moment used to be limited to rakhadis and my watch. I even have a small golden sun on a string on my neck, when the only piece of jewelry I ever wanted to and saw myself wearing—unless you count timepieces—was a wedding band. Now I have two threads and a small pendant around my neck and I recite the Hanuman Chalisa, Sankat Mochan Hanumashtak, two Jain Paths, and do three different mantra japs regularly. My parents have also given me a ton of special prasad, had me meet several sants and made various promises to them as to what they or I would do if I am healed. We’ve done several rituals, like having me make wicks out of cotton for small oil lamps that must be placed under pipal trees for eight straight Wednesdays. Melanie also gave me a garland made of raisins and some spice, and a flower that were given to her group by a Swaminarayan sadhu, but she did so just because she thought the prasad would be a good symbol and reminder to me to keep strength while dealing with my illness and the changes she wants me to make in my family interactions. The thinking of the people who gave me the threads and prayers/mantras (oh, I forgot, a coworker of my mom’s also gave her a Christian prayer and another thing to recite which, at the end, asserts that I am effectively a Christian. The prayer is a beautiful description of why some good people need to be seen as sinners or as unfortunate because they bear our burdens for us, but I can’t really convince myself that I am such a person. The other prayer is cool because I already consider myself to be a Christian) are interesting. The person who has me preparing wicks for oil lamps and who put jewelry around my neck read my janmakshar and said that there’s nothing wrong with my health and nothing ever could go wrong with my health. He said, “Koni havaa laagi chhe,” which I believe is like saying that I’ve been the target of someone’s najar/evil eye, or someone’s bad deeds/intentions have rubbed off on me. He also said that I need to start believing in my own strength and forget that I am ill, and that, after doing the things prescribed, I will quickly get better and there’s no need for medicines. Another person who saw my janmakshar correctly guessed that I’d fallen on my head as a child. He gave me a thread to wear and said I’ll soon be cured of the problem, which he said is a pinched nerve that is a complication of my fall. A Muslim patient at Udaipur said that maybe a ghost has afflicted me and that I should be taken to see an elder in his mosque, so that it can be determined if a ghost is plaguing me and so that steps can be taken to remove it. My dad didn’t go along with it because he was afraid that even if the ritual we would do didn’t require the sacrifice of a goat, that if we paid them for their services, they would spend the money on killing and eating goats, and so he would share in the sin. It’s interesting that my dad speculates so far in advance of this hypothetical action of his—actually, it was just a justification or rationalization (I always mix up the uses for these words) for his desire not to seek a Muslim remedy—but he justifies every action of his by saying that anyone else would FEEL as he does in his situation, and he does so completely without considering the consequences of who might share in his sins. For my father, strong feelings and immediate impulses are reason enough for acting promptly and directly in line with them. There is no need to examine one’s feelings, that is, for reason to interfere. And oh, I love this kind of thinking/reasoning. Other so-called principled people are much more guilty of it than is my father, who just gets carried away sometimes. Take, for example, when people say that when we buy R. Kelly’s or Michael Jackson’s albums, we are supporting their bad habits. Now, I love R. Kelly’s music, though not always his claims and messages, and there aren’t words to describe the accomplishments and talents of MJ. If they have done what is alleged of them, then there is probably no greater sin in my book. Nevertheless, though this may prompt me to abstain from purchasing their albums, it would be out of disgust, and not out of principle. What exactly is the reasoning behind boycotting their music based on their personal practices? How far must we take it? Will they change their characters when they realize we’re not supporting them? Would we even desire and be content with such a result? Say we put these two out of the music industry through our boycotts. Would [okay, for the sake of my sanity and time, I am no longer fixing the errors the keyboard creates…I think you’ll figure out what I meant] we be happy and feel avenged then? And say then that they have to work in fast food. Should we boycott their Mcdonald’s? If we force them into homelessness, should we boycott their panhandling? What is our ultimate goal? Should we stop at nothing short of their death? Has it occurred to usthat people who molest and abuse children do not require an income of any size to do so? Aren’t we just doing this to convince others that we are virtuous? If we find outa company has an employee who is a drunk and a wife-beater, ,shouldn’t we boycott all their operations to punish them for harboring a criminal? But that is nothing. What about when companies and organizations as a whole commit atrocities? For the sake of everyone’s guilt-free and convenient consumption, should I not mention the thingst hat Coca-Cola, Target, ,Wal-Mart, McDonald’s, Gap, our entire pharmaceutical and medical industries, and others have done? And are you aware that theworld’s biggest, most powerful, and most guilty terrorist organization is the US government? Forget theads linking drug consumption and terrorism. You directly support terrorism on the largestscale ever seen every time you pay your taxes. I’m not saying that it’s too difficult to unseat or change the people in power or who have privilege and that, for the sake of our convenience and fore practicability, we should turn a blind eye to evils in our society. I’m just saying that this is the easy way out. It is to assuage our consciences, to sedate them, rather, and has little of the kind of effect we should desire for the sake of our society. To do good in this world, and to make a positive change, ,is not quite so easy. If people are really so concerned about the consequences of their actions, they should think a bit harder about the kind of person they putinto the white house. Arguemnts that, based on the system or the type of state you live in, your vote doesn’t really mean anything, and thethinking that we are just picking between thelesser of two evils…these are rationalizations that keep us in the same vicious cycle. If every other voter inthecountry had voted for Bush already and I decided that, regardless of the fact that the winner was a foregone conclusion, that I was going to deliberate and choose only thecandidate with whom my conscience agreed, then you can be sure that my vote would have great ramifications on the future of my soul and of my nation. I could go on forever aboutthese kinds of examples, like when Irv Gatti released a racist frestyle rap of Eminem’s when he was younger, and callers called radio stations to say that Eminem should be jailed and all his music boycotted. Sure, there wasn’t any racism and hypocrisy fuelingthat response. Haha, it is truly sad when we look to rap music or most any kind of music for our moral cues. But, I digress. So, Jatin Uncle is also concerned that maybe I am the victim of someone’s najar. This is a concern or a doubt in many peoles minds any time someone who is doing very well for himself suddenly and unaccountably falls into misfortunate and no amount of efforts seem to get him out. Jatin Uncle and my mom both think I should go to a certain Hanuman Dada temple in Sarangpur, ,as it is famous for removingthese sorts of things. Here are my thoughts onall these things:
*I believe that very good thoughts hae great strength, and it also makes sense that bad ones also do. If someone very strongly wishes harm on me, I believe he may succeed.
*However, I’ve never considered myself worthy of such jealousy. Jatin Uncle offered that maybe someone who had great love or attachment for me, someone very close to me, may hae had a hard time dealing with how fortunate I am, ,and may have knowingly or unknowingly wished this upon me. To such a person, I would say, dude, open your world. If I am so worthy of anyone’s jealousy, then you and I exist in a small circle. Train your gaze outside and you will see that there are so many people who are better than me in all or most ways (not thatthey deserve to be treated this way either). I am not so special or extraordinary. I would also ask said person to pleace, please, take it back. In theimmortal words of the Japanese Dodgeball commentator on South Park, “Dude, ,that is a not kewl.” I think that I’ve suffered eough and I’m very sorry for all the harm I’ve done to and wished upon others. However, youmust also know that I will never apologize for trying to be good or improve myself, ,and that if your jealousy is based on what others think of me, then you should have long ago realized that those peopleare crazy for giving any importance to me anyway. Why should you be influenced by their ignorance?
*Perhaps my biggest concern about all of this is its implication on the motivations in my life. I am still young. I have some abilities and some accomplishments, but they are small, and I am still only starting out. I want so much to do good and be good in my life. If I’ve attracted such bad people to myself already, then whats to come? Evin if Sarangpur “works,” how many times will I return there, and won’t this just make my primary feeling in lie that of fear? The best people inhistory have attracted and even created thegreatest and most powerful enemies. I have so far to go. If I’m afraid nowof being good and of what people may think and do, then isn’t it the case that I may survive this illness but, for all practical purposes, I’m already dead?
*My thinking is that I should trust in God. Things like thishappen for a reason. I’m not sure of the reason, but I know that if I overcome, I will be much better off for it.
*Isn’t there a concept in Christianity of serving two masters/lords? How am I having faith in God when I think thatsome special rituals will become my savior?
*Along these lines, ,I think that aspiring for Godliness makes more sense to me than doing these things. If I try to lead a good life and have good thoughts, ,I’ll reap the benefits of my good karma, and I’ll have more conviction in following this plan of action.*I’m finding all these daily requirements to be rather oppressive. I maygive them all up one point so as to relieve myself of theunnecessary tension and needless distractions. I don’t like the shotgunapproach. Getting the desired result, I feel, is no more important than what you do to get it. I should follow one type of thinking at a time and do it with 100% sincerity.

Happy birthdays, wedding, cricket

2006-01-17T22:02:00.000-08:00

-Happy Birthday to Sonia and HP. See HP? I didn't forget.
-Happy Wedding to Rujul. Sorry I didn't come...I'm sneaking out just to post this. I've started a streak of missing weddings. Call me the Wedding Skipper. Whose wedding will I miss next?! Could it be yours?! If you want me at your wedding, be sure not to invite me...I'll be there for sure.
-Oh, we had a wonderful day of cricket yesterday. The opening partnership has something like 403 runs, still not out. They're looking to beat the record of 413 for opening partnerships. Sehwag has 247 runs, which puts him 62 runs behind his personal best, and 153 behind the world's best. Maybe I'm being too hopeful? This duo might win the match themselves. Still, the Indian bowlers really have to start sucking sometime soon.
-Losing weight is making my eyes look big (bigger?), which is cool, because I am very fond of big eyes, except in people who like to pause during conversation and stare fixedly at you without blinking...that's not cool. I don't do that though, so that IS cool.
-This new German doctor, Isabella is working with me. Some of the patients are going to start teasing me more now that she is. They already insinuate that Melanie is my girlfriend and is giving me special treatment on the side that will be the real key to my improvement...and Isabella's really beautiful. Between her features, her figure, and her outfit (she had on some sort of casual Indian dress and Old Navy-type flip-flops), she reminded me very much of Shruti (they have similar characteristics--I'm not saying they look alike). However, though they both have wonderful hair, Isabella has hers longer and in this charming style that has a portion of it half cover her face at times, while Shruti's "Hey, did you know I grew up in the 80's?" hairstyle falls somewhat short (dunno if she's changed it or grown it out since I left)...but Shruti is still, like Isabella, beautiful from head to toe. Anyway, so I haven't a clue what's wrong with me, but I hear so many conflicting pieces of advice and instruction that I really want more individualized treatment--something I'm a big fan of--and Isabella's tailor-making some sort of regimen for me that will replace most everything else I do during the day outside of my medical treatment (meaning yoga, pranayam, etc.), which is good, because I want things to be simple.
-I've been getting so many unique compliments lately. Isabella was very excited today because she says I'm a very good breather. The other day everyone was checking my pulse and telling me it's very nice. I've never been complimented on these things before. Why don't you guys notice things like this?

hi

2006-01-16T21:16:00.000-08:00

-So I got to celebrate a second Uttarayan-Makar Sankranti in India this year. I hardly did any kite-flying, but it's all good... I don't find it so exciting, I'm not good at it, and looking up into the sun for even a short time hurts my head.. I don't know how these guys do this all day...but yelling's fun. I realize late when a kite has been cut, and I don't look up much so I couldn't participate in yelling..but I enjoy observing it. I read about the meaning of Makar Sankranti, which made the day more enjoyable. I explained most of it to Melanie, the German doctor who treats me with CST (you'd know who she is already if I had posted all these days in between), which is good, because everyone told her this day is simply a marker for the beginning of longer days--the moving of the sun in the sky--and nothing more.

-An uncle here is teaching me Pranayam. He was trained to be an instructor, so he's very good at explaining things and giving me feedback. Pranayam with him, along with keeping in mind and doing the things that Dr,. Melanie mentions, relieves a lot of the restlessness and tension I feel in my body and makes me feel calmness. That's mostly it though...I'd say a 10.75% improvement altogether...nothing to phone home about, so to speak.

-This same uncle is a disciple of Gurumayi. I remember her. We went to a talk of hers when I was young. Her thoughts and writing are interesting, though not practical, concrete and interpersonal enough to completely suit me...but we'll see. They stress mantra-jap and pure meditation (as opposed to murti puja), so that's a pretty big contradiction to what we do. This uncle is Dimibhai's wife's Mama, just so you know. And oh, he looks like a grown up Amar Kunthi. His mom reminds me of Khelan. Actually, anyone who has a focused and yet slightly vacant look in his eyes and who tends to not point his eyes and head in the same direction--that is, his eyes tend to look downwards and both his eyes and head seem inflexible--reminds me of Khelan.

-Pakistan beat the crap out of India in their first innings of the first Test between the teams. India's up to bat now and Sehwag has gone nuts on them...but poor light ended play early on the third day and is delaying the start on the fourth day.

-Wow, the NFL is crazy this year. I'm not sure that I'm so sad anymore that I missed the playoffs. I don't know if I'd have found them exciting or if they would have driven me crazy. Haha, the Giants got blanked in their first game. Well, the football Gods wanted to be kind to Giants fans and to the rest of us. Better that they get kicked out decisively now so that they don't tantalize Giants fans with "What ifs?" on how things would be if they did squeeze by, and so th at they don't subject us to another crappy Super Bowl loss like the last time they made it. They did make it in the last 8 years or so, right? I vaguely remember some Giants fan excitement preceding a big let-down...I feel like my mind's blocked it out completely. Well, there's always next year... as there is for the defending champs, who were knocked out after committing FIVE turnovers...has Hell frozen over? Unbelievable. Here's wishing that their players are healthy next year...this league is way too wacky now...with even a decent amount of luck, their formula would bring them back on top, for sure.

-I think I overeat..even though I'm thin (I now weigh 68 kilos...149.6 lbs, I believe), and I'm hungry most of the day, I get excited and eat past the point where my stomach feels full. Then it feels heavy and big for so long afterwards. And it's not as if eating this much makes me any more energetic. I'm going to try cutting down my diet and seeing how it makes me feel.

No posts for now

2006-01-12T02:04:00.000-08:00

I might have mentioned that I'm possibly going to be admitted into a hospital in Nadiad, Gujarat. Well, I'm there. I wrote a bunch of posts on my dad's computer, but I recently kicked him out (j/k...I'll explain later) and sent him back to Anand (I think he went to his village, Narsanda instead), so I'm staying alone without a computer. A lot's going on, but I won't be able to tell you until later. That is, I'll make new posts when I can, but I won't be able to fill in the blanks until later. Peace and happy new year!

Les Miserables review

2006-01-10T23:55:00.000-08:00

I finished this book finally. It was wonderful, touching, tragic, powerful, worldly, honest. It wasn't complex in the way that the characters and their stories intertwined and ran into each other, but it was certainly intricate. Hugo left no loose ends. He's quite the historian too. He gave the history and significance of the story in the time and atmosphere of the novel. I won't say, as I did with War and Peace, I believe, that not a word was wasted. I found myself wanting to be done with many a section or chapter. But this is certainly very thorough. You get the whole picture and the importance of every character and everything else that plays a part. Like Tolstoy, Hugo has deep characters and he treats them with respect.
Jean Valjean's is a great example of how doing the right thing does not mean that you'll be treated well or have an easy life. His and the Bishop's lives were rather hard (well, that's a big understatement). But, in the case of the latter, the joy of doing good and bringing others closer to God was a good enough reward. In the case of the former, the latter's example made it impossible to do wrong. This book gives both the example of the latter and tells what to do with such examples using the former.

Les Mis excerpts (second half)

2006-01-10T23:44:00.000-08:00

-His dinner took care of itself. Fever supports the sick man, and love the lover.
-Destroy the cave Ignorance and you destroy the mole Crime...the only social peril is darkness.
Humanity is identity. All men are the same in the day. No difference, here below at least, in predetermination. The same darkness before, the same flesh during, the same ashes after life. But ignorance, mixed with the human composition, blackens it. This incurable ignorance possesses the heart of man, and there becomes Evil.
-Nothing was more sorrowful than to see her amusing herself, and, so to speak, fluttering about the room with the movements of a bird which is startled by the light, or which has a wing broken. You feel that under other conditions of education and of destiny, the gay and free manner of this young girl might have been something sweet and charming. Never among animals does the creature which is born to be a dove change into an osprey. That is seen only among men.
-For five years Marius had lived in poverty, in privation, in distress even, but he perceived that he had never known real misery. Real misery he had just seen. It was this sprite which had just passed beore his eyes. In fact, he who has seen the misery of man only has seen nothing, he must see the misery of woman; he who has seen the misery of woman only has seen nothing, he must see the misery of childhood.
When man has reached the last extremity, he comes, at the same time, to the last expedients. Woe to the defenseless beings who surround him! Work, wages, bread, fire, courage, willingness, all fail him at once. The light of day seems to die without, the moral light dies out within; in this gloom, man meets the weakness of woman and childhood, and puts them by force to ignominous uses. Then all horrors are possible. Despair is surrounded by fragile walls which all open into vice or crime.
-Undoubtedly they seemed very depraved, very corrupt, very vile, very hateful, even, but those are rare who fall without becoming degraded; there is a point, moreover, at which the unfortunate and the infamous are associated and confounded in a single word, Les Miserables; whose fault is it? And then, is it not when the fall is lowest that charity ought to be greatest?
-First problem: To produce wealth. Second problem: To distribute it. The first problem contains the question of labor. The second contains the question of wages. In In the first problem the question is o the employment of force. In the second of the distribution of enjoyment. From the good employment of force results public power. From the good distribution of enjoyment results individual happiness. By good distribution, we must understand not equal distribution, but equitable distribution. The highest equality is equity.
-In this situation of mind, nothing escaped him, nothing deceived him, and he saw at every moment the bottom of life, humanity, and destiny. Happy, even in anguish, is he to whom God has given a soul worthy of love and of grief! He who has not seen the things of this world, and the hearts of men by this double light, has seen nothing, and knows nothing of the truth.
-X-- and Y-- were in the dark in regard to each other. They did not speak, they did not bow, they were not acquainted; they saw each other; and like the stars in the sky separated by millions of leagues, they lived by gazing upon each other. [Ed. replaced character names with X and Y in order not to provide a spoiler]
-She continued: 'My father told me to hold myself in readiness, that he had business, and that perhaps we should go away.' M-- shuddered from head to foot. When we are at the end of life, to die means to go away; when we are at the beginning, to go away means to die.
-Civil War? What does this mean? Is there any foreign war? Is not every war between men, war between brothers?
-The pupil dilates in the night, and at last finds day in it, even as the soul dilates in misfortune, and at last finds God in it.
-These are the true felicities. No joy beyond these joys. Love is the only ecstacy, everything else weeps. To love or to have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life. To love is a consummation.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

2006-01-08T21:53:00.000-08:00

-Hardly did I have the chance to complain about being with my dad 24/7 when the German doctor who gives me treatment everyday said that I shouldn’t be doing this and that my dad ought to go to Anand, if not back to the US, and I should handle things on my own here. I have the option of telling him myself first. Otherwise, she or Dr. Gupta will, she said. God’s either really looking out for me, or is playing some sick mind games with me. I usually feel the former considering how it seems that my prayers are answered so quickly (well, except for the big ones), but I’d been feeling pretty hopeless and sad these last couple days, because I have been getting progressively worse sleep every day for 4 days now and I’m completely spent. I have to get down whatever I feel like saying, not that I’ll be posting it, quickly because who knows if my dad might not be here starting tomorrow or the day after.
-I wanted to share something from Les Mis. There’s this character, Gavroche, who is adorable. He’s an abandoned child, a vagabond. In one day, he took under his wing two other abandoned boys, who turned out to be his younger brothers, though none of them realized this, and helped his father escape from prison, though his father didn’t recognize him and ignored him as soon as he was out. He shrugged, thought nothing of it and went on with what he was doing, as is his wont. He’s clever and witty and very good-natured. He was going off to participate in insurrection, when he came across a lancer in the National Guard (note, this is the Government, the enemy), whose horse had fallen down. He helped the man up, and then the horse, and then went on his way, singing revolutionary songs. He had found a pistol without a hammer and he carried it with him. He came across four old gossips and when he questioned what business they had getting involved in those matters, they grew angry and hurled abuse at him. He said to the one who last addressed him, “You sniffle, my ancient. Blow your promontory.” Then, as he was leaving, he looked at his pistol and felt melancholy. He said to it, “I go off, but you won’t.” He came across a very lean, hungry dog and he was moved to pity. He said to it, “My poor bow-wow, have you swallowed a barrel, then, that all the hoops show?” He’s full of a ton of other witty retorts to everything, but I love what he said to the old woman. He has quite a way with words.
-Well, I talked to my dad about going to Anand and leaving me here alone. He consented, though he was NOT happy. I tried to explain why in the best way I could, and reminded him of things we’d talked about before that applied here, but oh well, this is less about him learning the proper way to help and more about me taking charge of all aspects of my life in order to strengthen my will to fight off my illness. I hadn’t realized until the doctor pointed it out to me how much I’d sunken into helplessness in everyday things. Actually, I had this there too, when it came to looking for jobs and for places to live, but I’ve gotten much worse here. Anyway, we’ll see how this goes.

Is this a quarter-life crisis, or just the stirring of my soul?

2006-01-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

-Parenting in practice is the perpetuation of mediocrity. This is why we are told never to question our parents.
-I’m finding the line between, on the one hand, leaving the door open to our parents to change—that is, not telling ourselves that they haven’t and never will improve, effectively making it impossible that they should do so—and, on the other hand, not getting my hopes up needlessly and assuming progress has been made when it hasn’t, so as to avoid undue disappointment and friction, is a very thin one. However, not to worry…it’s surely just the case that somewhere down the line, I missed the point. I need only find it again, and all will be well.
-Please forgive me for all my complaining about my dad or my parents in general, and for all my vacillations between doing/feeling right about them and not. I’ve spent the majority of my waking hours for the last three months with my dad now…all day, every day. This is unprecedented. Why, it wasn’t so long ago that I went a whole year and hardly talked to him though living in the same house. This time has been difficult for me. My dad makes himself out to be, to all the people we meet, my guardian angel…though, far from giving me support during the four hardest years of my life, he took every opportunity to deny everything I said about my illness, to blame me for it, and to make it harder for me. Now, just like that, he’s my savior. I saw that no good came out of talking to my dad. I hadn’t the strength to pocket his insults, swallow his doubts, and outdo with my service that great motivator of his that he used: guilt. I went into survival mode. I took care of my own—that is, myself. I pain my parents disproportionately, perhaps. They are of one mind, in cahoots, thick as thieves they are. But something about my mom makes it much harder to go a year without saying much to her. She doesn’t hold grudges for long, and so it’s hard to hold them against her. She accuses me of giving her the silent treatment and thinking myself independent of her, but then running to her when I need her help (it is very, very important to my parents that I feel, show and admit that I am desperately in need of them at all moments—is this characteristic of all parents?), but, when she is letting me know that she is mad at me, she breaks the silence when she wants some help around the house. Sometimes she asks for it directly. At others, she exclaims aloud to no one that there is work to be done and, alas, she has to do it all herself because there’s no one within earshot (ha! her earshot exceeds the county limits) to help. It may be her pride that makes her do this, but there is something wonderful in this. She gives in, she jokes, she moves on to sing, to be corny, to get excited about her Oprah, and it lifts a great weight off of me and out of the house. My mom is who she is. She doesn’t go around telling people how great she is, how virtuous she is. She doesn’t preach to others incessantly about things she doesn’t do. She may be a complainer, but we all complain about things that we do ourselves. That isn’t the worst kind of hypocrite, right? I’d say the worst are the ones who practice the opposite of what they preach and somehow keep themselves ignorant of this contradiction. Whatever my mom’s weaknesses are, she doesn’t hide them. She doesn’t put up a veneer of strength as a front.
Is this my big test then? I know I can improve things with my parents (at least how I am with them) when my health is no longer the constant obstacle and struggle that it is now. Am I supposed to show that I can do it now, when I am like this and am with my dad 24/7? I don’t ask that you be my apologist, but I hope that you can sympathize with me. It is one thing to grow older and live apart from your parents and visit them every now and then and have a wonderful time. People think they’ve grown up and matured and that love has blossomed. It hasn’t. Separation makes the heart grow fond, or whatever the saying is. Even being at work or school all day, seeing your parents at dinner, and then moving on to do other things doesn’t compare to this. Well, I’ll keep plugging away.
-The smell of the warm oil in the massage room from the start reminded me of some food, something oily, not so healthy, loved by others, not so much by me. Then, having to drink the same oil twice a day makes me feel like I’m ingesting that massage room smell, and that food that I don’t seem to like so much. I figured out today what it is…Pizza Hut pizza. That’s what it smells like. I bet Dante’s hell smells like Pizza Hut pizza. Maybe some of you would be right at home there. I would not. I use this as further motivation to lead a blessed life.

Fandango!

2006-01-06T21:51:00.000-08:00

-Criminals and abandoned children in Paris at the time of Le Mis (and other people in other places at other times as well, as explained by the author, though they don’t make an appearance in the novel) have a slang that reminds me of the language used by the child gangs in A Clockwork Orange, ingsoc, I think it was called. This slang is the language of misery, as Hugo explains. The meanings, uses, origins, etc. are even more fascinating here. Oh, a saw that prisoners use to cut their irons and escape is called fandango.
-Speaking metaphorically, the author asked if this slang, not given importance and light by the historian, must remain in torture and misery, like Andromeda waiting for a Pegasus. Whoa. I had never thought twice about these two names when making use of the Rutgers mailing system. I still don’t understand the allusion, but apparently there’s something significant there.

Don’t believe me…when I say I’ve got it down

2006-01-05T21:51:00.000-08:00

-Last night, I had one of those talks with my dad…the ones where I think I make some headway, some progress—and perhaps end up doing so after all, if not together, then at least in myself—and I take it too far, assume too much, and end up afterwards regretting saying as much as I did. I’m really very stupid. My dad has the same responses, the same reactions, the same thinking, the same hang-ups always. There is no change. I am getting better with my responses and with my mental/emotional stability/motivation, but I never see it coming. I never think ahead of time that this is what I have to expect and ask myself how I should act accordingly. I make the same mistakes as I always did when it came to the subject of love. I always would tell myself that “I used to think I know what love is, but I was wrong. This is love.” I don’t mean “being in love” with someone, like Saif Ali Khan’s character in Dil Chaahtaa Hai. I mean knowing what love is, recognizing it, feeling it, having it for others. I’m not sure if I do this anymore. I don’t think I do. But I continue to make this mistake with my parents. There has been progress. It’s subtle and small, but miraculous nonetheless, considering its complete inconceivability. It’s partially due to changes in me, the growth of love and patience in me. It’s mostly due to God’s grace. I leave my parents and their development up to the whims of God. Nothing else can produce any effect or explain any change in them. This time, it wasn’t as devastating for me because I guess I have changed. The change is very modest. My dad probably doesn’t see it. It’s more characteristic of him to be impressed by rhetoric, and it is my rhetoric, something I never thought I had and don’t think I ever will, that impresses him, however much, now. But disappointments like the one from last night aren’t having the kind of effect on me that they used to. They don’t really matter to me. All that really does is that which most directly impacts on my thinking and my future, especially as they are really one and the same. My reflections on these don’t make me think more highly of myself. They really just make me realize how much greater my task is than I previously realized, and make me more ashamed to go forward without recalibrating my bearings (or without considering my bearings). What makes me happy is that I see myself thinking, feeling, and seeing the same sort of things that my friends have been doing for quite some time now…probably as long as I’ve really known them. God knows how they had such a deep understanding so early, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I’m following in their footsteps. I must have done some very good things in my last life to deserve the friends I have in this one. Actually, let me clarify that. In my understanding, the most fundamental portion of life is nearing its end for me, while the most important portion is just beginning. It remains to see how good my friends are in terms of working with me during this important time, but in terms of serving as positive examples for me, they have given me far more than I deserve.
-Before this conversation, I read an unbelievable section in Les Mis, partly into the second half of the book. It’s a chapter called The Ambuscade, or The Ambush, it might be called in a better or different translation. It contains, without even taking away from either book, all the suspense and thrill of either of the Brown novels, more so because you get such a good glimpse into the mind and heart of a confused and unseen onlooker. It shows the depths of human depravity, the strength of innocence, conflicts of duties, and so much more, and had me more on edge than all that was in those other books, all without the involvement of any explosives or secret documents or anything like that. Robert Louis Stevenson, Daniel Defoe, and so many other classic writers of scenes of tense action and suspense could learn so much from this one scene alone. I hope you all get to read it at some point.

But first, a word from our sponsors

2006-01-04T21:48:00.000-08:00

-Some random notes first…Aishwarya’s working on three Hollywood films this year, if I understood the newspaper article correctly. It’s my belief that, technically, she has yet to work in Hollywood. Wasn’t Bride and Prejudice a UK-produced film directed by an NRI from the UK? It was basically a Hindi movie in English. I’m eager to see how she does in leading roles for films directed by non-Indians, if indeed these are such. Mistress of Spices probably isn’t. I don’t remember the other names. The other established Bollywood stars to appear in non-Indian films, though I don’t believe any were in leading roles, were, to the best of my knowledge, solid actors in Bollywood, and they held their own abroad. It’s nice to introduce the rest of the world to the Bollywood formula. It’s good for their diversity. Certainly, we don’t watch Hong-Kong produced films and expect them to be like American films. They have a flavor and goodness of their own. But if you want to act with Americans in American film and be taken seriously as something other than a token foreigner, then…well, we’ll see. My advice to Aishwarya, as always: the less she expresses herself through speech, the better she does.
-You can stop sending cards and flowers. My skin is doing much better now, thank you.
-What’s with the “Good Ol’ Times” thinking? You know, how people love to say that, “They don’t make cars/music/movies/women(haha)/you-name-it like they used to,” how the music kids listen to, the games they play, the role models they have, they’re all garbage, how today’s presidents aren’t the upstanding citizens they used to be (ha!), and so on. More to the point right now, why do people say, as my dad has said no less than two dozen times while we’ve been here, that the fun he and his friends had as kids, nobody has today (I would point out to my dad that most of the “fun” he talks about was based on violence, theft, vandalism and cheating…but the shocked, embarrassed look on my face when he tells his stories usually prompts him to admit it himself, though not as bluntly)? Do they no longer enjoy life or consider it worth living? Do they just want us to think that way? What’s the point? Why watch kids having fun and say, “Oh, that’s not fun. WE had fun”? Should the kids stop and say, “Man, forget this. I don’t know what I was all excited about”? Friends, let’s not be this way. Let’s find all times enjoyable. Let’s enjoy the classics and enjoy the contemporary and find some of each in both. Let’s not have these friendships in which we get together just to talk about how great things used to be. Let’s enjoy the present and look forward to the future just as much. Okay? Okay.
-I finished the first half of Les Mis. I thought I’d take a mental respite by reading Angels and Demons in between the two halves, kinda like an afternoon snack between lunch and dinner, if you will. In the meanwhile, I thought I’d leave you with some excerpts from the first half of Les Mis. Hmm…like a literary halftime show. I didn’t really give myself a chance to, though. I thought it would be child’s play to finish the Brown book and go back to Hugo, and I guess I was right.
-Here’s some perspective. I finished Les Mis and started Angels and Demons late in the evening day before yesterday. About 24 hours later, I was done with that too. Like the first half of Les Mis, Angels and Demons is a little over 600 pages long. It took me about 8 days to finish the former book, one day to finish the latter. This gives you an idea both of the size of the pages/text and of the difficulty of reading. And get this…War and Peace has significantly larger pages and text that is so, so small. Whenever you’re free, stop by and check it out. You’ll be amazed at my accomplishment…or think I’m a fool. One or the other for sure. Though Les Mis is over 1200 pages long with its two parts (it was put in parts by the publisher, it seems, for the sake of the paperback editions. The divisions don’t coincide with any division of the writing), it’s probably significantly shorter than War and Peace. Anyway, my review of Angels and Demons follows in another post.

Angels and Demons review

2006-01-04T21:43:00.000-08:00

-Angels and Demons is a poignant story by Dan Brown in which the protagonists undergo many trials and tribulations, but emerge stronger and more mature…haha, don’t you miss the book reports we used to write when we were younger? Let’s try again…
-I liked this book. I definitely agree with Lil Neh. It’s better than Da Vinci Code. Brown exhibits the same flaws of creating artificial suspense, being corny, and struggling when showing the characters develop attachment for each other in the present time. However, they’re much less pronounced here. The stakes are higher in this book. Whether that’s good or bad is up to you. Certainly, this makes for a stereotypical American thriller much better than does the relatively more academic scenario of Da Vinci Code. It’s easier to connect emotionally with these characters, especially with their pasts, and I found this book to be thought-provoking and moving. I struggle to keep from comparing Brown to Tolstoy and Hugo, two of the last authors I’ve read. It’s not that Brown comes up with new things to say, new thoughts to present. But, he might remind you of things you haven’t heard in a while (or might not have heard at all). The research that must have gone into Da Vinci is impressive. Here, it is not as extensive, but, considering all the intimate knowledge of the Catholic Church and the office of the Pope needed to write this book, it was probably even more difficult to research for this one. Speaking of the Church, I like the author’s thinking/portrayal of the Church and science in this book, as I liked how he handled Christianity and Paganism in Da Vinci. He’s honest in his balance and he has open-mindedness and heart. As before, I am more impressed by Brown as a story-teller than I am with him as a writer or as a poet. As for the twist(s)…that deserves its own section.

Twists in contemporary/popular literature/movies

2006-01-04T21:40:00.000-08:00

-I am no enemy to twists. However, I find it disconcerting when people read books and, especially, watch movies trying to predict every twist and then bragging/complaining to others afterwards that there were none that surprised them. What’s worse is that this has led writers/directors to make it their goal to provide twists that no one expects. This too often makes the twist too forced.
-A twist, I feel, should do more than surprise. It should change how you look at the story/characters. If done properly, it should make it necessary for you to watch/read it again, and knowing the twist the second time around should increase, not decrease, the enjoyment you get out of it. There aren’t so many twists in real life (at least not in the same way) as there are in movies/literature. People aren’t sincerely, unmistakably one way only to completely change when the time is right. At the very least, people who are good, loving, caring, and inspiring in their goodness don’t suddenly develop evil, maniacal laughs and sneering smirks out of nowhere. That stuff takes practice. It’s not enough to surprise the audience by revealing the identity of the killer at the end. This isn’t Scooby-Doo. The characters, their thinking, actions, motives…they all have to make sense at the end. If anything, they should make more sense.
-I thought that having read Da Vinci would make it easier for me to catch the twist here. A certain character seemed so right for that powerful, unseen, evil genius behind everything. I noticed early on that Brown actually gave support to my guess. I was kinda glad of this. Make it somewhat obvious from the start who’s behind it all so that we can ignore that and enjoy everything else. Then I realized that he’d been leading me on and I was not happy. He even gave some of the characters little doubts so that, when you go back afterwards, you realize that you’d chosen to ignore these hints and stick to your supposition. This is a lot like the way standardized test makers write the correct answers first and then answers to lead you astray. Same method, opposite purpose. What writers need to remember is that these aren’t people we’ve met, whom we could observe in a variety of circumstances. We can only see them as portrayed by the author and as seen by the other characters. Fooling us in this way is like when people used to say to me, “I’m sixteen.” “Okay, you’re sixteen,” I’d say. “Haha, no, I’m actually fourteen. I fooled you!” Wow, congratulations! I took you at your word and it turned out you lied. Fantastic trick.
-Everyone loved 6th Sense for the twist at the end. There really wasn’t much more to the movie, other than very good acting. But it made sense. When you recall what Haley Joel Osment’s character says about dead people, you see how the whole movie was possible. No one saw that twist coming, so they loved the movie, and Shyamalan for making it. I liked 6th Sense, but I liked The Village much, much more. Viewers and critics alike make the mistake, however, of watching the movie anticipating the twist the whole time and then complaining that they saw it coming and that there’s nothing else to the movie. Actually, in this movie, there is so much else to which the twist serves merely as a signpost. If you haven’t seen it already, if you’re not already too biased against Shyamalan’s movies to watch it, please do. Watch it once and then watch it again and pay closer attention to the characters. The second time is like watching a play in which there’s dramatic irony. Keeping in mind what you know, you have to see what the characters know, what their handicaps are, and what they do with what they have. Ignore the fact that they have no contractions in their speech, and that the elders always speak as if someone’s listening, and pay close attention to what they say. Why is it such a big deal that a CRIME has taken place here? This movie is not one big trick. It’s an amazing character study and an examination of strength, love and human nature. If you didn’t see these things in the movie, look again, and see how a twist is supposed to be used. If you want to see how best to improperly use the tool of the twist, watch the appropriately named movie, Twisted, which earned an abysmal 5% rating on the Tomatometer (when it was in theaters…dunno how the DVD fared) at www.rottentomatoes.com (a website I highly recommend).

Excerpts from the first half of Les Miserables

2006-01-04T21:35:00.000-08:00

-Though these are excerpts, this is a long first half to a long book, so the excerpts, as you’ll see, follow suit. I’m leaving out a lot that wouldn’t make sense to you out of context. I wish you knew a little about Jean Valjean’s life or Cosette’s early childhood, for it would give more weight to the excerpts I have given below.
->Every time he said this word monsieur, with his gently solemn, and heartily hospitable voice, the man’s countenance lighted up. Monsieur to a convict, is a glass of water to a man dying of thirst at sea. Ignominy thirsts for respect.
->In vain we chisel, as best we can, the mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny reappears continually.
->One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. In the case of the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God upheaves the soul as well as the ocean.
->Every colloquy in the street inevitably gathers a circle. There are always people who ask nothing more than to be spectators.
->Was it possible that Napoleon should win this battle? We say no. Why? Because of Wellington? Because of Blucher? No. Because of God.
For Bonaparte to be conqueror at Waterloo was not in the law of the nineteenth century. Another series of facts were preparing in which Napoleon had no place. The ill-will of events had long been announced.
It was time that this vast man should fall.
The excessive weight of this man in human destiny disturbed the equilibrium. This individual counted, of himself alone, more than the universe besides. These plethoras of all human vitality concentrated in a single head, the world mounting to the brain of one man, would be fatal to civilization if they should endure. The moment had come for incorruptible supreme equity to look to it. Probably the principles and elements upon which regular gravitations in the moral order as well as in the material depend, began to murmur. Reeking blood, overcrowded cemeteries, weeping mothers-these are formidable pleaders. When the earth is suffering from a surcharge, there are mysterious moanings from the deeps which the heavens hear.
Napoleon had been impeached before the Infinite, and his fall was decreed. He vexed God.
Waterloo is not a battle; it is a change of front of the universe.
->Children at once accept joy and happiness with quick familiarity, being themselves naturally all happiness and joy.
->From the earliest dawn, Cosette laughed, prattled and sang. Children have their morning song, like birds.
->Pray to God, what is meant by that?
Is there an infinite outside of us...does the infinite awaken in us the idea of essence, while we are able to attribute to ourselves the idea of existence only? In other words, is it not the absolute of which we are relative?
At the same time, while there is an infinite outside of us, is there not an infinite within us? These two infinites (fearful plural!) do they not rest superposed on one another? Does not the second infinite underlie the first, so to speak? Is it not the mirror, the reflection, the echo of the first, an abyss concentric with another abyss? Is this second infinite intelligent also? Does it think? Does it love? Does it will? If the two infinites be intelligent, each one of them has a will principle, and there is a ‘me’ in the infinite above, as there is a ‘me’ in the infinite below. The ‘me’ below is the soul; the ‘me’ above is God.
To place, by process of thought, the infinite below in contact with the infinite above, is called ‘prayer’.
->As to methods of prayer, all are good, if they be but sincere. Turn your book over and be in the infinite.
There is, we are aware, a philosophy that denies the infinite. There is also a philosophy, classed pathologically, which denies the sun; this philosophy is called blindness.
To set up a sense we lack as a source of truth is a fine piece of blind man’s assurance.
->Enjoyment! What wretched aim, and what pitiful ambition! The brute enjoys. Thought, this is the true triumph of the soul. To proffer thought to the thirst of men, to give to all, as an elixir, the idea of God, to cause conscience and science to fraternize in them, and to make them good men by this mysterious confrontation—such is the province of true philosophy. Morality is truth in full bloom. Contemplation leads to action. The absolute should be practical. The ideal must be made air and food and drink to the human mind. It is the ideal which has the right to say: Take of it, this is my flesh, this is my blood. Wisdom is a sacred communion.
->A faith is a necessity to man. Woe to him who believes nothing.
->All the crimes of man begin with the vagrancy of childhood.
->To dare; progress is at this price.
->And moreover, when it happens that both are sincere and good, nothing will mix and amalgamate more easily than an old priest and an old soldier. In reality, they are the same kind of man. One has devoted himself to his country on earth, the other to his country in heaven; there is no other difference.
->There is nothing like dream to create the future. Utopia today, flesh and blood tomorrow.
->Not that Combeferre was not capable of fighting; he did not refuse to close with an obstacle, and to attack it by main strength and by explosion, but to put, gradually, by the teaching of axioms and the promulgation of positive laws, the human race in harmony with its destinies, pleased him better; and of the two lights, his inclination was rather for illumination than for conflagration. A fire would case a dawn, undoubtedly, but why not wait for the break of day?
-For there are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life. There is a determined though unseen bravery, which defends itself foot to foot in the darkness against the fatal invasions of necessity and of baseness. Noble and mysterious triumphs which no eye sees, which no renown rewards, which no flourish of triumph salutes. Life, misfortune, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields which have their heroes: obscure heroes, sometimes greater than the illustrious ones.
-In all his trials he felt encouraged and sometimes even upborne by a secret force within. The soul helps the body, and at certain moments uplifts it. It is the only bird which sustains its cage.

BP falls back to Earth

2006-01-02T21:47:00.000-08:00

-If I weren’t Indian, I’d also consider naming my daughter Estelle, somewhat in the same spirit as I would Celeste, only Estelle reminds me of Great Expectations, which is not a good memory for me, so I wouldn’t name her that after all.
-Yesterday and today, my BP has been 110/70 and 110/80, respectively.
-Yesterday had more surprises. Dr. Gupta called me in to speak with him and his whole German doctor team. He said a lot of things, some very old, some rather new. I’m trying to give due consideration to it all. From the conversation, I got to thinking—you know how some people think and act as if their bodies were indestructible? Well, such abuse is foolish and the belief is false, but at the same time, it is true in a way, and beneficial. Also, Dr. Gupta said we’ll do some of the tests suggested by Melanie, the German doctor who did CST on me yesterday, but he’s come and gone today without mentioning it, so we’ll see.

Happy Birthday, Omkarbhai + Khelan!

2006-01-01T21:46:00.000-08:00

-As I write this, firecrackers are going off all over. Either that, or we’re being bombed. From where I’m at, I can’t be sure which. The screams sound joyful. That’s my only indication. The year is about 8 minutes old. People are outside enjoying themselves or inside getting drunk (Gujarat’s a dry state, so there’s a lot of excitement about today). I am confused.
-Today was a rough day. I had a new kind of treatment in which a powder, instead of drops of oil, was put into my nose. It was very irritating and gave me a tremendous additional headache on top of the usual one. I was in agony all day, and it severely impeded my reading progress. I have to mention that to the doctors yet…very sternly. They must not get away with this.
-I’m confused about what’s wrong with me and why, what will be done about it and when. Everyone else seems to have the answers to this, but its simplicity evades me. I eat too much, I eat too little, I sleep too much, I read too much, I need to exercise more, I have no faith in God, I’m too negative, I worry too much, I need to eat simpler, I need to eat a greater variety of tasty foods, I need to get married, I need to apply to medical school, I need to stop believing that I’m sick, and so on. It’s really a very simple illness. I’m tired? But isn’t everybody? I can’t remember anything? Well, who can? Every doctor wonders why I even came to him. For this you take up my time? I don’t know what to do. So much of what people say, I already am, or I’ve already tried. I’m having a very hard time convincing the doctors here that what I have is not as simple as they think, that the normal medicines don’t work on my headache, because I don’t have a normal headache, and if they don’t fix the rest of the body, the headache will stay as it is. Every day I talk to God and ask him to help me out. He gives me little blessings here and there during the day, for which I’m grateful, but I’m still lost.
-Anyway, as it is New Year’s Day, I have a resolution…for all of you to make. I want you to resolve to pray for me. I pray for you and now you must pray for me. Well, in truth, I’m a pretty selfish guy. As I don’t believe in mass mails, so I don’t believe in mass prayers. I insist on making personal prayers. Lately, I did pray that one of you would receive support and direction in your relationship dilemma, so that’s something. I do care for you all…but I forget to pray for you. I know, also, that I’m very loved by all of you, much more than I deserve. I feel ashamed to ask any more of you, or of God, who’s given me you, but it’s like this: I am trying to be such, to make my deeds such, that I may be deserving, in the end, of what you’ve already given me. I just have this large hill to climb, and though the climbing is making me, in a way, stronger for what lies ahead, I am no closer to my goal, and the crest is nowhere in sight.
-And of course you realize that I’m not really asking for such a resolution from you. This is really just a vainly poetic cry for help. So that’s what it is. I’m not averse to working for myself. I may, perhaps, love it too much. Either way, I feel I need help.
-And regarding marriage, and even medical school…let me set the record straight. I’ve thought of marriage for a long time. When I turned 19, I started bugging my mom about getting married, though I was interested in the wedding at the time. Since I was around 21 or so—the years are blending together—I’ve thought almost incessantly about marriage. I’ve wanted so much to be married, and even more to be a father, and I haven’t felt like waiting for either. However, I want to be ready. I want to accomplish so much and I have pre-requisites that I’ve set for myself, whether they apply for anyone else or not. I am not fearful of marriage. I know a lot of you have thought I’m crazy for thinking about it now, let alone before. So be it. I am not worried about marriage, about being a good husband, about being a good father. I will be an incredible husband and father. If you have any sense in you, observing me as a husband and father will bring tears to your eyes and overwhelm you. But, begging your pardon, I don’t care if you feel so or not, if you notice or not—unless of course, you’re working with me on these things…then that’s a different story. That is, I don’t care to impress you, for you to be a pleased observer. I’m looking for partners in life, in particular, A partner—that is, THE partner—in life for me. I will serve her well and walk with her towards greatness, and I will do so because I must, because there is no other way for me.
-But there is certain preparation to be made. I have some goals I wish to achieve. Really, they’re quire simple. I’m not trying to be a millionaire by a certain age, to President of something, to start a World Something. I wish to live well, to be good in my thoughts and deeds, and to raise children with a certain foundation. That’s really it. Oh, sure, I want to be a doctor, and I want to put thought into that, but I want it to be an extension and a practical application of what is fundamentally my life, and that foundation will be prepared through, and in the steps leading up to, marriage. If I were to half-ass being a husband or a doctor or a father, even, I’d still do pretty well. For me, this reflects little on how good a person I am, and a lot on how hard I’m willing to work and how much these things mean to me. But no matter how much faith we have in our capability—or in God’s—we shouldn’t jump into things haphazardly. I shouldn’t walk out on an overcast day without an umbrella and trust to God to keep me dry. Actually, this is a poor example, since I don’t believe in using umbrellas. Still, I have no illusions about staying dry without them. My goals are simple, but they take lifetimes to achieve for many. Yet, with the right attitude and the right support, they are realized in a flash.
-I’m just itching to jump into marriage. I’m chomping at the bit. When I think about marriage, oh!—outside I’m stoic, but inside, I’m giddy. The poor girl I marry won’t know what hit her. Oh, it will be wonderful, and I hope you’re there to experience it. But oh, if you’re picturing honeymoons and lazy Sunday afternoons and so on, you’ve missed the mark. Many marriages are wonderful from the start. All are difficult. My wife will make me Superman, but I know the beginning will be very difficult for us. I will personally be broke, busy and behind. I know I have what it takes to prevail through this, and I know God’s endowed every woman with much more of what it takes to persevere and succeed through such tests than I have, but it takes preparation. Goals and all kinds of lofty thoughts are good, but when there is no time, energy or money for daily necessities, and we want to make progress in our souls, square one is a bad place to be.
-But don’t worry about me when it comes to doing what’s necessary when I get there. It will be wonderful for sure. I smile and beam whenever I think of marriage, and of parenting. I can’t wait to have someone to work with, someone to tell everything to, someone to love and care for and support. I know it will be as I imagine, even though I have no idea how. I don’t how I’ll find someone, where and how to look, especially since the ways I see don’t agree with me. I always imagine you guys finding someone for me (another resolution?). Those things are just details for me. Those pieces will fall into place when they need to. The preparation I’m talking about is inside of me. Anyway, good night…for me at least. You are still figuring out where you’ll spend this evening. I have to get back to my bed for the rest of the morning. Adieu.
-God answered your prayers before you even knew to make them…well, sorta. Ayurvedic medicine is slow, and God takes His time. Today, when I woke up, my head felt lighter, freer. My headache was maybe 5% better. I thought, 5%? This is terrible! Now I can’t give it to the doctors when they come and ask how I’m feeling in the morning. Nor is it as if there’s been a significant improvement. I had a dilemma like Nelly’s never seen. Soon after waking up, though, that free feeling went away and I let the doctors have it—politely, of course.
-One of the German doctors, who speaks English rather comfortably, and is surprised and glad that I do too, stayed behind and asked me some questions and said she wants to check out my head afterwards and asked if she may. I consented and, shortly after I returned from my massage, she came. She asked a few more questions about what injuries I’ve had and what I feel, and then had my lie down while he performed CranioSacral Therapy on me. It was interesting, relaxing at times, painful at others. She said that the bones of our skull should move slightly during the therapy, and that mine are completely rigid, as if something’s pulling them in tightly. She’s going to come back every day to do this and wants to see the treatment I had done for Lyme disease. Also, she would like me to see a neurologist and to undergo some other tests that we had wanted to get done, but never had. She said she’d talk to the main doctor, Dr. Gupta, about this personally, which is a relief to me. Oh, I also wrote up a better description of my symptoms after my stay in India, since it seems that doctors think them to be rather simple and commonplace, but they don’t respond to treatment as do similar symptoms in other people. I gave that to Dr. Gupta too today in the hopes that they will consider it and look deeper into my case and tailor their treatment to me. Anyway, enough of that.
-I never mentioned that, since we do so many things with oil here, many funny Gujarati sayings present themselves for our use. “Birjune na adsho. E to tel vaaro thayo chhe.” -“Hitesh kyaa gayo?” -“Hitesh tel levaa gayo.” And so on. Good times.

Goodbye, 2005

2005-12-31T21:45:00.000-08:00

-I spoke to one of the German doctors again today (don’t think I told you about the last meeting—it was brief). He’s an orthopedic surgeon in Germany. He worked for years in an operation theater, then for years in a helicopter rescue squad (ooh, just like our hero SRK in Veer-Zaara…well, not just like). He described all that’s involved in his work, and how many patients they have to see every day to be able to pay for it all, and the effect it’s had on him (he said he’s going insane, haha). He said that people are frustrated at not getting results there and are looking for something new. He said that everything he’s done is possible through ayurvedic medicine. It just takes some hard work and time, though they don’t have to rush through as many patients a day to keep their practice. He was surprised that I’m going to become an allopathic doctor but I’m here getting ayurvedic treatment. I notice this sentiment in a lot of people here, with varying degrees of scoffing at that other form of medicine (the physician who oversaw my treatment at Mayo exhibited it in reverse—towards alternative medicine). Since I’m so nice and polite, I don’t point out to these people that I’ve been to dozens of allopathic doctors, but this is also my fourth treatment with ayurvedic medicine. If any type of treatment is capable of performing miracles on me, they are yet to come.
-The parallels between how Tolstoy and Hugo present war—the battles they highlight, they way they present the thinking of ordinary soldiers, officers and generals, the effect they have on nations and their necessity to them, and what is ultimately responsible for success or defeat—are remarkable. That is why I’m remarking on them. They both look at battles involving Napoleon that happened to be turning points in their respective campaigns. Interestingly, they present Napoleon similarly and have these other similar views, though one belongs to France and the other to her opponent.
-Whoops, Jijabai, not Meerabai. How shameful.