My Family’s Experiment in Extreme Schooling - NYTimes.com

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/18/magazine/my-familys-experiment-in-extreme-schooling.html?pagewanted=all%3Fsrc%3Dtp&smid=fb-share
Enjoyed this read. This is typically the experience of people immigrating to places that dont speak much English.

Creative Challenge 68 : Willingly, I succumb.

"I do not worship Idols, Nor bow before False Gods"
says my well meaning friend, clutching his sacred book in hand.
What Idol, what False God?  I wonder,
Realizing he meant the rock before me that I hold in sacredness.
As the One who is Always right, I stare at the book in his hand
A thousand arguments pass through my mind's landscape,
Making such a din.
Yet, A quiet voice makes itself heard...
"He, and all that he holds sacred, is also You"
The need to retort diminishing,
A Smile forms with in my soul
Willingly, I succumb to the Rock's Compassion.

Creative Challenge 68 Tour begins here.

The US Experience - III

I never dreamed of coming to the US.  For a simple, in the middle, middle class, Indian girl like me, US was that unattainable, so dont even think of it lest you walk the path of disappointment, place.  So apart from what I read about the US in the school's geography curriculum, the newspaper and watching movies that apparently came from Hollywood, I had no clue what US was like.  My not so talkative, husband didnt say much either cause for him everything is doable, manageable, learn as you go experience.  There were some really amusing events within the first year of my life in the US.

This was 1996,  washing machines had just made in-roads in India but not the dryers, so we hang clothes out to dry in the sun.  I knew vacuum cleaners, solar water heaters, solar cookers and bio-gas stoves as new technology but I didnt know vending machines, ATM's, dishwashers, garbage chutes, sinks with disposers, dryers, central heating systems, electronic security for entry into apartments, smoke alarms, hand dryers in Restrooms etc.  I also didnt know a lot of what is considered general etiquette.  Here are some of my was embarrassing but now hilarious moments.

We were living in Philadelphia at the time. Being new at the whole thing of maintaining a house, we needed to get so many essentials... My husband lived out of a suitcase before he married me.  He complains once in a while that if it wasnt for me, he'd be such a wealthy person.  So we went shopping, which was a major exercise for me for I hadnt seen such humongous places for shopping until I came here.  I would very easily get lost inside these shops. It took me a lot of visits to be able to orient myself in the Large space.  I am not someone who enjoys shopping so I use the easy way out, I look for the attendant and ask where I could find what ever it is that I couldnt find.  So I walk up to this young, handsome man in uniform with a name tag and asked where I could find a Torch.  He lead me to the farthest corner of the shop and showed me the Tiki torches, the kind that you stick into the ground outdoors. So I tell him that, that wasnt what I wanted but the small hand held battery operated one.. and he had this look of pure amusement and he says "ah! you mean the Flashlight".  I could feel my ears go up in smoke as I tried to hide my embarrassment and said "Yes, the flashlight, I'm sorry I used the wrong word".  Of course, he smiled and said "No Problem".

We went to my first fast food restaurant in the US, the McDonald's.  When it was my turn, I gave my order and the lady at the cash-counter asks "Do you want To go?" and I stood there looking blank, like she was speaking Latin... My brain was trying hard to reason - "why does she want to know if I want to use the toilet before she can give me what I want to eat".  My husband who was at the table realized something was amiss, he came to my rescue and said - "For here".  In all my life until that moment "to go" meant I needed to use the Restroom(washroom/toilet).  

When we used to go out for a walk, people, complete strangers would say "hi, how are you?" and I would stop to answer and ask them too but I was too slow, they would be a few strides away.  And usually every person I came across was TALL so one stride of theirs equals at least two of mine. It baffled me, why ask if you didnt want to know.  Of course, husband explained later that it was their way of being courteous...which to me was totally contradictory, if you are courteous, wouldnt you wait for answer when you ask a question?

The other thing that I had to learn was to hold the door in case there was another person behind me... unless you are hired as the doorman, you dont hold doors for people you dont know, in India.  So I was given the "Oh! How rude" look by quite a few people while I was learning this new habit.  The other being not addressing people by Name.  In India, at the time I was growing up, relationships were very Hierarchical. We usually use first names for peers/friends/people we know well, Mr./Miss/Mrs full-name for those who are acquaintances, "sir/madam" for anyone who is our "Boss" at work, teachers or in what we perceive as an Authoritative position and "Aunty/ Uncle/older sister/older brother/grandmother/grandfather" when we address anyone who isnt related to us but we perceive as elder than us. I had the toughest time learning to address people by their Names.  I would automatically shift to the generic address. It gets very embarrassing when you hear someone say in a no nonsense tone "I am not your Uncle". 

There have been a lot of corrections to the way I speak and write too.  I thought of continuing education, so I took a few credits at the local college and one of them was an English writing class.  I was very bad at spelling, My cheques were the teacher's checks, my honour/colour/favourite had to be honor/ color/favorite.  When I was asked to read and I read the word "schedule as Shed dule" I was told its Sked dule, Semicircle was Se My circle but Demi Moore was not De MY Moore, Albino was Albyno.  Then I learn that the place that I was calling San Jose(saying the J sound) was San Hosay and that San Juan was San Hu an.  I was completely confused with all that I had learned, it felt like I knew nothing. 

I had this teacher, whose teaching style was very difficult for me to comprehend.  He came to class and expected me and the other students to ask him questions and I was brought up in an environment where students were expected to listen, digest and regurgitate. The idea of asking/teaching the teacher was completely new to me. What were they paying him for if all he had to do was stand in front of the class to be shot with questions? I couldnt understand the reasoning. By the time I got a hang of his class we were done with it. 

I was the only Indian in my class.  You could feel the vibe of curiosity and distance when you walk in. It took a while before anyone warmed up to me, it didnt help that I wasnt the kind who would first speak.  So one fine day, my classmate with a drawl and another who used the words "aint" very often made this comment as we waited for the teacher to make her appearance - "You have a beautiful accent" said the Lady drawl and the Guy Aint says "Yes, I think so too" and I looked squarely at them and said "I think both of you have an accent, I speak proper English".  For a moment there was complete silence and I thought "Oh NO!!  I just got the foot in the mouth disease, I offended them" the Next moment there was laughter,  "You are right, we do have an accent".  Over all, college was a good experience. 

Our first Diwali, we finished our ritual worship and as is custom I put in the camphor for the Aarthi(the waving of lamps before the Deity). Of course there will be smoke but nothing big enough to cause a fire.   And the house that had been silent until then went into the Ringing mode.  I was completely panicked, I didnt know what was ringing, where it was ringing or why it was doing so.  The first thought that crossed my mind was Cops, and immediately disregarded it as they have a different sound.  So there I stood wide mouthed, heart pounding while my Husband immediately jumped to action.  He who never finds most stuff unless I hand it to him, found a towel big enough to fan in front of this small 4 inch diameter same colour as our ceiling, never noticed until then gadget. By then my camphor had died down and I was introduced to the silent, third member of our family, the Smoke Detector.

This blog was the result of reading this link that Dr. Giles put on his blog.  It brought back my own memories of  How things were when I first came here.  Hope you enjoyed reading them.

Have a Relaxed and Restful weekend.

Peace,
Rashmi.

Leadership

I have very little faith in the Political process,  mostly because I dont trust Politicians, cause part of their job description is to MANIPULATE the populance into giving them their vote.  Most forget their promises once voted into power.  That is the legacy of having power in most Countries of the world, it removes the leader's accountability.  About 2 years ago, I had made a list of things I thought defines a Leader. The blog is here.

Today I was reading an article on Parade.com by  Jim Webb, a  democratic US senator from Virginia.  I liked a few things he pointed out about being a leader, so I am posting it here. While most of it is about his experience in the Vietnamese War. He does touch on the crux of being a good leader- "When you have the authority to make decisions, you inherit the responsibility to accept the consequences and the obligation to use your authority for the common good" (those are the most important phrases- Authority and Responsibility for COMMON GOOD). 

What It Means To Be a Leader

By Senator Jim Webb
Published: May 18, 2008 Adapted from “A Time to Fight” © Jim Webb (Broadway Books, 2008). 

On June 5, 1968, I had the honor of taking the oath of office as a second lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps. Thus my professional career began with a vow to protect the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, at a time when the country was riven by external and internal conflict.

Our instructors at the Marine Officers Basic School were handpicked from among the finest young officers in the Corps. Almost all had been in combat, and many bore visible scars. As the months at school went by, they repeatedly and unendingly challenged us with an age-old mantra: What do you do now, lieutenant?

Just before we graduated, a tough but insightful lieutenant colonel who had fought in World War II, Korea and Vietnam gave us a speech, a warning that echoes in my memory almost every day. He recounted a story of a fight in Korea that went incredibly bad—where, for all his experience, he made an error in judgment.

“I had the enemy pinned down on a ridge,” he said. “I set up a base of fire and sent 13 Marines into the tree line in order to envelop the enemy. Thirteen Marines went into the tree line, and all 13 were killed. And, gentlemen, there is not a day that goes by when I don’t think of that.”

The colonel then spoke of the inalienable bottom line of combat leadership: While all Marines are equally in harm’s way, it is the leaders who must make the decisions about what to do, then live with the results. What he may not have realized is that he also spelled out the responsibility that sits on the shoulders of all leaders.

In the long months I spent as a rifle platoon and company commander in Vietnam’s infamous An Hoa Basin, the colonel’s admonition resonated again and again. We constantly operated in blown-out populated areas, moving from village to village and digging new perimeters every few days. The An Hoa Basin was a bloody, morally conflicted mess. Enemy contact came in every imaginable form, from small cells of local Viet Cong to regiment-sized North Vietnamese Army units. And every day, we who led the squads, platoons and companies were required to make decisions that would have confounded the seminars on ethics and philosophy at universities where some of our peers now grappled intellectually with the war we had been sent to fight.
 
 Sometimes such moral dilemmas became deeply personal. “Clearing” village bunkers was a normal process when we were facing enemy contact. Every Vietnamese family had a bunker next to its porch. When firefights broke out, families went into their bunkers. But it was a common tactic for enemy soldiers to hide there as well, often allowing them to open fire on us from behind. So a routine developed, which the Marines and the villagers understood. Marine teams would move from bunker to bunker, telling villagers to come out. After that, a Marine would throw a grenade into the bunker, then one of them would enter it, making sure it was clear.

During one sweep, the Marine who jumped into the bunker following the blast found that three people had not come out. A younger man, probably a local Viet Cong, had been killed. Hardened by combat, we shrugged him off. But the other two stopped my heart even in the mind-numbing repetition of tragedy that defines war.

A gray-haired man in white pajamas, probably a grandfather, was dead, having wrapped himself around a small boy to protect him from the blast. It was clear that his final thoughts were of the boy. His shocked, opaque eyes and his still-curled body were the very definition of love and human sacrifice. The boy was still alive, although barely.

We were in contact with the enemy, and night would soon be upon us. I walked through the village, setting up our defensive positions and calling in a report to our commander. A corpsman followed me, cradling the boy in his arms. He and I had now served together through seven months of hard combat. We had seen a mountain of tragedy, and we kept nothing from each other. He was insistent: “Skipper, if you don’t get this kid out of here right now, he’s going to die.”

I called for a medevac, but I knew what the answer would be. Emergency medevacs were available only for Marines. We were in a high-risk landing zone. Vietnamese civilians could only be given “routine” medevacs when landing zones were calm and all Marines had been taken care of.

What do you do now, lieutenant?

I couldn’t lie to my chain of command. There weren’t any wounded Marines. I made a case for the boy and lost. “They’ll only bring it in as a routine,” I told the doc. We knew this could take hours.

“All right,” he answered, clearly exasperated. “Then you watch him die.”

The doc put the boy on a wooden box next to our command post. Over the next half hour, as I spoke on the radio, the boy lay near me quietly, never making a sound, all the while watching me. Nor could I stop watching him. And as we stared at each other, he slowly died.

There are still moments when I look back and see the little boy’s brown eyes and the curled corpse of the grandfather whose last thought had been to save him. I will never forget them, nor should I. The An Hoa Basin filled us all with a lifetime of such stories.

When you have personalized death, looked into the eyes of innocent people as the life drained out of them, watched lives torn apart not once but hundreds of times—friends, enemies and those caught in between—it brings not only sadness but also an oddly stubborn wisdom. When you have watched an enemy fight with ferocity and often with honor, you tend to conclude that on some level you have more in common with those you were trying to kill than you do with people who view wars only as an intellectual debate. And when you have served among good people, fellow Marines, some of whom you came to love with the same intensity as you do your own family, there are few others you will meet in your lifetime who can ever gain that same level of trust and respect.

As the colonel intimated in his talk, a sense of accountability is the burden of leadership, whether in combat or on Capitol Hill. When you have the authority to make decisions, you inherit the responsibility to accept the consequences and the obligation to use your authority for the common good.

What has this got to do with the politics of today?

Everything.

Our country is in the middle of a profound crisis. This crisis has many causes, but much of it has been brought about by poor leadership decisions at every level of government. In addition, our electoral process is dominated by financial interests that are threatened by the very notion of reform.

Elections shouldn’t be media circuses, nor should they be auctions where a candidate sells himself to the highest bidder. They should be moral contracts between those who wish to lead and those who are consenting to be led.

What, then, must we do?

In one form or another, this question is asked daily in every community and in almost every household around the world. In authoritarian societies, it’s whispered; in others, it is debated. In America, we quite frankly find ourselves doing a little of both.

Our challenges lie in improving the way we’ve been selecting our leaders. To the American voters, I offer this advice: Be as shrewd and ruthless in your demands on our leaders as the wizards running campaigns are in their strategies to get your vote. Do your part to send to Washington people who truly want to solve the problems of this country from the bottom up.

You won’t regret it. You will benefit from it. And the stakes could not be higher. Sometimes the business of politics seems silly. It can also be infuriating. But you must stay in the game, because you and your grandchildren will be the inheritors of both our successes and flaws.

Jim Webb (D.) is a U.S. Senator from Virginia.

Adapted from “A Time to Fight” © Jim Webb (Broadway Books, 2008). 

Youth: the things I dont miss.

Here I am sitting and reminiscing times in the past. It seems to be an appropriate pastime at the present moment, as I recently reconnected and talked to a  couple of friends from school.  We had lots of things we missed but there were also things that we didn’t miss. Being in the latter half of thirty, we felt nostalgic about the earlier decade.  While there is a lot of things I love about being the age I am right now, there are days I miss my Youth, being 18 something, without much care for the world except in terms of how it affects me, seems so very attractive.  As Usual, I couldn’t be in that sort of mind frame for long, I had to dig out the things I absolutely hated about those by-gone years.

 

I loved the ambiance of our college. It was mostly in a constant state of activity, with the library being the anchor for grounding and quietness. There were always classes to get to and get through. There were movies for which we cut classes and lab work to make up.  There were teachers we loved and those we wished we didn’t have.  And then there were exams, the one thing that sucked the joy out of me.  I loved learning but I despised the regurgitation of what was learned, the inevitable process of examinations.  But it was better than the other option- getting married.

 

It was a given at the time, that the girls from conservative families, will marry while in college. Most were happy to exchange education for being someone’s wife. The last year of college, was also the time when pressure from the elders, to get married, begins.  It was the time for “Groom shopping”.  I watched as some girls, drop off from classes to get married.  We had some really wonderful narrations of the “Groom Shopping” experiences at college recess.  My parents were kind; they waited till I finished college to talk of my wedding. I married after I was considered “too old” for the groom shopping fiestas. I married someone I knew well, so I didn’t have to go through the anxiety and the awkwardness of meeting a stranger. I sometimes wonder how life would have been if I married a stranger I just met.  Of course, it’s not a “What if?” that I want to explore.  I know it must seem strange for me to say such a thing, especially considering the culture I was brought up in.  But stranger things have happened.

 

Speaking of strange things, college days were famous for “Eve teasing”.  It’s a typical Indian term for the wolf whistles, lewd comments and harassment that the boys mete out for the girls in the age group of 14-married. It didn't matter how the girl looked, being a girl was the only criterion.  There was no remedy for this other than ignoring. There are laws against eve teasing but it was just a slap on the wrist. After 24 hours of jail time the Idiots were back on the streets.  Controlling my temper was something I had to learn quick, if I intended surviving for long. And learning to live within my own mind was a blessing.   I would tune out. I never hear anything. I learned to take a different route home, just to be safe. 

 

College life was fun, but getting to college was not fun. We lived in the suburbs and, at that time, public transport was not efficient. There were very few buses on my college route.  Everyday I would spend anywhere from 2-3 hours waiting for a bus. Some days I would get so frustrated with the wait that I would walk home from college. It was a ninety minutes walk. Now although I am glad that I used to get exercise without actually thinking about it, I don’t miss the wait for the transport.

 

I was introduced to Computers at college. We had about 10 computers, the majority of which were 386’s and we had 2 fastest computers of the era - the 486DX. We worked on DOS and used the 5 1/4 inch floppy disks to store our data. We used to consider ourselves very lucky to be able to work with a 486.  After using today’s faster computers, the 486 would be something I wouldn’t miss. I will be glad to see it in a museum though, bringing me fond memories.

 

Among all the things that annoys me, noise takes the upper berth. I couldn’t stand noise(even today) after a certain level or after some amount of time.  My Nemesis was my brother for he and I had conflicting tastes when it comes to listening to music. I liked listening within the normal hearing range but my sibling had to listen to it at the highest volume there was. It always felt like the roof would collapse every time he turned the music on. Most days, we had verbal arguments over the volume of the music.  Finally, I figured that there was just no point trying to get through to a deaf person.  So I used take my books and go to the terrace, where I studied or just read or sometimes sketched, staying till my brother decided to turn down the volume or left the house to attend to his chores.  

 

Our home was a hub of activity most days of the year.  Most every other month, we would have these elaborate dinners with all of our families or friends or colleagues of my parents.  There was always great food, my mom and aunts were really good cooks. It used to be a great time when my cousins came; we used to love the talking and playing.  But it used to get out of hand when we had anyone who was totally drunk.  I hated drinks and cigarettes being served in the house. The Men had nothing to talk about until a few pegs make its way into their system. After that, inhibitions were down; talk abundance, mostly repeating the same stuff or something totally irrelevant to the previous line of conversation.  I have had the most laughs, listening in on such conversations(yes, I was a wicked child, I eavesdropped :P) or watching the blunders in their motor skills.

 

One of my uncles was a chain smoker. I particularly hated his visits to the house. I loved him, for he was a gem of a person but every time he came home I used to end up with stuffed, runny nose and head aches from the tobacco smoke. Of course being the child of the house, it would be considered disrespect and arrogance if I said “why do you drink till the point of drunkenness or why don’t you smoke outside the house”.  So I learned to pick my battles.  I learned to stay out of the way of the elders, when my cousins weren’t there. 

 

I think as I grow older, there will be a more things that I will not miss, and those that I will miss from the earlier years.  I hope to never dwell too much on either issue.  I hope to work on being Grateful for what I have.  After all, Life is in the NOW. Hopefully I will remember that always.

 

Have a wonderful Weekend. :)

 

To my Grandchildren

My bones now creaking like old doors on hinges desperately needing oil, I sit and look out into the distance. The Distance of times gone by appears very sharp. Yes! Most think we humans like to romanticize a by-gone era, simply because of nostalgia for an imagined goodness. There is no one to blame except for time, for that kind of thinking. But I have to try to beat time, to leave you, my grandchildren, an understanding of what I have come to understand. You see, in my present state, that is all I can leave for you-Words from experience and understanding. Goodness comes from understanding what Badness is and learning to Master your Mind to stay away from it. There is no evil, except the unwillingness to make an effort to devote ourselves to that which brings harmony within our minds. If you watched a class with students not paying attention, you will find that the moment the Teacher quietly turns around and watches the Class, each and every student will begin to respond by quieting down. That, is the Silence the Teacher wills INSIDE her mind, moving OUTSIDE to the Students mind. Harmony, like Silence moves from Within to the Without. Cultivate your minds to seek out that which serves harmony.

In the days of my youth, we understood respect because respect was the Norm. An Elder, even if they were born just one day earlier than you were, was given respect because they have irreplaceable experiences that the one extra day gives them. A young one was given respect because they learned by example. Giving them respect meant continuing the cycle of respect, so they know how to respect others. We spoke and addressed the young, the same way we would address someone older than us, that way the thought of ever using disrespectful words have no place in their inheritance. So practice respecting yourself by paying attention to doing and saying things in a manner that increases esteem in your own eyes. Respect for others comes when you know how to respect yourself.

An Elder was the keeper of knowledge- of families traditions, of nature’s working, of all things learned from the foundation of knowledge from those before them. Our Elders knew what it was to be an Elder, the one that guides those depending on their Wisdom. They understood that wisdom was lost when arrogance entered their minds, and hence always acted in Benevolence…They knew to live without infringing another’s right to live. Taking only what they need, not what they want, is what keeps the delicate balance within Nature. We all know what we need but most of us care about what we Want. Listening and Doing, more than Preaching lead to building bonds. Cultivating good speech was a virtue. Being Honest and Ethical in our work and taking responsibility for our actions was a virtue that made a man or woman out of us. To practice compassion, mercy and forgiveness while not giving into greed, anger, jealousy, envy, or our ego was the practice of everyday life. Everything in life has a unseen boundary and a harmonious family lived within this boundary. When you do something for the very first time, it is difficult but once you do it, it becomes easier the second and the third time. This holds for crossing boundaries too. Once you cross, the boundary is broken and usually it is hard to get back inside and build it again. Which is where responsibility comes in. Being responsible means learning what is appropriate and acting on it. Being responsible means that when mistakes are made, you dont blame someone else for it. The Idea of responsibility is not merely apologizing for a mistake but for remedying the mistake.

You, my grandchildren, are foundlings in the learning. I want to leave you with what I know so that you may build on it. The future rests on you, hence you need to be that brick that is still in the kiln. A lot of burning has to be done to become strong-Burning of ignorance. I know the world around you is not what it used to be when we were young. But there are a few constants apart from the obvious ones like day and night and the seasons. I have learned that each of us has a place that is exclusively ours. There are a lot of distractions today than we ever had in our time but you still have constants, that those who came before you had- the quality to discern what is good. Ask yourselves if what you are thinking or saying or doing builds on what is already being built or does it bring down what was built by the endless efforts of your ancestors before you? In that answer lies the Truth, the Constant.

While doing something remember that simple every-day acts have consequences. And Consequences are like words, once out of the mouth, they can’t be taken back. Think about what consequences you would like before you act for in that answer lies the Truth, constant.

Find that place of quiet within you. Look at how you grew from infancy. Do you see? You learned to walk before you learned to talk. That’s the universe telling you the rule of life, always walk the walk before you talk the talk. When you walk in Truth, there is no need for talking.

Remember nothing is yours to keep for eternity, so pass on that you learned in the quiet, to those younger than you. That is our purpose, to add to the brick that builds. Live like a warrior, remembering that you could die any moment. Be not afraid of death, for that is what every living being does, it is not special. For a warrior, to remember death, IS Living. Use that reminder to do what needs to be done right now, so that you never die leaving unfinished work. To Die without regret, with dignity is to die Honourably. So, do not shame your ancestors with the fear of death.

I understand that you will feel like I am talking of Utopia. But I urge you to think of it and look upon changes that have happened within your own lives. Ask yourself, if you willed it or it fell upon you? Keep an account of all your thoughts before the changes and after the changes, you will see that everything came from your thoughts, even the thought that merely passed and you thought was inconsequential. Yes, thoughts manifest. So direct your thoughts to that which you want to manifest. Keep your thoughts clear, so that when it manifests there is no confusion.

Do not weep on my departing, for I leave a part of me within each of you, you only need to listen to it in silence.

May you always remember the blessing that you are.

Marriage

Her elders said

“Do your Duty,

Practice frugality,

Steady your mind,

For treasures you will find

Keep each other for always,

Together, walk life’s pathways”

With Joined palms and bowed heads

Accepting blessings

Quelling misgivings

She walked hand in hand

With the stranger, now husband.

 

Not knowing the reason

For being in the prison

Of suppressed Passion

Never without Caution

Every Thought, a rebel

Her emotions in constant swell

Waiting to go forth,

A chance for rebirth.

 

Craving for the elusive

Keeping her Captive

Until she could

Break free, she would

When completely cornered

No way to go, but Forward

She walked with head held high

Not letting others in on the Lie

Marching like a soldier

Putting aside every boulder

Pretending to be brave

Making efforts, never to cave

No time to think

Of her being’s kink

 

With times chisel, She became that

The Lie, of Duty’s Format

Through Duty, she found Loyalty

Through loyalty, she lost frailty

Loss of Frailty, made her Brave

Brave, while facing her grave

Now, she didn’t have to hide.

As She walked with Pride.

 

November 2007 - K P Rashmi.

The US experience.... still experiencing - 2

When I was new to this country, there were things that I was very Naive about. So when most others were having "Aha" moments, I was still in the "How dumb could I be" moments. Until I discovered Filters and spam blockers, I have recieved some emails that were part of my laugh and learn experience...

I recieved coupons for Steak, something I never had a craving for. We are "modern" Hindus, so my family doesnt eat steak. Why did I recieve coupons? hmm guess it was a free throw to a wrong email box. The weirdest ones were emails giving me a deal on Botox, hair transplanting, penile enhancement, breast enlargements, Men who are seeking "companions" (made me wonder if I was listed on some singles seeking site without my knowledge), Women who are seeking "funtime"(guess I do have a banner that says I am lesbian, somewhere).

I also won a lottery from Spain and London but being the dense person I was, I forgot to send them my bank account number so the money was never put in my account. I seriously regret it(NOT). I could have beaten Bill Gates for the Multi-millionare position. Someone knew I was an Entrepreneur(NOT) cause I was sought for help by a Nigerian company to set up their very lucrative business in the USA, in which I will have a 70% stake in. Looking back I regret this decision too, if I had just grabbed the opportunity, I would have seen a rain of money.

There was a time I enjoyed receiving calls from salesmen. Guess I didnt know what I was in for. Only after coming to the US did I learn that you could get things for FREE. Buy one get one free deals, Be our customer and you get this(put your name here) Item Free. My dad(and my husband) always said "You get what you pay for, so if the deal seems to be too good to be true, chances are it is". I had to discover that for myself to believe them didnt I. One time, I said yes for a free credit card protection plan. The deal was that at the end of 3 months if I didnt want it anymore all I had to do was call and cancel the plan. So EASY!! right? Of course, when I told my husband what I did, I realized that this was a legal scam. I felt like an idiot for not seeing through the scam. So I kept track and called them a week before the 3 months to cancel the plan. I was put on hold. 5, 10, 20, 40 minutes later I was still on hold. Finally I ended up paying for one month of credit card protection and then cancelled the credit card. Lesson learned - Do not accept anything for FREE, you will end up paying more than it actually costs.

From then on, if anyone said it was free I said NO Thank you, most times it ended the conversation. But there are always exception to rules. One day I recieve a call from a Phone card company offering me 300 free minutes for international phone calls(this was in the 90's). I said "No thank you" , the man at the other end was aghast... he goes "But its 300 free minutes mam', isnt that a good deal when you are paying 50 cents/min for calls to india?" I thought for a moment and decided I am going to use the most un-original psychological answer that I promised myself that I would never use "which part of NO did you not understand?" Well that did put his "sales spiel" to rest.

After a few years, thanks to the inventor of call ID- Kazuo Hashimoto and for the telephone manufacturing companies that had this incorporated into their devices, I stopped picking up the phone for every telemarket call. It saved me a lot of time, energy and annoyances.

P. S. Dear friends, I havent been visiting all your blogs as I want to, I will get around to them. Do excuse my absence as life takes over and forces me to stay away from your blogs. And no, I havent forgotten any of you, keeping you all in my thoughts. Hope you all had a lovely weekend. Keep smiling.

Unlearnt Lessons (360 repost)

As I read and watch the news from around the world, I have begun to question some of the things I have come to believe.  I always thought that living means learning. That in most any situation, if we are mindful, we get away with a lesson that we can use in our life.   But then there are situations where we seem to repeat the same mistakes in endless patterns.  It could be something as simple as giving someone else permission to dictate how we feel or behave or something as complex as learning to be pro-active in our lives.

The most talked about news today is the Israel-Lebanon conflict.  I am not an expert in history, but from what I know, I have noticed that at different points of time, a group of people have been targeted for extermination. And the Jews have been one among them.  Like any oppressed people, they have been homeless, starved, lived in a constant state of uncertainty, and fear of untimely death,  faced immense hardships and had no place to call home.  As any Human Being, they are resilient, resourceful, having gotten out of  and oppression, more determined to make their lives worthy, more rooted in their faith(talking generally, there are always exceptions) and they were viewed by the rest of the world as a productive, compassionate, respectful people.  

One would think having gone through the oppressive regimes would make them more mindful of any other people going through the same situation, but somehow that doesn't seem to be so.  The claim is that Hezbollah was involved in bombing Israel and in retaliation Israel kills innocent Lebanese citizens... guess their anger is justified, but a lesson seems to have been lost and forgotten.

What I said could seem like I am supporting Lebanon or Terrorism, let me clarify - I do not condone any Nation or groups who have a political/economic stake, in keeping the war going or killing people to make a point. I do think there is a serious lack of ethics when it comes to seeking solutions to war in any of the warring nations in our world.  Greed and Power are the primary players in most conflicts. 

Apart from this human psyche theory of Conflicts, I can also take a very liberal, spiritually lazy view of the war- Its just Karma in action.  History tends to move in a cycle, of the oppressed becoming powerful and powerful becoming oppressed, each group of people getting their turn on the wheel of time.  So que sera sera - what will be, will be.  Events occur so that each of us has had a chance to play out our Karma.  How we make our choices under the given circumstances at the event is what redeems our karma.  Do we act with Honour?  Do we act with Compassion, Honesty, were our intentions for the good of all or just the good of ourselves?

Our thoughts and intentions behind our act is what makes our life worthy or unworthy.  If we can look at the things we have done and say with all our heart- yes I did my best, acted in a way that would make my ancestors proud(cause they did work in their time so that you might be where you are today, even if it just means you are alive). It has nothing to do with what others think its worth, its more about what we think its worth.

Everytime we look at a conflict, we must get to the root of how it started to get to a solution.  Its like a vehicle service station, you cant do patch work if you want the vehicle to function well. You cant cure appendicitis with a topical ointment.  That's how every conflict is.. if we really intend solving it then we must, in all honesty, get to the root of the conflict and then look at what each party  can give up, so that each party gets what they NEED(not want).   Yes!  Give up something, sacrifice something of value to you to gain something more valuable.. Nothing in this world is Free,  we have to let go of something to move forward and gain something else.   

Now the only problem seems to be.. who is going to bell the cat? How do we bell the cat?   The bell is our attitude as people and the Cat is the realization that each of us must improve ourselves so that others would want to do the same.  When we live by example (as opposed to preaching from the rooftops) we can function as a sustainable community and not as a community that needs wars so that we can have the best of the resources.. It's a lifestyle change... it's a change in the way we think of ourselves and of others... It's learning to be honest about our needs and our wants.  It's learning to let go of wants and keeping what we need. It's learning that the only thing that we own is the legacy we leave to the generations in the future.  It's learning to be aware of the "Evil" that resides in us before we judge the same in others... It's learning to develop the "Good" that resides in us so that we know how to stay in peace and harmony with ourselves.  After all- We have to be peaceful in our dealings with others if we want to see peace around us. 

Yeah! I know this is a nai've view of life, its so cliche', it's a Utopian View, Not practical at all, Ok..its childish and immature...The simplest solutions usually seem that way.  But I feel that "We can get where we want to go only if we are willing to believe we can get there."

Forever Hopeful of peace within,

Mithuna.

Entry for July 28, 2006

This going to be a meandering blog, the kind that doesn't have a particular topic but just flies from one to another like a butterfly flitting across the flower  patch.

Been watching the Israeli-Lebanese conflict on the CNN and on Link TV- I loved the pointing fingers attitude of the Israelis; anyone speaking against their actions is "Anti-Semitic".   Guess "yatha raja, thatha praja" (as the king, so are the citizens).  The person speaking on the Israeli side said- "it wasn't a crime to defend ones own borders, no matter what the cost, we are defending our homeland".  I have no stake in either country but I do have a stake on the World's peace at large and I wondered so aren't the Lebanese doing the same?  Defending their borders no matter what the cost?  Applying the same concept elsewhere in the world's conflicted areas- None of them are wrong cause everyone claims to be fighting to "defend their borders".  They have piled their egos to such heights that now its too late to turn back or for one of them to back down even if they might want to(wishful thinking on my part). 

I was reminded of something I read long ago about relationships- "In an argument/fight, never corner your opponent, always leave room for a way out, for in the end everyone wants Peace" Its common sense ... if you corner someone in a conflict.. There are only two things that can happen 1. You are powerful so they will submit and constantly plan to hit back and die trying 2.They will hit back with all they got either killing the one who cornered them or die fighting;  Either way the chances of dying fighting are the same.  In effect, their chances of survival are bleak so might as well die fighting, after all there is honour in that. It is what anyone will do if they have nothing to lose and nothing to live for.  

Moving on to the concept of Loyalty.. It's a trait I really admire. My introduction to this trait came with my grandparents and reading of the Epics. My favorite characters were Laxman, Rama's brother from the Ramayana and Karna, Duryodhana's friend from the Mahabharata. I also admired Bhishma and Drona for their sense of duty and loyalty to the king in spite of knowing that they were in the wrong.  I have no clue what breeds loyalty. Is it the need to hold on to something tangible? Is it a dreamy ideal? Does it have limits? Is it enforced? And if it is, is it internally enforced because of some self motivation or is it externally enforced due to societal pressures?  What influences a person to be loyal?  How does one get to being loyal enough to give up their lives for a cause/person?  Still dissecting this Ideal.

Selective Blindness is something that becomes very apparent when I listen to news- When there were wars going on in the continent of Africa or in Asia unless there were some US or NATO citizens involved in the conflict somehow, it is rarely mentioned.  I notice that when the ABC says World news.. it usually means that its news around the world where US in involved.. Not really world news.. Cause to me When I say World News.. I would pick a few nations in every continent and present pertinent news of the day. Waiting for a day when we really mean the World when we say World.

Moving on to photography.. why does the afternoon sun make the pictures hazy?   The pictures of the Grand Canyon are all hazy. After a really long drive we got to the rim of the Canyon at about 3 PM.. and all the pictures I took are Hazy. Yes, I was annoyed and sad, especially since I don't know if I will ever go there again.. And then the news flash of the day- I went there some 6 years ago and still whining about it <<giggling>>. Going to give it a rest.

Conclusion of the Day- I need to stop watching the news- too many conflicts around the world, it makes my pot of optimism sprout a leak.  But then I need to know what's happening in our World- ah!!the indecision. Its late and I guess I need to sleep. A new day could bring some order to my meandering thoughts.  Goodnight...

Vacation Journal-3

Bangalore was my home for almost 25 years of my life and I thought it will always be home.  Bangalore is my cocoon- a very familiar, comforting place.  Ah! I was so wrong.  I was "home"  for five weeks and although I felt rushed for shopping, visiting people I care about and eating all the foods I craved for, I was ready to come "Home".  I have had to re-define my idea of home.

The Bangalore I visited was a far cry from the Bangalore I grew up in.  Gone was the leisurely pace that I so envied when I was studying.  Gone was the familiar fresh air, thanks to vehicle smog.  Gone was the typical June weather- hot in the day and rains cooling off the evenings.. its mostly sweaty now, thanks to my acclimatizing to cooler temperate weather of NW USA.  Gone was the two wheeler world.. now it is mostly four wheelers and two wheelers in equal numbers, creating roads dotted with traffic jams. Gone were the shortcuts to different areas in the city, now there are one ways and no way to get out of being lost on the streets.   I heard more English being spoken than the familiar Kannada.  I saw more out of state(and country) people than the ones who had a history there.

So I went deliberately looking for the familiar and then realized I just needed to scratch the surface.  There were still people who loved hearing someone else speak the native language; someone who knew the old Kannada songs; someone who knew the old corner food joints.  The temples smelled the same- camphor, flowers, incense sticks. It felt good to hear the familiar church bells and the early morning Azaan calls.  

The old Markets had the same look to them.. bulks of fresh foods next to smelling rotting ones a little distance away. A reminder than nothing lasts forever, everything is transient, so make the best of what is the now.  People who will still ask you if you are so and so's daughter living in so and so place.  Elders who would shower you with blessings when you bow to touch their feet- A reminder that you need to be a little lower(humble) to receive blessings in life.

The fast food places serve the same foods but the size of the servings have shrunk with a marginal increase in the prices.. There are more restuarants now that cater to the busy lot.   Tender-coconuts are still a lovely treat, as are the chaat stalls.  Auto-drivers are still the pain they used to be--they will go everywhere except where you want them to go and never have change. The traffic police gave out vibes that were the same- they were there to harass.  Their end of the month collections are very important and they are justified in harassing individuals.  The words "Adjust maadi" (just make do with what is even if its not what is comfortable or what you paid for) is still in vogue.   

There seems to be marked improvement in roads and amenities but it is mostly in areas where the big MNC's have set shops, except for telecommunication.  In other areas- there are still power cuts, water supply just 3 days a week, long waits for cooking gas,  buses that are overcrowded, streets that are actually a pothole gallery, water lines that are open in some places, roads that seem to be in a constant state of repair and the dream of a pavement for commuters on foot a far dream.  Telephone has become a part of everyone's life 10 years ago, only the elite/affluent could afford a telephone. I was surprised to see the neighborhood door to door vegetable vendor talk over his Cell phone.  The streets are dotted with people who at first sight seem to be insanely talking to themselves until you realize they are on the hidden cellphone.

 

Vacation Journal-2

I had my cousin's wedding; I was so looking forward to.  I like weddings, mostly because you can actually meet up with long lost family members whose addresses and phone numbers you always seem to lose.  Weddings present me with this huge opportunity to do what I like doing--observe people.  I also like weddings for the food( yes, I am a foody).

Most people at the wedding didn't know who I was-the perks of living abroad.  Some thought I belonged to the bride's family and some thought I belonged to the groom's family; And I kept the mystery, when they asked me who I was-I only told them my surname (which I don't share with the bride or the groom).  

I got to hear the good comments about the arrangements at the wedding and the not so good comments too; it was fascinating to hear stuff from people who have never ever  conducted any large scale function before, commenting on what was done wrong at the wedding.  Guess its true about what they say about opinions (which also holds for mine).<<giggling>>.  I noticed that, for all the clinging to what is Coorgi amongst my people... They weren't sure of the customs and traditions. I was glad to know that I wasn't the only one who wasn't sure about stuff.  Ah it feels good to have company.  The conclusion I drew - there isnt anything precise that really defines someone's Coorgi-ness...there are only some imagined illusions that we so wish were true.

I met some really lovely people.. I got to meet most of my relatives, acquaintances and friends. The food was delicious.  But I did miss having my kids and hubby there.   There were things I learned about my own people that made me proud and also made me disgusted.. But then these are to be expected.  All in all it was a great exercise in observing humanity.

Vacation Journal-3(the final)

 

Vacation Journal-1

It's two days since my return from a five weeks vacation in Bangalore.  I am brain dead from fatigue.  My feet are as swollen like peeled potatoes in water.  And I am acutely aware of every muscle in my body.  My eyes can't seem to keep themselves open.  But I am happy to be back with my kids and have my head hit the very familiar pillow. I already miss the people back there, although I understand I am far lucky compared to my parent's generation, when it comes to communication.   I can have a conversation with the family and not feel the dent on my pocket.

I took a sabbatical from being a wife and mother and went alone.  I was skeptical about enjoying the trip.   I thought, I would be miserable as I would miss my kids and my husband.  But the other option was that of taking the kids and risk having them fall ill (like they have done over the last 3 trips) and have the vacation cut short by at least 2 weeks of hospital trips.   So off I went, Alone.

The flight was quite uneventful except for the tour I took at Kualalumpur, Malaysia.  There was a group of Desis, most on the same flight as I was, who wanted to go for the tour.  It was a 10 hour stop over.  So 10 adults and 9 kids got into two vans and off we went visiting the Batu caves, independence square, the King's palace and Petronas towers.  It was a fun trip. They were a fun loving lot. 

Malaysia is a country that is really green.  The roads and parks are well maintained.  It was hot and humid.  A word of advice- please do take water or exchange just enough ringits(malay currency) to buy some water.. most shops(except in the big malls) do not take credit cards.  Also wear something that doesn't stick to your body when you sweat.

I was impressed at the architecture of some of the buildings in Kualalumpur.  The Petronas Towers, the stadium, the independence square, the airport are very creatively put together.  Most of us climbed up the 262 steps up to the Batu cave temple.. The view from the top was awesome.  The inside of the Petronas tower  felt like viewing the peeling of a bud or the layers of an onion..Returning from the trip we were all very tired.. the chatter in the van had died down, replaced by gentle snores.

I have been lonely but I have never really been alone.  It is one of the perks of being a housewife, you are really never alone. Even when there is no one physically around you, you are constantly pre-occupied with thoughts of the people in your life.  What would they like for lunch/dinner/breakfast;  what needs to be talked over with the spouse;  where would the children love to go this weekend;  who is visiting us(or invited us) at tea or dinner;  what new activities could my children do, etc, etc. I had forgotten what it felt like to work on a full brain without any pre-occupation of what I needed to do next and for who I had to do it. I finally was able to think about what I want.

Vacation Journal-2

Wedding Anniversary.

A month ago was our 10th wedding anniversary.  I know a lot of my friends are curious about my marriage experiences but they are very respectful of my privacy.  I do not talk about my marriage, due to a simple belief- that which is sacred shouldn't be spoken about.  I believe that in some situations, when words are put to a feeling, it loses its value and becomes trivial. 

Most assume that I must have an arranged marriage; after all we Indians are famous for our "Arranged marriages".  The truth is my marriage was arranged because it was a "Love marriage".  We knew each other before we married, we were good friends.  After about 5 years of being friends we decided to get married. The reason was very simple, we couldn't fathom living and sharing our lives with a stranger. Among the people from my country, marrying among the people of our own caste, religion or language base is an important aspect of our society. It gives the community a sense of cohesiveness and identity and therefore favored. Life is easy and comfortable or at least creates an illusion of comfort among a homogenous people, traditions and customs.

I am a South Indian, and my husband is a North Indian.  Although we are both Indians and both Hindus, we couldn't have more diverse traditions and customs.  Our food habits, ideas about life,  religion, spirituality, values and traditions are very different. The only thing that we agreed on was Humor and ethics.  We also agreed that we couldn't live on Air, water and sunshine as Romeo and Juliet did. We had to plan out our strategy and logistics if we really intended making a life for ourselves. 

The First obstacle we had was consent from Parents. I understand that to most non-Indians, the idea of parental consent to do what they want at 20 years of age is a weird concept. It will be viewed as Unhealthy, emotional dependence, lacking in individuality and confidence, but for most of us Indians, it is a necessity of our spirit.  We decided that we will patiently wait for our parents to give their blessings. We believed that our parents were wise enough to know when we really meant what we said. So we went ahead and told our parents that we wanted to start a life together and that we would like their consent.  Of course, they objected. They reasoned that we were young and have our heads in the clouds, that this idea of "falling" in love was an illusion. That if they kept us away from each other long enough we would "fall out" of love and get married to someone within our own social circles. After all, out of sight, out of mind.

At the time he worked in Bombay, in the IT field, while I was in Bangalore. After about a year in Bombay, he was sent to the USA to work on a project.  It isn't a big deal by today's standards, but this was India and it was the 90's. We didn't have email or any means for a cell phone. Calling to the US was too costly for me at the time and there was no phone in my home, for him to call and talk to me. So, we wrote each other letters, yes! With a pen, paper, envelope and stamp.  I still remember the wait for the postman and the thrill of getting a letter.  It reminds me of the Carpenter's song  "Please, Mr. Postman" ;)).  After about 2 years of waiting for consent, our parents agreed to give us their consent. So we were married, in the typical Vedic style, with blessings and wishes from all our relatives, friends, well wishers and Parents.  After the wedding, I came with my husband to live in the USA.

In the last ten years, we have had our ups and our downs.  We have learned to bend and flex according to the needs of our relationship. We have laughed a lot; loved a lot; argued a lot; disagreed; fought over silly things; asked for forgiveness; let our egos come in the way of being happy;  been tender; been jerks; stopped talking to each other; talked to each other through the night; taken care of each other when we were ill; been through the birth of our kids together; took turns through the nights staying up the first few months after the babies were born; got through down turns in the IT industry; moved many times and listened to each others hopes, dreams and fears. In all the changes that has happened in our lives, the constant has been Trust, Respect, Friendship, Space for each other to grow, Caring and Lots of Laughter.  I guess I am truly blessed to have him in my life.

This is the song I spoke about above

Politically correct.

In today’s world, being politically correct is an IN thing.  Everything gets narrowed down to the specifics.  It’s almost like we need more complications in life because what we have isn’t enough, hence Political Corrected-ness. No Adjective is complete if there isn’t a qualifier for the adjective (which is redundant). If someone says “Man is a very resilient creature” brings in a firing squad of feminists, who would say “Only Man? What about the woman?”  If someone observed “She is a drinker?” they get corrected “No, she is a social drinker?” I sit there wondering “Social drinker? As in gets very giggly, loud and approachable when she is drunk?” and then I get corrected “She drinks only at a party”.  Someone says “I need 5 cups of coffee a day” and someone else says “so, you are addicted to coffee”.  I sit there thinking.  “So I am addicted to water? I drink water more than 5 cups everyday” and then someone says “Its addiction only if it’s bad for your health”... Wonder how they figure that... Have they heard of the proverb “A little poison, good medicine; Too much medicine, good poison” Every day some doctor’s “research” comes out with new stuff that is “good” for you and “bad” for you. In the past decade, a new diet has come out most every year that is good for you. Ever wonder who makes the money from such news and such research? Is such a research relevant?

 

Here I am at a restaurant and I get talking to this lawyer who was also waiting to be seated.  As is the norm, she asks “what is your mother tongue (native language)?” so I say  “coorgi”.  She then asks “so you aren’t a Hindu then?” I am puzzled, so I say “I am Hindu”. She goes on to explain, “coorgi’s aren’t Hindu, they are ancestor worshippers” I didn’t know if I should politely smile or laugh at her. So I say, “We honor our ancestors, but then it doesn’t matter if we are or aren’t, I follow Hinduism.”  I change topics and was glad when the waiter escorted me to a table.  I then wonder. Hinduism has such a wide range of beliefs and every Hindu family usually has a celebration called “Shraddh” for the departed ancestors.   This is alternatively called Pitr-yagna(ancestor worship). The only difference between worship of God and the worship of Ancestors is that the later is not conducted at a temple but at the banks of a sacred river.  So my family worship ancestors, how does that make me “Not” Hindu?  I will never know.  Who decides that there is only one particular/correct way of saying things to mean something?  Who sets a convention for convention? I am still pondering.

 

The US experience.. still experiencing.

One would think that after nearly a decade of life in the land of plenty, there is nothing that one could ever ask for.  For many Indian families, coming to the USA is a boon.  It means financial security, educational opportunities, better job prospects and better standard of living.  Most come here hoping to return to their homeland. But reality is so different from logic. 

Coming to the USA, wasn't something I dreamed of doing or even wanted to do but it seemed like it was my destiny to live here.  I came here because my husband had a job here, after all a wife's place is with her husband.  My knowledge of the US was limited to geography, history, news reports and movies. I didn't have an opinion of US. I was open to anything.

I got off the Flight from India at the Newark Airport.  From the window of the aircraft, the scenery was so beautiful, it almost felt like it was fairyland (not that I had been to one ever).  There was snow all over; the trees looked like brides with their lacy veils on.  We took an airport shuttle to the Hotel from where my husband's friend was to pick us up.  On my husbands advice I had a jacket on.  We got of the shuttle under the hotels huge canopy. It must have been about 12 paces from the door of the shuttle to the door of the hotel. I could only take 4 steps... I was so cold it felt like my brain had frozen.  Just two days ago I was in a place where the sun was shining and it was a warm 27°C and it was probably below 0ºC in Newark on that day.  My first lesson: Snow looks wonderful on greeting cards and from inside an aircraft or vehicle, not fun to walk on or to feel it without appropriate clothing and accessories.

I was looking forward for life with my husband. Who would have thought it would be like what it was. People say that the first month after marriage is the most blissful; I don't know what to call it.  We moved into a friend's apartment till we could find a place of our own. The friends were at the time, in India.  I was jetlagged. I dozed of at all odd hours.  One evening in the first week, I locked my husband out of the house because I was in deep slumber when he came home.  I woke with a start and realized that there was someone at the door. Quiet disoriented I walk down the stairs to open the door and my frantic husband stood there. He thought something bad must have happened to me and was going to the neighbors to call the cops.

I had lived all my life in Bangalore until my marriage.  Everything I knew about the world was what I learned from people in my life, school and college.  Most of my friends, were what we call "chaddi dost"- Friends from diaper-hood. They knew everything there was to know about me and I of them.  We didn't need to speak to let the other know if we needed something.  It was a kind of undefined knowing, an attachment and affection that we shared.  Marriage was a fork in the road of our relationship.  I was leaving everything I ever knew, all the people I knew, just to follow my husband.

 I felt like a huge banyan tree that was yanked of its roots and planted in the Artic.  I didn't have any family (other than my husband), any friends, any familiar smells, people or color; everything was either white or streaked with brown. I just had acquaintances, people I met through my husband.  Husband would leave at 7 am in the morning and would return at about 7 or 8 pm.   I spent the first few days trying to get over jetlag; then I spent time cleaning up; arranging and re-arranging the arranged books; dusted furniture that for some weird reason just didn't collect dust;  played computer games, read books, watched TV, ran to  the window when I heard a car or any noise.  The word entertainment had a whole new meaning to me. I was completely bored, scared and lonely.  When the phone rang, I could feel the smile on my lips... ah someone to talk to, it didn't matter if it was an annoying salesman.  For someone who had lived in total lack of privacy, for someone who had friends in every house in block where I lived before, for someone who had never lived alone ever, I had an abundance of space all around me.  Does breathing become easy when there is space?  Yes it does, but my innards were shrinking due to over-oxygenation. 

Maybe I should find a job, just to get over my boredom. Ok... But then we weren't going to live in NJ for more than a month because we found a place in Philadelphia downtown.  Husband's place of work was 20 min. walk from the house and the job was just for another month because he had found another better paying job in the west coast in the state of Oregon. Oregon, name sounds very familiar. Oh yes! I read about the Oregon Trail in a National geographic magazine when I was in school. I was so fascinated by the illustrations and photos of the place that I had made an amateur sketch of a caravan of wagons and imagined myself picking flowers on the meadows in Oregon. At that time, I never knew that imaginations could manifest.  So in a month's time we pack to move to Oregon to the city of Portland.  We didn't have much to pack just the utensils, TV, clothes and Car. 

Portland Airport... Beautiful!! who would have thought that it takes about 8 hours by flight to get from Philly to Portland?  The car ride from the Airport to the Hotel was really breathtaking... everything was green... and off in the distant we could see the Pink Mount Hood... the snow hadn't all melted.. So it had this really beautiful colour to it.  It was drizzling... The Person who picked us at the airport explains that Portland has rains for about 250 days of the year... My jaw drops... what!!  I escape the snow for the rain, but its just rain, like the monsoons in India... Right! Only when it started did I know that when it rains, it is freezing too. It's not like the Indian monsoons I knew where you sweat in the rain.

It fascinated me that people in the US followed the traffic rules most of the time.  It also frightened me when I considered the speed at which traffic moved.  My biggest obstacle to overcome was driving.  It scared me to death to sit behind the wheel.   I had such weird pictures in my head of car crashes and people dying, and somehow it was my fault.   "You don't have a choice", my husband told me "your car, is your feet, here".  So I took driving lessons.   I drove alright as long as the road was empty and I didn't have to change lanes or drive on the highway.  I failed twice before I got my drivers license.   Once I got the license, it was a relief, now it doesn't really matter if I don't drive.  

I start looking for a job in Oregon... first question; do you have a green card?  Answer - No,  "well we don't file for H1". After sometime I decide, forget it, I don't need a job.  I will study further... so I enroll in a community college.  I fill the application and I mark myself as Asian and the lady at the counter asks "where are you from?"    I say "I am from India". She tells me mark "other".  I am baffled isn't India part of Asia?  Well, it doesn't matter, I had to write an entrance test and then I am in.  The College experience was something I still cherish. I took the bus, met different people of more different accents than I had, and culture than I was.  I had homework to do and reading to review.  I met a few fellow Indians too in the process.  Few became more than acquaintances but not really friends.  Making friends was tough for me. None equaled the simple uncomplicated friendships I had back home, when I was younger.

I learned to call - a flashlight, a flashlight and not torch; a trunk, a trunk not dicky;I also learned to spell.. colours as colors and honour as honor, cheques as Checks.  I also learned that in the US you can spend more than what you have via the credit cards.  It was a weird lesson for someone who is taught from the time she could understand that you don't spend what you don't have or haven't earned or that to be in debt was very shameful existence.  I still learn new things everyday.  

The best thing I ever had in the US was access to a library.  I enjoyed reading, but when you could read books for free (at least you didn't pay up front), its heaven. A world of words with new meanings entered my vocabulary. Words like freedom, democracy, globalization, capitalism, leadership, racism, discrimination, civil rights, evangelism, euthanasia, sexual orientations/fetishes etc. and they were different from the definitions I learned in my own country.  I read books which I never read in my own country- the Vedas, on yoga and other sacred texts of Hinduism, folktales from other cultures and so many other topics. I learned more about Hinduism in the US than in India. It was Ironic.

Coming from an "Indian Culture", I had presumed that there was something called American culture, I was wrong.  It was baseball sometimes, it was basketball at others. It was Pizza sometimes; it was hotdog and corndog at others.  It was blatantly sexual sometimes; it was very tender and sensual at others.  It was ignorance one day and arrogance the next.  Then one day in my mind's chatter a sudden common thread came to my view- its people doing what people anywhere do.  All living, breathing, working, loving just so they have the life they want to have.  Almost everyone came here as immigrants, becoming natives only in the last 350 years. The written history of the USA is very young while its spiritual history and history of its soil is as old as India herself.  Everything is different superficially but at the core it's a culture of human beings in all their glory and all their blunders.

I know that Life as I knew it, is in the past, Life that I have right now is all that I have and the Life I wish it was is what I can strive for.  I still don't know if I should call this country Home although technically, I do know that the place where you hang your hat is Home.  I do know one thing, I am lucky to have views from two opposing sides of the globe.  Coming to this country has taught me to be more accepting of the good and bad, of pleasure and pain. I have realized that everything is black or white only when you are at one place, but when you move from one place to another there are more tones of grey than the Grey we know.  The Elders were right when they said "From being able get a view from above, you realize that all is as it should be".  Being able to take the whole picture as it is, not as you would wish it to be, is a blessing.  I hope to pass on these subtle insights to my kids, who will call this country their home.