Of leisure and drinking

(Given the mention of 'drinking' in the subject, I almost posted this in my foodie blog.)

So, without any preamble I'm stating my contention - take it or leave it:

      Its not eating, but drinking that is reflective of one's prosperity.

At this point you're probably going "Huh?!" and justifiably so. I too am finding it hard to condense my thoughts in a one-liner. So, let's delve a little deeper.

If one is lucky, one gets 2-3 meals a day. If one is neurotic about it, one eats those 3 meals in 6 smaller bits, but I digress. For most working stiffs, breakfast is lucky if it even gets invited to the daily grind. There's mostly a hurried, sometimes working lunch. Again, if they are lucky - and lucky on multiple levels - dinner is a slightly longer affair, before work emails or chores butt in.
This is true of the super-rich, the well-to-do and even the struggling-to-make-ends-meet.

In all this, where is the leisure that is a crucial symptom of prosperous living? It is absent. Here we contend that leisure defines the quality of living and is therefore a key determinant of prosperity.


Now forget food and think beverages:
Leisurely hour spent with a cup of tea and some friends, or a book, or a book that IS a friend. Clearly, you would only get to do this if you can afford to spare that time. Grabbing a cup of chai in a rush? Sacrilege.

Or think wine - immediately you think of fine company of friends, reflecting on the good things in life, savoring every sip and every deep inhale of the wine. If you are an insufferable oenophile you could also torture each other with weighty pronouncements on the bouquet, body and other mumbo jumbo of wine tasting. But even that requires leisure and friends with absolutely nowhere else they'd be.

If you think coffee, you probably think of grabbing hideous filter coffee from a cafe or gas station in a paper cup, or its fancier sisters in a latte or macchiato - but still grabbed hurriedly and drank on the go or in meetings. But it wasn't always so. The brewing and drinking of coffee too was a time to sit back and take stock of things at a delayed pace.
I'd love to blame it all on starbucks, but they have the leisurely option of hanging out there - until wifi happened and now that leisure is destroyed also.

I was reflecting on these amorphous thoughts sitting with - you guessed it - a glass of wine - in the balcony of the Yosemite valley lodge room and looking in awe at the towering granite cliffs that garland the valley. The wine was bad, with the alcohol being the only agreeable component of it, but I enjoyed it all the same given the leisure that drinking it presupposed and then bestowed. For that hour, I was extremely prosperous.

Short Story - Les toilette sans le loquet

She sat looking at the solitary bathroom door. It had a man and a woman’s stick figures drawn on a plaque.

“It means a unisex bathroom.” he had said in his educating tone which he used when telling her something new about America. They had arrived here just a few days ago after getting married in India. Though he had lived here a few years now.

“Ok.” She acknowledged without completely understanding the concept. What did unisex mean?

“It means a person of any sex can go in there.” he had followed up.

“Oh!” She smiled in open admission that she hadn’t known.

“I don’t suppose you thought it was for funny business.” He winked and laughed causing her to blush. But she liked his silly naughty jokes. And now that they were together and apart from all others, it felt very intimate to be able to talk thus. But she didn’t think all this in that brief moment - just felt happy without really reasoning it out.

“Do you need to go?” He asked her politely - 'Ladies first' and all that - but she knew that he needed to go badly and had been looking for a restroom for some time now.

“No. You go ahead. I’ll go after you.”

“Unless you want to go with me.” And he winked again. This time she just smiled without wanting to.

He was back within a few seconds and appeared excited.

“The door has no latch!” He exclaimed with irritation. “One bathroom and a non functional one at that!”

“Now what ? Should we look for another … ?” She was trying to think of a solution for him.

“I don’t know where else we may find another. We already paid for stuff here to use the customers’ only restroom.” He was clearly in distress, sweating a little.

“You go inside. I’ll wait right outside.” She thought the sentence sounded a little odd with ‘side’ used twice.

“Ok!” He accepted readily. “But what of the bags?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll manage. Go.” She smiled to reassure him and he finally rushed in.

She picked up the two bags - with a bottle of water, some pepsi, potato chips and some other snacks. The bags were heavy. She also carried the camera bag - his prized Nikon and another bag for the camcorder.

As a rule he never let her carry any heavy bags - it was his way of being nice - though it tried her patience at times when it seemed like an odd formality. She had tried hinting at it, but felt that she couldn’t yet be direct to him. In her thinking, that comfortable ground was still a little ways off - where they could talk openly and say what was on their mind. But they were on their way to that ground - and that made her smile. 

She began reminiscing of their wedding - the chaos of it all. The long week leading up to the wedding, that she had spent with her friends and cousins in the large rented house - alternately happy, and sad - talking late into the nights, listening to old favorite music cassettes in her brother’s beat up two-in-one radio and cassette player. She smiled wistfully at the new memories she had collected and many old ones she had dusted off in that one week. She knew that this line of thought inevitably would lead to missing her parents and she would silently cry. If he saw her crying, it would make him sad also as to him, her crying meant she wasn't happy with him. Life has to be black and white correct? She tried to slow that train of thoughts down. 

The weight of the bags and her muscles aching a little in holding up everything brought her back to the present, and she was glad for it. She began looking around anew. She stood in a dimly lit large hallway with a few racks of brochures and other advertisements related to cars, hotels, real-estate. America seemed to waste so much paper she rued.

A lady sauntered over but seeing her standing outside the bathroom, she smiled and then walked away. And this posed a fresh problem for her.

What exact words would she use to dissuade someone who tried to enter the bathroom? As long as she could remember, she had always wanted to figure out beforehand what words she would use to say something - whether it was to open a phone conversation, or to reply to a question she expected to be asked. It wasn’t that she was tongue tied when she didn’t think ahead - it usually worked out just fine. But when she did get it in her head that she had to figure out the words, she really had to - or she simply knew she would make an utter fool of herself. Embarrassment scared her more than physical pain.

“Sorry, but the room is occupied.” Would this be sufficient? But how does she know it’s occupied and by who? And why is she sorry anyway? Not like she’s the one occupying it.

“My husband’s in there. Please wait.” Is that too much information. Who cares about her relationship with the bathroom’s occupant? And, “please wait” sounds like something a bathroom attendant might request.

She had to shift the bags around a little. And why was she holding everything up. “Stop working against gravity” she told herself and let her arms with the bags hang all the way down. The mistake was felt immediately - the muscles of her arms, hurting already were now stretched also. Why was he taking so long in there? She hoped he would finish his business quickly and come out  soon, sparing her the need to come up with the excuse. But she hadn’t yet heard the flush go off.

“Maybe he could sing in a loud voice while in there.” That made her laugh. That’s how her Uncle would have joked about it. He somehow found humor in every toilet related situation. And the unlockable toilet door was just begging for loud singing - as per any number of Bollywood comedies.

She should just stand right in front of the door. Maybe not entirely in front but a little to the side. So a prospective user can see her and conclude that she is next in line. But if a long queue ensued and she didn’t end up going in after him, it would be a little embarrassing. She’d feel she hadn’t been entirely honest. Maybe she could really go in there just to pretend for a minute, because there was no way she was going to use a bathroom that didn’t lock. Even if a couple of commandos guarded the door.

But now she really needed to put the bags down somewhere. The floor was a little grimy - like it usually is near the restroom of a small gas station. She looked around - there was a small table a little ways off, for people to put their greasy gas-station food while standing to eat. Nobody was using it now and she figured it would be okay to use it just for a bit. If someone needed it, she’d just say “Excuse me” and move her stuff off it.

She looked around to make sure nobody was waiting for the toilet. She strained to hear if there was a sound of flushing or the faucet in there - but couldn’t make anything out. There was a rather loud overhead fan near the bathroom that would drown out any sound. 

She looked around again and quickly walked over to that table and with an audible sigh of relief, dumped everything on it. As she was stretching her arms a bit for the muscles to relax, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and noticed the same lady from before taking swift steps towards the toilet. And then to her horror she saw yet another person - a young man walking towards it also form the other side. Both seemed to be converging upon that lone unisex bathroom and seemed in a rush.

She tried to call out “Excuse me!” several times but either she was speaking too softly or it was the noisy fan, but neither person seemed to hear her. She needed to get there and quickly tried to pick up the bags and just then the plastic bag tore open, spilling out the contents with the bottle of pepsi falling to the ground. Within moments she had gone from enjoying a relaxed moment to a frantic scramble.

The duo at the door were still trying to work out who got there first and who should go first.

She couldn’t let that door be opened upon him. More than his embarrassment, she would be mortified at breaking his trust. After all it was she who had offered to stand guard at the door. 

No!  she couldn’t let that happen. She had to act and she had to act right now. She filled her lungs with air and prepared herself to yell at the top of her voice “Stop please!” when the door opened and out stepped a little girl who ran yelling for her mommy.

“Mom! did you notice how grandma was so intently looking at the bathroom door?” The middle-schooler had unburied his head from a book for the past several minutes and had been intently looking at grandma seated in a wheel-chair across from him.

“Mm-hmm” Said mom busily trying to understand the knitting pattern from the non-circulating library copy of the magazine.

“In fact, just now, it had seemed like she was working up to say something.” he went on.

Now mom looked up at him also and then at grandma and whispered gently and almost sadly, “Some days I feel that too - that she's about to say something. But …”

“Did she talk to me before her Alzheimer’s?” said the boy, very interested now.

“Yes dear! She told you stories … long beautiful stories.” said mom, her eyes misting over.

“I wish I remembered her stories.” Said he softly, and a long silence ensued.

“Time to go home.” Said mom rising up.

Mom pushed the wheelchair while the boy collected the books and followed.

She had felt relief surge through her that nobody had been able to open the door on him, and he had emerged amid the two surprised people arguing to get in. He had looked at her in mock reproof as he amusedly made way between the desperate duo and walked up to her. 

Her loud yell-to-be had stayed inside her.

Il Dolce Far Niente (The sweetness of doing nothing)

“il Dolce far niente!” It is a well known Italian phrase that translates to - 'the sweetness of doing nothing'. Apparently, Italians have figured out how to spend their leisure time, enjoying idleness without indulging in boredom – as their neighbors the French famously do. Articles and books have been written on the subject and a movie has been made too. People even credit this ability or attitude in equal measure with wine and olive oil – for their health and happiness.

Suffice it to say that the idea of ‘Dolce Far Niente’ interested my wife and I immensely,  and we decided to explore further by taking a week-long tripthis summer  – our very first – to Italy –  this summer. (It’s still summer isn't it?)

My idea of the trip was that we will soak in the place, its flavor and its mood and do nothing else - in short enjoy the Dolce Far Niente - for at least a week. As they say about best laid plans ...they have a tendency of going off-script.

We split the tasks – I would book the air tickets and she would do the planning. Planning? I wondered!

It should have given me a clue of the things to come, when my wife picked up 2 guidebooks from the local bookshop, another 3 from the county library and an assortment of travel DVDs. I wondered if idleness too required extensive instruction?

Even before the tickets had been booked, detailed maps with carefully highlighted locations, routes and timings began appearing everywhere - on the kitchen island, dining table and bedside. Our tabletop printer was busy churning out brochures, maps and bookings

I still kept on believing that it was the lazy life that we were going there for – and little else.

One fine morning - we found ourselves at the Fiumicino Airport Rome and began exploring transportation options to our hotel.

For two days we wandered around Rome taking in ancient ruins, Roman Architecture and art. Then another two tramping through the medieval city of Florence enduring an art overload – out of which – all that remained with me was the statue of ‘David’ by Michael Angelo And if you think that was busy, consider day 5 when we toured 3 towns in Tuscany in a one-day bus trip – which included a trip to the tower that they couldn't build straight.

It was while I was sitting idly for about 15 minutes on a farm in Tuscany – seeing the town of San Gimignano in the distance – that it hit me: I hadn't checked a single email, nor received a phone call or text message in all these days. I hadn't worried about drop-off and pickup arrangements for our kids to and from school and other enrichment activities. In short – despite the busy site-seeing schedule we were on – our minds were uncluttered and in a way – we were enjoying the Dolce Far Niente of it. And that thought added to the happy feeling of the moment.

Now that I get it, I think I can put that elaborate Italian phrase into a single word. I call it ‘Golfing’.

Racial revelations

Take a good look at the picture of the bloke on this page. No really! take a good hard look. By any stretch of imagination, would you accuse him of melanin deficiency in his skin? I didn't think you would. See, that is a picture of me. And recently my identity was challenged or rather redefined, by the law - no less. Read on to find out how..

Even though we're supposed to be in a post-racial America, Race is inescapable. News, analysis, opinion pieces - all are filled with racial information whenever its news about a person. Fortunately we leave objects alone, in this respect and so we don't get headlines like 'Tons of Asian mud slid down a mountain to cover a town' or 'Hispanic waters are rising - threatening flood'.

Full disclosure: I was born in India - so says my passport, and also my mum; no birther has claimed otherwise. And all atlases plant India squarely in Asia - ergo I should classify as Asian in the simplified American racial categories of White, Black, Hispanic, Asian & Pacific Islander.
Simple enough? At least I thought so, and once I had figured this bit out, it was easy enough to check off the box next to Asian in every form everywhere. And it IS everywhere. So much for the famous dream of Dr. King. I tend to think this isn't the route to a racially blind society - but I could be wrong. Maybe we do need to talk race ad nauseum, until people are thoroughly bored and give it up - becoming post racial or racially blind in the process.

But, I digress from the main story. So, I needed a short term work visa to a certain European country whose name engendered one of the races defined in America. Among the myriad documents required for the application was also a set of fingerprints taken by 'the local law enforcement authorities' - the city police. So I presented myself at the local police office and asked for my fingertips to be blackened with black ink, and paid $10 for the privilege to smear blank cards with said ink. A bargain really - kindergarten fun for $10 :-)
Little did I know I was getting a lot more than just that - an identity adjustment of the racial variety.

The friendly lady at the counter began filling out the cards before handing over to me. When it came to the race column she got stuck. Then called a colleague over and they began having a whispered conversation. Slightly nervous at the unexpected attention, I asked what the matter was.
"We're trying to determine what race to put you down as." said the original officer.
Well that was easy I thought. "I'm Asian." I informed them.
"But you don't look Asian." quipped the other, informing me of my insufficiently Jackie Chan-esque looks.
I tried to reason the issue: "Look, I was born in India. India is in Asia - and therefore I am Asian."
"We know that." I was told by the ladies in a chorus, miffed that we had doubted their knowledge of geography, "but you don't have Asian features. And we'd rather not make a mistake here.", they said more reasonably.
I didn't dream of wanting them to make a mistake I wanted to tell them but was perplexed how to proceed with convincing them.
"Did you say you're from India?" asked one suddenly having a brainwave.
"I did", I said joining her in excitement, thinking that resolution of my race was nigh.
"You Indians look like middle easterners." she continued beaming.
"One could say that." I was tentative - thinking of all the references of 'Olive Skin' I'd read about in spy novels.
"And middle East folk are considered as White. So I'll put your race down as White." She declared triumphantly. In one stroke she had re-jigged me from Asian to White.
"White?" I was baffled. White as in pale skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed white? Obviously, whites do come in darker varieties but did they come as dark as myself? (for reference, see that picture again please)

So all this while, I was white and mistakenly assumed myself to be Asian? My world was turning upside down. Well, pardon the drama! It was more hilarity mixed with derision rather than bafflement.

Finally I managed - "Look at me! Please! Do I look white to you? If anything, I'd be closer to 'Black'." The second officer by now was bored and left.

"Hey! I'm Mexican and they call me White. What can I do about it." The original officer was by now more reasonable or resigned - I couldn't tell.

"Officer, may I please request you to put Asian there - as anything else will be incorrect and my application will be denied. Trust me." I pleaded.

In a moment of generosity, she considered and then smiled and ticked the box next to Asian, restoring my identity and sanity. And that's what I remain today. Thankfully enough!!

Going green isn't easy..

.. And here we don't intend to repeat a clichéd truism about having to change one's lifestyle to go green etc. We mean in a more literal sense. Unless we start at the beginning, you might pity us, assuming our incomprehensibility for being rooted in derangement.

A few months ago, a small-ish patch of dirt lured, then enchanted us; and in short order it proceeded swiftly to acquire and enslave us. It demanded a dwelling - since built, some fauna as inhabitants (us, in this case) and finally ... flora. The complexity that lay hidden in that one word has been revealing itself to us at a sadistically deliberate pace.

At first, our newly appointed lord and master - the aforementioned patch of dirt, wanted simply a verdant cover - an innocuous enough request, which soon entailed watering schedules, regular clipping and general fretting over. Then the demand was expanded to include an assortment of shrubs, plants - some flowering and others not.
Finally we were informed of the need for some trees as well!
So, last Saturday, we found ourselves faced with a couple of different kinds of Maple trees - toddler versions really - sitting diffidently in their cribs - 25 gallon plastic buckets, having been dropped off by the friendly folks of our nursery. Like any self-absorbed youngsters, they impatiently awaited a transplant into their permanent home on our piece of Terra-Firma.
Naturally, we noted no feeling of gratitude on their part, for being offered a home, and in fact their whole demeanor seemed to suggest that they were the ones being generous and gracious in deigning to let us serve them.
My better half is still holding on to the rather fanciful notion that it is in fact she who owns the patch (the reverse is true) and decides what goes upon it. I had resigned to my fate long ago. She walked along the perimeter and suggested a spot for tree-tot 1 who goes by the long-winded name of 'Autumn Blaze Maple' but in reality looks like a bunch of sticks in dirt. Just to look useful, I suggested a different spot a couple feet away. In a moment of generosity she acceded.

It seems simple enough right? You dig a hole, plonk the tree down in it, cover up with dirt and sit down with a cool beer in its shade. Well, not much shade right now for that last bit, but ... you get the picture. As Entrepreneurial types like to babble on about the long journey from Ideation to collaboration to execution and then onto something else that eludes me, let's just say things didn't work out quite so simply.

With much fanfare, we cut off the sod and started shoveling the dirt out of the hole we just knew was there (in the famous words of Dennis the menace :-). 3 inches in, we hit the first rock which was squatting obstinately. We asked it politely to come out, but it told us in stone - "No thank you!". With much coaxing by two shovels and a sledge-hammer it finally emerged. But underneath it, there seemed to be a rock concert going on in the hole attended by rocks of all shapes and sizes. A friendly neighbor and his son joined us in ridding the hole of these squatters and we all heaved and sweated all afternoon, nourished periodically by a few chilled beers and some crackers.
At one point, me and my contemporary - the 8 yr old kid of our neighbor - were discussing the possibility of using TNT to coax those recalcitrant rocks out. Luckily it didn't come to that, but the idea was fun :-)

By the end of the day the two tree-tots were in the ground and settling in. In the gentle breeze they seemed to be cozy in their new digs, but to us, they kept up a steady stream of new demands -
"Go on then, get us some fertilizer now"
"Are we in the neighborhood of the Sahara?! Well where's the water then?"

All their needs met, they just wanted to be left to themselves, and we obliged with alacrity. Word is, the patch has appointed those two as custodians or wardens to keep an eye over us.

A crisis that never was :-)

We all remember instances from our childhood when we managed to raise the terror level of the household to a flaming red, simply by making ourselves scarce at the wrong place and the wrong time - causing our panic stricken parents and sometimes even innocent-bystanders-turned-good-Samaritans to rush into a wild goose chase, to restore us to the proper state of mildly irritating visibility. Whether those disappearances were intentional or inadvertent is another matter altogether. I mused about the past when I saw a breathless story on CNN this afternoon about a 6 year old, but first, a joke to set the right mood:

--
The boss of a big company needed to call one of his employees about an urgent problem with one of the main computers. He dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whispered, "Hello?"
Feeling put out at the inconvenience of having to talk to a youngster the boss asked, "Is your Daddy home?" "Yes", whispered the small voice. "May I talk with him?" the man asked. To the surprise of the boss, the small voice whispered, "No." Wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?" "Yes", came the answer. "May I talk with her?" Again the small voice whispered, "No."
Knowing that it was not likely that a young child would be left home alone the boss decided he would just leave a message with the person who should be there watching over the child. "Is there any one there besides you?" the boss asked the child.
"Yes" whispered the child, "a policeman." Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?" "No, he's busy," whispered the child. "Busy doing what?" asked the boss. "Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman", came the whispered answer.
Growing concerned and even worried as he heard what sounded like a helicopter through the ear piece on the phone the boss asked, "What is that noise?" "A hello-copper" answered the whispering voice. "What is going on there?" asked the boss, now alarmed.
In an awed whispering voice the child answered, "The search team just landed the hello-copper." Alarmed, concerned, and more than just a little frustrated the boss asked, "What are they searching for?"
Still whispering, the young voice replied along with a muffled giggle: "Me!"
--

This afternoon, it was reported on CNN's breaking news that a 6 year old kid climbed a sort of an experimental gas filled aircraft and untying a rope, floated away thousands of feet up in the air. A massive rescue effort ensued and eventually the kid was discovered ..... in the attic of his home.

The most hilarious comedy happens in real life :-)

Thank you Mr.Columbus

Today, that is October 12th is celebrated as Columbus Day to mark the anniversary of the arrival of Christopher Columbus in the Americas. Although the poor man had actually set out to discover a sea route to the 'Indies' and it was by virtue of navigational miscalculations aided by providence that he landed in America and actually thought he had arrived in India.

Aside from being thankful to him for not actually "discovering" India in the way he discovered Americas - which led to swift ethnic cleansing of natives and colonization of the latter, today we are also thankful to him for another matter that may seem unrelated to his exploits. You see, in this world 'ravaged by Global Warming' - this year snow decided to arrive rather early even by Minnesota standards. So even though most trees had never gotten the memo that it was autumn and time to let go of their modesty by way of shedding their foliage, the snow arrived as an untimely reminder of the same, loading up the still-green leaves with the white stuff.

Now, first real snowfall of the season, and that too on a Monday morning would have wreaked havoc on the commute by snarling up traffic for miles. Fortunately, part of the work-force, seems to be happily celebrating Columbus day by not venturing out on the roads to make things any worse than the white stuff already has.

For this reason alone, we feel compelled to thank Mr. Christopher Columbus today. And as a show of sympathy, we wonder yet again, how a competing explorer - Amerigo - got his name plastered on these continents when our blundering hero was the first one to arrive here and 'discover' it. Though, on second thought, United States of Columbia would somehow not be the same.

Embarrassing win....

We are all familiar with the concept of embarrassing defeats wherein one's opponent crushed one into the dirt, making one's efforts look pointless to the point of being absurd. But starting today, we will have to add a new phrase to our lexicon - 'Embarrassing Win'.

If you have still not had your fix of caffeine this morning, I recommend that you save some coffee and read this news instead. It is guaranteed to make you sit bolt upright, rub your eyes in amazement, then read the whole thing slowly again to make sure that you read it correct. Whether you agree with it or not, you will at least get enough excitement out of it to perk up to a fully awake state and without a milligram of caffeine.

Now why you may wonder do we cite this story in relation to our newly minted concept of 'embarrassing win'. Well! think about it from the perspective of the current winner/recipient of this supposed honor-
What is his crowning achievement to-date for deserving this award?
- Winning the US presidency? 43 men, albeit of paler skins have won before him.
- Middle-East peace? Nothing achieved yet.
- Is he an extreme peacenik, a total dove? Not really. He is or at least was a strong supporter of the Afghan war. So clearly not a no-War period kind of person.
- Genuinely brought a significant change to usher in world-peace somehow? Not really, and to be fair to him, 9 months (or is it 2 weeks as nominations were due on Feb 1st) is not really enough time to even understand the problem, let alone put forth a solution.

So what did he do to deserve it?
* Was it Removal of missile defense sites from Poland and Czech republic to appease Russia.
* Or was it Getting tough on Israel to appear more even-handed to Palestinians?
* He did get a resolution passed in the UNSC to a nuke-free world. An exercise in empty symbolism which doesn't hurt anyone while achieving nothing either. Kind of like the millions of resolutions passed to end world poverty.

Being an Intelligent and sensible person, though rather full of himself, one wonders what his reaction was when the news was broken to him. And I mean the real reaction, not the made-for-press 'humbled'. Surely, he cringed a little and thought- "let me at least accomplish a real goal towards world peace!"

By conferring the award on a partisan and hypocritical scaremonger - Mr. Al Gore, and the IPCC, the Nobel peace prize had been tarnished significantly, but with this they have really trivialized it into irrelevance.

But, I am sure, for the uncritical, die-hard supporters of the Obama phenomenon (can't simply call him a man anymore) this is one more reason to cheer. I am sure some of them are wondering what are the next laurels the great one achieves-
a few more Nobel prizes for literature (he wrote 2 books about HIMSELF),
he already has a grammy for reading - you guessed it - HIS BOOK about HIMSELF,
another Nobel for Economics for liberally multiplying govt spending by printing money,
other nobel prizes maybe for Sciences, an Olympic Gold or two and maybe even..
a fast-track saint-hood from the vatican?

The possibilities are endless!!

Pursuit of Happiness

It may sound trivial or facetious, but it's not - I have decided to be happy for the rest of my life - no matter what.

The epiphany - that its better to be happy, didn't occur to me under a tree, a la Buddha or Isaac Newton, nor in a Bath Tub, as it did to Archimedes. It occurred to me as I lay in bed couple nights ago, waiting for sleep to take over and reset my train (yeah! train not trains, Single Track of Mind) of thoughts - why not be Happy?!! It sure sounds like a better state of mind than others.

It's not that my life is perfect - far from it - but then it wouldn't be real life if it adhered strictly to an impeccable scheme of perfection. And sure enough - I do have a few reasons to be happy alongside others not to be happy. In balance I think its equally likely to find happiness in life as not. Taking my cue from the American Constitution - "... pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.." (paraphrasing) I choose happiness.

Psychology experts, Philosophers and founders of religions have had various explanations and recipes for achieving happiness - from utterly simple to insanely complicated. But I figured that being happy ought to be as simple as believing that you are happy. And here is my layman's 10-point recipe for happiness:

1. Imagine - that you ARE happy. (if this sounds silly smile at your silliness)

2. Smile - It Leads and your mood follows. Its also infectious (no vaccine needed).

3. Laugh - aloud and shake off all your hurt, anger, self-pity and self-doubt.

4. Love - yourself, others around you, in fact the whole world.

5. Live - every passing moment to the fullest and be aware of it.

6. Give - for its own sake, expecting nothing back.

7. Open - your heart, mind and soul and let life and light in.

8. Accept - some things as given, especially hurtful, negative things.

9. Believe - in happiness and your ability to be happy.

10. Feel - Every little joy to the depths of your being.

Make someone else happy - it grows by sharing.

If this sounds rather kitschy - then yeah it is. But hey! if it makes you smile or laugh at its silliness, you are already on step 2. Go for it!! ;-)

Quiet reflection

After long last, the quiet pond is reflecting back, the image of the ever changing world around it. It's a sure sign of the receding strangle-hold of the slumbering passive giant - winter, that had frozen an image of the pond's own misery on its face.

The giant had descended about 5 months ago as a chilly breeze that left a sheen of frost on blades of grass. From there it grew every day, freezing lakes, ponds and even the lazier rivers. Wiser denizens of the land had either fled, gone underground or surrendered. Birds and retirees flew South. Some animals hibernated in subterranean refuges. Trees stripped off all foliage in surrender and feigned death.

To all the rest, the cruel justice of the giant was meted out. Mere existence was considered rebellion and punished. Numb toes, frost-bitten fingers, and faces that feel like rubber masks are just some of the hurts inflicted by the evil twins accompanying the giant - wind-chill and snow.

But, as stealthily as it had arrived, it recedes. No climactic territorial battle was ever fought. Spring with summer in its tow started taking baby steps to assume control - slowly thawing life out. The trees playing dead up until now began to sprout small buds on their tips at the admonishment of spring to regain decency and dignity that was lost in the onslaught.

Birds are also returning with stories of faraway lands full of warmth and sunshine. Unable to contain their excitement, they chatter their tales incessantly awakening burrowed hibernators.

For now, all kinds of life will blossom and bloom. We will just pretend that this time the giant is gone for good.