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.

Stages of a Mistake

We all make them - errors of judgement, mistakes - inconsequential, small, big or catastrophic. An old adage credits the wiser among us with the genius of learning from others'. Most of the rest of us, stub our own toes in the dark to discover immovable objects. A select few inverse geniuses commit them and fail or refuse to see any lessons hidden therein.
If such mistakes are committed in our dealings with others, they basically amount to trying the noble approach of 'turn the other cheek' in a boxing ring. Even a newbie pugilist can recognize an opportunity presented thus on a platter.

Recently, I added a rather big one, to my running total of significant mistakes, the total numbers of which compete robustly with the national debt clock. Without embarassing myself further by divulging specific details, I would like to share some observations of the various stages I underwent.

Blissful Ignorance: The mistake, henceforth referred to as the act had been committed, yet I remained unaware of it and its implications.

Outward Denial + Inward foreboding: "I couldn't possibly have done THAT!!!" (... or could I?)

Hollow Bravado: "So what if I DID do it!! It's immaterial and bears a minuscule fraction of extremely tiny consequence. It's ludicrous to the point of hilarity. Ha Ha!! I shall recover from it effortlessly and laugh about it someday."

Realization: "I actually went ahead and did it!!" As the realization dawns, it brings with it a sinking feeling that those to whom I laid my flanks bare would have to have been even more benign incarnates of Mother Teresa to not have taken advantage of the situation presented to them.

Self-flagellation: "How could I be such a flea-brained, bumbling nincompoop's apprentice to have managed to land myself in such a finely detailed mess. I mean really! I didn't leave even the minutest details of stupidity to chance on this one, and managed all this, single-handedly. Bravo!!"
Followed by a slew of unprintable mutterings let loose in a rich barrage.

Self-pity+ Auto-Sainthood: "Now how was I to know that the world was so cynical and people so cold and calculating. Who would have thought that people did such things to each other? It's truly beneath me to even consider the prospect of people stooping to such low levels, let alone stoop to their level and fight."

A few depressing iterations between the previous two states.

Struggle: Just to salvage my tattered reputation in my own eyes, I know that I need to give it my best to try and fight my way out of a seemingly doomed situation. Lord Krishna need not lecture me from the Gita. I am well and truly aware of this timeless quote that is very apt to the situation: "To act (perform our karma) is within our rights. Reward from the action is not our concern."
I fumed and fulminated using all available media of communication, over the course of a day trying to recover lost ground. And then, as if by coincidence, I came across this random quote on a website: "Strong and bitter words indicate a weak cause."
It helped me transition to the next and final stage :-)

Resignation: "Ah! Fuggedaboudit!!" For future ruminations we shall file it away under the Hard-Luck section, and hope that when the next time such a situation arises, the appropriate lesson surfaces before the moment spurs us into yet another shoot-thy-own-foot.

Lavender scented dreams

Lights grow dimmer and day fades out
umbral night envelopes me pervading the senses.
She fills darkness in pupils wide open,
I hear rolling music of her serene silence
and lay still as her breezes brush over me,
nudging the conscious to lower its guard.

Slowly surrendering to her advances,
I catch a wisp of lavender fragrance,
just a hint- maybe even imagined,
it intoxicates the senses as sweet wine.

The mind lights up with a film of images,
and plays melodies of forgotten songs.
Now real enough that I almost touch her,
and feel her sensual smile,
she leads me to dreams,
and a promise of chimerical days.

Paradise visits our town

After an impatient wait spanning almost a month, we finally went out in our quest for the show that in the views of most observers has been described as the most colorful and mesmerising. And it's in town only for a few short weeks.

The day was perfect to venture out - warm temps and a gentle breeze. But uncertainty remained about the precise location. This show could be going on anywhere around town - moving into places tentatively but moving out quite resolutely for the season.
This apparent shortcoming though is largely offset by the fact that there is not limit on the number of audience attending it - no tickets required either. Its absolutely free - you only pay with your time and interest in it.

So, off we went in the direction where chances of catching it were most promising and lucked out.
Our favorite show was on - in all its majestic splendor. The artistes - matured and seasoned over years of spontaneous performances - never rehearsed into mundane and predictable sequences. The entire ensemble glittered and shone with the brilliance of individual acts.

We enjoyed every moment of the ongoing tireless spectacle and then noticed the souvenirs - a veritable bounty of them practically littered the venue. In yet another gesture of their never ending generosity, the artists provided the souvenirs for free. We grabbed handfuls of them and also tried to capture some of the most vivid imagery in pictures, but with the humble realization that no image can ever do justice to the live show we witnessed.

Our eyes frequently met those of fellow admirers. Knowing glances and smiles were exchanged. Without a word spoken, one gets the feeling of a strong bond shared by our mutual love of the show in all its forms.

The show leaves town soon, but the artists - all locals will stay behind, even though there is a foreboding of gloomy and cold times to come. They know their creativity and imagery will suffer a chilling effect, but being diehard optimists, they stay on, for a revival to spring forth - which it will, in due time. But probably the biggest reason they dont leave, stems from the deep roots they have in this community, from which they draw their creative juices.

We hope that our Maples, Birches, Oaks et al put on such beautiful shows every Autumn.

p.s. Please pardon the puns when you go back and read the last paragraph :-)

Sunday Night Syndrome - heard of it?

There is a serious affliction on the loose - the Sunday Night syndrome. It causes seriously sleep deprived Monday mornings, leading to a general feeling of malaise and moroseness on an already dull and moribund day of the week - the dreaded Monday.

We are all aware of the happier days of the week - namely Friday and Saturday. These are days when most of us work averse beings - also known as "workers" (wonder why!) are not enduring daytime incarceration in exchange for a few pennies. On one of these days, we are dreaming of real life and on the other, we are actually living it.

But eventually Sunday arrives, and brings with it the doom and gloom of a Monday in it's tow. Up until Saturday night, we had been pretending that Monday is like one of those closet monsters that scares children, but in fact doesnt exist. On Sunday, however, we are forced to reckon with its impossible to ignore imminence and by evening of the day we are resigned to our fates and climb into our beds early to get some rest, to put up our bravest (not necessarily best) faces before the coming onslaught.

But then the cosmic chaos of a Sunday night takes over and all kinds of odd things begin to happen making sleep nothing short of a distant dream (no pun intended). The kids wake up one after the other - sometimes needing comfort from nightmares, other times, just announcing the happy absence of any nightmares .. at 1:12 AM. You receive international phone calls at 2:37 AM from complete strangers who insist on talking to you in foreign tongues, and refuse to realize after 3 calls that they might have the wrong number. After a couple of such assaults on your beauty sleep, the drip-drip of leaky faucets, whirring of the fan and ticking of the clock are enough to prevent a smooth reversion into dreamland. You lay awake counting sheep, counting backwards from 1 million, the hair remaining on your head - anything, but the Z's elude you. By 4 AM you are anxious that if you don't get any sleep, how in heaven or hell will you even drive to work, let alone display any productivity worth a few cents. The anxiety by the way adds to the overall fun. Sometime before dawn, as you teeter on the edge of sanity, slumber lets you back to paradise. But other sinister cosmic forces - time for one, have that covered as well - the alarm goes off, yanking you back to the Monday morning.
With bloodshot eyes, aching limbs, muddled mind and no sense of balance or direction, you amble off to the bathroom and begin fervently to pray for the day to be over.

This, my friends is what is being referred these days as the Sunday Night syndrome. But beware, it also occurs on last nights of vacations and long weekends. No known cures till date.

Minnesota - contd from previous post..

Lesser known facts about MN - contd.

- 'Minnesota nice' is not mandated by some draconian law enacted by the state, as some outsiders might think, but is actually because of a genuinely and sincerely nice and pleasant people.

- Smiling at and greeting friends, neighbors and even rank strangers is not compulsory, but is generally observed as such.

- Rest of Small-town-Minnesota is even more charming than our largest small-town - Minneapolis. If you wanted to visit an actual city, Chicago is about 7 hours to the South-East of us. But be warned- Minnesota-nice ceases to exist East of the St. Croix river.

- Unlike it's neighbor state- Wisconsin, Minnesota's main source of revenue is NOT speeding ticket charges. That honor goes to Parking violation tickets downtown Minneapolis.

- All Minnesotans are proud Norsemen and Vikings. In fact most of the Nordic minded people from far away places like China, India, Vietnam, Somalia, Mexico etc. move to Minnesota to discover/invent their Nordic roots and feel at home in this frigid tundra.

- Minnesota is viewed variously as a Red, Blue or purple state - depending on the viewer's predisposition, but an unchangeable fact is that Minnesotans firmly believe that the word 'polite' is an integral part of the word 'politics'.

- It is true that the local TV and Radio stations eagerly talk about the possibility of it snowing, leading up to Christmas. You see, without that white stuff there would be no white Christmas. The rest of the year they are anxiously reporting oncoming blizzards with gloom and doom written on their faces.

If you have any (lesser-known) facts to contribute, please leave comments.

Minnesotans like their winters cold and snowy. "Keeps the riff-raff away!" being the common refrain. But those hardy (or devoid of choices) enough to stay a full cycle of all seasons learn to appreciate the wondrous and sudden changes in landscape, as the seasons pass the baton. Come spring and in a couple of weeks, the barren land turns on the switch of lush greenery and blossoming trees. Before you know it, the weather is so hot and humid that you can actually complain about the heat also. Before conceding to a frigid winter, the scenery changes again and the land dons the brightest and most varied colors during Autumn. Dozens of varieties of Apples load the trees and pumpkin patches are rolling with orange orbs. People keep going on with their lives as before, but come winter and nature slowly recedes into a deep slumber for the next few months as grass turns yellow and trees look dead - devoid of all foliage. But even that starkness has a beauty of its own.
Most of those who stay long enough to view the entire spectacle, involuntarily become naturalists. That, usually is the beginning of a long lasting (mostly) love (but sometimes) hate relationship with Minnesota.

Summer in Minnesota

Minnesota is not one of the most terribly exciting or happening places in the U.S. of A. And I mean it as a compliment :-)

When I first heard of Minnesota, I had to dust-off my old school atlas and look it up in the 'USA political map'. Had never heard of it. Had had no reason to, I suppose. The only thing connected (physically) to Minnesota that I had heard of was the Lake Superior.

After landing at the old Humphrey terminal, as I was being driven out to my apartment, the orneriness of sprawling suburbia struck me as out of place. Where were the modern, towering skyscrapers and glitzy glamorous malls that I had seen in Hollywood movies. Gradually it began to sink into me that this place must be the true backwaters of America. The real America of course being mostly like the Big Apple - New York and Los Angeles. I promised to myself that sooner than later I would leave this place for the REAL AMERICA!!
But that was then....

Having braved several hundred feet of snow, peppered with a few momentary interludes of sunlight and warmth I can safely claim that I love the place.

Some lesser known facts about Minnesota:

- The MN license plate claims that it's the land of 10,000 lakes. Actually there are 11,842 lakes (10 acres or larger). Just in case 10,000 didn't make you happy enough.

- The official state bird of Minnesota is NOT the mosquito, as any native will swear over his life, but actually the loon. Although, if visibility and ubiquitousness were considered as factors in deciding the symbol, the result might have been different.
A factoid related to the above-mentioned fact: A MN mosquitoe isn't really a bird, but seems almost as large.

- Dislike of cheese-curds is NOT officially a crime in the MN penal code, but don't get too vocal with your opinions. People take their cheese-curds seriously!!

- Minnesotans don't talk only about the weather. They also talk about fishing and football. Though weather is still the number one ice-breaker (no pun intended) among strangers - based on unofficial and unscientific surveys.

- Pick-up trucks DON'T outnumber people in Minnesota - It's an even match.

- Minnesota DOES have outdoor drive-in movie theaters that operate in summer and very often an entire movie can be seen without any snow (gasp!!) and sometimes you can even roll your windows down.

- Mall of America is MOST CERTAINLY NOT the only monument in the twin-cities. We now also have our very own IKEA store much closer to home than the one in Schaumburg IL.

contd..

Memorial Day

Yesterday was observed all over USA as Memorial Day - a day set aside to honor and pay homage to soldiers who died fighting wars for their country.

In previous years, the only reason this day was significant for me used to be that this was the first Holiday and possibly a long weekend in close to five months since the start of the year, and that for most recreational places, this day marked the opening for summer season. This year would have been no different but for a dame who goes by the first name of Barbara.

While looking for a book in our local library, I came across a copy of The Guns of August written by Barbara W. Tuchman. An absorbing and detailed account of the events leading up to the start of the First World War and the first month of it. As I read that book, I became painfully aware of two facts - one that my knowledge of European History is, to put it mildly, only minimal; and two that how a small spark can quickly escalate into a conflagration of full scale war.

One can argue about the pros and cons of going to war or blame one belligerent or another, but the saddest, most poignant fact of any war remains that young soldiers die. In the World wars - they died by the millions - wiping out a significant chunk of an entire generation. Many of them may not have really understood the reasons they were firing or being fired upon - yet were duty-bound to lay down their lives when commanded to do so.

Young people, usually being the most curious and open-minded, many of the combatants would likely have socialized with or even formed friendships with their counterparts from the enemy side, had it been an exchange student program or a tourist visit, instead of a campaign of war.

Reading the account of the battles and the high casualties of that war and subsequent ones, one cannot fail to recognize the lethal potential of human ingenuity and innovation - when applied to destruction. But even more lethal is the ego and political ambition of a few people - whose decisions and actions affects vast swathes of population - thereby changing the course of world history.

This memorial Day, I offer my personal salute to every soldier of any nationality, who made the supreme sacrifice fighting honorably in a war.

I hope that at some point in the unfolding history of humanity, we find a way to settle differences without wars. Actually this may be a near impossible wish, given the way nation states have formed and with the multitude of ways people find to include some and exclude others from their world view.

So, while we are wishing the impossible, let us try a grander vision -
We hope that someday humankind as a whole is composed of truly independently thinking, responsible individuals who do not need the crutches of assumed identities and who can look beyond the histories of collectives past to a future where there is only one group encompassing all living beings.

Lessons for budding CEOs from Barack Obama

A year ago, nobody would have even imagined that a colored guy with a name like Barack Obama, middle name Hussein, would defy all laws of Political physics and perform a feat equivalent to climbing the Mount Everest in the Democratic Party.

Though, he had his advantages - a fawning media and a party establishment that quickly resorted to the PC course to avoid being branded racist, there is no denying the fact that Obama possessed certain qualities that were fundamental to his "brand".

Of course there are those that swear by his nearly divine political abilities of unifying, healing and performing other miracles that would involve bending the wills of opponents numbering almost half the population of US.
For the rest of us mere mortals, there are some lessons to be learned from the Obama phenomenon. Especially those who seek power in any organization can learn a few tricks. Here are some of my observations.

1. Never wait your turn to lead.
No matter how rigid the existing hierarchies, there is a fair chance they will yield if you boldly sieze the initiative.

2. Build a strong coterie of supporters.
Your case for leadershis is only as strong as the Organization you have built that turns on your commands. Foster loyalties among capable people for this.
Corollary: Don't just keep people around for loyalty or old times' sake.

3. Always appear above the fray.
Never get embroiled in gritty, down and dirty political fights. Always let your underlings handle such hatchet jobs.

4. Always appear nice.
Even when you sting an opponent like a crazed bee, appear cool and charming like a floating butterfly (a la Mohammad Ali).

5. Never be too specific on details.
The less details you provide of your plans and positions, the less you expose your flank to criticism and attack on vulnerabilities. Vague ideas expressed in few feel-good words and phrases will always work. ("Hope", "Change"...)

6. Be ready to smartly adopt and co-opt others' ideas.
This will be of immense help when people start looking closer.

7. Never jump in and volunteer answers to problems and questions.
Watch and wait for eager know-it-alls to jump in and spend their charges. Let them fizzle before you take over. Waiting too long risks belying indecision or inertia.

8. Get noticed.
Quiet and capable people who are too nice to talk about it usually make excellent also-rans. Talk about your achievements and attempts loud enough for people to take notice of you.

If you have noticed other things as well, please contribute.

(I would have posted a picture of Obama, but two dark and handsome dudes on the same page would be too much ;-)

Happy Birthday - Dear "Acquaintance" :-)

It's the birthday of someone I know - a casual aqauaintance. Well! I suppose it is more than casual, because I have known him for as long as I can remember. Still, either of us would be hard pressed to refer to the other as a friend.

Our respective lives have run a fairly parallel course. We grew up in the same neighborhood, took the well-beaten path out of childhood to adolescence and before we knew it, we were staring at the adult versions of ourselves. We did our mandatory drafts in school and College with only intermittent interest in the goings on, took up jobs thereafter and continued on in life.
I saw him get in and fall out of friendships and relationships good and bad and then saw him fall head over heels in love. This would have fueled my interest some more, except that cupid's arrow got me too before long and who cares about others when in love? :-)

We see each other practically everyday, but meet infrequently. And then too, the conversation - if any - stays on casual stuff. Nothing too personal or meaningful.

So, why am I here talking about this fellow today?
Well! for one, it's his Birthday and for another, I have heard him refer to it as a sort of midpoint of life, by what calculation he reached the conclusion not having been specified. We are sticking to our policy of not meddling with the reasoning of others.

Anyway, here's wishing you a Happy Birthday dear acquaintance!
Hopefully, at the midpoint of your life, you look back and feel satisfied and happy on more counts than not. We hope also that looking ahead, you have high hopes and big plans towards the objective of achieving happiness. Last but not the least, we hope that in your ruminations over the past and plans for future, you don't forget about living in the present - which is nothing but the future unfolding itself in it's unending, continuing story.
Having known of and observed each other as long as we have, should we now, know more about each other? In other words- is it time, at mutual halfway points, to become friends?

Thank Heavens for little girls...

How do you define the wonderful mystery that is a little girl?

Start with the ephemeral dew drops on rose petals, imagine the wonder of vast open skies with myriad shapes of clouds floating about, sprinkle the twinkle of your favorite star and catch the spirit of a butterfly flitting about the woods and you begin to get a glimpse into the little darlings that God bestowed upon us.

Look into the liquid eyes of one and without saying a word she will make you want to laugh and cry at the same time as the looks etch her endless stories on your heart. You come away believing in oases of innocence in a cynical world. Oases, inhabited by tender infectious smiles with guileless confidence of carrying the day - any day.

Listen to the sweet chatter of one and you can get lost in the music of wonderment and idyllic imagination. Stories are woven on the go, with fact and fiction melded effortlessly into a delectable aural dessert that swells nothing but the heart.

Little helpers of the angel of happiness, they soothe our minds and beckon our souls into a better and sweeter reality of life with nothing but caressing little fingers, sweet kisses, smiles and sometimes even pouts of indignant reproach.

From all appearances little girls do seem to grow up, but care to look just a little deeper in your hearts and little girls stay little everyday.... :-)