Insulation is cosy

When I first moved to the U.S., I went to a large public University in the country's third largest city. Having spent most of my life in the metropolises of India, I didn't for a moment expect to have difficulty adjusting to life in Chicago.

And, while the cold is something else, to me, a place is mostly about its people. And I was in for a rude shock. Since I was here to get an M.A. in Communications, the program was not dominated by Indians (unlike most technology-related higher-ed degrees offered by American universities). So, for me it was truly a foreign exchange experience, with classes populated mostly by Americans and a sprinkling of Europeans and East Asians. As the weeks went by and the very different body of literature became a little more familiar (my Bachelors is in Sociology), I began to sense a very peculiar social trait -- people in this country love to talk about themselves and better (or worse) still, they have very little interest in knowing about the 'other'.

Before I proceed, I will admit that there are exceptions. I am married to an American and have some very good American friends who are exactly the kind of people I would have been friends with anywhere in the world. However, my conviction stands. As I have gone on to work in a large global corporation and attended networking, social and volunteer events, I continue to find the same attitude. Here's how a typical conversation goes -- I start with a question, which begets a long-winded answer. And that's it. Typically, there is either no attempt to ask me a question in exchange or if one is asked, my answer, however short, prompts glazed eye-syndrome.

I could guess at a few reasons -- ranging from a social and cultural system that promotes a very strong sense of national pride and an educational system that largely focuses on the U.S. While the former is likely the legacy of having built a new country after scratching out all traces of the past, the latter is a powerful tool to promote the sense of 'us', bringing about a very cosy sense of insulation. And maybe that unwillingness to take the time to understand other cultures is responsible for the range of fiascos that have been U.S. foreign policy for a while now.

I don't know if my guesses are correct but I do know that the end result is a culture that's extremely difficult to navigate. 

Because "every single child matters" no matter where they are born

One always knows, doesn't one that different people and by extension kids have different lives?

I recently watched Oranges and Sunshine, a beautiful film that talks about a vicious child deportation racket from the UK to Australia and other countries in the Commonwealth, which spanned decades. Many of these children were forcibly taken from single mothers and sent to Australia to build churches, work on farms and perform other forms of child labour. The movie rests on the shoulders of the protagonist, a social worker who stumbles upon adults who were deported as children and skeptically at first, starts to investigate.

Armed with her department's support and funding, she heads to Australia to find these children, who are now adults and scattered all over the country. She leaves behind her children and husband for long periods of time to help these deportees, who, albeit in varying stations of life, seem scarred by the forced labour during their childhood.

While, according to the movie, the UK government tried to brush the deportations under the carpet for the longest time, it finally issued a belated apology to the victims. And one can't imagine this crime occurring in modern-day Britain. However, whether it's slavery in their own country or human trafficking to those countries that judge the rest of the world on human rights, children in India and countries with large populations in poverty live this reality even today. According to the Kailash Satyarthi foundation, about 78 million, nearly half of all child laborers, are in Asia and the Pacific followed closely by Sub-Saharan Africa. And their cries go unheard by their own governments as well as the armchair intelligentsia that pontificate about the ills in these countries.

But, as I said to a friend recently, to complain is not enough. For, many of us are fortunate enough to be able to do something. Whether it is to contribute our time and expertise or donate money to organizations that are fighting this unfairness, each one of us can do something. While things will not change overnight, the more we join hands to force that change, the greater the hope that we can make the change happen.
   

Homeless and welcome in Austin

When you walk the path in Austin's Ladybird park, you see dogs (lots of them), people and some interesting artifacts. While a statue commemorates American musician Stevie Ray Vaughan, there is also a different kind of shrine -- one that I don't believe I have seen anywhere else -- a shrine to the homeless.

Having arrived in Austin a day earlier for a quick trip, I had been remarking to my husband about how strange it was to see the largish homeless population on the streets. Even though I have spent quite a few years in the U.S., it is tough to accept that the cities in one of the world's wealthiest nations have such a visible number of homeless people. Without delving into the reasons behind this phenomena, I also had the strange sense that Austin took a different view of this phenomena. While there are soup kitchens and shelters for the homeless as well as fantastic non profits that work for their cause in my adopted city of Chicago, I continued to feel that Austin somehow almost welcomed the homeless.

When we came upon this colourful shrine in Ladybird Park, my hunch was confirmed. This shrine was meant to commemorate the homeless who died in anonymity and mourned the loss of these lives. And this odd gesture, more than any other aspect of Austin gave me the feeling that this city has a heart.

A red man spreads Christmas cheer all the way to Austin

Christmas to New Year's Day, the time when the western world shuts down. And if you reside in this part of the world, a wonderful time to plan an escape from work. So that's exactly what we did--the husband and I. Our destination? Texas.

When I told friends about the plan, reactions ranged from 'that sounds like fun' to guffaws. But the constant theme was -- ''Why Texas? Do you have family there?" And my answer remained the same, "Nope, no family. Just another state to cross off our U.S. travel list. Plus I hear they have great food, so hopefully that will cancel the gun-love!"

So, after surviving the pre-Christmas work week, we arrived at the airport along with hordes of similar geniuses who thought travelling on the day of Christmas was easy. While the traffic was probably a tad heavier than usual, I loved the Christmas decorations (though I still maintain that NOBODY does festival decorations like India). But both of us were a little worried that we might not quite make the flight.

As the Security Check line snaked on, and I watched a woman whose flight had been cancelled throw a minor tantrum, a red man appeared and told us to follow him to a different line. Like lambs, we set off behind our piped piper. And lo behold, he led us to a line which had about 10 people in it. And thanks to this kind soul, our worries vanished and we arrived at our boarding gate well in time. Maybe he was our Christmas miracle :)

We landed in Dallas a little earlier than expected and headed straight for Austin. Having learnt that a long drive on the day of our return flight is not our thing, we had planned to stop in Dallas on our way back. Our first stop therefore, would be the city that our friends unanimously seemed to love -- Austin. So, off we went on our 3-plus hour drive to the 'most liberal' city in Texas, also home to University of Texas, Austin.

Apart from wisdom learnt on the way to NEVER eat at a Jack in the Box, we arrived uneventfully in Austin and checked into the downtown Hilton. And immediately fell in love with the adorable gingerbread village made by the hotel chefs and decorated by patients at a children's hospital and our 22nd floor view of a surprisingly non-homogeneous array of rooftops. As darkness fell, we walked through a fairly-shuttered downtown in search of Christmas dinner at a new Asian fusion place, which was much-loved on Yelp. Interestingly, the only other people we crossed on the darkish streets bore signs of homelessness. After a short walk, we discovered a 2.5 hour wait at the hot new place and resolved to continue to stay away from fancy restaurants! Fortunately, Ra (a Sushi and Asian fusion place), only a few blocks away, was open and had no wait. Destiny had us down for an Asian Christmas dinner after all ;)

We had heard of the Austin live music scene and decided to go to a Jazz performance at the Congress Ave. basement club Elephant Room. Incidentally, this music club draws its name from the elephant head lampshades that adorn its walls. With an hour to kill between dinner and the performance, we

strolled up Congress Ave. in the direction of the Texas Capitol, the largest state capitol building in the United States. On our way, we crossed a mix of old and new stores, which would likely make for a very vibrant main street in the light of day. At about 8:30 p.m. on Christmas however, two excellent drummers seemingly locked in intense competition, were the life of Congress Ave. The tourist numbers swelled as we arrived at the pretty Christmas tree outside the Capitol gates and it was easy to mistake this stately government building for Austin's favourite Christmas destination. Surprisingly, the windows to the building were left open--not sure if that was a welcome sign or just forgetfulness!

Photos done, we headed back to listen to Jazz and gained entry despite a surly doorman. As the crowd grew for this Texas-born Jazz band and people started to offer seats at their tables to those who were standing, the city charmed me a little more. At a table near us, someone paid the tab for a set of strangers who had invited them to their table. This definitely seemed like a city with a different kind of heart. While three members of the four-people band were older Caucasians, the drummer was a slight Asian woman. Despite the standing room-only crowd, I think she and I were the only Asians in that room that night!

The next day would bring more sights of Austin. But for now, it was time to say good night to this lovely city.