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.

A bright-eyed septuagenarian in a world that doesn't make sense

"We'll buy something from him on our way back", Ma said as we got off the cable car to reach the far bank of the Narmada at Bheraghat. In my rush to see the magnificent river and take the mandatory 'selfie', I completely missed seeing the seller she was talking about.

The Narmada is awe-inspiring and yet, in a way that only water can be, inviting. Led by my sister we picked our way through the semi-rocky path to find a relatively quiet spot with convenient rocks to sit on. As we were getting ready to settle down and dip our feet in the water, a good Samaritan accompanying his family to see the same sights cautioned us against stepping into the fast-flowing river. I smiled at him and proceeded to do what we had come to do aka sit on a rock and dangle our feet in the water. Soon after, when I saw that he was the only one in his large family keeping safely out of the water, I figured he was used to people ignoring his well-meant advice ;)

This was the later part of November and Jabalpur (in the state of Madhya Pradesh), where Bheraghat is located, was experiencing a warm 28C.

The Bheraghat falls on the Narmada.
Photo credit: My family

Our chosen spot was across the river from the main 'ghat' and could only be accessed by a cable car, which was (strangely enough) run by a company from Kolkata. Thanks to the additional cable car fee, a lot of the local people typically visit only the main ghat. So, from the far shore one can get a birds-eye view of the great Indian male clad in underwear taking dips in the river without a care in the world (if you have travelled to any popular water body in India, you will know exactly what this looks like). The women, of course, take their dips fully clothed!

We finally had to drag ourselves away from the beautiful waters of the Narmada to make the five-hour drive ahead of us. As we walked back up the path to the cable car, Ma stopped at a ramshackle stall where a scrawny septuagenarian artisan was carving handicrafts from the famed marble of the region. We had bought a similar batch the last evening from a lady on the main ghat but Ma and I knew we had to get something from him. So, we bought another batch, paying him the prices he quoted, even as I struggled to understand how a lovely hand-carved marble flower or turtle could be worth only INR 20 (less than 30 cents in American money)*. Right next to him was a man selling cucumbers and guavas and I asked the artisan if he would like something to eat. He refused, smiling at me toothlessly with the brightest eyes I have seen in a while.

And as I did that day right after he smiled at me and do today, as I write this from the heated comfort of my home in a first world country, I can't stop the tears streaming down my face. Tears that stem from the unfairness of it all -- from the under 30 US cent-value placed on a hand-carved piece of work compared to the shiny plastic trinkets that sell in American stores for much more than a few dollars. It's just one of those times when the world and its ways don't make sense to me.

*Side note: If you read this and ever travel in India, and can veer from the beaten track, go buy your trinkets from the artisans instead of the metro-centric 'ethnic' stores that share very little of their takings with the artisans themselves. Also, I encourage you to ignore the guidebooks that tell you that bargaining is part of the fun of the Indian experience. Do not bargain with artisans. Most of them, especially outside the metro cities, are likely never even going to make it into the lower middle class. 

The bards of the Narmada

"They aren't reciting poetry. On my last ride, they did, all through the ride", said my sister as our boat meandered down the Narmada through the marble canyons of Bheraghat.

And of course, as soon as she finished saying it, the guide began to recite poetry a.k.a narrate the myths of the mighty Narmada. As we sat tightly packed in a boat with about 20 other tourists, the scrawny man with a booming voice and great sense of rhyme, shared stories and historical facts about the river and its canyons. As happens with most film shoot locales, a good number of the facts involved items from various Bollywood movies including from the Shahrukh Khan-Kareena Kapoor starrer Ashoka.

In silhouette: Our bard against his Narmada

While the vista was awe-inspiring and our co-tourists a treat, the most interesting part of the tour to me was the guide. As his two colleagues pulled mightily to steer our well-laden boat into the canyons and back, he told us about how the floods raise the river high enough to cover a good portion of the rocks walls. When the water recedes, it leaves a portion discoloured, creating a marked two-tone rock face.

This and other facts helped add more colour to our 45-minute ride into the canyons and back. As we paid our fares and added a tip for the guide, he thanked us profusely, neither having asked nor expected one. And that made me think about the cruises I have taken time and again in the U.S. where even a short commentary is followed by a request for tips. Before we stepped out of the boat, I asked the guide how many years he had been doing this work and he said he started as a child, so for about 15-odd years. "It is a family heritage", he said. "My dad did this work and so do I." "And what about your kids, if you have any?" They go to school, he said. "I didn't go to school but I am making sure they do."

Will educated children mean that our guide's future generations will cease to be the bards of the Narmada?Maybe. But I won't romanticize poverty. Instead I will hope that education will give our poet-guide's children access to a life with more opportunities. And maybe this bard's children will 'startup' an organization that gives the bards a higher quality of life and our future generations continued access to the poetry of the Narmada.

The scourge of the distracted

I had talked a couple of blog posts ago about my tendency to chase rainbows. That sounds poetic and quaint and brings to mind pastel images.

In reality, it can be more like a pulsating strobe light that emits very different, violent colours and ends up tiring you. I know because I chase rainbows every single day, at work and at home. How many do I catch? I am not really sure.

Recently, I have been trying to ask myself the question -- what do I want to be. I have advised many people to ask themselves that question and answer it as honestly as possible, after deep thought. I have, however, not followed my own advice in this regard. I dither as I try to push my brain to take that next step. Or maybe I see a rainbow that needs to be chased just as my brain tries to focus on the task at hand.

I know I want to succeed and my hierarchical culture tells me that success comes from designations at work. On the other hand, my own instinct is to do the best job possible and shy away from touting my own achievements. As I culture and personality clashes, the rainbows appear. I get attracted to the many role models I could follow, the myriad paths I could take and the many causes I could espouse. Which one or ones, should be mine? And this attraction causes instability and distractions that stop me from doing my best at the tasks at hand.

As my husband put it the other day, "you admire and envy successful people you know, don't you? Stop and look at all that you have to be happy about". I know he's spot on because it's just another version of my deep inner voice that deserves to be listened to. And I know I have to do something before imagined defeats and feelings of being left behind drown out the shine of my opportunities at work.

May be challenging myself to give my best to everything I do is the only way to be, at least for me. May be, the designations will have to figure themselves out without any help from me, for the time being at least.

And that involves hunkering down, setting my priorities right and then getting the job done, creatively and effectively. May be if I start with "I will focus on what I am working on right now (since I do have really cool projects at work)", I will then be able to take the next step of "here are the things I enjoy and want to do more of and here are the ones I want to drop". That seems like a recipe that should work for me.

Maybe that is what I will do. I will pick my 'blue chip' rainbows. Others, flit away. I owe it to myself (and my happiness) and those I love not to chase each one of you.