A place to call Home

There is a very bad double standard about me. I cannot imagine not living in a joint family, but after marriage, I always want new couples to set up their new home. I know this is wrong, but this is clearly what I think. I was brought up in my ancestral house, as the fourth generation living in here and I am immensely proud of that fact. I very much believe that a person is shaped by the house they live in as well. When it is an old house with nooks and crannies, staircases, a dark and dusty attic, rooms filled with old books of family members not alive any more, you slowly build up a connection with your past, and you get to know your family better through the innumerable black and white photos and the old books of literature, sports, and movies.

My old desk, now used as my home office

This house is as important as my living family. I can feel a sense of life in here, and I firmly believe that when you love something, it most definitely loves you back (not applicable for humans, but applies to everything else in life), so I can feel the house has its special way of welcoming me. There is a certain way a window is supposed to close, one step in the staircase is rounded instead of having a corner, one threshold of a door is sloping, so you step over it otherwise you slip and fall. Those things remind me that I am in my fort.

Then there is the thing about a joint family. Probably because I grew up with a dozen people in the house, I have always been so comfortable around people. I have never been alone in the house ever. Wherever we need to go, there would be people accompanying, just like that. When I went to pick up the application form for my Engineering Entrance test, four people and a driver went with me. I am so used to travel in crowded cars. I mean, that feels like normal. Even now, when somebody randomly says (somebody is either me, or my brother-in-law), "let's go to Marble Palace" or "let's go eat something nice", we gather at least half a dozen people who willingly go with us. Then as usual, something random happens, like losing the way, or coming back with the wrong cake, or some people left behind. Things like this have been happening throughout the ages. My grandmother used to say that our tenants (at that time, we had a family renting our ground floor) got married and nobody knew, while for us, if someone went to buy shoes, they got back home with a regiment of cops, and the whole neighborhood got to know of that.

Family photo on Christmas Day

Here's an old world charm snugly hanging in our house. I feel the presence of my grand parents, my great uncles, and my great-grand parents in here. The things they used, their furniture, their books, clocks and all here and with it is a feeling of comfort, happiness, and the confidence that I always have a place to come home to. This is where my strong roots are, and this is where the best place in the whole wide world is.

Dangal! Dangal!

Thanks life for little bits of mercy. Last Saturday we were planning to go to the movie "Byomkesh parbo". I shouldn't really say "we" because I was against that plan in the beginning. I have a VERY STRONG dislike for movies messing up the imaginative characters from a book. For the same reason, I don't watch Sherlock Holmes. Also, when the stories get shortened or unnecessary parts added for movies, I get very mad. So, there is no reason why I would be elated to watch Byomkesh (also when the names of the movies have no connection to what story it is). However, after quizzing Bhut about the last Byomkesh movie this director made and being satisfied with her reply, I thought ok I should give it a try. But, life has small mercies sometimes and the movie theater where this one was running is currently reserved for International Children's Film Festival. Hence, no tickets. Change of plan. The entire troupe of seven people finally got seats in a row to watch Dangal.

That was a great movie. There have been three movies in my life that I have watched without reading reviews, and on the second day after release. Two of them have been great, the third one? I had to purge my mind with Surf Excel after watching it. (For those who know Bengali, it was Rituparno Ghosh's "Antarmahal".) Anyway, I am more than happy with the decision to watch Dangal because, I loved the theme of women's empowerment and I also loved to see Indian girls making their mark in a sport which is by no means "feminine" or "graceful" and women are terribly underrepresented. If this movie inspires young girls to take care of themselves by eating healthy foods and doing regular exercises to strengthen their bodies, instead of trying to look "beautiful" and posing for disgusting duck-faced selfies, I would say he movie would be really successful.

But, is that enough for girls? Are we doing all that we should? Doesn't seem so. True the female feticide have decreased and many a girl have protested and canceled their weddings when the groom's side asked for a dowry, but there are still weird notions that are plaguing women. I can give you some examples from my own life.

The day after my wedding reception, some neighbors of my in-laws came to "see" me. That wasn't just a social call, it was a probe to see how the new bride is behaving, what she is wearing, what she is doing, etc. That is why women come to do these probes because they can directly get in the areas of kitchen and the new bride's bedroom, which men cannot. I think those people were disappointed to see the new bride in PJs with no jewelry on.

I don't know why people take it upon themselves to find out what is going on someone's life, but if you are a woman, a working one, and on top of that live in the West, then you are a big asset of curiosity. They stereotype you as Westernized who doesn't care about our tradition, who probably can't wear a saree, can't (or doesn't) cook or take care of the house, don't want to have babies, or at least not right after getting married because her career is super important, and the best one, probably can't read Bengali. For that, even after seven years of getting married, I was asked by three women in the past couple days if I know how to cook. When I told them that I just don't know, but I love to cook, they were quite surprised. Because the mismatch between expected and actual caused a little discomfort.

The same thing happened at my sister-in-law's (Arnab's sister's) wedding. Her aunts had already drilled in her head that Ria won't wear a saree, and that she can't really walk if she wears a saree, also that Ria hardly cares about Hindu weddings. It was so much fun to prove them wrong.

What people need to realize is that stereotypes are dangerous. It not only creates a bias, but it also creates a divide, a rift between people and is troublesome. It tells girls "you are not good at math" and that sinks in, it tells bachelors "boys should be messy and they shouldn't know how to cook", it tells "you are not beautiful" and causes anorexia. It is very hurtful to impose your own choices on others "as the norm". It is the norm that girls should be subservient, it is the norm that in arranged marriages the girl's family should oblige to every whim of the groom's family. The Western countries shouldn't really feel elated either. When a girl chooses abortion, she is made to feel like dirt by religious and political groups. She is forced to feel terrible about her choice, but if she needs help to rear her unwanted and unplanned child then she is told to get a job and support herself. Because a stereotypical "good girl" should never have an unplanned/unwanted baby and in case she has, a stereotypical mother should immediately have all her maternal instincts flooding in which should put her baby above everything else. Right? Dream on people! It sounds heavenly, but it is not real.

Every person is unique and every person's life is unique. We have no insight of what is going on in other's lives and why they are behaving in the way they are. Instead of asking "why are you so skinny" as a conversation starter, or make judgmental comments like "you are getting too old to get married" isn't is way easier to ask about someone's hobbies, get to know where they have traveled to, what they like to eat, or other fun, happy things?

Out Of Context

Kids in Bengal, who come from properly educated families, grow up with the book 'Ha Ja Ba Ra La' (wiki link here. The word 'Ha-Ja-Ba-Ra-La' is actually five Bengali consonants (H,J,B,R,L) strewn together and it means gibberish). Influenced by Lewis Carroll's famous Alice in Wonderland, our own Sukumar Ray wrote this story of a little boy meeting strange and super crazy characters in a world of dreams. the same author also has a collection of nonsense rhymes called 'Abol Tabol' (meaning weird and random), some of which I have memorized even now!
Both 'Abol Tabol' and 'Ha-Ja-Ba-Ra-La' mention the impossible. Other than having talking animals, who are pretty smart and sassy at times, they also open the gates to a world where you can just be yourself. The opening poem of the collection 'Abol Tabol' takes you to this place where you can be yourself without any inhibition, especially for borderline crazy people like me, being yourself is the most important thing I crave for after my basic necessities of food and clothing are met. In 'Ha-Ja-Ba-Ra-La' too, you come across characters that people generally think are not possible to meet in real life.

But they are wrong.

I know some people, I am very pleased to call quite a few of them my friends, who can very easily be added to the list of characters from 'Ha-Ja-Ba-Ra-La' and they would fit in there perfectly well. We have compiled a list of comments with the theme of "out of context", which have actually been spoken by people. If you read through them, you will certainly know for yourself who I acquaint with nowadays, and why I feel so comfortable around them.

“I am plural now”

"I need a human aurora near me”

“My head would be a terrible place to be”

“I’m sorry I have mass.”

“I asked him if he wanted a new coffin”

“Stop taking showers and you don’t have to worry about it all”

“My friend had a very very small aorta”

“If you stay at it long enough, it turns into a koala” 

“If tofu and cheese had a kid”

"Do you create your own lightbulbs?"

"You should name your sock."

"Do you speak for all yetis or just yourself?"

"All rainbows are circular. Have you ever thought about that? No! You only think about yourself!”

“Have you experienced issues with the sun before?”

Now, you will know why I feel like I have come to the right place :)

Holding women back

Have you heard of the term "likeability factor"? When a woman is assertive and imposes her ideas with power, then she is considered bossy and disliked by her peers or managers. However, if she focuses on "being nice" then she gets bulldozed and pushed off to the side. A classic example of damned if you do, damned if you don't. Isn't it?

In the wake of India finally winning two medals this Olympic, and both of them won by female athletes, I was wondering about the situation these girls had to endure. There are certain sports which may be fine for a girl in India, like badminton or tennis, or even golf. For gymnastics, I can see people saying, "what will you do by becoming a gymnast?" but maybe not in such a bad way. But for a wrestler, I simply can't fathom what she had to go through, especially as she was trained at a place which only allowed boys. The state this wrestler is from, is notorious for female feticide and infanticide. So much so that the male to female ratio got very much skewed in the recent past. In an Indian household, the "likeability factor" becomes whether you can be a traditional daughter-in-law or not. In the name of upholding your family honor, basically girls are tied down and their wings clipped.

That is one common thing across all countries, cultures, religions throughout the ages. I am reading a book called "Daughters of the Samurai" and I realized this once again. When the three young Japanese girls came to the US and got rid of their kimonos, the first thing they realized was that they could leap over garden paths, catch falling flower petals on their laps and didn't have to walk by shuffling their feet in between the kimono wraps. A small bit of independence, right?

Let's start from the most serious ones. Women who talk less are liked more. I know this very well because I am a famous chatterbox. A person who is introvert, shy, doesn't speak much means what? That she doesn't let her opinions come forward. She would keep quiet when her parents arrange for a match. In the east, a "good girl" should not choose her own husband. It is shameful. Parents and elders would decide what she would do with her life and she should just follow that.

After getting married, she agains drowns her own likes and dislikes and maintains her "likeability" by serving her in-laws without making a fuss. If she chooses to keep her maiden name then she is not really showing her love for her husband. If she wants to keep her job and be independent, then also she is not fulfilling the role of a true daughter in law.

Then comes the question of babies. If a woman decides not to have babies then the whole world will remind her how horrific and selfish her decision is. In this regard the West is no better than the East. In over populated countries at least abortion is a legal and religion is not brought into it in every step. A mother choosing abortion would be demonized in no time.

Women have been drawn back in the name of family, babies, by drilling into their heads that their dreams don't matter, it is the husband and the kids who need to be made happy. They are also drawn back in the name of culture (whatever that means) and are constantly reminded of the fact that women are less capable than men. Recently, the funny (yet strong) Chinese swimmer Fu Yuanhui publicly told reporters that her periods made it difficult for her to swim. China almost fell apart at that comment. Women didn't understand how she swam while on periods because they back there don't use tampons. I understood that very well because growing up I never used tampons either, and I knew that you just don't swim or do any difficult physical activity while on periods.

It is just so wrong. You can do everything while on periods. The more active you are, the less cramps you get.

On Friday, I was in a similar situation as Fu Yuanhui and though decades and centuries of foremothers were telling me that I should rest after coming back from work, I disregarded those thoughts, put on my training clothes and went to the gym. After my regular training, I also swam for half an hour. The water and the stretching helped my muscles relax. It was a small step in my life, nothing major in the context of troubles women are facing all over the world. But for me, I know that I am not letting myself be held back physically just because I was born with X chromosome instead of Y.

India and Olympics - is it mutually exclusive?

"Mens sana in corpore sano" - a healthy mind in a healthy body. We all know what it means, that is we know theoretically what it mean, but our generation of Indians (or rather, the entire sub continent) has failed to understand that a healthy body is a rich possession. Probably the most important possession we have been endowed with by Nature or God whatever your choice of belief is.

On this Independence Day, I am writing this article with quite a lot of disappointment. Over the last few days as I saw Michael Phelps, Katie Ledecky, Maya Dirado, Nathan Adrian, Simon Biles and their teams going up to the podium again and again, their faces radiant at the sound of "The Star Spangled Banner", inside I was longing for that day when I would see our tricolor rising and hear the familiar tune of my most favorite song in the world. However, to this day, even after refreshing the webpage over and over again, the medal count of India still remains zero.

I have seen the comments praising our athletes, encouraging Dipa Karmakar for her "vault of death" and consoling ourselves that our athletes have won hearts if not medals. But even before you start the competition, when a country of 1.2 billion citizens only have 120 participants, we have started to lose. When a billion people pin their hopes on one 22 year old girl, that is when we have lost.

Why is it so?

Every time I raised this question I was flooded by replies of - poverty and corruption. Yes, it is true. When an athlete can't afford one square meal how can you expect them to compete with those who have the best training and nutrition? I agree, it is sad. Perhaps, worse is the corruption which is all pervading in our government. Government officials traveled business class to Rio and the athletes came all the way cramped like sardines in a can. But that isn't the only problem. The problem starts from the society.

"Which family would want a daughter in law who can run round kicking football all day, but can't make round chapattis?" 

Remember this? This is where our losses start from. A society where teenagers are encouraged to study for 12 or 14 hours before exams, where engineering entrance exam is considered more important than a kid's life, where schools don't have playgrounds and parents firmly tell boys to forget about cricket and football once they have reached 9th grade can't really set the scene for athletes to grow. And if you are a girl, then you have to jump through hoops of fire.

We are setting up generations of people who have no connection with physical activities. I am one of them as well. It took me 25 years to start hiking actively and 7 more years to learn to swim. Why? Because all the activities I wanted to do, my parents told me that as I wear glasses, I should not do it, for the fear of breaking my glasses. I wonder if the glasses were more important than a life skill or learning a new sport.

Here in the West, I am reminded of our lack of physical ability quite frequently. When we went hiking yesterday, Arnab and I were the ones who had to turn around at 7500 ft because we were going much slower than the rest of the team. The others made it to base camp at 10,000 ft, we couldn't. The hobbies we talked about while young were mainly reading, listening to music, painting or singing, at most dancing. There are many people from the cities who can't even ride a bike properly (me included). Here most kids start camping and hiking from a really early age, followed by swimming, gymnastics, skiing, snowboarding and what not. Most normal people go to the gym regularly. Women can do push-ups, they train with weights, build muscles. Things that in India are still unheard of. Yes, it is true that there are millions of unhealthy people here and obesity is almost an epidemic now, but my point is that the society encourages physical activities of every kind. When we travel, finding a hotel with a good view of the mountain range is enough for most people. To trek in the Himalayas, for which Americans and Europeans travel half the world over, is an activity hardly a handful of Indians are interested in. Olympians don't grow overnight. Like it takes the athletes years and years of discipline and practice, it also takes the society years and years of patience and right decisions.

We used to write essays on the benefits of sports. Our teachers and parents probably would have done better for us if they understood those benefits themselves.

So the next time you share that picture of Dipa Karmakar glorifying that you watched gymnastics for the first time in your life because of her, remember that you are part of the reason she couldn't bring a medal back. If you watched gymnastics for the first time in 2016 only because she could make it all the way there, there is no wonder that your generation failed to produce any gymnasts. Dipa Karmakar apologized to the Nation for disappointing us, I think we are the ones who should apologize to the athletes for failing to provide a proper platform for them.

Talking about delayed gratification

It is quite common knowledge that delayed gratification is a good thing. Waiting for something good, preparing yourself for a better future, have been drilled into kids across all cultures in many different ways. For example, which Indian kid didn't grow up hearing parents say, "if you study now, you will have a secure future which you will be able to enjoy much more". We know that sacrificing small enjoyments now, especially those of smaller significance, generally leads to happier things later. Education and career together generally comprise of a good example. Of course, I would point out here that there needs to be a balance. There can be nothing more sad than a kid wasting his entire childhood only for securing good marks. I have seen some people like that, and sadly, they didn't really enjoy their adult lives either. Most of them became socially awkward and lacked friends.

St. Francis watching over all creatures big and small

Anyway, in my life, the best form of delayed gratification and the happiness gained from that has come through gardening. I had almost no idea about gardening before we moved to this house. Like everything, I wanted to try my hand at this new adventure and very soon I figured out that the first thing needed, even before I got my hand into potting soil, compost or even my gloves, was patience. I lack that skill, but however much I may want the plants to grow, they would not listen to me. They need to and always will follow Nature. Yes, I can fertilize them, but even with that I can't really make them DO anything.

We got a garden arbor and I wanted to have a climber grow on it. I have seen many pictures of lovely arbors in Europe where climbing roses cover the entire arch. So I got a plant that would supposedly thrive here in part shade and dug up a big hole and stuck that in there next to the arbor. It was a skinny little thing with weak tendrils. I watched its buds come out one by one and little green shoots emerging from there. Painstakingly, I would wrap the young branches around each bar of the arbor and would think of the day it would be able to climb over to the other side.

Two years passed. Last Fall it showed beautiful fall coloring before calling it a year. This Spring, tiny buds emerged one day and magically the next morning, the bright green young leaves came out. It reminded me of the Bengali poem "কাল ছিল ডাল খালি , আজ ফুলে যায় ভরে। বল দেখি তুই মালী, হয় সে কেমন করে?" 

(Yesterday the branches were all lonely, today they are filled with flowers, tell me Gardener, how can this be?)

Over the arch

Now, in summer that same plant has formed a leafy canopy over the arching arbor and many new branches have grown. Actually it is becoming so crowded there that we have installed two more trellises so that the young tendrils can hang on to them. It is so peaceful to stand under the arbor and look up. Busy spiders weave their webs carefully that glisten in the morning sunshine. A climbing rose is making its way up the arbor, dotting the green foliage with blood red flowers. Bees buzz around, birds chirp. It is like a little nook of peace and quietude. 

Revelations of a student's life

I was an above average student for most of my life, but I have been notorious about my hatred towards studying for exams. Growing up in a culture where academic abilities were considered to be even more important than other normal social qualities, I had the habit of studying only as much as I needed to get a decent enough grade (and sometimes even poorer grades made me feel ok enough). I saw no reason why teenagers need to waste two thirds of their days just to score high marks and I still see no value in that. What I am trying to get to is that I didn't like formal education.

To say that I didn't like to go to school or college would be totally wrong though. As someone who gains energy from being with people, I definitely enjoyed school and college both, but being a day scholar, I had no idea what an ideal "campus life" should be. I was introduced to it though the bright and shiny colorful magazines at USEFI where I went for my GRE preparation. When I saw those pictures of college students sitting on grassy fields studying together or walking, working at labs, I unknowingly started to dream of a future like that. In the last semester of my undergrad, I had the opportunity to represent our college at a tech fest of the prestigious IIT. Don't ask me about the projects or how we did there, but I can confidently say that my gain from that short trip was huge! Other than the fact that I was introduced to many other young students from the rest of the country and had the luck to attend a speech by Capt. Rakesh Sharma, I also found out what that campus life is all about. One evening after dinner, as we were walking to the load runner robot trials I felt a deep sense of independence and I was really looking forward to the University days that were soon to come.

Many people have dreams about University, what I mostly wanted to do was ride a bicycle in the campus wearing shorts. I am glad to report that it came true in the summer of 2008!

I actually started studying on my own and out of my own interest during my masters and I could finally feel that life was what you want it to be. Things were tough, like I had very little money, programming was hard (given my shaky foundations of the subject) and cooking a decent meal was an ordeal, but life was good in general.

Last weekend, I had these feelings come in a wave as I visited the world famous Stanford University. Like a hallowed place, I felt that the campus is thriving with new ideas, hard work, immense intellectual power and all the good things that go with it. Just like people believe that religious places have a good spirit hanging around, I believe that universities and laboratories have that too (maybe much more than places of religion). Simple thing is that both Arnab and me, coming from humble academic backgrounds felt like attending classes once more, work in the labs and learn new things. The power of learning conquered all the bad experiences of memorizing long notes without understanding, reading photocopies, having disgusting teachers and the whole concept of scoring marks for a better future. Walking through the peaceful campus where teachers were meeting under the shade of a tree and students taking naps on benches in between classes, I should admit I felt jealous, especially at the sight of students riding their bikes to class. I remembered my own college days where I had to carry books from the library along with my T and roll pack, managing my clothes while sitting precariously on a three wheeled public transport wondering if the guy next to me is getting unnecessarily close on purpose. These universities do not lack funds, students don't have to choose a particular course because the other choices are unavailable due to lack of a teacher, student politics are unheard of, cafeterias don't overflow with students smoking cigarettes. The ambience is of learning, peace and quiet. Yes, it is true that stray incidents do happen here too, like the recent criminal case at Stanford, but those incidents can't tarnish the quality of these places.


I asked my parents why they didn't choose to migrate here, because then I would have got better career choices and at least wouldn't have to struggle for maintaining my work visa or wait for years to get a permanent residency. But then I also realized that while it is true that nobody would prefer to struggle over getting a plush life, these experiences have made me what I am today. The fact that I know both sides of the equation would at least make me grateful for the the life that I have today.

A small step for mankind, but a giant leap for me

What is the connection between - ghosts, swimming and driving a car? You can get really creative and draw convoluted connections between the three, but in general, there is none. Actually there is. I got over my fear of all three of them in the last four days and utilizing the same concept.

Thirty two is double the age of new drivers. Here kids actually get a drivers license at sixteen (two years before what the legal age is in India), so I am more than enough old to drive. It is not that I can't drive, but the problem was that I lacked the confidence to drive on the freeway. Changing lanes while you (and the car next to you) are going at sixty five mph is not really that easy. Then there are the crazy people who change lanes all of a sudden without any indicator, those ones who text, those who yell at people on the phone, and even apply eye makeup! So the net outcome was I was scared, so I didn't drive on the freeway, as a result I never gained that confidence.

I did attempt to swim back in India in a pool with probably seventy other girls. All I learned was the kicking. The pool obviously was overcrowded, there was no concept of a swim lane and it went from three feet to six feet depth within a very short distance. The bottom of the pool was slippery tiled so I was always terrified of slipping and drowning at the six feet end. I guess another big problem was that without glasses I couldn't see what was going around so I never felt comfortable enough to swim. Closing your eyes while swimming doesn't give a good sense of balance. I attempted swimming here again and I learned the techniques for freestyle. Holding on to the kick-board, I would be fine, but the moment I had to let go of the kick-board I would start panicking. Same outcome - scared, didn't attempt to swim, never gained confidence to plunge in water.

Ghosts are a little too tricky. I have hardly ever watched any ghost movie, but I have read a lot of ghost stories and I was terribly scared of ghosts. The worst part is that, when I am alone and trying to sleep, at that precise moment all random ghost stories would pop up in my brain. Then I would be terrified for a long time at night and get startled at any creaking sound in the house.

The solution for all these came through my swim teacher. She is one of the most direct and no-nonsense people I have ever met. I appreciate the fact that she doesn't sugarcoat her thoughts towards me. When I showed her all that I know, she asked me to just swim. Then I said, I am scared that I won't be able to breathe properly and she replied, "that is not fear, that is laziness. Get over it!" She explained that I, or rather my body knows exactly what to do in water, it is just the brain that is doubting it. "Give your brain something else to think about," she said, "remind yourself to just keep on kicking and that will keep you afloat." I followed that advice. When I was turning my head to breathe, I didn't think of the breath, I just kept my focus on the kicks and consciously kept my head in water. It is very counterintuitive but the more you lower your head, the better your body will float. I talked to many people here who have forgotten when they learned how to swim, maybe they were just splashing around in the family pool and just got to swim. Initially, I would have felt bad that we never really got this chance and now I am so old. But then I found out that most of these people can't swim well, they don't know the techniques of breathing or the right body positions. I have learned late, but I have learned the right thing.

Once, I could swim, I thought what was the trick. Then I figured out that the main thing is giving my brain something else to think. I applied the same logic for driving on the freeway. Just like the swim movements, I know the basics of driving. I know how to go forward, reverse, change lanes, etc. Then it is just the brain that is over thinking. So I concentrated more on the muscle memory and the reflex part but I played some songs to divert the overthinking brain. And it worked. I made it to work and back through I-405 and actually on the fastest lane.

Arnab is out of town attending a conference now. So I am practically the only human in the house. When thoughts of ghosts popped up, I did the same. Just diverted my mind with nice thoughts like our next upcoming vacation or things at work. I also told myself that if a ghost comes, that is, if I really see a ghost, then I will come up with an action plan. Until then, I don't need to worry about them. That has worked too and I have dropped off to a very comfortable sleep. Having a heavily purring cat curled up next to me also helps.

When the heart strings are tugged

A couple of weeks back a flyover (overpass) collapsed in Calcutta and scores of people died. It was very shocking to see that news on the first page of The Wall Street journal while standing at Starbucks here in Bellevue. It wasn't nice either when non-Indian coworkers asked me the details about it and enquired if my family is safe. I understand their intent was good, but to explain to them why the flyover collapsed and show them the pictures were very difficult for me. I have lived in Calcutta all my life until I moved here, so to me that is home. That city knows me like no other. All my life stages are entwined with it, along with tons of pleasant memories. So when bad things happen to that place, I feel bad.

There is a thing I have heard often, especially from people over Facebook. If I argue with them about something in India, well may not always be things in India, can be anything, and if they don't like my logic, then they say - "but you don't even live here. Why don't you come over and try to do something for the country?" I have no idea why in today's world we have to be physically present in the country to do something. Maybe they don't have any idea of globalization? Anyway, whoever is reading this post, if you have the same mentality then please stop here. If you believe that just like staying away from your family doesn't mean that you don't have any say there, staying away from your country doesn't take your right away to speak up for it, nor to point out the bad part, then proceed.

The flyover crash is a physical thing that bothered me, but it is the tip of the iceberg. It can be seen. There are many other things happening in the city that bothers me a lot as well. The cultural capital of India, Calcutta has been famous for numerous literary giants, musicians, singers, film makers, artists and even actors (both stage and film). Bengalis have been known to be believers of plain living and high thinking. I wouldn't say that we had Spartan lifestyles, but "middle class" Bengalis never saw any reason for spending beyond means. The most important thing they did for their kids was to push them for better education. "Education, education, education" has been the mantra of Bengali parents throughout the ages. A kid was considered "good" or "bad" depending on his performance in academics. Along with that went extra curricular activities that included one or all of singing, dancing and painting for girls and painting or singing for young boys along with sports. Swimming was also encouraged, playing outdoors was a little difficult in the main city, but in the outskirts it was extremely common. Television viewing was restricted and highly discouraged because it was believed to be distracting for studies. "You will forget all that you learned" was a common phrase we all heard if we watched Bollywood songs. Bollywood movies were referred as Hindi cinema and movie songs as Hindi songs in a very derogatory way by our elders.

In our late teenage and early college days, going to movies with friends was a big deal. Shopping malls were coming up but those weren't places to visit. Parks, museums and just normal walks along the crowded streets were common dating places. Dates were confined to eating street side food with the bare minimum allowance we had. Some college students earned meagre incomes by giving tuitions. Our elders disciplined us. That included teachers, relatives and even neighbors. We were spanked by our parents as kids and they saw nothing wrong with it. Actually, it was a big part of parenting. Parents never praised us in public. Actually I have never heard any of my cousins or friends or for that matter any young person being praised by their parents. We were compared to others, our exam scores were compared to our friends, older cousins, parents' friends' kids, kids in the neighborhood. Everyone knew our exam scores and ranks in competitive exams. Parenting experts of the West will be shocked at how our parents still managed to raise sane kids. All my friends from school and college are well settled in their lives and none of them show any traits of not loving their parents and families.

Things have changed now. The people of the city are more concerned over awarding actors from soap operas than they care for any academician. Strikes are common in colleges resulting in brawls. The 1970s also saw strikes in colleges, but those left liberal students were idealists. They were not the political hooligans we see now. Students of nationally famous universities, where it is difficult to get admitted are getting beaten up by political parties. Classes are cancelled, exams postponed. In a situation like this, where is the atmosphere to talk about innovation, research or of the future? Little kids are being encouraged by their parents to take part in "talent search" competitions where they sing and dance to obscenity. In our childhood, talent search competitions were math tests where the top performers got scholarships. Shopping malls are the new places for family time. I have been hearing about DJs coming to Bengali weddings as well! I think I am lucky to not get any invitation for those. Even the clothes seem to have lost the Bengali simplicity. Flashy sequined blouses and weird colored synthetic sarees are not things I can relate with Bengali girls. Nor can I imagine our earlier generation spending their evenings at pubs drinking beer. The book crazy society is dying, so are the cricket lovers at Eden Gardens and the boisterous crowd who took Mohunbagan vs East Bengal matches more seriously than world wars. The crisp cotton saree wearing women, the Rabindrasangeet singers, the old family homes are all getting lost... a culture is slowly crumbling under the pressure of ill bred and uneducated people flocking to Calcutta who, at heart can never be the true residents of the Second City of the British Empire.

We shall overcome

I have a soft corner for tomboys and I have a genuine warm place in my heart for women cricketers. I inherited the love of cricket from my family but as academics were the supreme goal of our lives neither me, nor my parents thought that I might also cherish playing cricket at least at the club level. I would never really know if I'd be good at that! That is the reason I like the girls who are good at it. Especially those who are from South Asia.

Source

In countries where cricket is like a religion and the male cricketers are revered as gods, it is very ironic that women cricketers don't get the same treatment. I remember in 1997 (the last time I watched a women's cricket match) we got free tickets to watch it at the stadium from our school. On the day of the final, only women were allowed at the stadium. It was a strange decision, but the good part was that many women got a chance to come to our beloved Eden Gardens who during regular men's matches would always have to give up the tickets for the male members of the family. Anyway, talking about the free tickets, I remember there was some commotion in our class about one ticket and one boy actually tore up that ticket up and threw it away. Would he do the same if it was a men's match? He wouldn't. That, probably was my first experience of men not taking women seriously. From my early teenage, cricket has shown me where men still do not lean in. We could not form a girls' team in either school or college. The games teacher was also not much interested in girls playing cricket (or basketball). We grew up together with boys in the co-educational school, we were equal (and better than many boys) in academics, most of us had parents who never differentiated between their sons and daughters, but there was still a little difference between a girl and a tomboy. Being on the receiving end of that makes you feel like swimming against the current. I know how it feels. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining. I am just saying it helped me grow a resistance and made me believe that maybe cricket was not a practical option, but there shouldn't be anything I can't do "because I am a girl". It pays off in the future.

That confidence is helping me now.

Recently, there were talks about attending Grace Hopper Conference for Women in Computing. It is a conference for women, but I know of many women who are not interested in attending. The most sad thing is when women look down at other women. How would these people ever become good leaders? Sheryl Sandberg is trying to inspire our generation in vain. There are women (and men) who think that this technical conference is like a ladies party. I wonder if they would try to submit papers and posters and see if theirs get accepted in the ladies party? If they feel that it is still not technical enough like IEEE or ACM, then doesn't that point to the fact that we are lacking women in tech? That should be the reason to try harder, attend and inspire.

Belittling women isn't anything new. I read today that the Pakistan men's squad captain Shahid Afridi has commented about their own women's team as - they have a great taste in their hands, implying the right place for them is in the kitchen. I fail to understand, as a cricketer how can he comment about another cricketer in this way, especially when they are representing the same country and have the exact same goal in life! Remember the scientist who said women are distracting in labs? And the CEO who said women should not ask for raises? All coming from the same bucket. When Netaji formed his all women's Rani Jhansi regiment way back in 1943, people assumed they were a showpiece too. Never did anyone realize that the girls would take part in real combat. They failed, true, but they were path breakers. (Ref: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rani_of_Jhansi_Regiment).

I can relate to these brave soldiers, the Pakistani women's team, engineers in male dominated fields and to all those who wish to follow their ambitions and are constantly swimming against the current of "you are a girl".

Source

On shedding the uterus lining

This morning, I saw a Facebook post from a person whom I respect a lot. He said that he is taking a vow to not go to any religious place which does not allow women to enter, under any circumstances. The background story for this is there are Hindu temples in India which do not let menstruating women in the religious place as they are considered "impure" and "unclean". Growing up in India, I am not new to these ideas. My aunt told me to hurry up in taking my sanitary napkin out of my bag otherwise my (boy) cousin would come in and see it. There was a girl who asked me if it is ok to do the religious offering of Goddess Saraswati while menstruating. I told her that as Saraswati is a woman, she should understand what girls have to go through. When in school a girl would not feel fine during her periods, she would often lie and say she is having a headache or has an upset stomach instead of saying the truth. Personally, I consider an upset stomach to me much worse and a lot more gross than bleeding a little. Very recently, one of my coworkers wanted a sanitary napkin from me and when I handed it over to her, she shrieked and said I shouldn't have given it to her like that. It would be modest to hand it to her on the sly.

That is what I don't understand. What is the reason to be ashamed of a healthy, fully functioning female body? The fact that you are menstruating proves that you are capable of bringing another life to this world and that is very empowering.

Looking here - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Menstrual_taboo, I found that most religions consider women "unclean" when she is doing the healthy thing of shedding her uterus lining. I understand that most of these religious mandates were written long back when people didn't have a lot of idea about biology. But after thousands of years we still hold on to those with our blind faith and discriminate against women.

Coming back to the point of this guy on Facebook. His post was attacked by innumerable Indian men claiming that there are "scientific reasons" why women are not allowed inside temples. Some claimed that you should not make a religious place impure by your menstruation blood, some others defended the fact that everything Hinduism says (though Hinduism hardly ever documented any sayings, because it is a philosophy and not a religion) is based on science and to contradict that you must be disrespectful to your roots. I was shocked to see even women defending these. They are so much brainwashed that they would rather discriminate against themselves than use their minds. I wonder how men like these ill treat the women in their lives. When I commented and told these men to use logic, the defended themselves by calling me a "slave of the West" and wondering why my parents did not counsel me before I became so much Westernized. They equate talking about science as westernization. They said that one particular temple is of Shani Devata (deified idol of Saturn) and that god is not good for women. Some said that the god prefers acts of celibacy, so women should not enter. Some sane person asked how they know of the particular likes and dislikes of this god and if Shani Devata had ever descended on Earth to speak to these people. Some others asked if the god is not so sure that he would be able to maintain his celibate life after women enter the premises. These misogynists would not stop though. They confuse tradition with blind faith. Science has never said that women need to take a back seat, especially a healthy person. Also, if your faith stops you from questioning, then that itself would be a big red flag for me. There is no wonder why women are still being treated as second class citizens. Especially in a country like India, on one hand we deify women as goddesses and then at home abuse the wives and abort the female fetus. Centuries back people from the Bengal Renaissance tried to empower women through education and changes in society, but there are still so much to work on. Who would take that Herculean task up?

Working with the best team, ever!

I had this realization almost ten years back on a bus in Calcutta. I was going to college when a blind man got on the bus to ask for alms. It was bright early autumn day, the skies blue with cauliflower topped white clouds. That is the time I figured out that this man can't see how beautiful the sky is. A very cliched thought in my early twenties, but it made me grateful for my eyes. I agree my vision is not my strongest point but even my high myopic glasses would have been a boon to him who can't see.

The main thing in life that we take for granted is our own body. We know that it is the most important and priceless thing that could possibly be, yet we don't really care much about it. One reason being, we don't really know how things work there. And we never bother to figure out. I understand there is a reason for it to be abstracted in such a clever way, but it wouldn't do any harm to know our machinery better.

The human body is the greatest example of team work as well. It is overwhelming to think of how all the organs work together and if one is a little out of sync, how it affects the other ones. A self managing, self fixing team that needs barely any help from the outside. I realized about the importance of all the team members working together when my little finger on the right hand got severely cut after getting trapped in a part of our cooktop. I put a band aid around it and thought how much would a little finger bother me? But then I realized while trying to type the next day. It is difficult to eat with your fingers if one has a bandaid around it, it is difficult to get a proper grip on things. There is no reason to underestimate the little finger.

After my miscarriage, I was astonished to find that how little time it took the body to heal. It is like a very good self managing scrum team in software development picking up their team together after a failed release. Yes, it acknowledged that things didn't go right, but it wasted no time in cleaning that up and fixing it. Within a fortnight, the uterus again started its normal tasks.

When my retina detached and my right eye was patched up, I figured out that the left eye is doing more than its share and the right eye was feeling miserable. Mentally, I had a pep talk with my body. I told my right eye that it is ok to fail at times. I gave her some time to collect herself and rest and relax. On the other hand, I told my left eye that I understand and very much appreciate the extra work she is doing and I will take good care of both of them so that they can do their 50% share of work.

Long back when I was small and prone to scraping my knee, my mom used to tell me how under the crusty reddish brown skin, little tiny cells are busy patching up the scrape and within a few days new pink shiny skin will be ready under the crusty old skin.

Another part of our general health is our mind. We need to make sure that the mind stays healthy as well. There is a reason why we are supposed to pray for "mens sana in corpore sano". If you are unhappy, or cranky or irritated, even with the best of healths, you will not be able to attain much. There is no reason to be hard on yourself if you feel low. It is normal and it is ok. Nobody expects you to be happy all the time. It is difficult when for some people that indeed becomes the norm and if they are sad for some reason, everyone comes and asks them what the matter is. But even in that case, you can always respond with "I'm not really having the best day today." Most people will just say sorry and leave you be. Your close friends will be there for you if you want to talk. It works. And being honest works much better than putting up a fake happy face. 

These are all learned from my personal experiences. After a major life changing event, it is natural to feel sad just like after a major surgery no one expects you to be able to run a marathon. Body and mind both need rest and a positive environment to thrive in. The best thing to do would be to provide that and never, never take a healthy human body (and mind) for granted.

Mountaineers and the Spirit of the Himalayas

I am one of those blessed people who are easily inspired by Nature. I would consider this to be a very important thing because even though I am an extrovert, I feel completely at ease with myself among Nature. Sometimes I actually prefer solitude. That can be swinging on my hammock and lazily watching the bees or taking a few minutes to pause my life and look at the snowy peaks of the Himalayas.

I have always been in love with Himalayas. It was in 1994 that I first saw snow covered peaks on the way from Shimla to Manali. I still remember people on the bus standing up to see the tiny white ranges appeared in the distance. Now I see snow covered ranges everyday. The ranges towards North Bend are clearly visible from my office in Bellevue, but the have never lost their charm. As much as I love Mt. Rainier, the connection with Himalayas is something very different. You need to see Kangchenjungha in the rising sun to feel that. When the snows turn from pink to gold and then to sparkling white, you feel why it is a divine place.

I was reading Jamling Norgay's book "Touching my Father's Soul" and found that mountaineers climbing the Himalayas have always felt that something is way different than when climbing other peaks. Maybe because of the possible divinity? It is an insult to name the mountain Chomolungma after a mere mortal, Everest. You have to be humble while climbing the mountains, you can't claim it like a trophy, Jamling has mentioned and I completely agree with him. Like among the Native Americans there is the culture of thinking everything, from a tree or a stone has life, in the Himalayas too, you need to imagine that the mountains and rivers have divinity. The source of innumerable life giving rivers that sustain life in five countries definitely need to be respected.

Mountaineering needs all the skills necessary to make a good human being out of you. Immense physical strength coupled with discipline, tenacity, teamwork, risk management, quick thinking and utmost bravery. You also need to be humble. Those huge peaks have always made me feel super tiny, and once you realize the power that can nullify you in a matter of seconds, you would not want to feel the wrath of the mountains.

I am so glad that I love Himalayas. On my trip to the border of Tibet 1998, I spent a fortnight in the high mountains at more than 11, 000 feet. That is when I came to love the mountains dearly. They have the power to transform you and bring out certain thoughts that people don't generally come across on the level plains. Maybe, one day I will be able to hike up to the Base Camp of Chomolungma. I know that all my beloved mountaineers - from George Mallory to the ones of the present day would be there in spirit.

Dissecting Rabindranath

Rabindranath was a person quite difficult to understand. He was more a philosopher than a poet or a social reformer. However, being a human, he too had some shortcomings. Like, we don't know why he married his daughters off at such early ages and that too by paying a huge dowry which he could barely afford. We don't know what made him not encourage his older sister Swarnakumari in her writings. But as he is not here to defend himself there is no point in making these into huge issues. He will be remembered by his contribution to the Bengal Renaissance, as one of the brightest jewels in the crown of Bengal. Without him, we would not have anything to hold on to during our difficult times. His songs and poems have given solace to Bengalis far and wide through all the dark days.

One of the things that bother me a lot is the repeated discussions of Rabindranath's relationship with his sister-in-law (elder brother Jyotirindranath's wife) Kadambari Devi. I have no idea what these two people have done to intrigue the busybodies of Bengal throughout the ages. Maybe the main reason being, even the most progressive people today (rather the ones who claim to be "progressive") cannot digest the fact that a man and a woman can be friends. The relationship between a newly married bride and her younger brothers and sisters-in-law in the Bengali family is a very sweet one. Especially in the old days when the age difference between spouses used to be more than ten years, husbands were hardly in the same intellectual level as their wives to be friends. Those young girls actually were brought up at their in-laws. They of course grew closer with the younger siblings of the husbands who had a narrower age gap with the young wives. The relationship of Rabindranath and Kadambari evolved thus. She was two years older than Rabindranath and as Satyajit Ray (who actually knew Rabindranath) puts it "she was his best friend and severest critic". Why is that so difficult to understand? And what is the need of romanticizing such a relationship?

Did they love one another? Of course they did. I assume it is a basic human tendency to love your near ones, especially your friends. We also have to remember that in the Tagore family children were not looked after by their mothers. They had maids and later men servants to take care of them. Probably the main intent was "plain living and high thinking" but that led to young kids feeling quite neglected. Rabindranath, being the fourteenth child of his parents hardly ever got a chance to be close to his mother. Kadambari, as a young lonely bride used to spend a lot of time with this young boy and it was from her that Rabindranath first experienced the tender love that only a woman can show. But to twist that into a romantic relationship and worse still, to encash that is what makes me very angry. I don't know what possessed me to watch the Bengali movie Kadambari. Apart from it being a very bad movie from a cinematic performance (the scene transitions were very choppy and the story didn't much progress well), there were huge factual mistakes (they did not wear such colorful clothes, neither that much jewelry, Brahmo weddings were shown wrong, the makeup was horrible) and it is obvious that either the director did not care to research or he intentionally commercialized the facts. I am yet to figure out why they showed Jnanadanandini like an evil queen. She was a remarkable lady who was probably a century or more advanced than her times. Even if she did have some human shortcomings, to show only that and ignore her contribution to Bengal's culture is not just mean but very offensive. As a director or author you have a responsibility to mould your readers and viewers. That lecherous man Ranjan Bandopadhyay has created some weird letters and have called them Kadambari's suicide note. History tells us that the actual suicide note was destroyed by the Tagore family and of course its transcript was never available. Who has given these people the right to defame those who are the pride of our culture? The fact that these people are not present to defend themselves doesn't make it not a crime.

The Tagore family has been the cradle of the Bengal Renaissance. The women of this family have contributed immensely for the betterment of Bengali girls for centuries. We should be grateful to them and showcase them in the best possible way as we should be proud of them. People who have a tendency to look at everything through jaundiced eyes should choose other topics to scandalize on and leave the Tagores to researchers, educationalists and educated people to read, understand and find inspiration from.

Re-living my childhood

Having kids is a tough thing. It sure has a lot of enjoyment and fun but that comes with a lot of responsibility too. Having a niece is just getting the fun part without the responsibility. You are not allowed to spoil your kids, but spoiling your niece is totally permissible. It is true that Bhollu does remind me that now I am a grown up ("Tumi to boro") especially while asking for favors like a horse ride or a bottle of bubbles, but she also reminds me that now I am free to do all the crazy childish things with her that I didn't know I was missing all these years.

Coming home to Calcutta now has an added fun of being with her. Her funny antics of dressing up as Goddess Lakshmi and blessing us or using Lego blocks to build an idol of Lakshmi (she gets very angry if I make fun of Lakshmi or the goddess's special Owl - I told her that the owl looks like the snowman Olaf) are crazy but it shows me things from her viewpoint. Who said that Lego blocks are supposed to create engineering marvels only? With her I can go over reading a word book and teach her the difference between "this" "that" "these" and "those",  I can draw using sidewalk chalk and play all sorts of funny games. True, she does throw tantrums at times, but as I treat kids like adults and she being quite a sensible kid, it is quite easy for me to explain things to her. 

She goes to the same school as I and gets on the same school bus. She goes to our art school as well to the same art teacher and it is quite a sea change for me to realize that now I am the escort to the school bus stop or to the art school and not the student any more. When my art tutor told Bhollu, "ask your aunt to choose a drawing for you" I was shocked!! At 31, I should not be so shocked, many of my class mates have kids older than Bhollu but as I have been the "baby of the family" for more than a quarter century, this realization takes time to seep in. 

It is fun to relive my childhood in this way - to read out to her, to teach her new things (sometimes at the dismay of my sister, like when I taught her how to make a face in a roti), to ride a horse or run down a hill side with her. It feels great to be the cool aunt because I let her touch street dogs when the other elders yelled "don't touch it will bite you" and I let her play Temple Run on my Android tablet when I was not at home. My sister saw that and asked my aunt, "why did Ria leave her tab with her when she is not at home?" To which Bhollu replied, "Because Mimi loves me."

The best part is to listen to her talk - about her friends, her experiences in swimming at a pool in Goa, her ideas of the mythological characters and her trials and tribulations, like not allowed to sing a newly learned song in front of the tiger at the zoo. Well, to adults that might not be a big thing, but for a five year old, being denied a chance to sing to a real tiger can be a direct insult. Perspectives do matter. She also has the capacity to teach what is right. In India, where "please" and "thank you" are rarely ever mentioned, she has made it a habit to thank all the drivers on our trip. When I was asking leave of my family before going to the airport, she made sure that I respectfully say goodbye to my grandma's nurse. 

A super extrovert who would do her rounds at restaurants and go talk to people at all the tables, a bouncy little girl with a sharp mind she has breathed new life to our house. It pleases me to the utmost so see her run up and down the stairs in our ancestral house where she is the fifth generation growing up. I haven't seen me grow up, but I can completely see my crazy self in her.

Home is ...

I said before that to come back to things that never change give me a feeling of reassurance that I am home. Like, I know exactly which angle the orange sun beams would enter my room at 6:30 in the morning. I know how much of the tree would be visible if I sit as my study table. These are little things that make up the whole big situation. These are the things that bring me home.

Home isn't in the suburbs where the house (my in-laws house) is like visiting relatives. I never know that place. I can't walk down the stairs blindfold. I don't know the neighborhood. I can't tell the books in the book shelf by looking at just their spines. I don't know the neighbors. 3 days a year for 6 years only amounts to 18 days. That can't be compared to 23 years at a stretch and a month each year after that of living in my own house.

In the villages of Bengal, I am a complete stranger. However much I may like the glimpse of the rice fields or wonder at the experience of walking on the narrow divides through those fields at dusk when the cows return to their sheds, I don't belong there. I am a tourist who is seeking a new experience, who asks questions and takes photos.

I belong to Calcutta.

I belong to the place where there is noisy traffic, where the typical sound of banging on the sides of the buses and the conductor yelling "Howrah Howrah Howrah, Howrah jabe, khali bus" (empty bus, going to Howrah) wakes me up in the morning. Where Eden Gardens has a soft spot in my heart and I can't pass by the stadium without imagining the cricket shots being played there and the loud cheers that roll. How well we know where would be a good spot to sit in the stands where the Sun won't blaze throughout the day. We know that H block gives the best view and K block only gets the morning Sun and a little afternoon Sun. I belong to the afternoon walks to Lake and to Lake Market to buy little fancy things or eat from the road side vendors. And idle walk at Deshapriya Park while eating Jhaal-Muri and pointing out to Arnab where the cricket pitch is and telling him about the eternal rivalry between the two clubs there - Milan Samiti and DKS brings me back to home. I can see the spot where the big ferris wheel called Giant Wheel used to be placed at the Durga Pujo fair and where I shot balloons with an air rifle. I can see teenaged boys practicing their cricket shots and remembered my friends Sayan and Biswadeep as eighth graders right there. I belong to the crowds of Gariahat where vendors still cry - "Didi edike", "Didi ki lagbe?" (what can I get for you? Didi, come here) with an irritating yet friendly way. Even though I am familiar with many a shiny shopping mall, the colorful clothes and bright imitation jewelry never fail to attract me at Gariahat. There is a typical girly craving to buy everything accompanied by shiny eyes and a quick dig in the wallet.

Home is in eating the sharp spicy and tangy Phuchka dipped in tamarind water and in Kwality ice cream. It is in the smell of flowers of Lake Market on a sultry summer afternoon when the southern breeze starts blowing, in the sweetness of sandesh made with notun-gur and in the feeling that I am surrounded with lots of laughter and fun and people whom I love.

All thanks to Job Charnock for deciding to stop at this place for his mid-day break.

The kids who have it all

From the perspective of the worldly person, these kids have nothing. Most of them are orphans, almost all unwanted, some were actually deserted who were picked up from places like railway platforms, some were brutally treated by people in whose homes they worked as domestic helps. They barely have clothes on their backs, even the ones they have, barring one or two have been handed down, old and torn at places. They have no toys, they make their own toys with scraps of rubber bands, twigs, leaves and mud. They can't afford to eat many foods. And they don't have any wants.

They are happy.

I have never seen so many kids, ranging from toddlers to late teenagers live in such perfect harmony. The sounds heard were of laughter, songs and screams of joy. There wasn't a glum face to see, no fights or quarrels and no negativity. Everyone was busy according to his or her own level. The older boys were playing football, the younger boys got hold of a basketball which they used in place of a football in a smaller yard. The girls were playing some indigenous village game like hopscotch (which I later realized helps in balance, works out the core muscles and creates hand, eye, foot coordination and is not that easy when you have to hop on one leg on an uneven ground). They had a picnic on New Year's Day where the main attraction was cooking and eating in the open. The elders cooked the food, helped by the older girls. The boys created the open fire stove with bricks, the little ones brought wood and the others helped in preparing food. The best thing was that all the vegetables were grown by them. In a place where a bunch of women are working, people always think that there will be quarrels and misunderstandings, but all I saw was laughter and fun.

I have seen kids with literally room full of toys, I have seen six year olds who can't eat by themselves or pick on their food for hours without eating with a good appetite and then I have seen these kids. The ones who are undaunted by poverty, who have the will to excel in studies (and many of them have already). A cracked blackboard, a harmonium missing a few reeds, old ragged teddy bears can give them all the happiness they want. The boy who innovated a slingshot out of a twig and torn rubber bands has learned through his own experience that aiming at 45 degrees makes his shot go the farthest. He would shine much brighter in later life than the boy who only knows how to push a button on his police car to sound the siren. The little girl who uses her imagination to create a perfect scene with idols and their religious ceremony is indeed spending her time in a better way than the toddler gobbling TV shows for hours.

These kids are learning responsibility through their posts as "ministers". They have areas to look after like managing school stationery, making sure everyone drinks the right amount of water throughout the day, cleaning rooms and bathrooms, looking after the guests, presiding over physical training and even baking cakes with the bare minimum resources.

Seattle seems a place too far off from here. There wasting food after being served a huge portion in the name of avoiding contamination is widely prevalent, here if these kids waste a single bite they have to clarify why. They do chores without being paid any allowance. They only get to watch TV on Sundays for a couple hours and even then they only watch channels like Discovery, Animal Planet and sports. They play out in the open, they swim in the pond and exercise by dancing. And even though they are very honest about their past lives - like many of them don't know their birthdays, or know that they have been deserted by families, they have now got what true unconditional love is.

If you are interested in knowing more about them, please contact Mr. Balaram Karan (phone:+91 99326 71081) of the orphanage Antyoday Anath Ashram.