Are we really progressing?

Situation 1: A three year old girl asks her grand mom, "dad goes to work, uncle goes to work, aunt goes to work, why doesn't mom go too?" Heaps of praise were loaded on this mom at the time she got married because she was (and still is) such a naive, docile pretty little girl.

Situation 2: Another two year old girl is told by her parents that everyone in their house works, so must she. She fixes the wires of her dad's computer and put papers in the printer tray to earn money which is put in her college fund. Both her parents are smart and super hard workers (each of them run their own businesses).

Tell me, which girl from the above situations would grow up to be an independent lady with strong will and respect her parents more?

I was reading some article by Chetan Bhagat that a friend shared on Facebook and though I absolutely agree with what Bhagat has mentioned, the question that still remains is - why? Why do we still have to explain why working women need to be respected? Today when guys prefer girls who would by no means become a threat to their own fragile ego, even with the talks of the new millennium and the latest science fiction type gadgets, I am left to wonder "are we really progressing?"

We have had enough talk on how husbands (or in cases, in-laws) have stopped the career graph of women but have we ever thought about women who are parasitic and love to spend their lives depending on their husbands' incomes? Think about it, we kind of appreciate them. We say how nice they are. Soft spoken, unassuming. On the other hand, we have said that careerist women are arrogant, they don't care about anyone, they do exactly what they want. Why do we say that? Perhaps we are jealous? Or we think of them as threats, people whom we cannot "control", who would never look up to us just because that's expected of them? Who knows!

Revolution!

I cannot stress enough on the fact that every one must reach their potential. Being under-challenged is no good. It's a waste.

Think of the precious thing called "life" we have been endowed with. Who knows if we'll get another life, ever. Wouldn't it be an utter waste to live life without really "living" it?

When I was small, I remember my dad saying that  higher studies and getting a respectable job (preferably in sci-tech) should be my top priority, because I was not born to "spend my life in the kitchen". Now I see Chetan Bhagat saying the exact same thing! Another thing to mention here is though my mom is still working as a senior professor and I have grown up seeing her attend international conferences meeting internationally renowned people with a cool and unique way so characteristic of herself, her petite frame dressed in sophisticated silk sarees, it is my dad who is at the helm at all times. He had seen the goal years before I realized what I am good at :-) I sometimes thought the push came a little too hard (especially when he scrutinized my low scores at high school maths) but at least that made me realize that an independent strong willed woman will be respected much more in the long run.

Foot note: A husband who realizes he is a "partner" and a "friend" is a great gift as well :)

My red cars

On one August afternoon, right before my fifth birthday, I was woken up from my afternoon nap and was told that I'd get a new car! Kakabhai came home early from work and took Mao and me to Wonderland Toys at Park Street. Before we left, Baba told me "get a bright red car for yourself!" At Wonderland Toys, I looked at different cars, the sales girl was telling me to get a blue one which had beeping red lights but I shook my head resolutely and said, "no, Baba told me to get a red car." So I finally got my first red car.... it was called Air India (no idea why!) and the license plate was 786. I drove that red car around our terrace with Bhut carefully marking street signs, zebra crossings and the necessary things a driver needs to know in order to drive safe. Baba envisioned that I'd learn basic maneuvers with this car which will help me in the long run. I drove that car until I could not fit in that any more....that was my first car!

Twenty three years later, again on one August afternoon, Arnab came to pick me up from work and said, "let's just drop by the Honda showroom and see what 2013 models they've got." I was looking for a Honda Fit for some months and we thought this would be the right time. We were shown a dark blue model at a different showroom but I hated the color. Baba has told me to get a red car! So I was looking for a base model in red... They had it at this showroom, the price offered was very close to the one we expected and the bright milano red exterior shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun! There's no way we could have left without buying this 2013 Honda Fit.

Tomato and I

My car, Tomato has arrived. She is sitting next to her elder brother, Arnab's white Honda Civic. To hold the new car keys in my hand, step on the gas pedal and the smooth turning the steering wheel... coupled with a feeling of independence is an experience to be cherished all through my lifetime!!

Where I need "dislike" buttons

Recently there's been quite a provocation to write about the stuff I hate. As I have a black-or-white type of outlook towards the human civilization, a lot of stuff actually drive me mad. Here's the list:

1. Male Indian dancers - Well, not the Bollywood type, but the ones that dance with Tagore songs with a bunch of girls. I JUST CAN'T STAND THEM!!!

2. Modern poetry - I have only read a few modern Bengali poetry and I still can't understand from which angle they can be termed as "poetry". If the poets wrote them and kept them secret, I wouldn't mind but publishing them and reading them in public is akin to a crime of some sort!! Also, I still can't understand those people who claim to "understand" and "like" these poetry! The only thing that I tell myself is well, everyone is entitled to free speech.

3. Modern art - Another thing that makes no sense to me. A blotch of color here and there and a few random brush strokes? That's it? If anything doesn't take skill and effort, it is not a creation. Also, how can people "understand" and "like" and "buy" these blotches of color? Mota or May would do better with a paint brush, I am sure!

Don't make me mad!!!

4. "Intellectuals" - (The people we refer to in Bengal when we say this word with a French accent). They are a different animal. It is sooo hard to explain who they are and what makes them what they are. Mostly these are the people who like the above mentioned "modern" things. They claim to believe in plain living and high thinking. Most of them are communists as well, preparing for a "revolution" of some sort. Who that revolution is against or what will that achieve, I don't know. Also, they claim to be non-communal and the show of being "non communal" stems from bashing their own religion. They are a weird lot that's all I can say.

5. Damp blankets - Yes, the physical ones are bad, no doubt but better than the people who are like those. Damp blankets are those who have no ambition, no plans for life. They are just fine living their own routine life without thinking of their existence. Or, thinking why they exist at all. They also have a dampening effect on people around them.

6. Nosiness - Questions like "when are you going to settle?" or "is there any good news?" (meaning "when are you having a baby?"), unsolicited advice, which may include things from how to load a dishwasher or which Indian grocery store is good. If I have questions, I will "Google it" first. If I still have that question, rest assured, I will be the one to ask.

There are other stuff I am sure which have successfully driven people to craziness all around the world - stupid drivers, super slow postal service agents, etc. to name a few, but these ones will be on the top list of my dislikes. For sure!

Birthday post

28 loops around the Sun has ended and I have started on the 29th loop today. Sounds like an iteration in programming, doesn't it? When I was born, i was set to 0 as the loop started executing. To me it's a while loop as I do not know where the end is.

It is all about time...when I heard the Westminster chimes replicated by a clock at Kirkland, I was thinking of time...the journey from my birth to this day...it has not been a bed of roses, but in spite of the challenges as a whole it is a great experience no doubt!!

I don't see myself growing though. I still don't feel any changes. Just that now I live in a different place and go to work instead of school. Apart from that nothing much has changed in my life. Oh well, I have a husband now, but as he does not interrupt in my way of life I don't have to change stuff for him by any means (I wouldn't have done that anyway though) :-) Anyway, I still look the same from when I was in middle school. I still wear some clothes that are more than a decade old (I fit into them comfortably), I run down stairs, climb fences and can't help but run and play fetch if there are playful dogs around. I am still continuing to be a "rebel without a cause". I hate nosy people, art films, "modern Bengali poetry" and "modern art" with the same vigor as when I was eighteen. Analytic thinking, debatable topics, free thinking and humanity still rules my world.

Life to me is feeling the sun and the wind on my face and follow the motto - "live free or die"!!

Citius, altius, fortius

- faster, higher, stronger - the qualities of a winner.

In this Olympics season, I thought I should write something about it too. I am not a person of sports. I can barely play cricket and badminton, that's the end to it so technically I don't have much to write about the games. I watch them on TV, root for India, USA and Canada (there's a story behind me supporting all three countries) and for those who look like they'd do good with an extra supporter, for example, those who are among the very few representatives from their countries or are too young, etc. Yesterday I found a University of Alabama player in Kirani James, so I had to cheer for him. As well as, of course, for the "Blade runner"!!  (It actually took Arnab a second glance to see that Pistorius had no legs!) That's my Olympic story...

Apparently, yes...but there is another deeper story. That is about setting targets, aiming higher, winning and of losing. A good player, a real sports person does not only know how to win, he/she knows how to lose gracefully too. Did you see the cyclist girl who won a silver say that the gold-medallist was faster than her all throughout the race? The young Canadian gymnast girl bow out midway through her event as she knew her hurt leg wouldn't support the two-and-half twists? That is because they know how to lose. No excuses for not making it, no complaints for their dreams getting crushed, just a positive outlook and remembering the main idea behind the Olympic games - it is about taking part and not just winning.

If you think about it, out of so many talented and hard working competitors, the top few picks are almost at the same level. But even then, halfway through the event, you'll see some of them, probably just a couple or so would be ahead of the others. This is even more apparent in track events, swimming or cycling where it's easier to follow. Like Michael Phelps, or Usain Bolt - they are the bar-raisers, they are the winners. They are the ones who are faster, higher and stronger than the rest!

Torch

Some are even a notch higher. A 5'3" man would always have a drawback against a 6'5" one when it comes to running or swimming. In every stride, the taller man gains. A really short swimmer is actually the last one to enter the water...but even then, they win! Just imagine how fast they have to be to beat the height gain of his competitors. There's this Japanese wrestler who's almost my namesake. Her name is Saori and she is almost of my structure as well. But, she's a wrestler! Once she gets in the ring, nobody would let he win by saying "oh she is such a petite lady", she has to fight against stouter girls for sure (in her category). Take for example our own Mery Kom. Coming from a village in the north-eastern borders, with two little sons to look after, how much dedication does it take to become a world-class woman boxer cruising to the semi-finals? Last but not the least, Oscar Pistorius - running without legs? Can there be anything miraculous than that? I don't have anything more to comment on this, just that I asked myself yesterday while seeing his event - could I do this even if I had a 1000 legs? (Me as a millipede would be quite a spectacle too!)

There's a take-away for me from the Olympic games - no more complaints about "I can't do this" or "that is too difficult". Over challenging oneself might be stressful, but under challenging is no good either. Aiming higher, learning faster and being a stronger person are the keys of being a winner. After all, like Pistorius says - You're not disabled by the disabilities you have, you are able by the abilities you have.

Keep the torch burning and the flags flying high!

Patience

No, this is not my strong point....even people who love me the most can never say that I am patient. I still run up and down the staircase jumping every alternate steps, can't sit still for more than a couple minutes without doing anything and I hardly ever can stay silent. I am always up to "something", pottering about. Does meditation increase patience? This always sounds like the "chicken and egg" problem to me. Is patience needed for meditation, or meditation for patience? Anyway, I wouldn't be able to solve this riddle.

So why am I talking about patience all of a sudden? I am getting more towards it actually. No, no, not through meditation, but someone has been teaching me. That someone is none other than our little, tiny May!

After we had Mota for a while and I started reading up more on cat care, which often redirected me to ASPCA and Humane Society's websites, I started getting involved about the general state of animals in shelter. A kind co-worker of mine put up posters of animals in our break room which finally prompted me to try foster a homeless animal. That's how May (she was named Kitty at that time) came to our family.

May with Baghu

I had no experience with cats other than Mota so handling May was very difficult. Mota's life so far has been as plush and cushy as possible. He was born at a shelter and taken to a foster home right away with his brother (later named Stormy). When they were 10 weeks old, our friend adopted them. We got Mota when he was a full grown adult of 3 years. He never has seen food scarcity, he has always been around humans who cuddle him, feed him well and love him. The only cat he had shared his home with was his own brother (and litter mate) so he never had to fight against him either. He is a little cuddly prince I should say.

With May, it was totally different. It's true that she is a very strong willed lady, but then her life hasn't been very easy so far. The family who adopted her (I don't know when or how long they had her) haven't been very nice to her. She was given human food, which made her obese. She had dental issues, scars on the  body and other health issues as well. On top of that, she bites! They surrendered her to the Humane Society as an easy way out of the problem. The only good thing on their part was that they at least didn't abandon her on the streets. She got good health care at the Humane Society but there she had to spend her days in a cubby hole with food, bed and litter box in the same place. It's like being in a prison. When we took her home she would howl and bite us. She'd gobble up all her food, hiss and snap at Mota. Her behavior was not exemplary by any means.

It took time...and PATIENCE to get May act normally. It was difficult, very difficult to see her striking Mota and leaving them to "sort it out", difficult to bear her scratching and biting, meowing from behind closed door or from her carrier (used as a "time out" place for her). Also, her fur was matted and rough, she was on a medicated diet. It caused enough trouble, but at the end of the day we could give a cat a "forever home".

Daddy's girl!!

She is 10 years old now. Her "senior" days have set in. She has got some arthritis and her kidneys are not in very good shape but still, she is my little warrior. We formally adopted her in June after fostering her for almost 5 months. Now she likes being brushed, she'll roll over when I brush her belly. Mota, even though not a best buddy, is slowly being tolerated by May. Unlike the cats in the cat colony, Mota is extremely gentle (and chivalrous, I should say) so he never hurts May. May is getting that idea now, that she doesn't have to hiss and scratch him for nothing. They are kept loose the entire day, even when we are not at home. They have sorted it out. Mota sleeps near our bed in the master bed room and May sleeps in her own room for most of the time we are away. As May is at her optimum weight now, she gets the same food as Mota. When we come home from work, the moment they hear the garage door open they both come running to meet us at the doorway!!! Call that the reward of being patient. :D


PS: There are so many animals still abandoned on the streets or spending their lives in cubby holes in animal shelters. Most of them would never see a caring human again or get a second chance. Please don't "buy" animals!! Adopt one or even foster one. It doesn't take much. Oh, this Mothers' Day, Mota and May gave me a t-shirt that says - Proud mom of a shelter cat!!

My foster language

Someone said to G.B. Shaw that "sugar" is the only word in English that says "sh" for "s". He asked that man, "are you sure?"

I got an email from TOEFL for a survey this afternoon. It was surprising because I never expected to hear from them, when I suddenly realized it has been exactly six years since I took this test. Funny, though it sounds, I have never thought of English as a "foreign language". Now when I converse with other non-native English speakers, I sometimes feel that I have done a good job in learning this foreign tongue which I should call my "foster language".

I have forgotten when I started learning English, but I remember that technically it was before I learned to read or write my mother language. The reason for this was if I had to get admitted to a school whose medium of instruction was English, I had to learn the English alphabet before Bengali. There is a mixed feeling about people from "English medium schools" of South Calcutta. Some of those students have airs about "not knowing Bengali" and some students of vernacular schools have an inferiority complex for not being able to converse in fluent English. It's a convoluted social situation, I should say. Anyway, good for me that even though English and Bengali were parallely stressed upon by our school, we didn't turn out to be snobbish "can't-speak-Bengali" people (বঙ্গ মায়ের anglo সনতান ).

Second language??!!

Like there are many Bengali writers who have molded my thought process, there are many English writers too who have expanded my horizon, given me enough to think about and have made my "to visit" list longer. Would I ever long to visit 221B Baker Street if I did not gorge Conan Doyle's books? Or would I dream of a mansion in the countryside of England with blooming rhododendrons and azaleas along the driveway if I didn't visit du Maurier's "Manderley"? Who would have urged me to put on my "free thinking cap" if Carl Sagan's treasure trove was unknown to me? I do owe a lot to these people...who have taught me the language which I write in most of the time and speak for a third of my day every week day. Indians should be indebted to the British for this. I can't imagine a Bengali and a Tamil conversing in Hindi!! Just impossible!!! 


The English writers whom I like most are so different than the Bengali authors I like. The style of writing is different, so is the type of content in most cases. Take for example, an autobiography or a travelogue. Bengali authors hardly ever excel in these categories. It will be difficult to choose my most favorite writer, but then I think there will be a tie between Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Dame Daphne du Maurier. Both of them have the capacity to make me oblivious of the surrounding when I am reading their books. Especially du Maurier. I have never been so mesmerized as I was while reading "Rebecca"! Almost same for "My cousin Rachel". Another person coming close would be Jerome K. Jerome for his "Three men in a boat". I'll probably have to dedicate an entire article for this. Jerome, George, Harris and Montmorency has made me laugh laugh laugh till my sides ache. I like Agatha Christie's work as well, more for her style of writing than for the content (I always think she suppresses the clues, which is a poor way of writing a detective story) so I like her autobiography more than her detective stories. Also, my English vocabulary in indebted to her (so is my dad's). I have said about Carl Sagan already. He is the one to come into my literary life the latest, but then "vini vidi vici" :-) 


Before I were able to read all these, Enid Blyton and A.A. Milne were there. Pictures of the English countryside were vivid in my mind from the Magic Faraway Tree and Pooh's "100 aker" woods. I still love reading those books and now that I can get them from Amazon real cheap, I have got the entire collection of Pooh's and Blyton's magic series. "The naughtiest girl" takes me back to my own school days at times. I remember reading one of those books in school, when a boy in my class commented "Sayari is reading her own biography"!!!


Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" and "Good Wives", especially the tomboyish Jo is well intertwined with my own teenage days. The pangs of growing up, the pleasures of breaking free, heartaches (for self and others), Jo's crazy poems and stories, her friendship with Laurie...they are all mirrored in my own life very clearly.


Some other writers I should mention here are - Arthur Hailey, Anna Sewell, George Orwell, Charlie Chaplin and Edward VIII (yes, the king!). They have all written so well and so different stuff that I can't help admire them!


There are another set of people, not mentioning whom would be very unjust. They would be the poets. Though all the acquaintance I made with them were through my text books, but that doesn't mean I don't like them. Alfred Lord Tennyson's "The Charge of the Light Brigade", "The Lady of Shallot" and especially "The Brook" are my all time favorites. So is William Wordsworth. When we were flying from Frankfurt back to Seattle and were soaring over the Scottish highlands, I couldn't not think of "The Solitary Reaper"!!


There can't be anything as a "second language", more so if that language is rich in literature. It's not just a means to communicate between people of different countries (or different cultures within), it opens up a whole new world by introducing us to new books, new movies and new characters (both fictional and true) and gets us a step closer to making this world even smaller.