Anyone, who has taken the subway in NYC, has probably encountered creepy preachers. Maybe not several times but at least once. They go on an exhausting verbal rant about their set of religious beliefs and faith and life. How their God is the only savior for the mortal degenerates like us. I am so tempted to say “Stuff it stupid,” but the wuss in me avoids the confrontation. I know someone who offered these noise-creators aka weird subway riders a couple of dollars to just shut up. How awesome is that!
This morning in the subway, an annoying, sanctimonious, fanatical, bigot squashed the tranquil of the subway car with her venomous tongue and decrepit words. The self-appointed morality police insulted everyone but Jesus. She said, “Obama can’t help us; only the Lord can.” I couldn’t help but snicker at her malarkey and audacity—so did quite a few of the fellow commuters. But soon I felt humor replaced with fury when she started to deride the gay community. Her word choice was reprehensible -- like a gratuitous insult. For starters, she referred to them as, “Those homosexuals ruining.” I looked at my husband and said, “Why the hell can’t she mind her own business?”
I remember this one time, (In my defense, I’d had an emotionally scathing week); I told one of them off. Well, this woman was waving her hand in my face and asking me to pray to Jesus. Her volume was directly proportional to her portly body. I grew up in a secular country, so I am nothing if not religiously tolerant, but at 7:30p.m. on a Thursday, after a bad week & volunteering my seat to the pregnant, the old, and the kids, I am intolerant towards verbal baloney. I have zero patience for self-righteous fools! I yelled back, “I am Hindu. You are wasting your time on me as I don’t believe in Jesus.”I let the words flow profusely from my mouth into her imbecile ears. She stood still, and I sat shocked.
Honestly, I couldn’t care less what she was preaching about; I just wanted my moment of quiet. So, why am I blogging about crazies in the subway? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s Thursday today, and I feel my patience abandon me.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 04.16.2009
“Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.” – Oscar Wilde
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
What will my generation pass over?
The Jewish holiday of Passover began yesterday at sundown. Most of my Jewish friends and colleagues either worked from home or left office early to get home on time for Seder. Our conversation in the past couple of weeks has involved at least five mentions of “Passover.” In fact, this year, a few of my friends organized Seder (with loads of traditional Jewish food) at their place and invited even their extended families. Majority of my Catholic friends have given up that one thing they like for Lent--like complaining, gossiping, eating meat, and drinking alcohol etc. I have to admit that I am quite impressed.
In the same breadth, Holi, one of the biggest Hindu festivals was in the month of March, and a lot of Hindus from my generation didn’t even make simple “halwaa” at home. Few used the most banal, “It’s in the middle of the week,” or “All this rich food is not good for you,” excuse for getting out of observing the holiday. I don’t get it. The same folks drink themselves silly on a weeknight at a bar or clog their arteries with French fries and Buffalo wings, but when it comes to their own festivals, they look for justification. To each their own but be consistent with what you say. Not believing in the holidays is one thing but using the “calorimeter” or “inconvenience factor” are just lame. The cheesecake that you chow down once a week or the wine/beer you drink five nights a week are probably a lot worse than a piece of besan laddoo you audaciously chastise.
People could argue that India has gazillion festivals and every state celebrates its holidays, so it’s hard to keep track. Maybe so. But Holi and Diwali are major Indian festivals, and I see them die every year with my generation. Also, Judaism has several holidays too. How come the young Jewish folks don’t find it arduous to remember?
I grew up in a festive house and celebratory hostels. My mother, an awesome cook, made every Indian holiday special for us, so I can’t imagine ordering in food/ going out to dinner or NOT planning a celebration for the aforementioned festivals. But that’s just my thing. I might be a health freak on other days, but Holi, Diwali, Dussehra, and Rakhi mean that there will be kheer and Puri at home, if not more. My own friends and acquaintances have expressed their surprise over my elaborate holiday indulgence. I guess living away from India just makes me clingier to my traditions. For me, it’s a way of thanking the universe for ending another year on a reasonable note. Back home, whether you wanted it or not, you would know that it’s a big holiday—with the blaring music and the energy. But in NYC, unless there is merriment going on at home, a festival would be just another ordinary weekday.
With age, a significant number of my Christian and Jewish friends (the non-anal types) have expressed their desire to get more involved with their religion. As and when they decide to have a family, they would like their kids to have a sense of religion and pedigree. My Christian friends have social circles at church. But I see my Hindu friends and relatives drift away from their faith. Amongst younger Hindus, it’s cool to be an atheist. “I go to the temple to eat dosa,” is a very acceptable notion.
Having said all that, I think I am beginning to understand why some of the Hindus from my generation aren’t as willingly involved as their peers from other religions. In Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, depending on your personality, upbringing, and belief system, you have different kinds of levels of faith you could belong to. Unlike Hinduism, it’s not a macro approach. So, a pork-eating Jew could be a part of the Reformist Synagogue while a Sabbath-keeping-Kosher-following Jew could go to an Orthodox Synagogue. They both follow Judaism but in their own personalized style. Tailored places of worship make sense to me.
I, for one, am anything but an atheist. I love going to “some” temples—the ones where I don’t have to deal with the “I-know-it-all-corrupt-pundits.” I personally don’t need a mediator, and I don’t care about a human telling me how to “think” and “feel” about God. The concept of making friends at Hindu temples isn’t prevalent because you have people from extreme mindsets pray under the same roof. For instance, if I have to sit and pray next to a person who is intolerant towards a Muslim, I won’t. If I have to listen to a fool urging me to fast four days in a week or else bad karma won’t leave my side, I mentally check myself out. I imagine a lot of my peers feel the same way. I believe there should be separate physical temples depending on your belief system—the way it is in Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.
For instance, I’d like to go to a mandir that doesn’t promote Hindu fundamentalists; doesn’t tell me that I am inferior as a woman; doesn’t rely on fear tactics to get donation out of me. If such a place existed, I would probably go more often instead of making the temple a convenient brunch stop every once in a while. Unless something drastic is done, I can see the Hindus from my generation won’t have much to pass over.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 04.09.2009
“Religion is the fashionable substitute for belief” - Oscar Wilde
In the same breadth, Holi, one of the biggest Hindu festivals was in the month of March, and a lot of Hindus from my generation didn’t even make simple “halwaa” at home. Few used the most banal, “It’s in the middle of the week,” or “All this rich food is not good for you,” excuse for getting out of observing the holiday. I don’t get it. The same folks drink themselves silly on a weeknight at a bar or clog their arteries with French fries and Buffalo wings, but when it comes to their own festivals, they look for justification. To each their own but be consistent with what you say. Not believing in the holidays is one thing but using the “calorimeter” or “inconvenience factor” are just lame. The cheesecake that you chow down once a week or the wine/beer you drink five nights a week are probably a lot worse than a piece of besan laddoo you audaciously chastise.
People could argue that India has gazillion festivals and every state celebrates its holidays, so it’s hard to keep track. Maybe so. But Holi and Diwali are major Indian festivals, and I see them die every year with my generation. Also, Judaism has several holidays too. How come the young Jewish folks don’t find it arduous to remember?
I grew up in a festive house and celebratory hostels. My mother, an awesome cook, made every Indian holiday special for us, so I can’t imagine ordering in food/ going out to dinner or NOT planning a celebration for the aforementioned festivals. But that’s just my thing. I might be a health freak on other days, but Holi, Diwali, Dussehra, and Rakhi mean that there will be kheer and Puri at home, if not more. My own friends and acquaintances have expressed their surprise over my elaborate holiday indulgence. I guess living away from India just makes me clingier to my traditions. For me, it’s a way of thanking the universe for ending another year on a reasonable note. Back home, whether you wanted it or not, you would know that it’s a big holiday—with the blaring music and the energy. But in NYC, unless there is merriment going on at home, a festival would be just another ordinary weekday.
With age, a significant number of my Christian and Jewish friends (the non-anal types) have expressed their desire to get more involved with their religion. As and when they decide to have a family, they would like their kids to have a sense of religion and pedigree. My Christian friends have social circles at church. But I see my Hindu friends and relatives drift away from their faith. Amongst younger Hindus, it’s cool to be an atheist. “I go to the temple to eat dosa,” is a very acceptable notion.
Having said all that, I think I am beginning to understand why some of the Hindus from my generation aren’t as willingly involved as their peers from other religions. In Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, depending on your personality, upbringing, and belief system, you have different kinds of levels of faith you could belong to. Unlike Hinduism, it’s not a macro approach. So, a pork-eating Jew could be a part of the Reformist Synagogue while a Sabbath-keeping-Kosher-following Jew could go to an Orthodox Synagogue. They both follow Judaism but in their own personalized style. Tailored places of worship make sense to me.
I, for one, am anything but an atheist. I love going to “some” temples—the ones where I don’t have to deal with the “I-know-it-all-corrupt-pundits.” I personally don’t need a mediator, and I don’t care about a human telling me how to “think” and “feel” about God. The concept of making friends at Hindu temples isn’t prevalent because you have people from extreme mindsets pray under the same roof. For instance, if I have to sit and pray next to a person who is intolerant towards a Muslim, I won’t. If I have to listen to a fool urging me to fast four days in a week or else bad karma won’t leave my side, I mentally check myself out. I imagine a lot of my peers feel the same way. I believe there should be separate physical temples depending on your belief system—the way it is in Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.
For instance, I’d like to go to a mandir that doesn’t promote Hindu fundamentalists; doesn’t tell me that I am inferior as a woman; doesn’t rely on fear tactics to get donation out of me. If such a place existed, I would probably go more often instead of making the temple a convenient brunch stop every once in a while. Unless something drastic is done, I can see the Hindus from my generation won’t have much to pass over.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 04.09.2009
“Religion is the fashionable substitute for belief” - Oscar Wilde
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The unexplored possibilities
Over the past few days, I have either watched esoteric movies or had conversations with friends about the most occult topics. Replaying those dialogues, themes, and conversations in my mind has led me to think that we, as humans, choose to see only what our mind allows us to. We take the obvious for granted. Denial is the mantra. What we don’t know can’t hurt. But what if our philosophy is wrong? Who really decides what is the obvious? Why do we not question it?
I have created a short questionnaire and pasted it below—of course, with my answers along with them. Look deep inside your soul. Then, try answering these questions honestly and see if you don’t find out more about yourself. The untainted, true you.
I have created a short questionnaire and pasted it below—of course, with my answers along with them. Look deep inside your soul. Then, try answering these questions honestly and see if you don’t find out more about yourself. The untainted, true you.
Can you really plan destiny? I wish I could, but I don’t think you can. No wonder the five-year plan is ever a success.
Do certain relationships happen for a reason bigger than what our human mind can comprehend? Do these relationships serve a purpose? Sure. I have met certain people in my life, who came out of nowhere for a defined period, but left at a point. Without any argument or animosity, a distance got created, and the parties moved on. I truly believe they were a part of my life for a reason and vice-versa.
Is America moving from capitalism to socialism and eventually communism? If that’s the case, will the US still hold the same charm for people with big ideas and dreams? If it doesn’t, will innovation come to an end? Yes, I believe the US is moving towards socialism. Socialism won’t attract immigrants with brains and no money. If that’s the case, innovation goes kaput.
Does Obama’s triumph in the elections indicate America is over the “color-issue?” Obama’s victory indicates that people wanted a change. The change came in a different shade and that was a lucky coincidence. The sinking economy worked against the Republicans. Frankly, in my generation, it was unhip if you didn’t vote for Obama; Sarah Palin was the reason why McCain lost with the educated, white, older generation.
Come to think of it, are there any non-racists on this planet? There is a bigot inside all of us. Education and political suaveness has taught us how to mask it. In dire straits, the animal is unleashed.
In the same breadth, is reverse stereotype acceptable? No, it’s not. You represent the tone or a message without the consent of the community. Self-deprecatory humor is smart only if you limit it to your own self.
Is there a selfless deed? I personally don’t think so. Giving to charity makes us feel good. Lot of people like to think that doing stuff for their kids is the most selfless deed. Think again. The child didn’t ask to be born in a particular household. You do things for your children to prove your social status/economic abilities and also to sound prodigious in your “parent-circle.” It might be a subconscious effort, but think it through. A toddler doesn’t know Kmart from FAO Schwartz.
Do we really not judge people who fall outside the realm of our belief system? Of course, we all judge people who fall outside the realm of our belief system. It’s not necessarily out of malice, but “I wonder” + “I am amazed at” = judging. The ensuing battle between “working” and “non-working” women is a classic example. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t wonder about people, who are content with JUST relationships define their existence.
Is it possible to live a life with zero expectations? I am no saint, so of course I don’t think one could live a life that had no expectations. How morose and cold would that be? See, unintentionally, I judged.
How fine is the line between caring and interfering? You can’t care and not interfere, but you can interfere without any care.
Do dreams mean anything? I certainly hope so. The past three nights, I have had a recurring dream. Only with different characters. It’s a message I need to decipher.
Are the people in our dreams a mere personification of our thoughts? I am still figuring this one out. At one of the workshops, a few weeks ago, the professor shared that he believed in this theory.
What’s the mystique of the paranormal? Is there life beyond? I believe so. What happens when we die, especially untimely? Would you not swarm around people and things that meant to you in your human life? My spirit would never leave certain wine bars, coffee shops, Burberry stores, and Tangra Masala.
Does the weather determine our mood? In my case, yes, sometimes. It changes my perspective of how I view the obvious.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 04.02.2009
“Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.” Oscar Wilde
Thursday, March 26, 2009
If I dream, why do you scream?
As a child, I had one unswerving dream; I wanted my name on the cover of a book. I didn’t know what it would take, but I knew I wanted to be a published author. In my dreams, I have sat through award ceremonies and rehearsed my acceptance speech. Though pragmatism and life’s journeys steered me away from professional writing, fate brought me back to it in a rather interesting way. A few of you know that I rent writing space to give my creativity and relationship with words, true fruition. With God’s grace and my family & friends’ support (there goes the speech):-), my second book, “Inner Voices,” a part of the short stories collection published by Mirage Books, came out this week. It’s an incredible feeling because the book happened at a time when I was least expecting it.
Years ago, Madhuri Dixit made her return to Bollywood with the movie Devdas -- a movie that won her a Filmfare Award. In her acceptance speech, she said “This is for all those people who thought I should pack my bags and bid adieu to Bollywood.” Her words stuck with me for all these years. At that time, I was appalled at her superciliousness; today, I clearly understand her word choice. The film industry and critics judged her and wrote her off. Her return to Bollywood was a slap across anyone who thought that Madhuri was JUST suitable to be defined by relationships--a US-settled doctor’s wife and a mom of two. People had dared to dream for her.
Growing up, I saw my dad partake in multiple activities, aside from his day-to-day job. All the lazy folks, with a prosaic mind, said, “You always keep running uselessly.” My response to them is that he wasn’t running around; he was pursuing his dreams, which of course, an average mind and soul couldn’t comprehend. That is why they are just run of the mill while my dad dreamt and aspired beyond ordinary. This is not a daughter’s bias speaking; it’s the voice of a human being trying to make sense of this average, presumptuous world.
So where am I going with these three separate, yet not mutually exclusive, scenarios? Like my dad, Madhuri Dixit, and me, several of you reading this, probably have been in situations where people have felt the unsuppressed desire to counsel your life’s choices. I, for one, have been advised to think, feel, and dream a “certain way.” “It’s time to take it easy. Why are you running? You are always joining something or the other. What is this new workshop?” My schedule doesn’t tire me; I feel effete with the verbal baloney.
Most people are happy with the humdrum of daily life. Nothing wrong with that, but at the same time, it’s not fair to judge someone’s prodigious dreams. Maybe the sanctimonious preachers are people, who haven’t done much with their lives, so they feel threatened by anyone who dares to dream beyond their banal existence. Don’t these people get that cherishing the path of mediocrity and chastising extraordinary is a reflection of their own languor?
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.26.2009
“The books that the world calls immoral are the books that show the world its own shame." - Oscar Wilde
Years ago, Madhuri Dixit made her return to Bollywood with the movie Devdas -- a movie that won her a Filmfare Award. In her acceptance speech, she said “This is for all those people who thought I should pack my bags and bid adieu to Bollywood.” Her words stuck with me for all these years. At that time, I was appalled at her superciliousness; today, I clearly understand her word choice. The film industry and critics judged her and wrote her off. Her return to Bollywood was a slap across anyone who thought that Madhuri was JUST suitable to be defined by relationships--a US-settled doctor’s wife and a mom of two. People had dared to dream for her.
Growing up, I saw my dad partake in multiple activities, aside from his day-to-day job. All the lazy folks, with a prosaic mind, said, “You always keep running uselessly.” My response to them is that he wasn’t running around; he was pursuing his dreams, which of course, an average mind and soul couldn’t comprehend. That is why they are just run of the mill while my dad dreamt and aspired beyond ordinary. This is not a daughter’s bias speaking; it’s the voice of a human being trying to make sense of this average, presumptuous world.
So where am I going with these three separate, yet not mutually exclusive, scenarios? Like my dad, Madhuri Dixit, and me, several of you reading this, probably have been in situations where people have felt the unsuppressed desire to counsel your life’s choices. I, for one, have been advised to think, feel, and dream a “certain way.” “It’s time to take it easy. Why are you running? You are always joining something or the other. What is this new workshop?” My schedule doesn’t tire me; I feel effete with the verbal baloney.
Most people are happy with the humdrum of daily life. Nothing wrong with that, but at the same time, it’s not fair to judge someone’s prodigious dreams. Maybe the sanctimonious preachers are people, who haven’t done much with their lives, so they feel threatened by anyone who dares to dream beyond their banal existence. Don’t these people get that cherishing the path of mediocrity and chastising extraordinary is a reflection of their own languor?
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.26.2009
“The books that the world calls immoral are the books that show the world its own shame." - Oscar Wilde
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Solution: Get the brother and sister married!
In college, I had a very close friend whose mom was Jewish. Looking at her, no one could have ever guessed her ethnic background. Her accent, demeanor, persona were all so desi, for lack of a better term. I was always amazed at how “Indian” she looked in a sari or salwar kameez and how effortlessly she cooked two of my favorite dishes, chicken biryani (Chicken pilaf with rice) and rajma/chawal (Beans and rice). Her North Indian cooking had a lot of Punjabi influence. Did I mention that my friend’s dad is Punjabi? Anyways, they both made for such an incredibly exquisite and warm-hearted couple, who fell in love and got married with the blessings of the family, in an era when the bride and the groom saw each other’s faces after the wedding. Sure, they were very high on our “Cool-parents meter.”:-)
The imbecile teenager in all of us couldn’t help but marvel at how “phenomenal” this couple was; the feminist in me, even today, wonders about their journey. What did my friend’s dad have to do, aside from acknowledge his changed marital status, like most other Indian men? My friend’s mom gave up her country, family, culture, food, and language for the man she loved. She wrote off her identity and never looked back, or did she? Her kids don’t speak a word of Hebrew or observe any Jewish holidays or cook Matzo Ball soup. I can’t imagine that’s very gratifying. You be the judge.
Her story reminds (abrasively nudges) me of the whole “It’s-about-the-boys-family” culture. An Indian girl is expected to embrace a new family and abandon her past after her marriage. Her priorities should be her in-laws and husband. Interestingly, this pressure comes both from the girl’s parents as well as the in-laws. The girls’ side is always apologetic in a non-traditional way. I am appalled at the mindset where people think the girl should mold her essence to feed into the male chauvinistic ego. Why can’t the families coexist by bringing in the flavor of the girl’s side as well as the boy’s family? No one family is faultless or dreadful. Why should the woman have to make all the compromises? Oh please, don’t give me the baloney about “God intended it to be this way,” or “It’s our culture.” The latter is the most atrocious and intellectually-deprived excuse for narcissism.
By expecting a woman to relinquish her past, are you suggesting that the way she’s been doing things her entire life is wrong? Well, think again! It’s but natural that every woman does things the way her mom did. That’s what she saw growing up. As Oscar Wilde said, “All women become like their mothers.” If people want a younger/similar version of themselves, for a daughter-in-law, well, here is a suggestion: Get your son married to his sister. Problem solved!
I have cousins, on my husband’s side, who are married to Kiwis, British, and American citizens. The fusion of traditions, in their homes, is incredible. Each person picks out the best from their culture and imparts that to their kids. Even the kids’ names have a blend of Indian and the other nationality. Now that’s what I am talking about.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.19.2009
“I decided it is better to scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.” - Nadezhda Mandelstam, Russian writer, Hope Against Hope
The imbecile teenager in all of us couldn’t help but marvel at how “phenomenal” this couple was; the feminist in me, even today, wonders about their journey. What did my friend’s dad have to do, aside from acknowledge his changed marital status, like most other Indian men? My friend’s mom gave up her country, family, culture, food, and language for the man she loved. She wrote off her identity and never looked back, or did she? Her kids don’t speak a word of Hebrew or observe any Jewish holidays or cook Matzo Ball soup. I can’t imagine that’s very gratifying. You be the judge.
Her story reminds (abrasively nudges) me of the whole “It’s-about-the-boys-family” culture. An Indian girl is expected to embrace a new family and abandon her past after her marriage. Her priorities should be her in-laws and husband. Interestingly, this pressure comes both from the girl’s parents as well as the in-laws. The girls’ side is always apologetic in a non-traditional way. I am appalled at the mindset where people think the girl should mold her essence to feed into the male chauvinistic ego. Why can’t the families coexist by bringing in the flavor of the girl’s side as well as the boy’s family? No one family is faultless or dreadful. Why should the woman have to make all the compromises? Oh please, don’t give me the baloney about “God intended it to be this way,” or “It’s our culture.” The latter is the most atrocious and intellectually-deprived excuse for narcissism.
By expecting a woman to relinquish her past, are you suggesting that the way she’s been doing things her entire life is wrong? Well, think again! It’s but natural that every woman does things the way her mom did. That’s what she saw growing up. As Oscar Wilde said, “All women become like their mothers.” If people want a younger/similar version of themselves, for a daughter-in-law, well, here is a suggestion: Get your son married to his sister. Problem solved!
I have cousins, on my husband’s side, who are married to Kiwis, British, and American citizens. The fusion of traditions, in their homes, is incredible. Each person picks out the best from their culture and imparts that to their kids. Even the kids’ names have a blend of Indian and the other nationality. Now that’s what I am talking about.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.19.2009
“I decided it is better to scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.” - Nadezhda Mandelstam, Russian writer, Hope Against Hope
Thursday, March 12, 2009
What Jhumpa Lahiri taught me
Last week was SAWCC’s literary festival. One of the evenings, in particular, was very special to me. Author Jhumpa Lahiri graced aspiring word-dabblers with her literati presence. Both the child and the writer in me were so happy to see and hear the maestro up, close, and personal. The exhilarated audience wanted to know so many things about her writing - style, form, inspirations, influences, scheduling etc.
Lahiri spoke with poise and professional distance. She came across as candid, level-headed and real. Her responses were eloquent and proficient. Granted she is a world famous author, BUT she is also a human being, a wife, a mother, and a friend. These are facets of her life that she isn’t oblivious to. Also, she loves her craft but doesn’t write to please others. She gives it her best shot at that time. She understands that not everyone is going to fall madly in love with her work but that’s okay. The results and destiny of a project aren’t under her control, and she seemed very pragmatic about it. Despite her success with writing, she continues to value feedback from a few chosen people whom she trusts and whose criticism she appreciates.
I heard murmurs amongst the audience that her answers were rehearsed. I guess, some people had expected celebrity tantrums and answers built in imaginary castles? I, for one, thought the sassy brouhaha was ridiculous! Not everyone likes to put their life on a public pedestal. Lahiri shared the professional side of her and that’s what the evening was about. I didn’t see why she needed to rip her heart open and share the minutest detail of her personal life with the audience. That’s frivolous expectation! For every writer in the room, including myself, it was a heavenly evening. Just hearing a success story like Jhumpa Lahiri reiterating what I have been thinking and feeling all along was a gift in itself --aside from the Columbia name in common.
Several of my friends and acquaintances have asked me questions, all pertinent, about my “writing”—my style, form, muse, inspiration, voice, routine, discipline etc. Well, like any right-brain using creative types, my emotions evolve with time, place, topic, and experience and flow into my work to occupy a temporary residence. My approach, language, and passion differ from topic to topic and across genres. The eternal learner in me learns something new every day. And, like Jhumpa Lahiri, I give my work my 100% at the time, and I don’t dwell over a finished piece. Letting go is not a challenge. You know, I truly appreciate constructive criticism and of course, kind words of encouragement but then I have no patience for people who say things to feel superior when in reality, we all know the resentment is a reflection of their own incompetence. That is why I get a few friends, whom I implicitly trust, to review my work. I am cognizant that not everyone will cherish the final product. But that’s okay. I write for myself and not to please an audience. My relationship with words is the most untainted and truest of it all. I humbly put them out there with my hopes and prayers and move onto the next project.
Jhumpa Lahiri is a phenomenon in her own way, and I am a nobody when compared to her, but her responses echoed my mere mortal thoughts. Was that reassuring? Hell, yeah!
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.12.2009
“I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying" - Oscar Wilde
Lahiri spoke with poise and professional distance. She came across as candid, level-headed and real. Her responses were eloquent and proficient. Granted she is a world famous author, BUT she is also a human being, a wife, a mother, and a friend. These are facets of her life that she isn’t oblivious to. Also, she loves her craft but doesn’t write to please others. She gives it her best shot at that time. She understands that not everyone is going to fall madly in love with her work but that’s okay. The results and destiny of a project aren’t under her control, and she seemed very pragmatic about it. Despite her success with writing, she continues to value feedback from a few chosen people whom she trusts and whose criticism she appreciates.
I heard murmurs amongst the audience that her answers were rehearsed. I guess, some people had expected celebrity tantrums and answers built in imaginary castles? I, for one, thought the sassy brouhaha was ridiculous! Not everyone likes to put their life on a public pedestal. Lahiri shared the professional side of her and that’s what the evening was about. I didn’t see why she needed to rip her heart open and share the minutest detail of her personal life with the audience. That’s frivolous expectation! For every writer in the room, including myself, it was a heavenly evening. Just hearing a success story like Jhumpa Lahiri reiterating what I have been thinking and feeling all along was a gift in itself --aside from the Columbia name in common.
Several of my friends and acquaintances have asked me questions, all pertinent, about my “writing”—my style, form, muse, inspiration, voice, routine, discipline etc. Well, like any right-brain using creative types, my emotions evolve with time, place, topic, and experience and flow into my work to occupy a temporary residence. My approach, language, and passion differ from topic to topic and across genres. The eternal learner in me learns something new every day. And, like Jhumpa Lahiri, I give my work my 100% at the time, and I don’t dwell over a finished piece. Letting go is not a challenge. You know, I truly appreciate constructive criticism and of course, kind words of encouragement but then I have no patience for people who say things to feel superior when in reality, we all know the resentment is a reflection of their own incompetence. That is why I get a few friends, whom I implicitly trust, to review my work. I am cognizant that not everyone will cherish the final product. But that’s okay. I write for myself and not to please an audience. My relationship with words is the most untainted and truest of it all. I humbly put them out there with my hopes and prayers and move onto the next project.
Jhumpa Lahiri is a phenomenon in her own way, and I am a nobody when compared to her, but her responses echoed my mere mortal thoughts. Was that reassuring? Hell, yeah!
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.12.2009
“I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying" - Oscar Wilde
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Phoenix Mumbai
Today I feel helpless, like the soldier boy
with an amputated leg, who wants to fight
but the shackles of reality won't let him. I saw
innocent hopes and dreams being crushed, I
heard civilians cry and media go awry. Stop
this cowardice and fight like a soldier-- if you are
one. When the night poured in, your viciousness
flooded our lives, wiping the vermillion off women's
hair and making the mothers' wombs cry. You
slaughtered in the name of religion. Spattered
blood in the veins and crevasses of a loving,
tolerant city. You stand alone in your malice.
This time it's personal. It's gone too far. You
invaded my city, my life. Sent peace fleeing with
the souls of those dead. Discard the pretentious
garb of bravery. You are a heartless killer to me. Do
what you want. Try all you can. It's me. I'll emerge
stronger than before. Mumbai makes this promise to you.
I wrote this poem right after the heinous attacks on Bombay, which began on November 26th and didn’t end until the 29th of the month. So, why am I sharing this piece after three months of the unfathomable act? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the vicious attack on the Sri Lankan team that’s brought back memories or the fact that a coworker’s boyfriend is actually moving to Pakistan (for a defined period of time) to study the “true” relationship between Indians and Pakistanis and not their bureaucratic leaders fostering animosity. Ironically, he’s convinced that he’ll probably be killed midway through his research. I, for one, hope his intuition is wrong.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.05.2009
with an amputated leg, who wants to fight
but the shackles of reality won't let him. I saw
innocent hopes and dreams being crushed, I
heard civilians cry and media go awry. Stop
this cowardice and fight like a soldier-- if you are
one. When the night poured in, your viciousness
flooded our lives, wiping the vermillion off women's
hair and making the mothers' wombs cry. You
slaughtered in the name of religion. Spattered
blood in the veins and crevasses of a loving,
tolerant city. You stand alone in your malice.
This time it's personal. It's gone too far. You
invaded my city, my life. Sent peace fleeing with
the souls of those dead. Discard the pretentious
garb of bravery. You are a heartless killer to me. Do
what you want. Try all you can. It's me. I'll emerge
stronger than before. Mumbai makes this promise to you.
I wrote this poem right after the heinous attacks on Bombay, which began on November 26th and didn’t end until the 29th of the month. So, why am I sharing this piece after three months of the unfathomable act? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the vicious attack on the Sri Lankan team that’s brought back memories or the fact that a coworker’s boyfriend is actually moving to Pakistan (for a defined period of time) to study the “true” relationship between Indians and Pakistanis and not their bureaucratic leaders fostering animosity. Ironically, he’s convinced that he’ll probably be killed midway through his research. I, for one, hope his intuition is wrong.
More until next time.
Xoxo
Copyright © 03.05.2009
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