Five Thousand and One Year

For the past three years, my daughter has been enrolled in an Indian Cultural/Religious program on Sundays. The organization offers instructions for 4 languages and a culture class, which covers religion and India (geography, traditions, history). I like this organization for being professional and well coordinated for a volunteer group. We never had anything like this when I grew up, and I definitely like the results I see. My daughter's language skills are still lacking, but she's got a lot of confidence about her religion and heritage. She has a lot of friends there so it's positive social experience. I've gotten to know more people and enjoy my time there on Sundays. For two years, I've helped design and compile the program brochure for the annual show. It's usually a lot of last minute changes and late nights. This year, I've decided to give more by teaching a Culture 2 class (2nd graders). There is a lead teacher who did this for two years and there is a curriculum already in place. We just have freedom to enhance it.

Our primary topics right now are the 10 incarnations of the Hindu God Vishnu. (Nutshell: Hinduism has a trinity of Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Protector/Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. When the earth is in turmoil, Vishnu appears.) I've been a bit panicked because I don't know all 10 incarnations myself. So, I've been cramming before classes and researching online.

So, my research has brought me to this point - in great awe. When debates regarding Darwinism and Intelligent Design arose, I paused to think of what my religion says about this. I didn't give it much thought because there are so many myths and magical events, it didn't even make sense.

Now, looking at the Avatars of Vishnu, I see more here. If ancient Indian scientists determined that evolution of humans did exist, they needed a vehicle to carry forth their theories. Blanketing it in religion probably helped give the history its durability. We have the documented stories, but we also have oral traditions. Ram and Krishna stories are told in the cradle.

The Primordial Human Evolution
"No. Incarnation: Physical — Conscious evolution

1. Matsya-avtar or Fish: Water borne life — amoebae or primeval evolution.
2. Kurmavtar or Turtle: Water/Land borne life — amphibians.
3. Varahavtar or Boar: Land borne life — mammals.
4. Narshinghavtar or Human-lion: Semi-human — primates.
5. Vamanavtar or Dwarf: Homo erectus — primitive human.
6. Parshuram or Divine Seeker: Homo sapiens — conscious human.
7. Ram or Perfect Human: Homo sapiens — God conscious human; outer awareness.
8. Krishna or Supreme Yogi: Homo sapiens — Self-conscious human; inner awareness.
9. Buddha or Consciousness: Homo sapiens — Self-Realization; inner enlightenment.
10. Kalki (Christ) or Spirit Being: Homo spiritus — God-Realization; Resurrection (en masse spiritual evolution.)

For the actual story synopsis, here's one site. It's also fascinating how certain events seem to align with Bible stories, such as the story of the flood. I'm actually excited to learn all this because it hits one of the core points of Hinduism of tolerance. Rather than denouncing separating science from religion, it's actually bridging them. There was a reason and purpose behind every evolutionary advancement.

Five thousand years later, I'm passing the same stories down to a new generation.

Book Review: Abroad at Home

Desijournal was a lively website that addressed an Indian-American audience. Its articles were about the every day immigrant concerns with the observations and ironies of American life, as well as movie and book updates. Actually, I had a few book reviews published on their site when they were thriving. Coincidentally, I get to review the heart of Desijournal now.

Though the website is now defunct, the editor Nandini Pandya was able to lasso over 30 essays and short stories into a collection, Abroad at Home. It’s definitely an atypical collection because of the variance of work included. It begins with articles profiling Indian-Americans doing remarkable work, such as an active duty female soldier, a late-life artist and a Unitarian minister. There are personal essays covering topics from relationships with religion, parenting roles, as well as interactions with American society. There are some fictional stories and "Cab Driver" stands out in my mind.

Because some of these essays were originally online articles, they don’t have the polished type of writing one expects in such a collection. I enjoyed the stories, but I felt they could be stronger and more honed. On the other hand, the casual openness draws the reader, as if they were friends having a discussion. Some writers take a humorous view of certain situations. After reading a few stories, I was inclined to check out the authors’ websites, such as “Heartcrossings."

By the way, there is a different dimension to this publication effort. The articles started on the internet in an interactive forum. They were pulled together into a published book, the tangible form of the stories, which one carries. And, now the website promoting the book allows readers to comment on specific works in the books. Therefore, it's come full circle. Writing and reading are not solitary activities, but connected.

While this collection focuses on Indian immigrant experience, I've always felt the US immigrant experience is shared among ethnic communities. While the traditions and languages may be different, the culture shock and ideological struggles are always there. A thread of guilt runs through immigrants who feel as if they're giving up parts of themselves to become someone new. At what point do you feel you are you home?

It's also worth mentioning that the authors portray a more mature and more recent point of view of the immigrant experience. That extends it outreach, too. It's not just Indian parents who worry about their children becoming infatuated with designer labels. And, for the non immigrants, this would give them a different perspective on the Indian consultant in the corner cubicle.

Random Acts, Surprises

I was involved with 29Gifts.org project last year, in which you give something to someone for 29 days consecutively. I had extremely positive results during that time, and I've tried to make it part of my every day practice. (A gift doesn't need to be tangible item, but could be an email forwarded that helped someone else or even a compliment. It's an act of giving.)

I was travelling this week and found two opportunities to give and received warm results. The first was in line for coffee. I was waiting for mine, and the cashier took the order of the guy behind me. They were two friends, probably out of college, with the back packs and all, and like everyone else, they were in a rush at the airport. He needed to give $.17 and he was fumbling around with change in his pocket. He actually dropped some of his change into the fruit basket on the counter. The two guys were going back and forth "Where is it? Do you have it?" One of them was counting pennies out, while other was looking in the fruit basket.

Another cashier handed me back my change, which I checked. I turned around and placed a nickel in the one guy's open palm. They were so surprised because it worked out. I asked, "Is that all?" and they said "Yes! Thank you!" They both actually gushed about it. It was just a nickel! But, it really saved them time and they could run to their gate.

My second random act was on the return flight. It was a full flight, we were told. I had an aisle seat and another man was in the window seat. Then, a man came down the aisle and said "I'm right there. Oh boy!" He was about 6' and pretty large, so I first got up and let him in. He could barely get his legs in there and looked quite squished next to the other man, who was fairly tall too. I asked him, "Would you like to switch?"

"Do you mind?" he replied.

"Not at all. We'll all be comfortable then."

So, since I'm 5'2, I could comfortably sit in the middle between them and he was able to stretch better with the aisle seat. He thanked me so many times, and I'm sure the window seat guy was happier not having elbows and knees jabbing into him too. Really, we're all just numbers to the airline. We get what they give us.

Just a reminder it only takes a small action to make a large impact. Please take some time to go the 29Gifts website and watch her video.

The art of acceptance is the art of making someone who has just done you a small favor wish that they might have done you a greater one. - Russell Lynes, editor/critic

A lady in a man's world

I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it.
- Marilyn Monroe

I'm drawn to this phrase because I love being a woman, and don't want to be a man. Though there are times I've looked upon with envy as the guys just go out for a beer with nary a thought of others, while my girlfriends and I are wrought with guilt and disaster scenarios before we leave the house. But, I'm happier being the complicated woman rather than a simple minded man (*ducks*)

In my previous career, I worked with all females. Never had any issues with female managers, and actually preferred it. I had a male intern complain to me he worried about sexism and didn't think he could advance in the female dominated environment.

Once I switched into IT, I felt the change immediately. To me, gender is more powerful than race. I walk into a conference room and do a quick scan of male to female ratio and it's always less. There may be more Asians than Caucasians, but that doesn't concern me so much.

When I first joined my current company, I was thrilled with my IT team. My technical manager was a woman with three grown children, so she knew what it was like to be a working mom. My network administrator was 5'1, 120lbs red-headed ball of steel - woe is the soul who asks for permission to change access rights! Everyone quivered before her and her word was final. There were other female developers on the team as well. There was great synergy among the smart and competent women; we did have one token male developer.

Fast forward some years and personnel has changed and borders expanded. My team is national with over 10 individuals, though I work with many more. On my technical team, we have only 2 women, and I'm the only mom. Yes, we have some fathers and grandfathers, but we all know that fathers are not equal to mothers.

Sometimes I get frustrated with the battle of bloated egos. And, it is very hard to keep up with the demands of IT as a working mother. Recently, I was guiding another developer through a lengthy process 20 minutes before my daughter's Indian dance started; my client called me en route to the performance. It's when my two worlds collide that I have a problem. Can I go out for a drink with my colleagues after work? Yes, but it has to be planned so arrangements can be made. (Though, I brought my daughter along to the last one when my former boss had come)

I was travelling this week and noticed that the business travellers on the flights were mostly men. One benefit: While I can pull my suitcase in the overhead compartment 90% of the time, if there's a tall man available for 10% of the time, I'll take his help. Second benefit: I don't take up much seat so I could squeeze into the middle comfortably between the big guys.

Chivalry came into play at a recent conference where the female attendance was low. So, if I was standing at the booth waiting, I got immediate attention. And, even some cavalier men said "Please go ahead," which was great for me.

So, just because I am in a career dominated by men, it doesn't mean I want to be a man. Still like being treated like a lady (although I have crawled under desks to plug in connections, if required).

Eloise Today

My daughter is an Eloise fan and loves the books, animated stories and movie; a live action film was done in 2003 with Julie Andrews as, of course, the Nanny. The stories take place in the 1950's Plaza Hotel and the central character is the rambuctious and precocious Eloise who lives there. What a dream, isn't it? To have the run of a hotel - order room service, have adults wait upon you - How awesome! Eloise's self importance and sense of adventure go beyond her 6 years. And the energy she has to climb stairs and elevators is remarkable.

We were watching the film on the Disney Channel the other night and a couple of things struck me. This story could only take place in 1950's. Mom is in Paris (we're not sure where Eloise's father is), but she's quite glamorous as she was once a debutante. She leaves her with Nanny, who is obviously not doing a good job if Eloise is running amuck in the hotel. Nanny relaxes in the evening by smoking and watching boxing and horse races, while enjoying her scotch.

Could there be a real life Eloise in 2009?

- Nanny would not have passed the background check --she must have some betting circuit going on the way she's so enthusiastic about races. The smoking and drinking while on duty would have also eliminated her.

- The new licensed Nanny would be driving Eloise to various lessons and classes everyday. That child has so much energy she should be channeling into dance, gymnastics, acrobatics and acting, since she has a flair for melodrama.

- Don't forget playdates to keep up her social interaction with her peers.

- In one way, I have to wonder if renting a room at the Plaza is cheaper than paying rent, maid service and take out in NYC?

- To keep Eloise in isolation at the Plaza, her tutors came to her. She might be taking some online tutorials if she needed to today.

- The Plaza would have put a stop to Eloise's antics on day 1 because she created risky situations that may result in potential legal ramifications against the hotel.

- Not to mention, there is probably stepped up security so unauthorized people couldn't enter the laundry rooms and kitchens.

- Mom would be emailing and IM'ing and texting the child constantly. She would want to make sure she had an active presence, if she couldn't physically be there.

I understand good heroes and heroines need to have absent parents in order to come forward and have adventures (e.g., killed by Valdemort, mysteriously disappear, tragically die). Also, kids like seeing other kids be bad. Eloise set the foundation for Junie B. Jones and probably Zack & Cody.

Max at Sea

I can imagine how much fun it was to write this one!
Max at Sea: newyorker.com is David Eggers' short story, which colors in the pictures drawn by Maurice Sendak in "Where the Wild Things Are." And, he colors outside the lines, which makes this more delightful to read.

By the way, I had mixed emotions about WTWTA when I was in kindergarten. I loved the creatures, the island, the boat.. I hated Max. I thought he was an obnoxious boy, who didn't listen and he talked back to his mother! How rude! When I was in my 20's I sought out the book to find that line that was so offensive. He had said to his mother "I'll eat you up!" That was it. In my mind, you never said something like that to an adult. And, I was sure that animal suit was smelly too.

So, now there's a film adaptation of the story. I just watched the trailer to this, and I'll have to say I'm intrigued because Max does not seem like the angry boy I described above, and as designed in Eggers' story. He seems like the lost dreamer who finds acceptance. The film looks beautiful and creatures are warm and cuddly, so my daughter will definitely enjoy this.

Finding Myself When I Knew Who I Was

Through Facebook, I got in touch with a friend from high school. I always remembered what she wrote in my yearbook - she would look forward to reading me in the New York Times. Well, that didn't exactly happen (not, yet that is!). In her note to me, after all these years, she remembers me as an artist.

Most people that know me today know me only as a writer, not an artist. My whole life I described my hobbies as "reading, writing and art." Actually, I was torn between art and writing, but I felt the urge to write was stronger. About 10 years ago, I decided to focus on my writing. And, once I got that going I'll go back to art. I'll take some courses, learn the proper way to water color, understand concepts. In my cubicle, I do have one of my watercolors hanging. I painted that in 1996.

This is not to say I haven't done anything creative - loved doing craft projects around the house. However, I haven't sat down to draw or paint. Now, my daughter is quite talented in writing and art. I'm blown away by her skills, especially at this age. Seeing her passion for drawing reminds me of the way I used to be. (Side note: there is a significant art gene in my father's side of the family, as a number of artists pop up among the cousins. Unfortunately, we don't have a strong math gene, hence the Kumon classes.)

Recently, a group of us started an arts & crafts group. This would be an excuse for the girls to come together once a month, sit and chat and do something creative. (I have to thank N. for taking the initiative to do this). She got simple wooden plates from Ikea, and we painted them in rangoli style. We didn't have time to do the details, so we took it away as homework. I got a white pen and would do a row or two every night while watching TV or talking. It was just soothing and it was a lovely distraction. The funniest part for me is that I noticed I was biting my bottom lip. When I drew or painted, I would always bite my bottom lip - it would be numb and/or swollen by the time I was done! Not only is art a soulful activity, there's a physical sense to it!

Here are pictures of the plate, and I'm still adding details. However, there has to be a point where I step back and stop. I'm going to move on to making some more plates/coasters.

More than having a pretty object, I'm really pausing now to think about who I was and who I am. Why am I not painting regularly? Well, technically speaking, I barely have time to write. How would I possibly paint? Row by row, perhaps? We've all seen Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture" video, and he talks about going back to your childhood dreams. I definitely didn't imagine myself doing what I do today when I was kid (Actually, I couldn't have imagined this when I was 30!).I've wanted to be a poet since I was 8, and I'm still trying to get that going. I knew myself as an artist and it got lost in the shuffle of life. So, let's see.. maybe this is the next phase of finding yourself. Going back to when you knew who you were.