Slow n ...

Who-so-ever said, "slow and steady wins the race"???

Life usually back fires... Had no clue, blog posts can back fire too. Actually that's my ignorance, because any written word can backfire. And as stupid as I am, I like written words more than spoken. So, usually I am on the records for most emotions I feel while the other side is safe!

Anyhow, back to topic. Yes, my last post backfired and I was preached to be slow. lol... How people use you against yourself? Whoa.. I am not sure if it's cultural or if it's national or if it's individual, but surely it's blunt! And those who know me, know how well I am with "blunt" edge of life. ;-)

Is it always for good to be "slow" though? I am sure to ponder over this for a while. Actually it does contradict my lifestyle till now, but at times it does speak for my life as well. It is a good food for thought, but still would appreciate your inputs!

Burn-out...

"Darshan, slow down..." "Darshan, wait..."

I always heard these phrases while growing up. At times for my physical actions, at times with my intellectual aspirations, at times with my emotional demands. Always... Every one who loved me, who cared for me, who wanted to see me happy said this at least once. But, I never paid heed. And, here I am... At 26, experiencing a complete burnout. Struggling to find my own identity between that of what others expect of me, and what I want of myself and what I have started seeing of myself. Nothing matches.. What were my own dreams? And what is it that is going to make me happy? Do I have answers for these? No... I have none... Cos, I never paused to look at what is it that I was running for, it was just a race, a race always. A competition of self-expectations and self-critique. Never gave myself any lee ways to make mistakes..

Today, December 8, 2009; with the pressure of completing at least two papers, and if possible three.. Drafting a few letters for a conference I am planning in February.. Planning my faculty's visit to India in first week of Jan.. Working on the FS reformation and restructuring.. Organizing personal stuff.. And loads of other jobs.. Total time available for this: not a spare moment.. And to add on to all of it, my health demands. The only thing my mind screams right now is: WTF??? Why do I pull on so much? So much more than I can handle? Bites bigger than I can chew...

And whom was I banking on, when I take up these tasks? The bureaucracy in MIT? Or the crumbling volunteer system of FS? Or the aristocracy of UNC SSW? What is it that gave me confidence that I will be able to lead all these projects with well organized teams? I don't know... Forget about the work related systems being in place. Did I even have a personal fall back ready? Or, while I am readying it, have I already destroyed a budding relation under this pressure? Who knows...

It is just a moment. Someone might say, "Darshan, you are stressed. Let it pass.." But no, that's not the case. Possibly this is the moment when I need to make choices. Look at the picture and decide, where I want to head. What is more important, relations and people or dreams and aspirations? And needless to say, the tasks already in hand.. Don't think I have much choice with either completing my M.S.W. or that of organizing this conference or planning the Summer Study Abroad for UNC SSW.

Darshan, buckle up... The Race is still on... Just the bearings have changed! You need to find your own RIGHT bearings!

American D'zire

I was chatting with a friend of mine from States a while ago… She immigrated to the States a few years back and during one of our recent discussions she’d mentioned that it was her home now. This chat turned out be interesting in that context… Opening up for your comments...

DPM (12/2/2009 2:07:20 AM): Wassup?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:07:25 AM): Hows life in CH?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:07:32 AM): not very smooth
Friend(12/2/2009 2:07:39 AM): i so wanna go to india
Friend(12/2/2009 2:07:41 AM): like right now
… … …
DPM (12/2/2009 2:08:27 AM): And what makkes you suudenly want to go to India?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:08:37 AM): When you want to stay in the States?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:08:39 AM): lol
Friend(12/2/2009 2:09:01 AM): one of my best best friends is sick
Friend(12/2/2009 2:09:21 AM): plus there's too much stress here
Friend(12/2/2009 2:09:24 AM): with school
… … …
DPM (12/2/2009 2:09:52 AM): I'd thought someone was Americanizing herself
DPM (12/2/2009 2:09:55 AM): Ab kya hua?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:09:58 AM): lol
Friend(12/2/2009 2:10:05 AM): noooooooo india is the best
Friend(12/2/2009 2:10:07 AM): lol
DPM (12/2/2009 2:10:12 AM): There's a saying.. Videsi bottle, Desi Sarab
Friend(12/2/2009 2:10:18 AM): hahahah
Friend(12/2/2009 2:10:46 AM): what are you doing over there
DPM (12/2/2009 2:10:57 AM): ?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:11:01 AM): met frnds yet
DPM (12/2/2009 2:11:07 AM): Obvious
DPM (12/2/2009 2:11:14 AM): Would you wait 3 days to meet them?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:11:15 AM): lol
Friend(12/2/2009 2:11:57 AM): lol no
… … …
Friend(12/2/2009 2:13:21 AM): i'd meet them at the airport
DPM (12/2/2009 2:13:35 AM): Not so good one
…
DPM (12/2/2009 2:13:43 AM): Had an ABCD edge to it
DPM (12/2/2009 2:13:44 AM): lol
Friend(12/2/2009 2:13:49 AM): hahahahah
Friend(12/2/2009 2:13:56 AM): i'm not abcd
DPM (12/2/2009 2:14:09 AM): But you hang out with them most
DPM (12/2/2009 2:14:20 AM): And your dezire to be an American speaks for it
…
Friend(12/2/2009 2:14:37 AM): na na i don't wanna be like them
Friend(12/2/2009 2:14:47 AM): they are idiots
DPM (12/2/2009 2:14:49 AM): But didnt you tell me that you plan to settle in the States
Friend(12/2/2009 2:14:50 AM): lol
DPM (12/2/2009 2:14:54 AM): and thats where your heart is?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:14:55 AM): lol
Friend(12/2/2009 2:15:10 AM): my heart's stuck in india
Friend(12/2/2009 2:15:11 AM): lol
Friend(12/2/2009 2:15:52 AM): the reason for me being here and livind here is the same as to why all the indians come here
Friend(12/2/2009 2:16:04 AM): to have a successful life and career
DPM (12/2/2009 2:17:15 AM): So
DPM (12/2/2009 2:17:25 AM): do you mean to say ppl in India are not successful?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:17:36 AM): not as successful
DPM (12/2/2009 2:17:47 AM): I dont think i would agree
DPM (12/2/2009 2:17:51 AM): How do you define success?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:18:00 AM): why does everyone come here
Friend(12/2/2009 2:18:05 AM): to earn more money right
DPM (12/2/2009 2:18:08 AM): K
Friend(12/2/2009 2:18:09 AM): well
DPM (12/2/2009 2:18:16 AM): so for you success = money?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:18:33 AM): not entirely but its a big part
Friend(12/2/2009 2:18:44 AM): and the other part's respect in the soceity
Friend(12/2/2009 2:18:58 AM): society lol
...
DPM (12/2/2009 2:19:26 AM): If money could make ppl happy
DPM (12/2/2009 2:19:34 AM): It would be the States instead of India
DPM (12/2/2009 2:19:42 AM): in top 10 happy countries in the world
DPM (12/2/2009 2:19:51 AM): But unfortunately India is number 1
DPM (12/2/2009 2:19:58 AM): Bhutan # 2
DPM (12/2/2009 2:20:03 AM): And States way below
Friend(12/2/2009 2:20:10 AM): see that's why i wanna come back
… … …
Friend(12/2/2009 2:20:20 AM): i was a lot happier too
DPM (12/2/2009 2:20:26 AM): hahahaha
DPM (12/2/2009 2:20:33 AM): And then you say you wnat to stay in states
DPM (12/2/2009 2:20:41 AM): Now you know why I call you ABCD
Friend(12/2/2009 2:20:50 AM): MANNNNN don't call me that
… … …
Friend(12/2/2009 2:21:23 AM): i would go back tomo if i could
DPM (12/2/2009 2:21:37 AM): who's stopping you?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:21:43 AM): immigration
…
DPM (12/2/2009 2:21:57 AM): again a contradiction
…
Friend(12/2/2009 2:22:25 AM): see if i go back there are chances that i might not be able to come back
DPM (12/2/2009 2:22:43 AM): I am not sure if I understand that
DPM (12/2/2009 2:22:50 AM): Unless you want to go back as an immigrant
DPM (12/2/2009 2:23:01 AM): But then that contradicts with your love for India...
Friend(12/2/2009 2:23:04 AM): dude i don't have a green card
Friend(12/2/2009 2:23:15 AM): i am an international student
DPM (12/2/2009 2:23:16 AM): Why would you need one if you want to come back?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:23:16 AM): and
…
DPM (12/2/2009 2:23:38 AM): so, why would you need one if you behold such a dezire to go back to India?.
Friend(12/2/2009 2:25:01 AM): ok see if you have established your career and everything in a country would you take a risk and start everything over in another country
DPM (12/2/2009 2:25:48 AM): Yes
DPM (12/2/2009 2:25:52 AM): If my heart wants to be there
DPM (12/2/2009 2:26:18 AM): What is life? Happiness or money?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:26:30 AM): I am not sure if i could buy satisfaction with $s
Friend(12/2/2009 2:26:48 AM): it's happiness but see i don't make those decisions for myself
Friend(12/2/2009 2:26:52 AM): my family does
Friend(12/2/2009 2:27:04 AM): i don't wanna go back and suffer there
DPM (12/2/2009 2:27:11 AM): WHAT?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:27:19 AM): What do you mean by suffer?
Friend(12/2/2009 2:27:58 AM): i'm a 100% sure i'll be more happy in a couple of years when i achieve what i want
Friend(12/2/2009 2:28:14 AM): i don't know if i can achieve that in india
… … …
Friend(12/2/2009 2:32:05 AM): dude people in india work hard and don't have that much opportunity and keep struggling the whole life
DPM (12/2/2009 2:32:15 AM): What is it that you dream to achieve
Friend(12/2/2009 2:32:43 AM): being a doctor
DPM (12/2/2009 2:32:55 AM): Are you sure you cannot be a doctor in India?
… … … (@ reverse Brain gain…)
Friend(12/2/2009 2:37:28 AM): i will too after completing my education hahahh
… … …
DPM (12/2/2009 2:40:49 AM): Would you mind if I post excerpts of our chat on my blog?
DPM (12/2/2009 2:40:54 AM): They would be anonymous
Friend(12/2/2009 2:41:35 AM): why? you can only if they are anonymous
DPM (12/2/2009 2:41:53 AM): That's what I said
… … …

Spirit...

I flew in yesterday, with very high spirits! This is what I had to say to my friends:

"Hey All… :)

One of those few times when I write a common email, but trust me, worth it! This is typed while on way from Chennai to Mumbai, and completed it right now… After 40 hours of travel and about 48 hours without sleep… :) (Believe me, I am about to crash..)

Anyway… As the flight was taking off from JFK, so was mind; the difference being, flight was following a predetermined path while mind was off in all directions. Something seemed different… And this is an attempt to share that perpetual smile of my face and the silver cloud! Those who know me, it is nothing new for these cycles of mine; but trust me, as I said earlier, something seems different this time. Sanyukta, like last time, I am not confused why I am in India. Neither am I feeling hopelessly out of place nor aimless. It is an unusual feeling of comfort with my identities as an Indian but an American student, living my life and understanding dreams of my family, being an individual still a part of society… There is a new found vigor, an inspiration to get the dreams come true, an energy to work on all the creative ideas I have been discussing. That emotion, the one that makes you let your hair loose, let your body go free. The desire of dreams… Something like Jonathan! Those who have seen Friends’ Society in its peak would know what I am speaking of.. :)

Yeah… The times changed, the change is visible. And there’s no scope for anymore eclipses, I’ve had my fair share of it. Hence forth, it is the free flow of life, “Like the Flowing River…” Deepika, after ages I signed my true self again, ‘Dee Dee.’ Don’t even remember when was the last time… :)

Shoot, that seemed a bit philo. That’s what happens when your brains conked off… ;-)

Anyhow, if interested, keep yourself updated with the blog (latest: http://wildebahn.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-sweetie-pies.html) ! Would love to have your comments. And for those who have been working with me, the Hitler’s back!!! ;-) lol

Love and hugs,

Darshan, the Dee Dee"

And now that yesterday is over, and I am back to ground reality... The reactions to my own email...

"Shoot... That's gonna be a tough walk, to make my idle brain function again. Does anyone know of any "brain grease"?" ;-) lol...

My sweetie pies...

Baby girls…

What’s between me and babies? In general babies, but more specifically girls? (It is well known fact that I am biased…) Whatever it is, it is in those moments that I am me, with the personified innocence that I am holding in my arms!

What did I do on my long flight journey? That’s the answer… There were two sisters, an 18 month old and a four year old. The 18 month old initially started by waving her hands jubilantly jumping in her Mom’s arms. I waved and winked, she tried replying a wink. (Let me tell you, it was such an amazing feeling to finally see someone from the other gender responding to my wink. As most of you who know me, I am a complete failure in that department... ;-) lol) So, what started with a wink, turned into high five and then a low five, than a head bang and a sudden leap in my arms. She was playful, smiling radiantly. I didn’t know her language, she didn’t know mine. I tried using a bit of English, a futile attempt though. Anyway, not sure how much an 18 month old would understand of verbal language. And then we started playing. In a while, her Mom wanted her back, so I let her go. But within few minutes she was pouncing back. Back in my arms, a photo session and another round of fun! The flight was supposed to land and she wanted to sit on my laps. This time joined by her four year sister. One on right lap the other on left, we played, smiled, juggled… It was beautiful. And finally the flight landed… the kid who had cried through all the earlier takeoffs and landing, was playing this time. She didn’t even realize that the flight was on ground or there was sudden pressure change in cabin. The elder went back to her Mom, but the younger would not leave me. Rather she clutched more strongly. Time to disembark from a long journey, two bags to carry outta cabin and a kid in arms, what a family moment! ;-)… I slightly stroked her head on my shoulder and started patting her, swaying my body a bit and saying a lullaby. What lullaby, you wanna know? You will roll with laughter… “Chanda chamke cham cham, chikhe chokanna chor; Chini Chaante Chiti chatori chini gol…” ;-) But, it worked; slowly she dozed off to sleep. And then started my ordeal... The heavy back pack on shoulders, the cabin bag being pulled by right hand and a sleeping kid in left arms, I managed to get out of the plane, down the stairs, to the bus. By this time her parents and elder sister were already on bus. The sleeping beauty transited from my arms into her mother’s… :)

No clue what transpired between us, but the girl who would not leave her Mom was playing with a stranger for so long. This was not only today… Starting all the way back from Nandini, one of my cousin’s daughter who in her Uncle’s wedding was full time with me. Actually that is the most prominent experience I remember. Then came in Dhruv on my first camp, followed by kids from Tree Tops. Amongst the recent being Aarya, one of my cousin’s. I still remember the moment when she came to see me in hospital and in her kid tongue; she expressed her concern about me not looking at her… :) And then comes again the current love, my DC date, sweetheart Aarya again. (Not the same one though…) The pinnacle in DC was when she called my “Papa” irrespective of everyone around her reminding her again and again that I was her “Uncle”. What a pleasure to have a small 14 month old to trust you with that!

I cannot help but recall a text I had received long ago from a friend of mine, sitting right across me on a berth in the most famous Indian Railways, on one of our return journeys from a camp. She had sent, “Your daughter will have the most wonderful father ever…” I am not sure how good a father would I make, but I am sure a daughter would make my life the most wonderful gift for me. :)

ABCD

I was supposed to write something about a week ago, but thought it was too early. My blog is about me and my life, and usually I am too fast to put posts up. But, I assume, this time I was wrong. It was not too early, neither was I making assumptions or judgments. Sometimes, it is meant to be... It's about faith, and holding unto faith is me!

Anyway, so to the topic: What is ABCD? I've heard this phrase umpteen number of times since my arrival in States. Have been using it on and off, at times meaning it, at times just to tease the person. America Born Confused Desi, that's what it stands for. And, I used it a bit too much in last 15 days... Genuinely too much, though I never meant it. But how does that matter? I was using it any way. Indian that I am, proud to be a Desi, but would not know my limits to joke. Anyway... Too much use of that phrase slammed back in my face, BIG TIME.

The so called Desi's coming from India are very casual in categorizing the second or third generation American Indians as ABCDs, assuming we are the torch bearers of real India. How true is that? If you get an opportunity to interact with any of "them," take it and you will find the answer. I met an ABCD a few days ago. Got an opportunity to spend some more time with her over the weekend. Realized, she could speak better Hindi than most people I know from India. She knew more Hindi proverbs than me.. That's just an example. I have met many other ABCDs and known more about india from them than I knew... So, why even have that phrase? Dad gave me the answer. "It is how we perceive and not how the other person behaves." Speaks for itself...

I am proud to say I rarely judged the ABCD category. But, after this rendezvous, I doubt if I'll even use that phrase jokingly ever after. Desi am I, Desi are they; rather WE Indians!

In class update

So, here I arrive again. It's been a while... Have had quite a few things I wanted to speak about, but as you all know: My writing sprees. Right now, I am sitting in a class getting really bored. So, why not might as well share the boredom! ;-)

I had an amazing trip to Mexico. The conference was very productive and led to an invitation to another conference in DC. The DC conference was held last week and it turned out good. More so, the DC trip was perfect because of the double dates and catching up with a school friend after about 8 years. WOW... But in neither of the meetings with either of the three did I feel that I was meeting them for the first time or after ages. More about this will come in next post... Also, there was an interesting luncheon with two beautiful ladies in DC, that kinda was so perfectly timed, as if it was meant to be. Speak of Serendipity and miracles!

Now, sitting in class for the last week. Will be off to India next week... :) See ya all soon!

Sois Courageux: Utter Despair

In the context of my "Hotel Rwanda" email to my faculty, she sent me an amazing reply.. Here you go:

"Dear Darshan,

... You can't imagine my alarm at reading this email subject heading today: interestingly I actually found myself glad to read this version of despair (as opposed to the one I had wrongly imagined).

My Dad is actually waiting in the car for me now, but I didn't want to leave without letting you know I got this email and how much I understand why you would feel so utterly forlorn. I have been there many times. Most human rights advocates and lawyers have (in fact I would say every last friend of mine has).

For me, the point of our being alive is to find a way to respond to the very real problems (much more horrifying than even Hotel Rwanda chooses to depict or than N&Z had the space to lay out) without giving up. There's a strong value in being an idealist rooted in reality. In my view any other kind of idealist or idealism won't last. You will never have the long term strength to fight for what you believe in if you don't confront--in varying doses--the barriers that lie before you.

Don't be thrown off by the "just pretty words" point. All ideas come in words, and all words can be as fleeting as the paper or emails in which they're written, but people give "the full measure of devotion" to make certain words reality.

Don't be thrown off by the enemies point. It's true generations of work can be destroyed "in a NY second." For me that means we have to be more savvy about our enemies and even more determined to outrun, outorganize, outwill them.

I know what I'm saying will strike you as more words. You will find the lifelong fire for such words in your own way. Trust that in your heart, mind and stomach, stories will reside to give you strength. If not stories, some other form of deeply rooted en-courage-ment.

Everything you believe in is at stake here: that's why I know you will hold both despair and courage close to your being.

My favorite French phrases is sois courageuse.

Sois courageux, my big-hearted and determined Darshan.
"

:)

Gen. Romeo Dallaire

This is the article "The General and the Genocide" by Terry Allen, published in Amnesty NOW magazine in winter of 2002. I am not sure about copyrights, but I could not stop myself from uploading it on the blog... It speaks much more about my last post.

(26 July 1994, Kigali, Rwanda: Peter Hansen (third from left), Emergency Relief Coordinator and Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs, is briefed by Major-General Romeo Dallaire (left), Force Commander of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR). Second from left is Shahryar M. Khan, Special Representative of the Secretary-General. (UN Photo #186761))

"

Gen. Romeo Dallaire defied U.N. orders to withdraw from Rwanda. Without the authority, manpower, or equipment to stop the slaughter, he saved the lives he could but nearly lost his sanity.

***

In an indifferent world, Gen. Romeo Dallaire and a few thousand ill-equipped U.N. peacekeepers were all that stood between Rwandans and genocide. The Canadian commander did what he could-did more than anyone else-but he sees his mission as a terrible failure and counts himself among its casualties.

After a 100-day reign of terror, some 800,000 Rwandan civilians were dead, most killed by their machete-wielding neighbors. Dallaire had sounded the alarm. He'd begged. He'd bellowed. He'd even disobeyed orders. "l was ordered to withdraw...by [then-U.N. Sec. Gen. Boutros] Boutros Ghali about seven, eight days into it. .. and I said to him, 'I can't, I've got thousands' -by then we had over 20,000 people-'in areas under our control,"' Dallaire said in a recent interview with Amnesty Now. The general's hands, always moving, rose beside his face as if to block the memories. "The situation was going to shit....And, I said, 'No, I can't leave."'

The U.N. had sent Dallaire and 2,600 troops, mainly from Bangladesh and Ghana, to Rwanda to oversee a peace accord between the region's two main groups, Hutus and Tutsis. But on April 6,1994, eight months after the peacekeepers arrived, a plane carrying the Rwandan and Burundian presidents, both Hutus, was shot down over Kigali, the Rwandan capital. Hutu-controlled radio blamed the Tutsis and immediately began calling for their extermination, as well as for the murder of moderate Hutus considered friendly to the Tutsi "cockroaches." The broadcasts gave details on whom to kill and where to find them.

Dallaire and his troops were about to become spectators to genocide. As bodies filled the streets and rivers, the general, backed by a U.N. mandate that didn't even allow him to disarm the militias, pleaded with his U.N. superiors for additional troops, ammunition, and the authority to seize Hutu arms caches. In an assessment that military experts now accept as realistic, Dallaire argued that with 5,000 well-equipped soldiers and a free hand to fight Hutu power, he could bring the genocide to a rapid halt.

The U.N. turned him down. He asked the U.S. to block the Hutu radio transmissions. The Clinton administration refused to do even that. Gun-shy after a humiliating retreat from Somalia, Washington saw nothing to gain from another intervention in Africa, and the Defense Department, according to a memo, assessed the cost of jamming the Hutu hate broadcasts at $8,500 per flight-hour.

Dallaire's pain is palpable as he remembers his yearlong mission. His words, raw as a wound, make a grim contrast to the carefully parsed regrets of the world leaders who actually had the power to stop the genocide but turned away. He has just spoken at an Amnesty-sponsored conference in Atlanta on law and human rights, and he looks tired- older than his 56 years. His eyes are close set, raptor-like, but his gaze is warm and direct. "When you're in command, you are in command," he says. "There's 800,000 gone, the mission turned into catastrophe, and you're in command. I feel I did not convince my superiors and the international community," he says. "I didn't have enough of the skills to be able to influence that portion of the problem."

Three days after the Rwandan killings began, with Dallaire's troops running short of rations as well as ammunition, about l,000 European troops arrived in Kigali. The general watched with frustration as the well-armed, well-fed Westerners landed and left again as soon as they'd evacuated their own nationals. Then, after Hutu militias killed ~o Belgian paratroopers, Brussels withdrew all of its peacekeepers (the only significant Western contingent and the only one that was properly equipped) from the U.N. mission. Dallaire's depleted force was on its own.

Even as the already desperate situation worsened, Washington called for a complete withdrawal of peacekeepers. On April 21, after international pressure, the U.S. agreed to a limited force and supported a Security Council resolution slashing the force to 270 peacekeepers. U.S. Secretary of State Madeline Albright accurately described the tiny force as enough "to show the will of the international community."

Remarkably, with scant resources-indeed, with only one satellite telephone for the whole mission-Dallaire was able to maintain safe areas for those 20,000 terrorized Rwandans. But he could do little else, and the killing continued.

Eight years later, in daylight and in dreams, Dallaire still hears the cries of wounded children, the weeping of survivors, the voice of the man who died at the other end of a phone line as the general listened. He still can't escape the smell of death, the memories of hacked-off limbs scattered on the ground, and worst of all, he says, the "thousands upon thousands of sets of eyes in the night, in the dark, just floating and looking back" at him in anger, accusation, or eternal pleading.

With counseling for post-traumatic stress disorder, and a handful of pills a day, he is working to use his experiences to prevent another Rwanda. But the baleful ghosts remain, and the book he is writing about the slaughter is rousing them. "As I go over what I have written," he says, "more and more I see lost opportunities; more and more I see errors because of lack of intelligence or simply from mis-assessing a situation. I'd take a decision on the phone, and people would die within seconds. I was getting pressure from everybody not to use my soldiers." His voice fades to a whisper . "It's horrific because every day decisions were taken on life and death. Every day. Real people, real people."

We are sitting in a dark taxi and I can't see his face. He maybe remembering when the Belgian senate blamed him "at least partially" for the deaths of its paratroopers. Or he may be listening to his Rwandan voices. As we near his hotel, he says, "l always have people with me. Like tonight, I'll ask the guys at the desk to just check on me because I'm not supposed to be alone because it can go to extremes."

Dallaire says that about 20 percent of troops and humanitarian workers on missions like his suffer much the same thing, as do 5 to 10 percent of diplomats. "They are casualties," he tells me. "High suicide rates, booze, drugs, pornography, finding themselves on skid row."

When Dallaire returned to Canada from Rwanda, he tried to drink himself into a stupor of forgetfulness. He raged at his family. He tried to kill himself In 2000 a few months after he was medically released from the Canadian Forces, he was found passed out drunk under a park bench in Hull, Quebec. "He was curled up in a ball," photographer Stephane Beaudoin, alerted by a police report, later told the Ottawa Citizen. "I never took a photo. I felt sad for him. I thought, 'This man has done so much for us. How did he come to be here?"'

Dallaire's reluctance to give himself credit for what he managed to accomplish certainly contributed to his breakdown. Asked directly, he admits saving people, "sometimes by the thousands, you know, just by giving appropriate orders to my troops." Past and present merge as Dallaire remembers one day when he, his driver, and aide-de-camp "were making our way through a large population move in the hills. It was raining and cold because it's fairly high up. And there this woman was, right there by the road, and people are walking around her, and she is giving birth. And so, as we're inching, the child came out. The woman, already emaciated, sort of picked up the child and then fell back. So we jumped out, you know, because nobody was stopping. The mother was dead. We tried to wrap the baby up as best we could, brought it back, and then other people sorted it out."

But Dallaire quickly returns to the people he failed to save and to the limits of his skills. "Thirty years ago when I joined the army, if somebody mentioned human rights, we immediately equated them with communists," Dallaire now says. The former career officer has come to believe that, along with the ability to attack and kill, soldiers must learn peacekeeping, negotiation, and human rights preservation. That belief is reflected in the war stories he chooses to tell. Rather than tales of derring-do, he offers anecdotes that plumb the moral ambiguities of modern soldiering.

"A young officer is entering a village," Dallaire recounts. "The village has been wiped out except for a few women and children still alive [in a ditch filled with bodies]. There is 30 percent AIDS in that area. There is blood all over that place, no rubber gloves. Does the platoon commander order his troops to get in there, into the ditch risking AIDS, and help?" The question, it turns out, is not an exercise in armchair ethics. "When I asked the platoon commanders, those from 23 of the 26 nations that sent forces said they would order their troops to keep marching. Commanders from three nations- Holland, Ghana, and Canada-were saved the complexity of the question because by the time they turned around their troops were already in the ditch."

Dallaire continues, his hands alive, his eyes still, the Gallic-tinted accent of his native Quebec growing more pronounced. "Or a soldier is watching two girls, 13 or 14, both with children on their backs, with a crowd spurring on the one with a machete to kill the other girl because she is different. What does the soldier do? Shoot the girl with the machete, possibly killing her baby? Shoot into the crowd? Do nothing?"

"Should I myself," he asks, "negotiate with a militia commander with gore on his shirt and his hands from the morning's work, making a joke, to get him to withdraw his gang so I can move thousands of people [to safety] Or do I pull out my pistol and shoot him between the eyes?"

"The corporal," says; Dallaire, returning to the soldier watching the machete-wielding girl, "tried to negotiate his away through the crowd to stop the attack but headquarters in his home country ordered him not to intervene. That corporal is now an injured ex-corporal," Dallaire says, and like the ex-general himself, a casualty of post-traumatic stress.

For all the blame he heaps on himself, Dallaire also faults the strictures that bound him in 1994 and that will have to change if the world is to avoid another Rwanda. The institution of peacekeeping missions, he says, is deeply flawed. Even if he had received the political and humanitarian training the job demanded, the U.N.'s rules would have robbed him of the ability to use his military skills. With thousands of civilians begging for protection as they were hunted down in their homes and churches,

"I could tell [the peacekeepers] to do things," he says, "but they would check with their country. The troops are under my operational command, but they remained under the ultimate command of their nations, so. . . if a national capital feels that a [rescue] mission is unwarranted, or too risky, or something, the soldiers can turn around and say, 'No, I can't do it."'

Asked to name one of the countries that ordered its soldiers not to move injured Rwandans to safe areas, even when Dallaire told them to, the general hesitates for a long time before saying, "Bangladesh." It was the Ghanaians, he adds, who performed most humanely.

(Secretary-General Boutros-Boutros Ghali made a visit to Nyarubuye, Rwanda. He talked to survivors, and visited the church where hundreds of Rwandans had been massacred the year before. (UN Photo #187139 by C. Dufka) )

With the exception of the Red Cross, the non-governmental organizations were clueless, Dallaire says. "When they started sending people in, they kept sending me assessment teams. Assessment teams! 'Listen, I don't need a goddamn assessment team. I need food, medical supplies, water for 2 million people, and I've got to feed them twice a day. Get the shit in here. We'll sort out the distribution.' "

If Dallaire's anger at those who did too little is fierce, his fury at world leaders who feigned ignorance and did nothing is white hot. He cannot forget, for example, that President Clinton stopped for a few hours in Kigali in 1998, after it was all over, and with the engines of Air Force One running, said he was sorry; he didn't know.

Or that David Rawson, the U.S. ambassador to Rwanda at the time of the mass murders, waited a month before declaring a "state of disaster," and then dismissed the slaughter as "tribal killings." Calling what happened in Rwanda "tribal" conflict made intervention seem futile. U.S. Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Prudence Bushnell, who had pushed hard for the U.S. to "neutralize" Hutu hate radio, later explained to author Samantha Power, "What I was told was, 'Look, Pru, these people do this from time to time."'

The designation of "tribal" conflict also nicely avoided the word "genocide." Had a major power or the U.N. invoked that term in time, all states that were signatories of the 1948 convention on genocide would have been obliged to condemn the slaughter and act to stop it.

Avoiding the word did not however avoid the fact. "They knew how many people were dying," Dallaire says, no matter what word they used. "The world is racist," he says bitterly. ,' "Africans don't count; Yugoslavians do. More people were killed, injured, internally displaced, and refugeed in 100 days in Rwanda than in the whole eight to nine years of the Yugoslavia campaign," he says, and there are still peacekeeping troops in the former Yugoslavia while Rwanda is again off the radar. f "Why didn't the world react to scenes where women were held as shields so nobody could shoot back while the militia shot into the | crowd?" he asks. "Where... boys were drugged up and turned into child soldiers, slaughtering families?...Where girls and women were systematically raped before they were killed? Babies ripped out of their stomachs? ...Why didn't the world come?"

Dallaire supplies his own answer: "Because there was no self-interest....No oil. They didn't come because some humans are [considered] less human than others."

Nonetheless, Dallaire still calls himself an optimist. Despite its troubles, he believes that the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, which operates out of Arusha, Tanzania, "is one of those great potential instruments of the future." His own job, he says, won't be done until the tribunal finishes its investigation. "My duty as force commander who ultimately became head of mission will not end until the Arusha Tribunal says it doesn't need me to testify anymore, or when the tribunal decides to hold me accountable."

There is virtually no chance the international court will blame him. The question is whether he'll one day stop blaming himself. "The work I'm doing helps," he says, referring to his campaign to stop the use of children as soldiers. Counseling seems to be helping, too.

"One day after a couple hours of therapy," he says, "we're sitting there, and, you know, to-ing and fro-ing. I all of a sudden felt joy in my stomach. You know when you feel happy in your tummy? And I had not felt that in the seven years since Rwanda. All of a sudden I said, 'jeez, I feel, I feel better."' Dallaire stopped, tilted his head as if to listen to his own words and broke into a smile as sweet as warm winter sun. "My therapist let me savor that-and then we talked. And at the end of it, I said, I think I have moved from survival to living. And maybe to getting better."

The world, he knows, has not. Without the political will and institutional mechanisms to stop it, "Rwanda" will happen again.

(Terry J. Allen is editor of Amnesty Now. She has reported for numerous U.S. and international newspapers and magazines, including the Boston Globe, American Prospect, and Salon.)

The last sentence of this article summarizes the whole story of powerplay!

Hotel Rwanda

I was watching this movie, and half way through it, I wrote an email to my faculty. This is an excerpt of that email and further continuation of thoughts...

I'm writing you this email in kind of a weird state. I am watching "Hotel Rwanda" right now, and am not sure if I can watch it complete... Saw a documentary on Darfur this afternoon. Was watching "The Pianist" a few days back... For my Rotary Capstone Seminar, have been researching on the Sino-Tibet issue and watching the news videos of Chinese Police and Tibetan interactions...

Where are we headed with all of this around us?

Last year, just before I came to the States... One evening I was done with my office work a bit early, i.e. about 7:30 p.m. So, I visited my Aunt. There, I saw on the news that a local political leader had charged all the non-Maharashtrians (Out of State residents in the state of Maharashtra, implying those who came from other states) of taking away jobs from the locals and so had ordered them to leave the state. The news showed people moving out of Mumbai, at some places riots. I could not see it, so switched off the TV, and then left my Aunt's house to visit one of my college teachers. Thought I would buy her some ice cream, so stopped at a shop. The shop was owned by a Non-Maharashtrian. The moment I ordered the ice cream, I heard a big bang, and screams... Some people had come on bikes and had assaulted a vendor outside the shop. Picked his cart, over thrown it. I could not see the vendor nor did I know what had happened to him. A chill had passed through my spine. I was dumb found.. Stuck on my place for a few minutes... I ran out of that shop, got in my car and straight drove away from main road in a lane. The story continues of how I ended up calling police and how my teacher helped me recover for that moment...

My point is, what is all of this? We discuss human rights, and all the big words. But I am not sure how practical all of it is. One psychotic like Hitler led the whole world in a war. Another psychotic like John Bolton, follows his footsteps to use the same "fear dynamic" to push Americans in other wars. Then there are people who claim the divine right to rule others...

Ma'am, is it worth it what we are trying to do? Would not it be squashed by someone with just one sweep someday?

There are a few moments in my life, when I am utterly unsure of what is the purpose of this life if it is all about the struggle of existence for a few and the leisure of will for some others? These are moments when tears do not part from my eyes. I feel incapacitated and absolutely helpless...

I am not sure what I am thinking. But, whole through the movie,and the other documentaries I watched in last few days, I have been thinking of you and the class discussions, so finally had courage to write.

It is said that we are trained to take up the international jobs, like the UN, the World Bank, so on and so forth. What's the use? After studying the extensive history of the UN and the formulation of the UDHR without any implementing mechanism, or for that matter, as a tool in the hand of the big 5, what's its use? After listening to Fiona Terry and so many others, humanitarian aid also seems a modus operandi. Use it till you can, else leave the people to die...

Did I really dream of an UN job? And would I really be able to make anything work there?

Looking at the utter helplessness of UN Peace Keepers and the way army functions, I am happy I got specs at the right time, which proved me ineligible for army. I am happy, I am not in the phase where my mind would be rendered helpless by some dumb words on a piece of paper, known as "order."

I am better of as an individual, might be a social worker, might be no one...

Friend

The blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

-Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

English novelist and poet
(1826 - 1887)

Dheeraj, Dharam, Mitra aru Naari...

धीरज धरम मित्र अरु नारी आपद काल परखिये चारी | (तुलसीकृत रामायण)

Dheeraj dharam mitra aru naari aapad kal parakhiye chari ! (Ramayan by Tulsidas)

Meaning: In the time of crisis are the (deep waters) of patience, religion (karma~deeds), friends and women (wife/partner) tested!

An impressive line from the sacred Hindu text. Diverting from the topic a bit, when I look at these ancient texts, they seem to be full of words of wisdom, relevant to today's time as well!

Back to the train of thoughts: I am recovering, and recovering pretty well! Thank you all... And this is the line dedicated to you all, who have been with me through out this time. This post is to tell you how a crisis in my life seemed negligible, just because of the four characters: patience, religion (karma~deeds), friends and women (wife/partner). If I had to apply them to this test, all of them surpassed it.

How many visitors do you think came around within the fourteen days that I was in Pune after the accident? A minimum of 500... I am not saying, it was me who commanded all this love and affection. Most of it was due to Mom n Dad and then Pooja. But, the important part is, all of them were there. From every nook and corner, from every age group, friends, relatives, colleagues, any one I could think of had been there with me. And, those who were not there physically, most of them had either written or called. It was incredible...

The other day, I visited the specialist in the States at the Duke Eye Care, the number one service provider in the field. The doctor, Mr. Tariq Bhatti, is supposed to be the best neuro-ophthalmologist in the whole of the States. And he looked at me, looked at my medical file, and his reaction was: "impossible. The improvement you have shown is incredible."

Dr. Bhatti, this line does make sense! It does help to have four functioning bearings...

Indian Grasshoppers...

The time could not be any more appropriate... With the Sangli riots making news, it was just perfect to read this forward, thanks to Manjiri! I wish I could have added one of the grasshoppers version, that he gets into communal rioting as there's nothing else he wants to get his hands "dirty" with...

I cannot say this post is politically devoid, but surely, it is nothing personal either...

Sit back, relax, and enjoy a classic analogy...

The Ant and the Grasshopper (in India)

An Old Story:

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter. The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away.

Come winter, the Ant is warm and well fed. The Grasshopper has no food orShelter, so he dies out in the cold.

Indian Version:

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The Grasshopper thinks the Ant's a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering Grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the Ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving. NDTV, BBC, CNN show up to provide pictures of the shivering Grasshopper next to a video of the Ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food.

The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor Grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Arundhati Roy stages a demonstration in front of the Ant's house.

Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other Grasshoppers demanding that Grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter .

Mayawati states this as `injustice' done on Minorities.

Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for not upholding the fundamental rights of the Grasshopper.

The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the Grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance) .

Opposition MPs stage a walkout. Left parties call for ' Bengal Bandh' in West Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry.

CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among Ants and Grasshoppers.

Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath'.

Finally, the Judicial Committee drafts the ' Prevention of Terrorism Against Grasshoppers Act' [POTAGA], with effect from the beginning of the winter.

Arjun Singh makes 'Special Reservation ' for Grasshoppers in Educational Institutions & in Government Services.

The Ant is fined for failing to comply with POTAGA and having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes,it's home is confiscated by the Government and handed over to the Grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.

Arundhati Roy calls it ' A Triumph of Justice'.

Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice '.

CPM calls it the ' Revolutionary Resurgence of the Downtrodden '

Koffi Annan invites the Grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly.

Many years later....

The Ant has since migrated to the US and set up a multi-billion dollar company in Silicon Valley,

100s of Grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere in India, .

......AND

As a result of loosing lot of hard working Ants and feeding the
grasshoppers,
.
.
India is still a developing country…!!!

(P.S.: Images, courtesy google.com)

The umbrella stick

I recall the trek to Pindari Kafni glaciers in Dhauladhar Himalayan range, way back in 1990s… It was one of my first few treks in Himalayas. It was with Yuvashakti, and I was walking with my batch. I found a big stick lying beside the road, I picked it up and started walking, using it as my third leg. The nature absorbed me, the stick and the legs got in their own rhythm and without my realization, my pace had increased multifold. Within next couple of hours, I was far ahead of my group. By early evening, I had already crossed the batch that had left a day earlier. And then, the batch incharge stopped me, realizing he had not seen this face with him… The story goes on, as to how I was grounded and then I had ot rejoin my group and all….

The crux is, a stick had added to my speed. Then, I had used a stick as fun element, today, I need it… Yesterday, I ended up buying one of those long umbrellas, the colorful ones. Actually I should have done this as soon as I was discharged, but “der aaye, durust aaye!” It is amazing, how that one piece serves dual purpose, when need may as umbrella and when need may as my guiding stick. I am neither allowed exposure to sunlight, nor can I judge 3-dimensional distances that well, and I hope it will serve a perfect tool. Actually, one of my faculty offered me her white stick, but I cannot encash on my partial blindness for disability benefits of complete blindness. Anyway, so the conclusion is, I always wanted that umbrella, and finally I have it… 

I’m gonna use it and, let you know, what my walking speed gets to!!!


And this is what I hope the umbrella would do to me... ;)
(Did any one say of being an opportunist?? lol)

The Minister who offers rides…

This is a post from when I was in Dharamshala... No clue how I left it without posting...

Minister for International Relations of a government… Wow, what a position, the pomp, the limelight, the fan following (this might not be true, cos it is usually the “chamcha” following)… Anyway, the ministers accompanied with a cavalcade of cars, body guards, secretaries and the public. That’s what a minster is, and what does such a minister has to do with offering car rides? I had heard that J.R.D. Tata used to do that in Mumbai, offering car rides to random people. So did a few other industrialists and a few other common men. But what about a minister?

Yeah, I met a minister who did that. Not only she did it, but it was a gesture on her own, not on the part of our request or our begging. The minister I am speaking about is the Minister for Information and International Relations of the Central Tibetan Administration. She was on her way to Delhi, and was supposed to take the same flight as that of Abhay. When she came to know of it from her Secretary, she offered to give him a ride in her car, with her, to the airport. When it was not only Abhay, but me too accompanying him, it was not a wicked smile of invasion of privacy that greeted me, rather I was welcomed with a warm smile full of humility. In our ride of about 45 minutes, the minister spent most of her time speaking with the driver, rather, “conversing” with the driver. Yeah, she was letting him speak and listening to what he had to say. She laughed on his jokes, and expressed concern on his concerns. She spoke with us as well, apologizing for speaking in Tibetan with the driver and her accomplice.

It was beyond my contemplation to believe this… A lady who had represented His Holiness in London, and held high offices, was right in front of us, being an epitome of humility!

Am I bragging so much cos I was with the minister and want to highlight that? Nopes, this is a testimony to the (expected) reality of our politicians!

Mad Eye (Moo)dee...

MooDee... That's what I am right now, rather I was!

They took me from Poona Hospital to Ruby for a check up by specialist (neuro-physician). Now, like other doctors, this person had a long queue of patients outside his office. Me, Dad, and bro, three of us were waiting outside. It had been just 5 days after the accident and I was sitting with my eyes closed. Suddenly, I heard a hustle and kind of thumping of feet, and someone walking. I opened my eyes to see a girl who was earlier sitting right across me, now had changed positions and gone to some corner. At this moment, my cousin told me what had happened... Apparently I was staring at her, winking one eye! WOW... And I had no clue. Cos, my left eye was closed; but my right eye wasn't. ;).. exactly like this!

Since the day I saw my face in mirror after the accident, I have been constantly reminded of Mad Eye Moody. Hey, all you fans of Mad Eye Moody, don't worry, I am not claiming any closeness to his goodness. Just the facial marks and the eye, they held similarities. Of the best of my knowledge of Harry Potter, the only difference I assume was, he had super vision with his special eye, and I have none! ;)

So girls, if you feel I am staring, don't give the credit to your beauty, as the credit is all that of my eye... ;) lol

Anyway, now that the accident is a history and I am resuming back to life, there are many such instances of those 15 days that come back! I will try and update the most...

Cheers!

Back home

After an eventful summer, the globe trotter mode for more than 3 months, I am finally back home. :) It would not be an exaggeration if I say, "back in one piece," and "fit n fine."

Now, while I have a long list of 'pending' or 'to be done,' there's lots other that would demand my attention too... ;)

So, will keep you all updated, possibly the twitter format, but on blog! ;)

The Crash!

Hello!!! :) I'm back with a broad smile, thanks to wishes from one and all. I should consider myself lucky and blessed to have such a vast pool of friends to support and bless me.

As it was updated, I had a car accident last Tuesday. Today, exactly a weak later, and approximately at the same time when my car rammed in a trolley on the highway, I am updating you all with the weeks happenings. It was about 9:15 p.m. and I was on my way back to Pune on Bengaluru-Pune (Indian National Highway 4), when a overloaded trolley changed the lanes to first lane. The headlights of a trolley coming from other side blinded me off for a moment, and that was when my car rammed into this vehicle which had suddenly appeared in my lane. Anyway, all's well that ends well. Now that you are reading from me, be rest assured, I am recovering well. Was discharged from the hospital today evening after a weeklong rest come care.

As of physical situation, I consider myself doing better. Till this afternoon I was unable to use my palms as they were pinned with IV syringes, but now that they are removed, I am able to type. There were a few dozen of stitches on my face, and a few internal cracks which still exist. According to the doc, the cracks will heal on its own in due course of time, so I am not much concerned about it. The only major concern is my right eye, which I hope will improve in due course. And yeah, that reminds me, I have got three awesome marks below and above my right eye, giving me complete "CROOK" looks, an irony to being a peace fellow! ;)

Anyway, friends, I genuinely wish to take this opportunity to thank one and all, including my parents, family, friends, and well wishers, without whose support, I could not have been able to get in touch with you all so soon. I do not promise that I will be regular very soon, as I am still a bit disoriented and need time with my vision. But, I do want to say that I am grateful for all your support and best wishes, and so is my family over whelmed with the support and affection. Thank you for all the love!

And, just for you all to have a glimpse, try searching for a the car in the pic.. ;)

Darshan's accident

Dear All,
I am Darshan`s father, Purushottam Mundada.
This is to inform you all about accident. Darshan met an motor vehicle accident. car is very badly damaged but fortunately Darshan has not got any major injury. It happened on 4.Aug.9 at 9pm. At the moment he is in Poona Hospital. He is expected to be in the hospital till 10.Aug.09.His right optic nerve is damaged and it has affected his vision. We all are concerned about his vision. Due to swelling on right optic nerve, motor signals are not transmitted and hence the problem. Doctor has continued treatment for 2 days more and his case is under observation. We are also seeking expert opinion from another hospital. Let us hope some thing good will come out of it.
I am sorry to inform you that he may have to under go further eye treatment but exact time required can be confirmed only after 10.Aug.09.
I request you to inform to all concern persons...
Best regards,
Purushottam Mundada
India.

A Government in a day

This is my schedule for tomorrow... Orientation of the Central Tibetan Administration, formerly known as Tibetan Government in Exile, all fit in one day! I cannot believe, I am actually going to have an overview of a functioning government in one day! Will get back to you tomorrow with more experiences...

Thursday, July 23, 2009 : Gangchen Kyishong, Dharamshala, India

09:30 am Election Commission
10:00 am Department of Finance
10:30 am Office of the Auditor General
11:00 am Kashag [Cabinet (Secretariat)]
11:30 am Supreme Justice Commission
12:00 noon Planning commission
12:30 pm Tibetan Parliament in Exile
(formerly: Assembly of Tibetan People’s Deputies)

LUNCH

02:30 pm Department of Religion and Culture
03:00 pm Department of Security
03:30 pm Department of Home
04:00 pm Department of Education
04:30 pm Public service Commission

the kid

Shannon, for you to read...

Do you remember the two beautiful kid girls outside Grand Prince? The luncheons and the handshakes? The hugs? I am sure, you do, much more than I would.

In the similar manner, here, at Dharamshala, there are two or three ladies with their kids. Usually they stand outside the small cafe or the staff mess, where people have their lunch. they ask fro alms, but as well for food and water. From day one, I was struggling whether I should go ahead an offer them meals or just let it be... Don't forget, they were not kids, they were ladies. But, they did have two kids with them, a small girl who reminded me of the younger one in Dhaka. And why was I struggling? do you recall the debate about "feeding a fish vis-a-vis teaching them to fish" and the beggar syndicate thingy... I was unsure.

Today, looking at that young girl staring at me while I was having my meal, my internal debate reached its peak. And I remembered our talk on the way back from bank! Yes, I did accordingly, what my heart said. Handed over a plate of food to the little girl....

And let me tell you, I feel much more calm! At ease... A sense of peace!

Yes, it is more important to teach some one to feed himself rather than feeding them for free. But I feel, it is equally important to let that person survive for that moment when he can learn the skills, if ever someone who can teach them comes along! Till then, as we spoke, lets just embark on our li'l mission, in our modest capcities!

I am going to teach the kid the handshake tomorrow.. :-)

Shrawanmas... श्रावण

The monsoons, as you know, my favorite time of the year! And this is never complete without devouring the taste of monsoon literature! I bring you here one of my most favorite poems, I wish I had the translation for my English friends...

When Ruskin Bond speaks of rolling the cherry seed on his tongue, not to let go off the taste, he reminds me of the lyrics of this poems, that I have rolled over n over n over again in my mouth, every time experiencing a taste I had experienced never before..

I enjoy this poem, hope you love it too!!!

श्रावणमासी हर्ष मानसी हिरवळ दाटे चोहिकडे;
क्षणांत येते सरसर शिरवे क्षणात फिरुनी ऊन पडे.

वरती बघता इंद्रधनूचा गोफ दुहेरी विणलासे,
मंगल तोरण काय बांधिले नभोमंडपी कुणि भासे !

झालासा सूर्यास्त वाटतो सांज अहाहा! ती उघडे
तरुशिखरांवर, उंच घरांवर पिवळेपिवळे ऊन पडे

उठती वरती जलदांवरती अनंत संध्याराग पहा;
सर्व नभावर होय रेखिले सुंदरेतेचे रूप महा.

बलाकमाला उडता भासे कल्पसुमांची माळचि ते,
उतरुनि येती अवनीवरती ग्रहगोलचि की एकमते

फडफड करुनी भिजले अपुले पंख पांखरे सावरिती
सुंदर हरिणी हिरव्या कुरणी निजबाळांसह बागडती

खिल्लारेही चरती रानी, गोपहि गाणी गात फिरे.
मंजुळ पावा गाय तयाचा श्रावणमहिमा एकसुरे

सुवर्णचम्पक फुलला, विपिनी रम्य केवडा दरवळला;
पारिजातही बघता भामारोष मनीचा मावळला!

सुंदर परडी घेउनि हाती पुरोपकंठी शुद्धमती
सुंदर बाला या फुलमाला रम्य फुले-पत्री खुडती,

देवदर्शना निघती ललना, हर्ष माइना हृदयांत,
वदनी त्यांच्या वाचुनि घ्यावे श्रावण महिन्याचे गीत!

- बालकवी (त्र्यम्बक बापूजी ठोमरे)

Identity

I am an Indian!!! Proud to be one… This is my country, my culture, my tradition. We have our own problems, but this country works. The world’s largest democracy, though squeakily, functions. It still provides me with an identity and an individuality. But had I known this? Was I aware that I had certain privilege, because I had a nationality? Was I even aware that my nationality was my blessing?

The one basic thing that I took for granted, was for someone a dream. The freedom I take for granted every moment, is a fairy tale for millions of people in Tibet, in Sudan, in Gaza, in Somalia, world over there will be examples. The closest I come to feel this is, through my colleague at CTA. I joined CTA on Tuesday, and she was on a half day leave on Wednesday. What’s so unusual about the half day leave? The unusual is the reason for the leave. She had to go to the local police station to renew her residence permit. An annual chore of Tibetans settled in India. Every year, they have to struggle with the “great” Indian bureaucracy to fetch a piece of paper recognizing them. And how much does this piece of paper serve in recognition? Let’s know it from these two experiences…

She was supposed to leave to attend a conference in Italy. As usual, she arrived on Delhi airport, and went to the check-in line. After being in queue for about half an hour, she finally arrived at the officer’s desk. The officer asked for her papers, and she forwarded the “Green Card,” official refugee document issued by the government of India. To her dismay, the officer refused to acknowledge the document issued by his own country and she had to wait for an hour before he was satisfied that she was holding the “green document” of government of India. She was allowed to proceed… I should say, she was lucky because the fate of my other friend was not similar…

Lady 2… She is supposed to visit Dubai for a Hotel Management training program. In this case, she is lucky, not because she meets friendly officers, but because she is leaving from Mumbai airport, which is usually over crowded. No one cares as much to check her papers in detail. They see the Indian government logo on her green paper, and let her go. She boards the flight and lands in Dubai,, full of dreams to make the most of this training. To bring back to her parents, the dreams fulfilled. To be a burning flame of the Tibetan mission, by being genius in her field. With all these hopes, she walks out of the flight to the arrival lounge for immigration clearance, and her nightmare starts. The officer’s at the Dubai airport refuse to acknowledge the paper. The airlines refuses to give her nay feedback. The Indian authorities on airport do not even wish to speak with her. To add to all of this, her luggage is missing, and they have confiscated everything she has, including her purse. She is not allowed to move for around 20 hours. After which, she is allowed to make calls to identify herself. In desperation, she calls her family and the Indian Embassy. As usual, the embassy is out of reach, but family is there. The family contacts the Tibetan government, who in turn contact the Indian government, who are now forced to take action. Thus they inform the Dubai immigration people that the document is issued by the government of India, but it cannot be used in the lieu of a passport. The only out come of this is, after being stranded on Dubai airport for more than 36 hours without food or luggage, the lady is deported to India…

Are these only two stories? Nopes… There are thousands of such stories of the plight of not only Tibetans, but all those people whose government is either unable to provide them with an identity or who are compelled to forced identities…

For me, who has always enjoyed the freedom, and taken my identity for granted, it is really difficult to understand what it means to be an “alien in a foreign land”. All I can do is, pray, pray for individuals to find their anchors… Pray for humanity to find the ultimate truth, that if we all decide to live in harmony, everyone will have enough, but we need to choose to live, not to greed…

Guilt

I am sitting at a Café. It has actually become a kind of second home for me here. Every evening, walk on the road to temple, and stop at this place to devour some tasty sandwiches and thick shakes. Compared to US standards, this can be an extremely cheap place, and for Indian standards, a medium range… I enjoy the food they offer and I love the ambience. And yes, they also have internet :)

So, it is a part of my routine. Finish off the days work, take a taxi up from the office, and then spend some time here serving my empty grueling stomach, while observing beautiful colorful sunsets in the mountains, beyond the rivers and plateau. I love it… Today is one another such evening. I have just finished one sandwich, but as I had skipped my lunch today, I am still hungry. I have ordered one more sandwich, while I am sipping thick mango shake, while checking my emails and observing the changing skies.

On the opposite side of the road is sitting an old lady. Have you ever seen those award winning pictures of old people, full of wrinkles? She is a personification of those pictures, or rather the elected representative. Full of wrinkles, old worn out saree, a small steel can containing her water and a piece of paper which wraps a few crums of food. She is neither a beggar nor does carry on her face the “laachari” or pity of a beggar. She has her smile, content on what she has. She looks at me and gives a half smile, unsure of me smiling back. And I proved her right… My smile did not get bigger as much as hers, I am engrossed in my thoughts. Possibly engulfed in a guilt…

A guilt for the expensive sandwich that I have ordered, guilt for the expensive clothes I am wearing and the money I spend on phone. I am guilty of my privilege, when I see her towards the end of her life still struggling for daily bread and butter. This is not a new feeling… I have always had this. While working in MIT, when I used to see the employees of the age of my Dad or elder, coming on bicycles, eating a small tiffin and thinking twice before having a cup of tea, I felt guilty for my position, for the privileges I enjoyed of bossing on them. At my Dad’s office, I felt guilt looking at Namdev and Yadav, the two daily labourers… Though they had never been treated so by my Dad, rather they enjoyed a privileged position!

Yes, a feeling that has always permeated me, through my skin and soul. Rather, I recall an incidence, when the lady of my life was with me. We were, I assume, passing through a tough time. And she had made a statement, a profound statement that did not make much sense then but makes much more now. She had said, “Darshan, I cannot spend my lifetime with a person who would think of the farmer while eating his meals, who would think of poor while living his life. I don’t mean I do not feel for them, but I cannot put myself in their shoes every other moment. I cannot do this to myself.”

Now, looking back, I think she was right. I cannot do this to myself either. But, then how do I live a guilt free but considerate life?

P.S.: the picture is neither the old lady's nor is it clicked by me. It is thanks to google!

Threshold

Here’s a story… “I was around 13, staying in a remote village. My parents are farmers, and so, I used to work with them. My responsibility was to take the cow to grasslands, and get her back home in the evening. There was no school, no electricity, nothing. The life was a mere routine. One day, my cousin said, let’s go over the fence. On the other side of the fence is where the school is, on the other side of the fence is where the teacher is… Let’s go… My heart cried, let’s go… And I started walking…”

This is not a story from a school text emphasizing the importance of education, neither is it a fairy tale, where she crosses over the fence and her struggles are all over. This is the story of my colleague, an employee of Central Tibetan Authority (CTA) functioning from exile in Dharamshala in India. And the fence is the Tibet-Nepal-India border, the teacher, His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama. At the age of 13, she left her remote village in the Tibetan land, in search of education and a better dignified life, because her cousin told her so. She was told that they will arrive on Nepal border in 15 days, a guide was there to take them along. She had paid 700 Yuan for that, possibly all her savings. Without any idea of the terrain they are going to go through, without any idea of where they were headed, without even basic life supporting material such as enough food, this little girl started walking with seven other Tibetans, juts in the hope of a better life. Not even her parents knew, where she was… Rather, her mother went to a monastery every day for six months, and finally gave up the hope of finding her, choosing a thought that she dreaded. The thought that her daughter was no more… But, the daughter had pursued a dream. She walked, at times without food for 3 days, at times seeing one of her friends get blind because of the reflections from snow, at times begging from nomads, she walked and walked and walked. After a walk of “one month and fourteen days” (this is how she puts it), they arrived on the Nepal Border. This is when the pains eased a bit. Received by the Tibetan reception center, they were sent on a bus to Delhi, India, and from there she was sent to Dharamshala. Considering her age and her knowledge, she was further sent to a school in South India, and then University.

A girl, who had not learnt to read and write till the age of 13, started her education at the age of 14, today, at about 30, already has a masters in arts. Her quench for knowledge has not yet sufficed… She wants to learn more. Do more for Tibetans and for the welfare of her people. She has no regrets, no over-reacting emotions. It is just her matter of fact life story, that is what she claims.

I was left speechless listening to this. A casual ask-out, as you may want to term it, turned in an evening full of emotions. We were walking the streets of McLeod as Abhay wanted to do a bit of shopping. Abhay had called her to help us out with the shops, and she had immediately obliged. Without a word, without any hesitation. We finished the shopping, and I asked her out, asked her to join us for a cup of coffee, and she agreed. It was me and Abhay, bragging about our world, our topics. Two women with us on table, nodding to what we were saying. And, realizing the situation, I asked her a casual question, “What made you come to India?” And came the story…

I came to Dharamshala as per my schedule. Stayed here for 7 days, but was so bored and was missing home, so went back to Pune for 7 days, before restarting my internship. I proudly claim to everyone that my threshold to stay away from my parents, family, and friends is not more than 4 months, and here, I was sitting with a girl who had spoken to her mother for the first time after her escape, after more than a decade. And that was the only time she had spoken with her mother. Now she has some contact with her brother, but that too is occasional. She cannot call them regularly else they will be in trouble. She cannot visit them as easily, because she has to get papers cleared form Chinese embassy in New Delhi.

What is her threshold? What is the threshold of Tibetan patience? What is the threshold of infinite compassion encompassing the heart of His Holiness? What is the threshold of this world, where we will keep on watching these injustices around us every moment, until we react? What is the threshold that conflict has to achieve, to topple itself into peace?

Incidentally, my threshold seems very low. The overwhelming incidence already has shaken us (me, Abhay, and Fahmida)… I feel a need for a hug, and once again I remember… What did she do at the age of 13, arriving in a foreign land? Who was there to hug her?

I bow in front of her threshold…

Common bath

July 2008: Me and my would be roommate, Ketan are looking for apartments. Our main criterion is dollars, and then a decent living place. We do not mind if we have to “share a bath.” The search continues for a while… My host father has offered to check an apartment that seems to be good online. The finalization is postponed till we arrive in the US.

August 2008: We check the apartment. And yes, we have finalized it. The change is, primary criterion has already changed from “dollars” to “separate toilet bath.” Many reasons propel this change, the most evident being the stay with a friend who shares a bath with his roommate!

Today: Today when I look back, I am glad the priorities had changed at the right time. Now, after more than two months of traveling and experiencing dozens of toilet-baths, I realize the pleasure of having your own li’l corner in the house… ;)

I wake up this morning and proceed to the bath, to see it all strewn with foam and water and hair. AND, this is not only for this morning. It has been a picture most of the times, where I had to share a bath. My day has been starting with a bucket of water, liquid soap, and cleaning gear. Before even I step in, I get a mug of water from some other tap in the house to clean my walkway in the bath. Then starts the actual cleaning… I always wondered how someone could take half an hour for a shower. Now, I claim to take more than that, but fortunately or unfortunately, 90% of that time is spent in the cleaning routine.

Since my childhood, the only responsibility I might have religiously shouldered in my house, was of cleaning the toilet, the washbasin, and the bathroom. I still remember the moment, while reading Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography, when I read about his routine of cleaning the toilets of his Ashram, I was so proud of myself. Cos I was doing it (though just for the sake of my Mom, but…)…

Anyway, so back to today… I enter the bath strewn with everything I didn’t wish to see. Spend my routine “30” minutes in cleaning it, and now when I am supposed to use it… “Knock Knock” the door bangs… Abhay is under urgent call, and wants me to rush out… I choose the blog to vent out my emotions…

The dog seem's luckier in this case...

O M P H

Om Mani Padme Hum.. Om Mani Padme Hu.. Om Mani Padme Huunn..

Being led by a Tibetan lady to rotate the praying wheels in the Dalai Lama temple at McLeod Ganj near Dharamshala, this is how our (mine and Abhay's) mantra transformed... Starting with a proper Sanskrit 'Hum', I ended up with a proper Tibetan "Huunn" pronounced with cupping your lips!

Now you would ask, why was I doing that in first place? Because first of all I believe in higher power, second I believe in experiencing the culture of my geographic location (which in last 3 months have changed several times), and third, I love Tibetans! Though I have been warned several times (by Tibetans) that I should stop seeing the Dalai Lama in every Tibetan, I can't help it.. ;)

Anyway, so I'm getting in touch with you all after long. You were accustomed to my mood swings in person, but my mood swings in writing are much extreme. Till I do not nail it down, writing is not my cup of tea! Ohhh.. that reminds me, I have progressed way beyond three cups of tea... Though started only more thna a month back, my tea drinking habit is picking up the speed of Rajdhani express (those who do not know, it is the India superfast train connecting metropolitan citis with the capital). So, anyway, I am loving it. And my favorite is black ginger tea with lemon and honey... And also, once in a while, the typical kattyacha chaha, round the nook and corners of Pune! Long ago, once on an early morning drive with my girl friend (who loved chai), we went to this old chai place in the old city of Pune. She tried coercing me to taste a sip, but I would not budge. Chai was a big big no then. And, the other day, with another friend of mine, I went to the same place, but this time devoured the chai! That's how one changes... ;)

Most important, while I am writing, some one has to come in... Abhay's already done with his work and wants to go for a "cup of tea." So guys, I'll see you around soon (hoping to continue with my writing spree for a while). Till then, adios! Miss ya all..