Heartcrossings
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Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Uses Of Simplicity
Seeing the world in a grain of sand has physical and metaphysical implications as this slide show proves. Whatever the perspective, a grain of sand is not as inconsequential as it may seem. Similarly when watermelon is carved to look like a blossom , or butter to look like a diety, they like the grain of sand transcend the limitations of their identity. Nothing is as simple as it seems Joel Spolsky notes . He cites the example of the many complications that can come into play with a simple file read and write operation. He says :
Something as simple as copying a file is full of perils. What if the first argument is a directory? What if the second argument is a file? What if a file with the same name already exists in the destination? What if you don't have write permission?
What if the copy fails in the middle? What if the destination is on a remote machine which is available, but which requires authentication to continue? What if the files are large and the link is slow and you need to show a progress indicator? What if the transfer speed slows down to almost zero... when do you give up and return an error message?
As fascinating as it is to watch a broccoli carved to resemble a poodle or discover the hidden universe in a grain of sand, sometimes it's nice to be able to rush headlong without paying any attention to possible complications that may come along the way. We might get a memorable or regretable romantic enocunter, an unplanned vacation or a software application from hell.
Something as simple as copying a file is full of perils. What if the first argument is a directory? What if the second argument is a file? What if a file with the same name already exists in the destination? What if you don't have write permission?
What if the copy fails in the middle? What if the destination is on a remote machine which is available, but which requires authentication to continue? What if the files are large and the link is slow and you need to show a progress indicator? What if the transfer speed slows down to almost zero... when do you give up and return an error message?
As fascinating as it is to watch a broccoli carved to resemble a poodle or discover the hidden universe in a grain of sand, sometimes it's nice to be able to rush headlong without paying any attention to possible complications that may come along the way. We might get a memorable or regretable romantic enocunter, an unplanned vacation or a software application from hell.
Labels: Aesthetics, Technology
Monday, May 19, 2008
Eating Too Much
I am as miffed as the next desi at India being blamed for the global food crisis. The punditry is right in asking "Why do Americans think they deserve to eat more than Indians?" That would be like asking why does aristocracy get offended by the ostentatious nouveau riche.
Unfortunately the bar for "flashiness" in this case is dangerously low - the Indians have had their hand slapped by Big Brother for going ahead and eating a full meal. We have apparently made news by eating food produced in our own country, purchased with our own currency. The implication is somehow that we should have been mindful of our lowly station in the world and known better than to "start demanding better nutrition and better food".
After the more deserving people have had the best portions and the bulk of it, us desis should be grateful to scrape and survive on the left-overs. Instead, flush with money from a booming economy we have gone and flouted long established tradition and rules of engagement. How dare we improve our diets to the point that there is pressure to keep food inside India ?
No wonder Condi Rice feels the need to look at that element of the problem. She might as well have issued an edict for all desis to go on a crash diet effective immediately to ease up some of that "pressure" so food could start flowing West to end up half-eaten in trash bins and dumpsters. What else is she to do with these upstart Indians who insist on eating their meals ?
Unfortunately the bar for "flashiness" in this case is dangerously low - the Indians have had their hand slapped by Big Brother for going ahead and eating a full meal. We have apparently made news by eating food produced in our own country, purchased with our own currency. The implication is somehow that we should have been mindful of our lowly station in the world and known better than to "start demanding better nutrition and better food".
After the more deserving people have had the best portions and the bulk of it, us desis should be grateful to scrape and survive on the left-overs. Instead, flush with money from a booming economy we have gone and flouted long established tradition and rules of engagement. How dare we improve our diets to the point that there is pressure to keep food inside India ?
No wonder Condi Rice feels the need to look at that element of the problem. She might as well have issued an edict for all desis to go on a crash diet effective immediately to ease up some of that "pressure" so food could start flowing West to end up half-eaten in trash bins and dumpsters. What else is she to do with these upstart Indians who insist on eating their meals ?
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Mammoni
Watching this series on Italian men in the 30s and 40s who still live with their mothers, made me think how bad habits if continued long enough and in large numbers can take on the mantle of "tradition" and "culture". I've seen a few Bengali Mammonis in my own family. Men who stayed on and on with their often widowed and impoverished mothers. In return for a portion of their paycheck, these women waited hand and foot on their over-grown boys just like the Italian mothers do in the feature though its not clear if any money changes hands.
These women were glorified housekeepers who would never enjoy superannuation. When the sons finally got married, the brought home the wives to live with their mother. Nothing changed in the domestic situation except that the mother now had more kids to look after. Her domestic responsibilities increased as did her age. Came a point when she could no longer do what had come to be expected of her and the suddenly she became the evil mother-in-law who was showing her true colors after her son got married. It was clearly lost on her children that she was suffering from chronic fatigue and just wanted to be left alone.
The parting of ways came after much bitterness and acrimony. The sons bought their own houses and moved out with their fledgling families. The mother was left behind to be by herself as she desired. Somehow that did not work out either. She felt hurt and betrayed. Was she not entitled to getting something back for so many years of service. A phone call, a weekend visit in the least but much more really.
Everyone complained about being too busy to give her the time and attention she wanted. They were exasperated with her. What did she want anyway ? She hated it when we lived with her and she hates it now that we are gone. Maybe they should have gone a long time ago and allowed her an opportunity to forge a meaningful life of her own that was not defined by doing chores for grown up children.
In my neck of the woods, the Mammonis have typically been bad news for everyone but specially for their mothers. That may be different in Italy and if so it would be interesting to understand why.
These women were glorified housekeepers who would never enjoy superannuation. When the sons finally got married, the brought home the wives to live with their mother. Nothing changed in the domestic situation except that the mother now had more kids to look after. Her domestic responsibilities increased as did her age. Came a point when she could no longer do what had come to be expected of her and the suddenly she became the evil mother-in-law who was showing her true colors after her son got married. It was clearly lost on her children that she was suffering from chronic fatigue and just wanted to be left alone.
The parting of ways came after much bitterness and acrimony. The sons bought their own houses and moved out with their fledgling families. The mother was left behind to be by herself as she desired. Somehow that did not work out either. She felt hurt and betrayed. Was she not entitled to getting something back for so many years of service. A phone call, a weekend visit in the least but much more really.
Everyone complained about being too busy to give her the time and attention she wanted. They were exasperated with her. What did she want anyway ? She hated it when we lived with her and she hates it now that we are gone. Maybe they should have gone a long time ago and allowed her an opportunity to forge a meaningful life of her own that was not defined by doing chores for grown up children.
In my neck of the woods, the Mammonis have typically been bad news for everyone but specially for their mothers. That may be different in Italy and if so it would be interesting to understand why.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Vindaloo And Lassi
This post on the consequences of the rising power of the Indian Rupee is a lot of content for the average person to digest. What is more, it does not give you the two-three sentence summary in English that someone like me can take away and possibly mull over.
I am quite bedeviled by the detail and the lack of a conclusion which is probably because the story is still unfolding. That said, I did find a little nugget of a metaphor explaining the risk of over-heating by the economy by large capital inflows. The author says :
just like a strong vindaloo without the de-rigueur mango lassi accompaniment a rising currency produces its own kind of dyspeptic discomfort
You have to be a Desi to attest to the truthiness of that example and if you are economics challenged like myself you will also wonder if the central bank's market stabilization scheme the author refers to further along in his article is the mango lassi to the vindaloo perpetrated by the plummeting dollar.
I am quite bedeviled by the detail and the lack of a conclusion which is probably because the story is still unfolding. That said, I did find a little nugget of a metaphor explaining the risk of over-heating by the economy by large capital inflows. The author says :
just like a strong vindaloo without the de-rigueur mango lassi accompaniment a rising currency produces its own kind of dyspeptic discomfort
You have to be a Desi to attest to the truthiness of that example and if you are economics challenged like myself you will also wonder if the central bank's market stabilization scheme the author refers to further along in his article is the mango lassi to the vindaloo perpetrated by the plummeting dollar.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Staying Home
ABC News profiles a 21 year old girl from India who is happy in Mumbai and would not trade her life for anything. She scores bonus points for not knowing who Brad Pitt is. Nisha Mehta is neither an anomaly nor does she represent her generation or the state of present day India as seen through the eyes of a 21 year old.
Back in my day when I was 21, India was a very different place - there was no plethora of career options. The only sure bets were medicine and engineering and it was no cake walk making it to a decent school. The kids who could not keep their nose to the grindstone and get an education that would translate to a job had very limited options at home. America looked promising in comparison.
It took a student visa to get their foot in the door and anything was possible after that. Today the average kid has choices that never existed in India before. They are not compelled to step outside their comfort zone for a good life. Also, the whole "idea of America" and moved to their backyards. They don't need to travel to experience any of it. Needless to say, the absurdly difficult immigration laws have proved the greatest disincentive of all.
Who in their right mind would want to waste the best years of their lives waiting for a Green Card far away from family and familiar culture when they could have been doing much better staying right at home. There are more flexible continuing education options than ever before, job opportunities abound for those who are motivated to succeed professionally.
To someone who has grown up in India and never lived for a significant period of time anywhere else, the many things that ail India is an intrinsic part of their socio-cultural experience. Just like you cannot graft out the most annoying traits of your family members and still have them be your family; they don't consider making over India the only way they can get along with her. They have accepted it as part of the package - flawed, imperfect and yet comfortingly familiar.
There will be some whining and complaining but they'll still remain together. And when an outsider asks them if they would rather be elsewhere, the answer is likely to be "No" because the negatives distinctly outweigh the positives today specially when there is not a direct comparison point.
As in my time, there are 21 year olds even today who queue up outside the American Consulate from the wee hours hoping to get their student visa approved but they are probably not counting on being able to make America their home given the vagaries of the immigration process. They might give it a shot but they may move to a more immigrant friendly country and best of all they may head home to dream up the next start-up.
These are heady times in India and its not surprising that young people feel like they could achieve everything they want right at home - confidence and prosperity are correlated. Whether that will prove to be yet another case of irrational exuberance ending with a large bubble bursting, only time will tell. In the meanwhile, Brad Pitt notwithstanding, America has done quite a bit to become an unattractive destination for young talent from India.
Back in my day when I was 21, India was a very different place - there was no plethora of career options. The only sure bets were medicine and engineering and it was no cake walk making it to a decent school. The kids who could not keep their nose to the grindstone and get an education that would translate to a job had very limited options at home. America looked promising in comparison.
It took a student visa to get their foot in the door and anything was possible after that. Today the average kid has choices that never existed in India before. They are not compelled to step outside their comfort zone for a good life. Also, the whole "idea of America" and moved to their backyards. They don't need to travel to experience any of it. Needless to say, the absurdly difficult immigration laws have proved the greatest disincentive of all.
Who in their right mind would want to waste the best years of their lives waiting for a Green Card far away from family and familiar culture when they could have been doing much better staying right at home. There are more flexible continuing education options than ever before, job opportunities abound for those who are motivated to succeed professionally.
To someone who has grown up in India and never lived for a significant period of time anywhere else, the many things that ail India is an intrinsic part of their socio-cultural experience. Just like you cannot graft out the most annoying traits of your family members and still have them be your family; they don't consider making over India the only way they can get along with her. They have accepted it as part of the package - flawed, imperfect and yet comfortingly familiar.
There will be some whining and complaining but they'll still remain together. And when an outsider asks them if they would rather be elsewhere, the answer is likely to be "No" because the negatives distinctly outweigh the positives today specially when there is not a direct comparison point.
As in my time, there are 21 year olds even today who queue up outside the American Consulate from the wee hours hoping to get their student visa approved but they are probably not counting on being able to make America their home given the vagaries of the immigration process. They might give it a shot but they may move to a more immigrant friendly country and best of all they may head home to dream up the next start-up.
These are heady times in India and its not surprising that young people feel like they could achieve everything they want right at home - confidence and prosperity are correlated. Whether that will prove to be yet another case of irrational exuberance ending with a large bubble bursting, only time will tell. In the meanwhile, Brad Pitt notwithstanding, America has done quite a bit to become an unattractive destination for young talent from India.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Rain And Sun
Like many people, I think Aishwarya Rai is picture perfect but like many others I am almost always underwhelmed by her acting. Two exceptions to that would be Raincoat and Bride and Prejudice. Love and marriage are the main themes of both but that's the only thing they have in common unless one counts the refreshing Rai performances.
Raincoat is possibly film-noir. The incessant rain makes for a dark and gloomy ambience in which the story unfolds. Two old lovers meet somewhat by chance one afternoon, talk about the past and where they are in life now. Both pretend that they are happy - she in her marriage, he with how well his business is doing. The truth about their lives comes out in the end. The story is told with deliberate slowness and it draws you in. You become a fly on the wall observing the two navigate their perilous way through a maze of half-truths and white lies.
Bride and Prejudice is an unapologetic Bollywood musical with a little bit of Broadway thrown in for good measure. Rai works her way through song, dance, pathos and drama with grace and a light touch - most importantly she seems to be having a good time. The colors are bright, the music loud and everyone and their grandmother breaks into a song and dance routine at the slightest provocation. Night is to Raincoat as day is to Bride.
Except for the name Will Darcy nothing else seemed familiar from Jane Austen's book that provided inspiration for this movie. Maybe it does not really matter. One assumes Chadha wanted the rest of the world to get a taste of mainstream Bollywood fare - a familiar story told in English merely helped her get her audience interested in her offering.
For those of us who dismiss Rai as a perfectly expressionless doll, both of these movies could be a nice surprise.
Raincoat is possibly film-noir. The incessant rain makes for a dark and gloomy ambience in which the story unfolds. Two old lovers meet somewhat by chance one afternoon, talk about the past and where they are in life now. Both pretend that they are happy - she in her marriage, he with how well his business is doing. The truth about their lives comes out in the end. The story is told with deliberate slowness and it draws you in. You become a fly on the wall observing the two navigate their perilous way through a maze of half-truths and white lies.
Bride and Prejudice is an unapologetic Bollywood musical with a little bit of Broadway thrown in for good measure. Rai works her way through song, dance, pathos and drama with grace and a light touch - most importantly she seems to be having a good time. The colors are bright, the music loud and everyone and their grandmother breaks into a song and dance routine at the slightest provocation. Night is to Raincoat as day is to Bride.
Except for the name Will Darcy nothing else seemed familiar from Jane Austen's book that provided inspiration for this movie. Maybe it does not really matter. One assumes Chadha wanted the rest of the world to get a taste of mainstream Bollywood fare - a familiar story told in English merely helped her get her audience interested in her offering.
For those of us who dismiss Rai as a perfectly expressionless doll, both of these movies could be a nice surprise.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
In The Motherhood
While checking my nearly defunct hotmail account, saw this series culled from real life experiences of mothers on the MSN portal. Even allowing for quite a bit of hyperbole it is fun to watch. This mommyhood confabulation roller-coaster is described thusly :
In The MotherHood is the first scripted Web series by moms, for moms and about moms. Conceived by Suave and Sprint, the story will be written in part by YOU, based on your funny, comical and no-holds-barred experiences of motherhood.
Colicky babies, toppling toddlers, terrible-two tantrums, kindergartners uttering obscenities (during parent-teacher conferences, of course) — the comedies of motherhood never seem to end!
In The MotherHood is the first scripted Web series by moms, for moms and about moms. Conceived by Suave and Sprint, the story will be written in part by YOU, based on your funny, comical and no-holds-barred experiences of motherhood.
Colicky babies, toppling toddlers, terrible-two tantrums, kindergartners uttering obscenities (during parent-teacher conferences, of course) — the comedies of motherhood never seem to end!
Labels: Parenting, SingleMother
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Executive Shoe Shine
As a child, my mother taught me how to recalibrate when I felt proud of myself or thought I was better than the rest of them. She would point to the little ants that marched in their relentless single files around the kitchen in summertime and say "Do you think any one of them is better, smarter, prettier, more talented or richer than the rest ?" When I thought about it I knew it was impossible to tell them apart let alone judge singular attributes.
"Just remember that's how all of humankind appears to someone who is looking down upon the Earth from very high above. We are only so many ants milling away with nothing so remarkable about anyone that they would stand out in the grand scheme of things. Whenever you lose your humility think about the ants and being one of them" she would say.
It is a lesson that has stood me in good stead to this day though I must admit I have often slipped and imagined myself to be this spectacular ant quite unlike any other and in as such deserving of a lot more attention from my Maker than the "rest of them". But the recalibration lesson does kick in soon thereafter and sets the measure straight.
Reading the poem Executive Shoe Shine by Mary Jo Salter made me smile and think about the Master of Universe ants I see around me who have "the silver snail of a cell-phone earpiece hooked to his ear hangs on his every word" and therefore make the rest of us wonder "Could he strike us a deal with the weather ?". This could almost be a poem about Sherman McCoy.
"Just remember that's how all of humankind appears to someone who is looking down upon the Earth from very high above. We are only so many ants milling away with nothing so remarkable about anyone that they would stand out in the grand scheme of things. Whenever you lose your humility think about the ants and being one of them" she would say.
It is a lesson that has stood me in good stead to this day though I must admit I have often slipped and imagined myself to be this spectacular ant quite unlike any other and in as such deserving of a lot more attention from my Maker than the "rest of them". But the recalibration lesson does kick in soon thereafter and sets the measure straight.
Reading the poem Executive Shoe Shine by Mary Jo Salter made me smile and think about the Master of Universe ants I see around me who have "the silver snail of a cell-phone earpiece hooked to his ear hangs on his every word" and therefore make the rest of us wonder "Could he strike us a deal with the weather ?". This could almost be a poem about Sherman McCoy.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Gas For Food
I was at the farmer's market for vegetables and fruit when J spied the big bin or corn and clamored for me to buy some. There were pathetic looking ears of corn, about one fourth their usual size then there was sticker shock of the price. That much for plain old corn ?
I told J we'll make to with the frozen corn we still have left in the fridge and give the fresh corn a shot some other time. She was a little disappointed but recovered quickly after getting a sample of Camembert cheese to taste. Near the checkout line there were freshly baked chocolate cookie samples which was only more help.
Later in the evening I was reading about the DYI ethanol pump in Wired magazine. A sugar based backyard fuel pump sound like a good idea until the price of sugar goes the way of corn with everyone making their own backyard ethanol. Those sample cookies would be the first to disappear and then dessert would become and unbelievable luxury.
Using garbage as the starting product might be far more sustainable. Turning perfectly edible food into fuel to run a car seems extremely wrong-headed to folks like me who were born and raised in developing countries. We know if there is any food there is always more than one mouth waiting to be fed. It makes sense to address that need before filling up a gas tank.
I told J we'll make to with the frozen corn we still have left in the fridge and give the fresh corn a shot some other time. She was a little disappointed but recovered quickly after getting a sample of Camembert cheese to taste. Near the checkout line there were freshly baked chocolate cookie samples which was only more help.
Later in the evening I was reading about the DYI ethanol pump in Wired magazine. A sugar based backyard fuel pump sound like a good idea until the price of sugar goes the way of corn with everyone making their own backyard ethanol. Those sample cookies would be the first to disappear and then dessert would become and unbelievable luxury.
Using garbage as the starting product might be far more sustainable. Turning perfectly edible food into fuel to run a car seems extremely wrong-headed to folks like me who were born and raised in developing countries. We know if there is any food there is always more than one mouth waiting to be fed. It makes sense to address that need before filling up a gas tank.
Labels: Consumerism, Technology
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Cube Stuff
I don’t care for cubicle decoration though personalization done tastefully and in moderation can be quite nice. Being that both taste and moderation are subjective qualities I keep my space completely anonymous and steer clear of trouble.
The last thing I need is being dissected over my cubicle choices though not making any may be bad thing too. At the end of the day there is no trace of me left. Maybe that’s my unconscious way of not putting down roots anywhere. While sterile workplaces are fine, I do like a nice laptop bag and some interesting supplies.
So it’s nice to discover, computer bags for women that look chic and practical – a welcome departure from having to choose between ugly or ridiculous.
Useful to be able to highlight and underscore passages from favorite books without marring the books themselves with the transparent PostIt - I haven't seen these in around though.
The last thing I need is being dissected over my cubicle choices though not making any may be bad thing too. At the end of the day there is no trace of me left. Maybe that’s my unconscious way of not putting down roots anywhere. While sterile workplaces are fine, I do like a nice laptop bag and some interesting supplies.
So it’s nice to discover, computer bags for women that look chic and practical – a welcome departure from having to choose between ugly or ridiculous.
Useful to be able to highlight and underscore passages from favorite books without marring the books themselves with the transparent PostIt - I haven't seen these in around though.
Labels: Workplace
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Lego Robot
Using Lego-like roBlocks to build robots sounds much more fun than assembling circuits on breadboards and then writing assembly language programs to make stuff work - that's all we had back in the day. It will be wonderful to have these for sale with open source hardware and software. That could give everyone a fair shot at getting in touch with their inner geek. For those of us who went through engineering school quite cluelessly, this may be what it takes to finally "get" the concepts that we never did in four years there. Clearly, there would be a need for cook books to get folks started on their maiden Lego robot projects and it obviously makes a great educational tool for kids.
Schweikardt said that children who were around 8 years old could start playing with the blocks and make simple robots with them. Older children would start understanding how the blocks worked together to form the entire robot.
The simple logic behind the functions of the robot should help the children enhance their lateral thinking skills. According to a Carnegie Mellon press release, the blocks can also be reprogrammed to perform slightly different tasks from what they were originally designed to do. For example, the five logic blocks known as “and,” “or,” “not,” “nand,” and “xor,” enable children to improve how their robots react to different stimuli
Schweikardt said that children who were around 8 years old could start playing with the blocks and make simple robots with them. Older children would start understanding how the blocks worked together to form the entire robot.
The simple logic behind the functions of the robot should help the children enhance their lateral thinking skills. According to a Carnegie Mellon press release, the blocks can also be reprogrammed to perform slightly different tasks from what they were originally designed to do. For example, the five logic blocks known as “and,” “or,” “not,” “nand,” and “xor,” enable children to improve how their robots react to different stimuli
Labels: Technology
Friday, May 09, 2008
Wildflower Bouquet
Little things J does remind my why I am grateful for motherhood. Some mornings she feeds me one heart shaped cereal “Because I love you” – just a small token to remind me of her affection. In the evening when I go to pick her up from after-school care, she comes running across the field, her face shining bright. Some days, she has in her hand a clump of wild flowers she has gathered for me. I am not sure where and how I can preserve these treasures from heaven.
She puts them in a glass of water and sets it on the window-sill of my room. I can imagine myself in my twilight years thinking back about this time fondly. I would see the gap toothed smile on her face as she hands me the flowers “I gathered specially for Mommy” – I would see her green floral printed skirt with sea green top, tired at day’s end and so relieved to see me. Like a wave through a sea of green she comes rushing headlong into my awaiting arms. I pick her up, she wraps her arms around my neck - that moment is always perfect.
This is the time of day we both look forward to equally – the day’s battles are done and buglers of fate play the beating retreat. We have to brace up for whatever the next day might bring and the next mostly without end. Yes, sometimes we pause and take a break but there is a certain monotony to our lives that a beach trip or a brief holiday does not completely break. The daily grind is assured of our return to it - there is no real escape.
In my dreams I reinvent myself - turn somewhat reckless maybe, give myself a new life and a new country to call home, pace the days much slower. In my dreams, J rushes to me with a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand, the arc of her smile brighter than the sun shining in her hair. In my dream that moment lasts forever or maybe I want it to.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Made For Music
S was no more than ten when I first met her. In our little town she was a musical prodigy. Trained in Hindustani classical music she could hold her own in almost any genre. Our fathers were co-workers and we had been invited to their home for dinner and she had performed for us. I had listened mesmerized. I thought she could give the leading playback singers of Bollywood a run for their money even at that young age.
Then I wondered if I was just being a toad in a pond who had never seen world - I was in the final year of college then. Maybe in the "real" world out there, talent like S's was commonplace. Despite my lack on confidence in my own judgment I sensed S was destined for greatness.
There was something special about her - not every kid with a lovely singing voice had such fierce dedication and sense of purpose. When she sang, it was as if the world around her had dissolved - she was transformed into the music she was creating. It was an unique experience listening to her in her living room with just our families in audience. I could see her performing on a concert stage someday with people queuing up for tickets - I felt very lucky.
It was vindicating today when I happened to see a feature on S in a leading Indian newspaper. Indeed she has arrived on the music scene and her star is on the ascent. I still treasure the cassette she had given us with some of her songs recorded on it. There were other kids I knew back then who I thought had a great deal of potential and I am hopeful of being proven right about them too. Maybe us toads in the pond are able to recognize extraordinary caliber just as well as the worldly-wise. At any rate it is a wonderful feeling to have been right.
Then I wondered if I was just being a toad in a pond who had never seen world - I was in the final year of college then. Maybe in the "real" world out there, talent like S's was commonplace. Despite my lack on confidence in my own judgment I sensed S was destined for greatness.
There was something special about her - not every kid with a lovely singing voice had such fierce dedication and sense of purpose. When she sang, it was as if the world around her had dissolved - she was transformed into the music she was creating. It was an unique experience listening to her in her living room with just our families in audience. I could see her performing on a concert stage someday with people queuing up for tickets - I felt very lucky.
It was vindicating today when I happened to see a feature on S in a leading Indian newspaper. Indeed she has arrived on the music scene and her star is on the ascent. I still treasure the cassette she had given us with some of her songs recorded on it. There were other kids I knew back then who I thought had a great deal of potential and I am hopeful of being proven right about them too. Maybe us toads in the pond are able to recognize extraordinary caliber just as well as the worldly-wise. At any rate it is a wonderful feeling to have been right.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Pig In Mud
I have as little knowledge of cricket as I do of pig slaughtering - the themes that two books I am reading now open with. The former is The Match by Romesh Guneskera and the later is The Konkans by Tony D'Souza. Guneskera is overwhelming me with minutiae of locale and theme to the point I am losing sight of his story. The characters are disappearing on me like random people do in crowded bazaars. I am not sure which one I am supposed to keep in sight so I get to the end. He has my poor head spinning already and I'm likley to drop out mid-book.
D'Souza starts with this fantastic account about two men, the narrators uncles who arrive in Chicago from Konkan in India and decide they need to slaughter a pig to celebrate the feast of St. Francis Xavier the family's patron saint. The characters are sketched in bold colors as the story unfolds at a bracing pace. The smell of dukrajemas (a Konkani pork curry) and all too frequent flash backs to Chikmaglur do not distract or parochialize. Instead they form an authentic backdrop in which D'Souza spins his yarn masterfully.
When it comes to using exotic locales in storytelling there are tinkers like Guneskera and others and the real mechanics like D'Souza who know to use it a tell a story that transcends its setting. I am struggling for the right cricketing idiom for Guneskera’s book but it would be along the lines of leaving a movie at intermission to find something else to do. For anyone who likes being told a good story D’Souza’s will make them as happy as a pig in mud.
D'Souza starts with this fantastic account about two men, the narrators uncles who arrive in Chicago from Konkan in India and decide they need to slaughter a pig to celebrate the feast of St. Francis Xavier the family's patron saint. The characters are sketched in bold colors as the story unfolds at a bracing pace. The smell of dukrajemas (a Konkani pork curry) and all too frequent flash backs to Chikmaglur do not distract or parochialize. Instead they form an authentic backdrop in which D'Souza spins his yarn masterfully.
When it comes to using exotic locales in storytelling there are tinkers like Guneskera and others and the real mechanics like D'Souza who know to use it a tell a story that transcends its setting. I am struggling for the right cricketing idiom for Guneskera’s book but it would be along the lines of leaving a movie at intermission to find something else to do. For anyone who likes being told a good story D’Souza’s will make them as happy as a pig in mud.
Labels: Books
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Hear And Now
Hear and Now is the kind of movie to be blown away by and also remember wistfully. It can be about and mean different things to different people. I saw in it a story of a couple deeply in love -a marriage based on a profound level of communication that needs no words. Paul and Sally Taylor have been deaf all their lives and are married to each other. At sixty five, they get the gift of hearing by a cochlear implant.
The movie documents the anticipation before the operation, the event itself and life with sound in it. Irene Taylor Brodsky portrays the myriad of complex emotions that her parents Paul and Sally experience with great sensitivity and like any well made movie, makes it look effortless.
For the first time in their long marriage, Sally falls behind Paul when she is not able to match his pace with being able to hear well with the cochlear implant. It makes her anxious and even depressed at times. The world that they had shared together seems to have fallen apart. Paul is leaving her out in savoring aural experiences. Paul is not nearly as competitive and is happy to wait for her to catch up.
As much as they like being able to hear for the first time in their lives, the initial euphoria soon gives way to a desire to return to the old and familiar ways and retreat to the absolute silence they were used to. The pressure to hear all the time and everywhere is simply overwhelming. Paul expects nothing from this operation and is delighted to have what he has recieved. Sally is upset at herself for wanting more out of her new found ability to hear and is frustrated that she cannot become a hearing person fast enough.
Their relationship struggles because of this fundamental difference in their outlook - something that obviously became evident only when this life changing event occurred. It seems as if Sally had always been conscious of her handicap and longed to remedy it but Paul never thought of himself quite like her.
To me this is also a story about the power of acceptance in life and feeling grateful for the gifts we either take for granted or have granted to us in an unexpected act of largesse. After a year of ups and downs, Paul and Sally manage to find a comfortable pace that they can walk together. After the challenges, their relationship is even stronger for their new ability to communicate by the sound of laughter and tears. An absolutely must-watch movie !
The movie documents the anticipation before the operation, the event itself and life with sound in it. Irene Taylor Brodsky portrays the myriad of complex emotions that her parents Paul and Sally experience with great sensitivity and like any well made movie, makes it look effortless.
For the first time in their long marriage, Sally falls behind Paul when she is not able to match his pace with being able to hear well with the cochlear implant. It makes her anxious and even depressed at times. The world that they had shared together seems to have fallen apart. Paul is leaving her out in savoring aural experiences. Paul is not nearly as competitive and is happy to wait for her to catch up.
As much as they like being able to hear for the first time in their lives, the initial euphoria soon gives way to a desire to return to the old and familiar ways and retreat to the absolute silence they were used to. The pressure to hear all the time and everywhere is simply overwhelming. Paul expects nothing from this operation and is delighted to have what he has recieved. Sally is upset at herself for wanting more out of her new found ability to hear and is frustrated that she cannot become a hearing person fast enough.
Their relationship struggles because of this fundamental difference in their outlook - something that obviously became evident only when this life changing event occurred. It seems as if Sally had always been conscious of her handicap and longed to remedy it but Paul never thought of himself quite like her.
To me this is also a story about the power of acceptance in life and feeling grateful for the gifts we either take for granted or have granted to us in an unexpected act of largesse. After a year of ups and downs, Paul and Sally manage to find a comfortable pace that they can walk together. After the challenges, their relationship is even stronger for their new ability to communicate by the sound of laughter and tears. An absolutely must-watch movie !
Labels: Cinema
