Thoughts and Lessons

Stigma

2011-02-27T21:28:00.004+11:00

A dark and menacing shadow creeps slowly behind me as I return from work and as I awake it remains looming over me. As I go about my chores, visit my friends, speak to my family, return to work and pursue my pursuits it stands towering over me, hands on hips, my own Ms Trunchbull to follow me all the way through life. Call me paranoid, but I cannot shake off the notion that who I am does not matter to people as much as what I am.

When I first married into a Gujarati family, being a Tamil Brahmin, I could feel the tension at family gatherings, a feeling of exclusion, of 'she just won't get it'. One or two uncles even made very bold differences, one memorable memory being in the buffet queue where I was serving the rice. An uncle kindly asked for more rice, sniggering and saying 'like a South Indian'. Cousins couldn't understand that being Tamil is not the same as being Malayalee or Telugu and would constantly bring up their adventures in Kerala, of which I had as much connection to as a Guju would to Punjab. It has taken me three years to break down these barriers and to start to be seen as an Indian, much more so than many of them whose grandparents left India for East Africa so many years ago.

The same translates into the workplace. I am very proud of the work I do in social innovation, in challenging statutory services to be more inclusive of patient experiences and social factors that determine recovery rather than imposing the standard disease model. I am passionate about the principles of user involvement and co-production of public services to suit the end user rather than treat symptoms. And yet, the very people I work with and for, the users of services are the first to stigamatise me for coming from a corporate background. A few days ago at a work event, I finally plucked up the courage to point out that as users of mental health services they spent an awful lot of time complaining about stigma and discrimination and how wherever they went, they were followed by their condition and their very persona dictated by the fact that they'd suffered a breakdown or were on anti-depressant medication. For the past year, they had spoke to me of little else except that they did not feel genuinely heard or involved and under-represented in Statutory sector levels. I reminded them of how they had told me they felt belittled, patronised, even a little hurt by being defined by their illness rather than their individual personalities. Then I mentioned that this was exactly what they were doing to me, by defining me by my past, my background in the Corporate world as somehow disqualifying me from working in the community, even though I had been working with communities for over four years now and gained the relevant qualifications to do so.

Stigma isn't something just faced by one group of people, that is the worst thing about it, it is a hidden prejudice that we all think we don't have but even the best of us discriminate and judge people based on what they are. The dangerous part is when people fail to admit that they too have a dark side, a blind side that acquits them of being prejudiced.

2010-11-13T02:31:00.002+11:00

The days grow darker for longer here and the clouds seem to hang lower everyday. My breath turns to smoke as I trudge through the grass on my way to work. I wear about five layers of clothing and avoid being outside as much as possible. People seem more cocooned in their trench coats and hoodies and eye contact, non existent. At work, things start to slow down. People wind down and I can feel the countdown to Christmas beginning.

This year has had me worried. Cuts, recession, job losses, these have actually become very real terms in my vocabulary. The meetings I Chair with a number of local charities is diminishing as more and more lose funding. Colleagues suddenly unemployed after 10, 15 years of setting up key organisations, their clients now lost for help. Ironically, I work closely enough to Canary Wharf to see the "suit march" on a regular basis. Armies of people in pinstripes, high heels and attitude trudging to work, marching so it seems, over the livelihoods of the less well off.

I hear the term benefit scrounger so often it seems passe. But actually, it really bothers me. It wasn't people on benefits that caused this recession, it was the most well off, the most successful, the greediest echelons of society. And now it is this very class of society that thinks depriving someone of 80 pounds a week will save the economy. I am saddened by the politics of the Coalition who won't be firmer with banks but will deprive people of incapacity benefit, housing benefit, raise university fees and dip into pension schemes.

Most of all, I am worried about the NHS. I see what happens to people who are prematurely taken off healthcare. Social care is fast becoming the same way with local authorities introducing drastic cuts to much needed services. Right now, where I am, on the grassroots, and at the front line, I feel right in the middle of it all. And yet, many people still have a view from their private offices, looking down on this city, completely unaware of the chaos.

It is right to fight for yourself, no doubt. But it is far nobler to fight for others, I just hope people start looking harder and further for people to serve and love.

August

2010-07-28T07:13:00.003+10:00

I awoke with a start in the dead of night, sweating, screams aligning themselves at the base of my throat. I knew it was a dream, but it wasn't pleasant. It was a prophecy. Seven days, someone whispered, seven days and he will be gone.

My first day on the job, overjoyed at being able to support my studies, like so many uni students, by supplementing rent and bills with some mindnumbing, uninspired retail job. But twelve missed calls from my father told me I had to go home, now.

On the Greyhound buses, Canberra to Sydney, prayer beads in my hand. But what could I do?

A room full of people, a tiny fragile figure lying desolately on the bed. I wasn't too late. But what was there left to say?

I read from the Qua'ran, held his hand, cried, kissed his forehead and let him go.

Nine years later and it still hurts as much as it did on that grey August afternoon.

R.I.P my friend.

2010-06-06T10:14:00.002+10:00

I thought that if I let it be, the words would just flow, that writing would just 'happen'. But I was wrong. Writing takes time, dedicated time and effort for it to be truly worthwhile and worth reading.

It's been a busy period for BK and I, having moved houses a few months ago, both moved on to new jobs and trying to build a life together with some sort of plan. Sometimes it seems as though everybody around me has a plan that is far ahead of mine. Friends of mine that are newly married have already moved into flashy houses and apartments with a car each, holidays booked a year in advance, thriving careers and enough letters after their names to be envied. We on the other hand, are starting out in our careers, renting a small place way on the outskirts of London, just starting to think about further study and future plans. I don't know if there is a right way to live a life. I have always just tried to take things a day at a time and to do what feels right in every situation rather than what everyone around me seems to do simply because that's what's done. Which is probably why I studied English as a first degree before going on to study Economics and then Finance. Which is probably why BK studied Classics and Sanskrit before going on to study Law. Our lives have been dictated by what we've known we were good at, would love keep doing and would equip us with the best tools to serve society.

One of my favourite quotes is 'Make your passion your profession'. In all my people watching over the years I have seen my friends crumble in trying to make careers for themselves with money as the object. The money comes, no doubt about it, but the joy of work fizzles out and after some time, the feeling of being a meaningless cog in a wheel takes over until it becomes unbearable. Eventually, and it's happened four times now, I'll get a phonecall out of the blue, asking for career advice or being told that so and so is now enrolling to be an art teacher and has left a top firm to take up gardening or something polar opposite to what they insisted they had to do.

I know I could be earning twice as much as I am right now if I worked in consulting or a big firm, but I am terrified of losing the small joys that accompany my little job. There is something about working for people that is such a joyful experience. Everyday is different. Everyday I get to do things that others just don't understand. I attend poetry groups, art classes, I run IT classes, I provide informal therapy and organise group activities. I try to help those demotivated by life to try and reignite the spark of existence that once burned freely and willingly within them. And I do it well.

And while I'm tempted at times by the laptops and fancy phones, the client lunches and flights that accompanied my previous corporate life, I have to do a double take and recognise that what I did then - reconcile spreadsheets and figures, balance budgets and create databases, has nothing on the kinds of things I am learning now.

So maybe it will take a few years for us both to catch up on the house and the cars and the high life that we seem so far behind from, but at least we love what we do and who we are...and eachother.

Transmigration

2009-09-08T06:14:00.005+10:00

A year on in England, I wanted to post something I wrote after living here for only two months, while things have changed in my approach, I thought it important to capture this for what it was when and as it were happening...
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If I could take a moment to pause and linger over the complicated parts then I guess now is the time.

Life is racing at a pace I am struggling to meet.

For so long I feel like I've been running this race, forever playing catch-up with the next big thing, then the next, and the next after that. and now, I will step back, I will close my eyes and I will pause.

There are days when the sky is blue and a sea breeze lingers in the air that I close my eyes and I am back in Sydney, lying on golden sand and watching the ocean move. days when my thoughts drift asunder and return to me refreshed and renewed.

There are other days when I run miles to escape my mind. I clutter my life with appointments and activities so I don't have to think about that dark cloud hanging over my head ready to strike me dead. I hide beneath the facade of a busy life, trying not to face the fact that I have moved my body to another country, most of my mind, and yet, not entirely the whole of my heart.

Parts of remain etched in Sydney Harbour, Parramatta, the blue mountains.

Parts of me still live in villages in Rajasthan and Gujarat and Karnataka.

There are days I cannot face myself. I cannot look at myself or reconcile that I am who I am. That I have become someone so unlike who I thought I was.

Yet I hold out hope that I will know me once again, and maybe life will begin to make more sense.

Appreciation

2009-08-19T02:13:00.009+10:00

I recently attended a memorial for a very special man in our circle of friends who passed away. He had been an instrumental force in encouraging and supporting many, many people in pursuing noble pursuits and providing them with the opportunity to do so.

And though i knew him not long, nor well, he left upon me an impression that will never fade.

Having suffered through a recent phase of hopelessness, those periods when life feels devoid of meaning and purpose, it was comforting to see someone's memory live on in such a positive way. And although I'm well aware of the romanticism of retrospect, I am grateful to him for being there to teach me a lesson, even in death.

I couldn't help but feel that people live, then fade away into the ether like a cloud of smoke, never to be seen again. and all that's left behind are moments and memories. Being all too aware of the grief and pain and self torture that accompanies losing someone close to you, it was reiterated to me once again, the one thing I say over and over and over: you never know. You don't know who will go and who you will outlive and what they mean to you. You never know who you will need someday to look after you or who will need to be looked after. So while you have that mental and physical capacity to show people love, do so without reservation and hesitation.

Too often we look to the sea and the stars and at nature and God and philosophy for inspiration and overlook eachother. I am all too guilty of this.

Isn't it about time we appreciated each other for our simple, homely ways than to look for the grand and glamorous aspect in everything as a yardstick for who is deserving of our love?

After all, we have the opportunity today to love eachother as we are, who knows what will come of tomorrow?

2009-08-01T03:33:00.003+10:00

I am listless today. And keen for this month to come to an end. I have spent every day this month beyond exhausted, to a point where I've fallen ill from stress alone. We have had huge responsibilities thrust upon us unexpectedly, performed them at our best, performed them well but received very little in return. There are many days of my life where I've been blessed by things I didn't expect, praise I didn't earn and rewarded for things done half heartedly. But very few where I've worked harder than I've worked before, with the purest of intentions in heart and mind and received nothing for it. It has been a steep learning curve and a lesson or two for my ego. However, it has been a month in which I've felt more let down by humankind than usual. Very few people lent us a hand even when we asked, many more were keener to insult then give any words of sympathy and only one soul was kind enough to step in and see that it has been difficult and to offer us their solace and assistance.

I spent a lot of my youth wondering what it would be like to be a "grown up", but as I aged, I matured enough at each step not to feel any drastic surprise. And yet, this month alone has made me feel the weight of my age and the responsibilities that have come with it. I am a dreamer at the best of times, forever wistful, and I am sad to be trading in that quality for someone who needs to be alert and attentive and pensive about the future.

I have felt myself recede, to be overtaken by a Divya that I am still getting to know and understand. She is bolder and stronger but also far less the playful, mischievous character she was known for. I only hope that I can become accustomed to her.

2009-07-15T01:47:00.002+10:00

Where have my head and heart been of late? I know its been a while since I've written, but my mind didn't seem that way inclined, and suddenly, on this sunny breezy afternoon, inspiration.
I reflect, as always, and have decided am prone to doing. Some write longingly of the future, others delicately about the present and others, muse over the past. I am most definitely of the third category.

I have lived here a year now, in sunny England. I am a nobody to the English, at least immigration wise, I am but a dependent of my husband, if that! I am ineligible for recourse to public funds, for any professional development or access to bursaries. I am an 'Australian non-resident currently residing in Britain' which means, 'until we can prove this isnt a marriage of convenience, we arent taking you in permanently missy!' fair enough I suppose. There are enough people trying to illegally make their way back to the Empire, they don't need a university educated, professionals from other Western countries trying to do the same...!;)

I cannot speak to you enough of what it was like to see Mum and Dad after a year, there are no words, certainly none that we could use except for 'its good to see you' which is, at its best, the understatement of my life. It was fantastic to see them. It was a feeling of being whole again, of belonging and snuggly tucking onself back into the bedcovers in your room after a long holiday away in hotels! It was a lot of emotion conveyed through gestures and a lot of unspoken conversation that took place with a glance. It was a healing moment, for me at least, to be with the two people who by very definition of their existence, constitute what home means to me. Seeing my brother, the four of us together again, a rarity these days, was clearly much needed for us all.

I was back in Mumbai, certainly the city of my dreams. For a close family wedding. And you know that weddings mean reunions, and reunions mean tears of joy and sadness and hugs and kisses and gifts aplenty. You know they mean good wholesome, home cooked meals and long languid conversations laced with nostalgia. You know they mean so much more than how they actually play out. My heart sang to be with these people, and for two weeks I let it sing and dance and play, it was a love I drank up, a badly parched thirst being satiated and a feeling of gooey, honey love, that fills the emptiest parts of your soul and well-being with its goodness.

It was a beautiful wedding. Torquoise and beige in all its glory. Flowers and food, family and fighting, and lots of colour. I treasured the experience, every moment and minute.

This has been a year all about learning and experiencing, growing and progressing, serving and giving. I hope I haven't disappointed.

Conflict

2009-01-19T22:20:00.003+11:00

An engagement, a baby shower and a death, all over the past two days. At times its as though I am watching a movie where all the characters are scrambling to reach the top of a mountain, but not everyone succeeds.

I cannot begin to explain the sheer volume of conflicting feelings and emotions swelling up within me. All I know is that a part of me is overjoyed, another part, devastated. I wish I wasn't the introspective type. And that I could just accept things as they unfold. But its as though the harder I try to quash what I feel, the more these feelings brim and bubble up from within.

And yet, life rolls on, oblivious as ever to birth, death, sorrow, pain and joy. Its as though they all come in waves, one of top of the other, just as one is about to draw you in, the other pushes you further ashore.

Speaking of which, I miss the ocean. I miss watching the soft pink light of dawn with hopeful eyes, I miss running on the sand and looking back as my shoes sink Nike labels into the earth, I miss the moonlight as it wisps and dances on the horizon where the sun stood that morning, and I miss watching milky white tendrils of light turning the ocean an inky murky, mysterious shade.

However, the ocean seems inaccessible here so I find myself settling for the odd lake or river to carry my worries adrift and as far from me as possible. I'm not sure why large bodies of water provide me with such solace, they just do and I am glad for it.

Often at junctures like this, I look back on my time in India and try and accept things as people there do. In the villages, where I lived, if a mother lost a child, she would cry, they would bury him or her and then she would return to the fields that very afternoon to support her other children. I wish I were that strong.

There is a favourite saying of mine, you only lose when you lose hope. It was something I would say to myself constantly at trying times. And yet, here I am...basking in the hopelessness of my situation.

New Year Musings

2009-01-14T21:53:00.005+11:00

The dawn of another new year brings with it that typical sense of melancholy and nostalgia that is expected of me. Images run through my mind as I reflect upon an eventful year gone by...

Flashes of the wedding before my eyes, mine and others. Planes and sunny stretches of beach and sand in California and Disneyland at its mirthe and merriment best. Malta with its sweltering humidity and cool evening breezes, swinging and singing with Swamiji at the edge of the sea. I can taste the salt and smell the ocean and feel the pulse of the earth beating reverently below the chaos and noise. I see Chinmaya Kirti and all its members, the rainbow colours of Garba and Dandia at Navaratri. I see low hanging clouds and grey skies occassionally pierced by forgiving sunlight and green parks and countryside acres that stretch for miles and miles and miles. Orchards laden with pears longing to be picked at Waterperry, mulberries at Balliol and apples at Ramakrishna Mission. A year of taste testing and flavour sampling a cuisine new to my palette, then attempting to master cooking it!

A year of new languages, a new culture, new clothes and shoes, a sizeable winter wardrobe and endless scarves and shawls with their silk and chiffonery.

Love like I have never known it before. Sweet, and nectorious like honey one day, tangy and refereshing like berries the next. A new relationship with all its informalities and a homeliness I had only known...at home...

A year of meeting Saints and Sadhu's in all their shades of yellow and orange, great learnings, awakened wisdom, latent potential creeping up from beneath the surface and a sense of more arising from within.

A year of losing relations and gaining relationships. A sad farewell to a sibling and the two guardians of our flock, left to themselves in a corner of the world that seems too far away for my mind to reach.

A swift goodbye to a lifetime of friendships over dinner and hurried cups of coffee, a sense of tearing oneself away from the patchwork of life meticulously sewn through the years.

A dawn of new beginnings, new friendships and confidantes. Of lifting oneself up to face a new reality of being.

A new person, of new consciousness, ready to manifest in the new year ahead.

A New Future

2008-05-30T17:05:00.002+10:00

Which magician conjured you up and brought you into my life so effortlessly? so delicately? Never in a million years will I ever be more grateful than I was on that day, that glorious day in which we were sworn to eachother, with fire as the witness, to be bound eternally.

I have been on many journeys, experienced many moments, but this and you, will be the most important, the most incredible.

Thank you for choosing me to share in your joys, sorrows and adventures. There is so much that could be said, but the words stem well beyond my limited vocabulary and reverberate into lights and sounds and images of the enlightening future awaiting us both. Unsullied by speech and text and noise.

I love you.

2008-03-03T17:03:00.001+11:00

Spotlight

Moon hangs in the night,
A spotlight on the world,
Lighting the lands and moving the seas,
And tonight from where I stand on this hill,
The spotlight’s on me,
I am young…long ago…
I know not a thing.
Only that the sky is blue and sometimes grey,
Flowers grow but they need rain.
When you’re a kid you play games all day,
“Spotlight! I found you! I know where you are!”
Informative years come along,
Some take the lead and some fall behind,
Confusion untold…life can be so dramatic,
But it was real at the time.
Laughing with friends, crying alone with friends over false hearts and petty love.
Spotlight, I found you, I know where you are!
Situations still arise, where I can see the way I behave is unjustified.
There are the times that I look inside and see- I am a child after all…

Spotlight I found you,

I know who you are.

Getting Fit - Part II

2008-02-01T21:54:00.000+11:00

Today I'm proud to say I that I've officially initiated my fitness routine. I know that one day isn't by any means a basis to say that I will be consistent in the weeks to come, but I'm proud to have achieved the goals I set out. This morning, I managed to get to hit the treadmill at about 6am and really enjoyed the rush after a long time. Half hour of treadmill then about 40 minutes on the bikes had me working up a sweat and I came home tired but exhilarated.

This evening my friend/trainer called and asked if I was coming. I went realising the India/Australia 20/20 match was on. I was on the treadmill at the time watching India on strike, each wicket and each ball was such a rush that I found myself running like crazy and it was only when I was breathing really heavily did I realise how hard I was running. When two of my friends showed up we were all standing there yelling at the TV screens and I'm sure I caught a couple of people chuckling at how emotional the game was making us.

We switched to bikes and the Australian innings began, having become more riled up then just plain fed up, we engaged in our conversation, all the while I continued to ride as hard as I could. Half an hour later, realising India were going to get thrashed (although no surprises there), we headed off home.

I guess having the guys there made it really fun and encouraging. I'm starting to feel a bit more motivated and I'm praying this feeling lasts.

Step two: a change in dietary habits!

Stay tuned.

Getting Fit - Part 1

2008-01-31T15:30:00.000+11:00

One of the best things about living in India was the amount of exercise I had on a daily basis. Not voluntarily, because of my spirited nature to become the next wonder woman, no, not at all, but for no reason except that I'd have to walk 2 kilometres just to get the attention of an autorickshaw driver only to have him wave me away so he could smoke his beedi. If that didn't work, I'd try to catch a bus before it caught me, but of course that too involved a 500metre sprint alongside a million other desperate communters to scramble for the last footprint space at the doorway of the bus, anyone else after that would simply stand on you. And of course, living in villages where there was very limited transport available other than riding a bicycle or catching a bullock-cart (or camel cart, or any animal drawn mode of transport). Teaching in Rajasthan meant cycling 7-10km's a day, a routine I initially loathed but eventually grew to love. Infact, I'd become so good at cycling at super speeds that kids would stop and gawk, not because they'd never seen anyone ride a bike so fast but because they'd never seen a girl on a bike before, let alone a girl that actually knew how to ride one.

Since moving back to Australia, my fitness levels have been seriously lacking. Like most people, I sit infront of a PC for about eight hours a day or more, I take public transport to and from work and I drive everywhere on weekends. That, coupled with the tasty food options available daily at Ramkumar's Restaurant (i.e. my mum's kitchen), has led me to eat more, cook less and generally not worry about the portion sizes of what I'm fed.

The last few weeks I've noticed myself straying a little from the trim figure I was once able to maintain so effortlessly. I'm noticing I get tired more easily and have become dependent on my daily caffeine boost. Higher stress levels have meant more physical neglect as I rush around to get to places in my car, stay up late working and spend longer getting things done as a result of exhaustion.

So today I made a conscious decision to do a shantaram and break the hell out of this cycle...I've enlisted the help of one of my good friends who has put together a four week intensive training schedule...so intense I'm worried about it already...

But there are so many reasons for adopting a healthier lifestyle - the least of which - I'm scared to admit - is to look like a glowing bride at my wedding in 3.5 months. And not just because I have a decent make-up artist. I'll never have a chance to relive that day and it kills me to think that I'll look back at the photos cringing at what could have been had I taken the right steps to becoming more health conscious.

There are of course, a range of other fringe benefits - more energy, feeling better about myself, establishing and sticking to a routine and finally getting back onto that disciplined path I was once on...and maybe even regaining an ounce of much needed confidence that I've been so lacking of late.

More updates to follow.

2008-01-30T22:00:00.001+11:00

For what it's worth, I think blogging is a relatively futile exercise. To some extent it just adds to the pile of excess information whirring and swirling around our heads at every moment. Every blogger thinks they're a writer, every blogger thinks getting a book deal makes them a good writer. Every blogger thinks they have something to say, something to contribute to stimulate the intellect of the masses. But for the most part, I've noticed that bloggers tend to have interests that extend beyond their mundane routines and a connection to themselves and others. Bloggers seem in tune with themselves and seem to want to project that to the world around them. Major stereotyping I know, I don't mean to state that those that don't blog are in any way less connected to themselves or people around them, but I've noticed a pattern when I read blogs: Most blogs stem from something passionate, something deep that stirs the soul of the writer and brings their opinion to the surface to boil and bubble. Whether its parenthood, technology, fashion, make-up, books, politics, development, all things desi or just for the sake of showing off a life well lived. I am constantly and continually fascinated by the sheer number of blogs that exist on every topic known to man and some (I'm convinced) not known to man but to an alien posing as a man. What astounds me further is the consistency of good writing that's out there and the hard work that people put in to update their blogs regularly and fervently.

Every second day or so I log onto blogger and think about posting something that has captured my attention. And every day I shirk away fearing my own verbal diatribe. I've never been much of a writer or an orator...and I still struggle with self-expression. Infact, it scares me to think I've very rarely conveyed my feelings for something with a near-real accuracy that encompasses the actual moment as I experienced it (see what I mean?). But lately I've felt the urge to reawaken that fearless person within that didn't care about who was reading what and how they were construing what was written. I want that reckless rage that I once possessed back, and I want it badly. I want to write with careless abandon once again without fear of being reprimanded (by myself more than anyone else).

I want to let go and just let the words dance and add to the existing overflowing orb of information out there.

So hopefully I'll be blogging a little more consistently now. Let's see how we go.

My Madness

2007-12-04T15:11:00.000+11:00

What's it like to love someone with a tenacity you never knew you possessed? A fervour you once thoughtlessly categorised as weak willed? What's it like to be depended upon? To be responsible for? To own? To be part of? What's it like to pick up pieces from your past like a discarded jigsaw puzzle? To revisit them for good measure? What’s it like to be possessed by this madness of love?

And to realise that you have more than you could have ever imagined? More than you deserve?

Today’s unearthing of a mind much at peace, and very much in love, brings up not words, but sonnets…

In love I have weakened, and am rapidly bound,

In affairs close at hand, no longer profound:

Matters of the heart - of which I know none,

Battles I'd once victored, now aptly unwon.

Of a passion once possessed, swiftly undone.

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And yet, I remain grateful still, for this madness known as love.

2007-10-17T13:19:00.000+10:00

I wonder what you saw in me that day. I dream and dream. Of that window without shades. Of withdrawn colours and weathered wall paper. The salt that ate away at everything – your awnings, the paint, your sanity. Thrilling, you said. When I asked what it felt like to live literally at life’s edge, your lonely cottage overlooking the vast expanse of the pacific below. And every grey sky and looming storm since reminded me of you, wondering if you were okay. There was such quietude about you. A quietness spoken through your eyes and felt by every presence that came in and out of your life. I still remember that one day – tousled sheets and hair, your house a ghastly mess, the unanswered phone constantly ringing, and you, on your balcony sipping black coffee from a child’s plastic cup. Nothing else was clean, you said. The musty smell of cigarettes on your well worn furniture, that olive armchair with its attempts at remaining regal, a spring poking out there, some yellow sponge peeking from its arms. You let the ocean wind live with you, like family, you’d mutter. She made herself known, tossing your piano sheets into the most unusual places and scattering sand like snow. I loved you for your eccentricities, your carelessness. Your carefree spirit that was always content. You were for everyone and will always remain so in my memory. Bless you, again and again. Bless you.

Baring My Soul

2007-09-01T01:51:00.000+10:00

How times have changed since my last few posts. It is almost easier for me to forget I spent a year in India in order for me to move on to the next new stages of life. But I feel deeply moved by my year away and enriched in my view of India and its relationship with the world. I feel as though I have some (minute) authority to speak up if I think India is falsely perceived in whatever way by whomsoever I encounter here in London and will do so in Sydney. But of course, I realise that my perceptions are based on my experiences and no one else's and in that sense I know I will never actually hold any authority in speaking of or about India.

So I guess my absence warrants some form of explanation. The desire to blog hasn't been as strong as it once was. I am living a life I've desired for so long, so much so that I haven't even had much of an urge to blog about it lest I lose those precious moments of being alive and as content as I have been.

I spent so long watching the seasons change that I forgot to be a part of it all. Now I find myself appreciating life in ways I'd never imagined I would or could. I am more forgiving of others, less harsh on myself and more inclined to let things go than I ever was. In my recent interactions with friends and family I've noticed a drastic change in how those interactions take place. At certain times I am both surprised and elated at what I have become, for better or worse!

Tomorrow I will be bound to my beloved in a sacred bond that begins our countdown to married life. I am excited about taking that step closer to becoming his wife. Life is already beginning to take on shapes and forms previously unrecognised. However, it is becoming slightly easier to walk by faith after everything I have been blessed with.

At times I feel myself able to navigate through the ocean that encases my life and at times when the tide is too strong, I float and fall and let go of trying to retain control. I am slowly becoming better at accepting what comes my way and continue to pray that this transformation will lead to enhanced spiritual progress.

With Prem and Aum,

Divya

2007-08-07T05:30:00.000+10:00

I am the happiest I've ever been right now.

but if it ever came to be,

I would still give my life to save yours.

R.I.P

2007-07-02T02:33:00.000+10:00

I don't say this enough, but...

2007-07-02T00:20:00.000+10:00

Mumbai, Mumbai

2007-06-27T19:49:00.000+10:00

Recapping Mumbai

Journal Entry:
25th, June 2007

Something has captivated me about this city. I walked in a stranger and walked out bearing close emotional ties. Why? I’ve spent so much time in so many different cities in this country over the past year. Why do I feel so attached to Mumbai? And that too, after only five days? Any Mumbaikar would tell me that I haven’t seen anything yet, barely skimmed the surface. But even that was enough. This city is one big, vibrant person with many layers and of many colours. Other cities, I’ve visited and carved a home for myself out of a tough, unwelcoming exterior. But Mumbai was different. Mumbai seemed to reach for me and to envelope me in amongst its chaos. A city already bursting at the seams still seemed more than happy to welcome yet another stranger. I think I’ve figured it out. Mumbai is the all accepting, anything goes kind of place people like me dream of. Not entirely a local, not quite a tourist, this city just lets me be.

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A Few Cherished Moments…

- Carter Road Barista with Aditya. Overlooking the water and sipping on cappuccinos. A slight gust of wind takes us by surprise but we continue immersed in conversation. A second later, the vanilla sky turns an ugly shade of grey. A gust of wind begins to soar. The empty glass of iced tea belonging to the person on the table beside us smashes into smithereens near my feet. The froth from my cappuccino takes on an aerodynamic quality and an earthquake like feeling erupts as everyone’s drinks begin to fly in different directions. Then the rain begins. Heavy, torrential, mericiless in its downpour. We take cover at the front of the café and watch on as the rain demolishes the remainder of the beverages left to fend for themselves. A bunch of strangers huddled together underneath the tiny archway of that café, laughing and disbelieving of what had just taken place.

- Mount Mary’s Church – kneeling, alone amongst the rows of empty pews. Sending a quick prayer over to the residents of Dharavi and other slums in the area as the rain continued to beat down on the city. What a beautiful church.

- Dinner at Tai-Ban. Recalling our college days over tofu and green curry. Much laughter and merriment. Encouraged that in five years we’ll hopefully be able to meet somewhere else in the world to discuss tonight.

- Nariman Point – Walking the length of Nariman point with stunning views of the Queen’s Necklace with Samir. Couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen him in a year. 11 months ago I farewelled him as he was busy trading for the CBA and living at home and now he lives in Mumbai broking for a major investment bank and living the high life. Pretty impressive. Considering my earliest memory of us was in diapers, I think we’ve come a long way…! Spending quality time with him was the best part of my trip. Catching up on the present and recounting the past.

- Hilton – Coffee at the Hilton? Samir surprised me. Started walking in that direction and then insisted we go inside for a beverage. We got great seats by the window overlooking the Queens Necklace and two hours flew by very quickly as we caught eachother up on the antics of the past year. Was divine and much needed. It’s amazing what stability your family can bring to your life. Puts everything in perspective.

- Bowling@ phoenix mills: a Bowling Alley smack bang in the middle of a shopping centre? Only in India! Five locals and two NRI’s battle it out. NRI’s lost miserably. Midway through a blackforest cake emerges as a tribute to the birthday girl. We gather around the cake and start to eat it with spoons instead of cutting it into pieces like civilised folk. Was a special moment, covered in cream, laughing and joking with people I’d known for no more than a few hours, bar one. Dinner at Bombay Blues – a seedy mixture of Mexican and Italian, followed by that old Mumbai favourite – Naturals ice-cream. We got home drenched yet again but full of life(and food!).

- Tea at the Taj and the Gateway: The sky didn’t look all that blue when we emerged from Basilico’s after an amazing meal. But we decided that the short walk to the gateway of India would be worthwhile regardless. As we walked the downpour began. Particularly as we reached the bay. I hadn’t seen rain this heavy since being caught up in a tropical storm in Queensland two years ago. Beginning as an innocent summer shower, it soon had us running and ducking for cover at the Taj. What a magnificent hotel. We walked through regal archways and admired the artwork whilst looking like a pair of morning joggers who’d become sidetracked. We were soaked to the skin. Nevertheless an hour or so at the Taj watching the rain fall unrelentingly upon this forgiving city made it all worthwhile.

- Powai – listening to the chants of spiritual aspirants, seeing an old friend and making many new friends. Guruji’s blessings at a time when we needed them most. A chance to kneel in front of Gurudev again. A walk amongst one of the greenest, cleanest places in Mumbai. White, yellow and saffron robes reminding me of a life beyond the material, the ethereal. A chance to revisit a neglected but substantial part of my soul.

Aside from the above, watching DVD’s at home when the rain made it impossible for us to head out, shopping for western clothing (something much overdue for me!) and lounging about as we discussed what to do next. What an amazing trip. Someone take me back to Mumbai!

Gateway before the storm

Sammy and I

Cheeni Kum - A Review

2007-06-08T14:14:00.000+10:00

I recently saw the much acclaimed Amitabh-Tabu film Cheeni Kum here in Bangalore. I’m really not an Amitabh Bachchan fan, and as hard as I’ve tried to in the past, I’ve just found his roles as almost an excuse to draw a crowd without worrying about the quality of the film. Having said that however, I loved his performance in Black as well as Cheeni Kum and I know that deep down amongst the crores of money and fame there is a brilliant actor there somewhere ;). I’ve been waiting to watch Cheeni Kum for a while now as I was intrigued by the on- screen chemistry between Tabu and Bachchan from the outset. And unlike, Nishabd, which I had no interest in seeing, Cheeni Kum appeared to be a much more mature film that targeted the intricacies of an unusual love with a unique social context.

However, bollywood is bollywood and no matter how outwardly a film can seek to uproot itself from its bollywoodesque traditions, there is still a sweetness about it. This isn’t quite the sugarfree film it claims to be, but it certainly shows promise.

The story is set in London and centres around Amitabh Bachchan’s character, 64 year old Buddhadev Gupta, famous chef and owner of London’s most popular Indian restaurant, Spice6. Tabu’s character, Neena Verma is a Software Engineer from Delhi on holidays in London when the chance encounter with Bachchan occurs. What begins as an interesting friendship of sorts quickly develops into more and the couple soon find themselves in a unique position to explain their feelings to Tabu’s father, Paresh Rawal before gaining his permission to marry.

Central Themes

Age/value of Time: Amitabh being significantly older than Tabu is offset by the quality of life they seek in the time they have together. This is all the more highlighted by Swini Khara’s character Sexy (?!???!!!), a wise- beyond- her- years eight year old who offers Amitabh timely advice based on her powerful realisations as a child with a terminal illness.

The Migrant Experience: I was personally fascinated with the kinship of the chefs and restaurant staff in the movie from the English waiter who couldn’t pronounce the names of the dishes to save his life to the rapport between the chefs ‘imported’ straight from India leaving family and friends behind. Reminded me mildly of the experiences outlined in Kiran Desai’s ‘The Inheritance of Loss’ minus the amazing prose of course. However the on-screen interactions between the staff of London’s finest Indian restaurant soon leaves you feeling like you’ve known them all your whole life.

Love: well, duh. It wouldn’t be bollywood without a little Cheeni would it? No matter how hard they claim the movie to be a sugarfree romance. Bollywood is forever trying to prove that love outweighs all other circumstances and commitments (i.e. its okay that you’re married to someone yet have an affair with someone else because you love them – Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, its okay that the girl is poor and the guy uses a helicopter to fly to work everyday because they love eachother – Kabhi Khushie Kabhi Gham). Love is beyond everything and anything practical or realistic! (helicopters as regular modes of transport and all). In that sense, what truly impressed me about Cheeni Kum was the flawlessly natural on-screen chemistry between Tabu and Amitabh. There were moments when I found myself forgetting that this was Amitabh Bachchan, India’s film industry cult figure acting opposite the ever graceful Tabu. The acting was truly amazing and really captures the central theme of love transcending hurdles of age and compatibility.

Other aspects of the movie that appealed to me was the soundtrack that I soon discovered was all of Illayarajah’s songs from Tamil and Kannada remade into Hindi. Still, the music aptly stuck with the theme of the film and at times, even managed to highlight the onscreen emotions of the actors (for example, during Paresh Rawal’s Satyagraha).

Of course the movie wasn’t all brilliant. At times verbose where silence would have been a better option, some of the ‘fill-in’ lyrics were just plain boring and bore no weighting whatsoever to the film itself. It was almost as if the director had decided to shoot Tabu and Amitabh chatting as they had a coffee break between shots on the set! Swini Khara’s character whilst adorable and witty, did go overboard at times with her ‘Sexy’ references (occassionally bordering on disturbing). The wardrobe/costume crew certainly has a lot of explaining to do, at times I felt as though a strange rock revival was taking place twenty years too late! Also can’t state that I was overly fond of Paresh Rawal’s moral diatribe but did find him to be an accurate representation of many Gandhians I’ve met here in India.

Overall, I give the film 3 stars out of 5. Definitely worth a watch if you're over the Yash Chopra cheesy formulas, but don't go in there expecting no Bollywood at all. Afterall, where would Bollywood be without a little Cheeni?

2007-06-07T03:39:00.000+10:00

I can never forget you hanif basha.

Trembling with the remnants of a disease that tore at your skin leaving it hanging loosely around your skeletal waist like an unwanted belt. Your eyes unblinking, locked into mine, pupils quivering with a desperation I’ve never seen since. You wouldn’t have even been able to hold a coin, had I given it to you. I could see it in your eyes that you weren’t after the money anyway, no. It was fear that drove u to it. Fear, abandonment, loneliness, careless abandon by friends and family that left you without security. I was mesmerized by those eyes, hanif basha. I’d never seen such purity, such longing, such pain. My life is now worthwhile, my sight now worthy of its existence, and I know deep within myself that I was born with two eyes so that I could one day drown within yours for a fleeting moment. A moment in which my very soul uprooted itself from the core of my being and dashed into that helpless body of yours, for a moment, to feel, a hunger that hurt with a pinch, legs that gave way to gravity continually and arms that could be raised no higher than your shoulders. I carried your dead skin, like my shadow dragging behind me. I watched it turn pink from the disease, then black, then peel away in bloody sores that stung from pus and pain. Never in my short existence did I feel as alive as I did then, hanif basha, the pain of being alive that is. Never had I drowned at such a depth, floundering and gasping for air. But now I see only resignation. A refusal to fight those sources of suffocation, a surrendering and submission to life and god and mankind. And what god could cause this? I wondered. It is easy to believe when your belly is full and your needs are met, when your feet are without blisters and your body without ailment. But you still believed. Flecks of joy and surprise lit up in your eyes when I asked casually what your name was, where you were from. You feigned a smile for me, hanif, you entertainer. Don’t think that I didn’t see the sorrow in those oceanic eyes. Who was I to ask your life story? When all you needed was food? When you were gasping for breath and I asked you a question so pointless, so meaningless in your desperate existence. I wouldn’t have borne it if I were you. But your patience I could never comprehend, never emulate. I see this vision still, most nights before I sleep, a breeze blew gently that day, carrying the scent of jasmines all through that crowded street and sent what little was left of your hair sailing into your eyes and around your head like a halo. I watched you push a lock away from your face with the back of your wrist, painfully; bending low so those arms wouldn’t suffer as much as they did at that height. And what was the sound of a thousand passers-by became mum. And the world stopped, and not a thing breathed or existed but you. The breeze found your voice rasping, gasping as you whispered your name and threw me a surprised glance as tears rolled down my face without my knowledge or control. I don’t know what was in my hands and it didn’t matter. I gave it to you hurriedly and you took it with humility. I don’t know your story, and I’m not certain that I deserve to hear it. But wherever you are, know that my thoughts often desire to become one with that breeze that hung behind you regally as a halo, as a garland. And although lonely nights may find you shivering still under a cruel, distant sky, know that in your life, however large or small it may seem to you, you have brought a girl to her knees with a humility she never knew she possessed. You inspire her to listen to everyone’s stories without harsh judgement; you inspire her to never look away from the eyes of a dying or diseased child without wondering whether mercurochrome or alcohol was involved. You were the source, the force that awoke her from a slumber she could never have shaken on and of her own accord. If she now leads a more complete life, it is due to you, and you alone.

Thank you, hanifbhai. Wherever you are.

An Urgent Plea

2007-06-01T16:36:00.000+10:00

I’m going to use this precious time to make a request of anyone who reads this blog. It’s going to be personal and it’s not all that pleasant so to those of you who are sensitive to issues of illness don’t have to read on.

That’s my disclaimer over and done with.

In January 2000 my best friend, (and by best friend I don’t mean someone you see every now and then and go shopping with), I mean best friend not as in similar to a brother, but a brother in every sense of the term, was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia. He was seventeen, just about to enter twelfth grade, went to a school that only accepted the brightest and best children from across the state and was kicking butt at that too. He was the national race-walking champion (under 15s) and captain of the hockey team. Led a very active life, was very outgoing and yet had a depth to him and sensitivity to others feelings and emotions that I’ve never ever seen or known in anyone else and doubt I ever will.

I once read somewhere that one in three people in Australia know someone affected by cancer. I read this well before he was diagnosed. Well before he was lost. I read this and clearly remember thinking I didn’t know anyone. God must have been laughing. I know I’ve blogged about this issue previously, vented over it and cried about it and yelled and screamed…I’ve written about him here, here and here. And probably three journals full too. When I went to visit his family in December this year (extended family), his cousin handed me a letter that he had written, the ‘last’ letter. This was before the last chemotherapy session had taken place. I quote this word for word:

‘I need you and _____ to do me a favour. I need you to tell everyone that asks about me that I’m fine, I’m feeling fine and that there is no pain. I also want you to tell them that the doctors are saying I will be okay. I need you to tell this to your mother in particular who seems especially worried about me’

It was like going back in time. I could see him writing this, the pen he used, the colours the shades the shapes that danced around his room, the stamp. It was an out of body feeling I'd never experienced and I nearly threw up from the pain. I know we’ve all lost loved ones, I know we’ve all mourned someone in our lives and I know that I am not alone in my grief. I am perhaps more public about it than others because I can’t keep all this locked up inside of me. I can’t let it fester within me and taint all my actions and words. So forgive me, particularly those of you who’ve said this blog is always so sentimental and emotional, but this is my only platform to be this way. The only rational way for me to share my grief and to let it go. I cannot speak about this to close family and friends all the time because they suffer when they see me suffer.

But I’m writing to you today because I came across something that gave me another one of those out of body jolts. Guys, meet Vinay and Rashmi. Vinay is a 28 year old doctor who married the love of his life, a physician named Rashmi in 2005. In November 2006, Vinay was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. He recently lost sight in both eyes and only regained sight in one eye a day or two ago. Chemotherapy has failed to curb the disease and Vinay now has six weeks to find a donor for a Bone Marrow Transplant. On average, the ratio for a Caucasian with cancer in terms of donors is usually 1:15. For every Indian the ratio is either 1:1 or none. Vinay’s chances of finding the right match are increased if there are more Indian donors. My dad donated bone marrow a few years ago and a year later received a letter from Germany saying he’d saved a girls life.

Imagine.

We go to extraordinary lengths to make ourselves appear unique. To make a difference. We work for NGO’s, we study development and have intellectual debates on what the world needs. We fight, fidget and argue about what we feel is right and what we want the world to be like. We give up time to go to developing countries, we set up NGO’s, we sponsor children, we eat and live organically, we push for free trade, we fight for basic dignities and rights for the poor….and yet.

What does it take to save a life?

A cheek swab.

Please, please, I urge you, the handful of you that may stumble upon this. Take it from me, take it from the remnants of my broken heart, this should not happen to anyone else. Ever. Please register to be a donor. Please give the time to this worthy, noble, powerful, ESSENTIAL cause. Don’t leave it too late or move on or forget.

This is an emotional plea from me, from my family, from people the world over who’ve lost someone to cancer and in the process have lost themselves. Who’ve been broken irreparably. To all those cancer patients who deserve to lead a full and happy life. To Vinay and Rashmi, a young couple not too dissimilar to my partner and I.

Please do something. Please spread the awareness, take the time to register, become actively involved in raising consciousness amongst south Asians about this issue. Please do not let this become your brother, sister, mother, father, friend, husband, wife…or child.

http://www.helpvinay.org/dp/

2007-05-22T15:40:00.000+10:00

A big shout-out and lots of hugs to Flygirl on her special day!!

Happy Birthday Ups! Have a good one!

Cartwright Triumphs Again!

2007-05-22T00:39:00.000+10:00

It's the strangest feeling in the world when you log on to read the newspaper electronically one morning and spot one of your best mates on the front page!

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Dear Brett,

YOU KICK BUTT! Congratulations on winning the Sydney Half Marathon for the THIRD time! A record that now equals Commonwealth gold medallist Steve Moneghetti!

Much Love and Congratulations also to your wonderful wife and my dear, dear friend Stefani who is often seen on the sidelines chewing her nails in anticipation and helping you walk back to your car when your legs struggle to function after a tough race...

Can't believe its already been a year since your incredible wedding !

Love Always,

Divya

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Brett's wonderful victory detailed here

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2007-05-21T23:37:00.000+10:00

Ferret,

Happy Birthday. I still miss you more than I can comprehend. Who do you think you are huh? Bypassing your mid twenties and leaving me here to age without you? :)

Godbless you, wherever you are.

Love Always,

Dorothy the Dinosaur

2007-05-17T06:26:00.001+10:00

Life’s blossoms,
Flower and fall like the day.
Precarious are her steps,
Tender with uncertainty

Fear never retreats.
And joy is always at bay.
Make the decision, she tells herself.
Fight your demons.

Finish the game.

2007-05-16T03:55:00.000+10:00

Those of you who know me well enough on a culinary level would be more than aware of my pickle obsession. Not the green kind. The Indian achaar kind. Many of you have gagged watching me eat Priya's mango pickle straight out of the bottle with a fork, many of you have given up inviting me over to dinner due to the pickle drought that you know will ensue and many of you (like my mother) know I've been eating way too much of the stuff when my face suffers in the way of acne. In any case, pickles are all I need to call any meal fantastic. Doesn't take much more than a spoon of Bedakar's lime or a dollop of Ruchi's gongurra to make me think that you're the world's greatest chef. So imagine my delight and surprise on my recent train journey to Delhi when I happened to receive my chappati's and dhall from the attendant for dinner and stumbled upon this beauty....

Needless to say, it was one of the few moments in history when I actually managed to eat a full North Indian meal...God bless Chinni's!

A Post for Mum...

2007-05-16T02:04:00.000+10:00

Amma, you’re going to be wondering why all the fuss. Because I never say this enough. You are everything I’ve always wanted to become and more. I can never sacrifice like you have. And although India has brought about some consolation to my spoilt mind and body, it isn’t worth a spot of dust compared to the sacrifices you’ve made. I’m probably the only person who doesn’t tell you how wonderful you are. You make me laugh and laugh with your crazy jokes, awe me with your humility and humble me with your reasoning.

To the most perfect friend, scholar, economist, comedian, chef and mother, happy belated mothers day. I love you…!

Thinking of Home...

2007-04-26T20:33:00.000+10:00

Thinking of ya'll lately. Missing home just a smidgin, a trace, no more I promise;).

Thinking of walks around the harbour with Shooksy

Thinking of tofu, tofu, chinese food and eventual return to tofu yet again with flygirl

Thinking of ice cream yoghurt/custard in winter with Bhavs

Thinking of ANU iced-coffees and pastries with Arka

Thinking of valenccinno's and pizzas at Valentino's with Stephen

Of bookstores and coffees with Ash

Of bahai gatherings and music so divine it made me feel alive, thanks Raj

Of satsanghs with my brother and dad about God, spirituality, cricket...

Of thai food and bubble tea with JigglyPuff and Sonic the Hedgehog:)...thanks guys

Of shopping and coffee-ing, laughing and frolicking, making merry with the little time left before we parted, thanks Pri

Of pancakes on Sundays, and aimless wandering with my spiritual sisters, thanks Fly, Lisa and Dhil...

Of bhajans on a Sunday morning, half asleep only to wake to the beautiful voice of Ms. P. Thanks again Dhil!

Of no destination, no time limits, no restrictions to our discussions and confessions and endless pursuit to be worthy of Him...thanks Pete.

Of late night visits to your quiet house and talking for hours about anything and everything, thanks Mahesh.

Of Nelly and Snoop Dogg on full blast in our dorms, and pissing off everyone else....thanks Kyles;)

Too Much bhangra, lung biscuits and with no desire whatsoever to be the Good Indian Girls we were supposed to be...thanks Stef.

Long drives with no destination, lots and lots of garram Chai and our fair share of arguments, thanks K

City Extra, getting lost on Kissing Pt Road and somehow ending up in Burwood for a late night coffee, thanks Shan

Shopping, chocolate pastries, sleeping in, yoga, Ekta, too many memories there! thanks Abs and Nish

Late night coffee and cake in Leichardt, curry food and lots of it...! Kidding around, lounging about, enjoying life...thanks Meers;)

Woodstock, Labor Club, Sullies before it became something horrid...skipping classes for iced coffees...thanks Jules, Vandy, Bav, Stang, Shanks, Sime, xf, Vic, EG, ross and all the other boys from CG!
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Nope....don't miss you at all...! :(

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Advertising in India

2007-04-23T15:46:00.000+10:00

I absolutely LOVE this picture from the Maruti Udyog wesbsite in their owners section.

There is something so refreshing about advertising that encompasses “real” people. I look at this picture and I can already picture the delicate blue ribbons being removed to make way for a garland so the car is adequately prepared before it is ceremoniously blessed.

Flashback:

A friend of mine bought a shiny new Honda civic a few years ago only to be made fun of by us because when we’d asked to be taken for a spin, she said she wasn’t allowed to touch it till after the car puja. Seriously? We thought she was kidding. But being the sincere saheli that she is, we took her word for it and sure enough, we turned up that morning at her house to witness what would be the equivalent of a baptism for a car.

I must admit. We weren’t at our finest. A friend and I ceremoniously began to chant ‘Om Honda Civicaya Namaha’ when the car rolled up covered in tikka’s and garlands. It was then that we spotted the pot belied priest straddling over to give us a piece of his mind. Instead we beat him to the table on which the lemons for the puja lay and quickly pretended to be preparing for the task at hand.

The chanting begun and I was horrified as nosey neighbours made their way over to her driveway to see what those ‘crazy Indians’ were up to this time. I saw them open-mouthed wondering what on earth we were doing to this poor car. I quickly explained to the surfie next to me that they were blessing the new car before she began using it and that this was something done for all new purchases made by a Hindu family. He laughed asking if we’d bless his surfboard. Then walked away shaking his head. Moron.

The prayers were over faster than I expected and she jumped in to drive backward and forwards over the lemons placed before each of the four tyres as a symbol to drive away the ‘evil eye’.

After it was all over and we could wait no longer, six of us crammed into her car to speed away to the nearest McDonalds to pick up some fries to complete our part of the blessings.

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By the way a wonderful step-by-step account of how a car puja is conducted is available here
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Back to the picture. One thing that really bugs me about the Indian advertising industry is the slow sell-out to western concepts to leverage products...

Garuda mall yesterday evening with my cousin, his wife, my nephew and a friend of theirs. A gathering crowd sent my 1 year old nephew bee lining toward where the music was coming from. When I managed to catch up with him and picked him up, I too was wondering what all the fuss was about. Soon we realised that an up and coming sunglasses brand was holding a ‘rapping’ competition. Rapping. As in tupac, puff daddy…rapping! An audience member was given a pair of their sunglasses for free as long as they were able to perform a rap performance for five minutes. It was so awkward to watch the three gangly limbed Indian men attempting to replicate the moves of eminem and 50 cent. It was awkward and embarrassing and the MC and her fake American accent didn’t make things any better.

I’m pretty sure the audience were laughing, not cheering the contestants along.

I don’t want to seem as though westernisation is a bad thing. I’m westernised. And my selfish interest in preserving India’s cultural heritage shouldn’t get in the way of young people here and their desire to be more Americanised in their outlook.

But it bugs me that the media here don’t take the time to promote local talent or make cultural references unless its to do with cooking appliances or sari shops. Which is why the above picture had me tickled pink with joy.

I’m open to the possibility that the turban clad gentlemen in this picture may well go home and listen to Eminem on full blast or join a fast track sunglasses rapping competition, I even like the idea. But their contribution to cultural referencing in advertising is enough for me to have some hope in the Indian advertising industry.

/end of rant.

[By the way – will someone please tell me why Titan would spend a million bucks to advertise their new ‘fast –track’ sunglasses range all over India on bill boards and in malls without being able to pick up that the slogan ‘How many you have’ is so disgustingly grammatically incorrect that it churns my stomach when I see it?]

2007-04-16T18:53:00.000+10:00

Warning - highly cheesy post ahead...proceed at your own will...
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To the person whose laughter makes my day...the only one who has the right to wake me up at odd hours of the night to find me smiling as I answer the phone. To the one who is always there when I need him, always willing to lend me an ear, or a shoulder when I need one. To the one whose tabla playing skills and love for bhajans surpass mine a hundred to one. The only one who can make me laugh over stupid wisecracks that are usually about me! Whose photography obsession and endless quest for perfection I'm in awe of. The only one who has the patience to bear my melodramatic life and can pretend to enjoy it! He who loves me selflessly and has for a long while. The only one who takes my silly suggestions seriously (or at least pretends to;) ). To the man on a constant mission for improvement. The man that loses sleep because I demand so much of his time. To the one who is more devoted to me than to himself. The only one who will fly halfway across the world when I say I miss him. To my only love and very embodiment of perfection. I can't wait to spend forever with you. Thank you for everything that you are and more.

I love you.

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Emerging 'isms' of the New Economy

2007-04-16T18:45:00.000+10:00

I generally can't stand email forwards and the ones I do get usually end up in my junk mail faster than the 1.2 seconds it takes them to arrive from a friends inbox. however, this particular forward had me in stitches...

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Emerging 'isms' of the new economy

INFOSYSism - You have a 1000 poor cows. You put them on a nice campus, & send them one at a time to the US for milking.

WIPROism - GE has a cow. You take 49% of the milk.

GEism - You have a donkey. People think you have a 100-year old cow. If someone finds out, that's his imagination at work.

DELLism - Intel has a Goat. Samsung has a Camel. Buy milk from both & sell it as Cow's milk.

IBMism - You have old stubborn cows. You sell them as pet dogs to innocent small businessmen.

MICROSOFTism - You have a cow. Force the world to buy milk from you. Spend a million dollars to feed poorer cows.

INTELism - Microsoft makes horse shoes. You nail them to your cows & wonder why they don't run fast.

SUNism - You have a bull. It doesn't give milk. You hate Microsoft.

ORACLEism - You have a cow. You don't know which side to milk, so you sell tools to help milk cows.

SAPism - You don't have a cow. You sell milking solutions for cows implemented by milking consultants.

APPLEism - You have a cow. You sell iMilk.

SONYism - You have a cow. You spend $50 mn to develop the world's thinnest milk.

CITIBANKism - Welcome to Citibank. If you have a cow, press 1. If you have a bull, press 2...stay on line if you'd like our customer care to milk it for you.

HPism - You don't know if what you have is a cow. You sell complete milking solutions through authorised resellers only.

GEism - You have a donkey. People think you have a 100-year old cow. If someone finds out, that's his imagination at work.

RELIANCEism - You don't yet have a cow. You sell empty cans to people for Rs. 501, because Dhirubhai wanted everyone to have milk.

TATAism - You have a very old cow. You re-brand it as TATA Indicow.

Hanuman Jayanti

2007-04-01T02:51:00.000+10:00

Sankata Harana

Mangala Charana

Vedo-dharaana

Venkata Ramana

Pankaja Charana

Shankara Suvana

Ram Dasa...

Happy Birthday.

National Walk for Values

2007-03-29T00:52:00.000+10:00

My Organisation.

The Sai Organisation.

Let's Walk 4 Values.

Let's Walk 4 Peace.

2007-03-27T17:40:00.000+10:00

It’s a statement inevitably made when surrounded by proud family members as they introduce you to their extended family, ‘this is Divya, she’s from Australia. She is here to serve people through social service’. If I could introduce myself in the third person it would go something like this ‘this is Divya, she’s still trying to figure what proportion of her is Indian and what proportion is Australian, she’s here to learn from Indians who have nothing and those who have too much’. It still needs tweaking, but you get the gist of it. Some raise their eyebrows in admiration, others remain furrowed and uncertain and occasionally, one or two choke on their cucumber-cum-tomato raita one eyebrow raised in confusion, eyes narrowed in suspicion as they gawk at you as though you were from another planet. Most people play it safe and ask if you have an education. I mean, no self-respecting south Indian would ever risk cash flow to work in villages in Rajasthan. That is of course, unless you’re uneducated and while we’re being open here, let’s admit it…one of those unemployable types. They shiver with disgust, unable to imagine a life without their tata sumo, bajaj turbo, Sun TV and aquaguard filters. Some assume you’re a millionaire and have taken early retirement, ‘you can afford it. You’re Australian mate’ they say, grinning proudly as I gag. Everyone thinks you’ve lost weight, funnily enough, as soon as you mention you’ve lived in a village, eventhough you weigh the same as you always have. Everyone assumes you need to be fed twice the amount of a thirty-something male and you always get first dibs at dinner. People surround you like shadows whispering about their own worlds and you are left to converse with the pot-bellied, tobacco-stained, much disliked uncle who can’t stop beaming at having finally acquired a friend. ‘So Vidya…’ ‘Actually uncle, it’s Divya’ ‘haanh. So Vidya, how long were you in Rajasthan exactly…?’

And so it begins. Twenty questions on India: Why? Where? How long? Food? Climate? Health? Culture? Language barriers? Travel? Money? And so on. Halfway through the cross examination, an aunt you didn’t realise you were to related until tonight prances her way through the crowd to shake your hand. ‘You’ve lost so much weight darling!’ she announces proudly as she fills your already overcrowded plate with more oil fried snacks and departs. Uncleji decides to be more daring with his questions: What does your father do? Are you vegetarian? Married? Education? Prior job? Siblings? Previous salary? Australian citizen? Car? Speak Tamil? As you mumble your way through one, three more appear in rapid fire begging for an answer more revealing than the last. It's then that you spot your saviour. A freak, much like yourself, barraged by similar questions from three aunties in Mysore silk. You sidle up toward your comrade, stealthily, walking backwards as Uncleji inches forward following you at every step. The Aunties take a breath irritably to introduce you. ‘Divya this is Amit. He’s here from Philadelphia for six months on study abroad’. We nod to one another awkwardly before switching from broken Tamil to English. The Aunties beat a hasty retreat mumbling about the damage that’s been done to the Queens English thanks to these American types. Uncleji continues to stand at close proximity beaming away as he watches the exchanges in conversation taking place before being interrupted by his cellphone.

Amit-from-Philadelphia and I take a moment to catch our breaths from the interrogation sessions before walking out to grab a coffee.

Perhaps we were the token freaks in this room, but at least we now had eachother.

Cricket Rant II

2007-03-27T02:24:00.000+10:00

Hot off the press (and by press I mean rickshaw drivers and chaiwallah's of Bangalore): BCCI chief Sharad Pawar announced today that there would be two Indian Cricket teams: India Seniors and India Blue. A ridiculous solution. But only in India would something like this happen - cricket's contribution to the overall GDP of the country must be pretty staggering with all the crores of rupees that go into advertising and sponsorship contracts.

You can read all about it here

Cricket Rant I

2007-03-25T14:06:00.000+10:00

Some of the best World Cup cricket so far happened last night in the South Africa vs. Australia match.

I have a lot of love for the South African cricket team. They are some of the most elegant players in the game and displayed that once again last night in their nail biting chase against Australia in St. Kitts. Although I often try to “forget” last years superb chase in Johannesburg against the aussies, I cant help but admire the consistency and sportsmanship that accompanies any south African match. I still think they have some of the best fielders in the game - a Jonty Rhodes legacy carried over by Villiers, Gibbs and Kallis. A part of me wishes the Africans had won last night. As much as I love seeing the Aussies smash their way to another victory, I think I’ll happily make an exception for the South Africans.

They’re my bet for the finals.

India is of course, mourning. Multi-crores of advertising revenue have been lost due to the Indians sudden exit from the Cup, people are selling their tickets to the Carribean for pittance on websites and no one wants to talk about cricket anymore. Sad.

ANU

2007-03-14T18:24:00.000+11:00

I just found out recently that my former university, the A.N.U (Australian National University) was severly affected by freak hailstorms that left considerable damage to over 60 buildings on the 27th of Feb this year. I'm really upset that I found out so late in the piece, particularly as I feel as though I could have got a group of people together to assist in the aftermath. The ANU has a beautiful campus and boasts excellent facilities and teaching staff. The university itself is ranked in the world's top ten and is by far the best research institute in the southern hemisphere. Here are some pictures of the aftermath of the storm:

Source: http://info.anu.edu.au/mac/Newsletters_and_Journals/On_Campus/096PP_2007/05PP_March2/_gallery.asp

Two Years of Rambling!

2007-03-14T15:40:00.000+11:00

Arghh! My two-year blogging anniversary has come and gone without as much of a whisper to remind me! I look back through the archives on occassion and am amazed at the changes, the adventures and the issues that concerned me at any particular time...

- Protesting against the execution of Van Nguyen, the Sydney riots, the treatment of Indigenous communities and other issues

- Intensly personal experiences that have helped me express grief, joy and everything in between relatively sanely!

- Spirituality and its many manifestions that thread through my life in many, many forms...

- India, Canberra, Sydney, family, friends, college, workplaces, hello's, goodbye's, heroes, highs, lows

- A search for purpose, meaning, identity...

- nostalgia at its worst!

I guess I've rambled a whole lot over the last two years:)...but the thanks goes to those of you who've given this site a glance, left words of encouragement or have inspired me to think about something entirely differently...thank you. keep reading. keep me thinking.

Hello Bangalore!

2007-03-13T19:49:00.000+11:00

Bangalore...

So what am I doing here? I know I haven't posted about what I've been "doing" in a long time workwise. Let me fill you in...

It's been a very turbulent few weeks. At the tail end of last month, I made the best decision I could considering the circumstances at the time (will elaborate further). I left my previous NGO - Indicorps. There was a range of reasons why I made this difficult decision. The first being the management style of the staff which I found highly misaligned with mine and was causing unnecessary friction. This has been an ongoing issue over the past six months but I'd chosen to ignore it as I was enjoying the fieldwork of my job so much. Teaching at the school, living in a host family, becoming a part of a wider community in the middle of nowhere and attempting to enact small interventions to create awareness and assist in improving their day to day lives as well as ours. I can’t deny that my time in Bagar is one of my fondest memories in life to date. Despite all my complaints about government school teachers and other inefficiencies, the sheer variety of experiences and the lessons learned will stay with me forever and have contributed significantly to my limited knowledge of grassroots development. So management style aside, I figured I could continue as I had so far by being absorbed in my work. But then the program I was working on was cancelled. A series of unfortunate circumstances contributed to this occurring. And as a result, I was no longer party to those experiences that had kept me inspired. The project I was offered as an afterthought did not excite me. It lacked any sort of formidable structure and would now materialise to becoming the third new project I'd be working on this year. Aside from this there were a number of loose ends that were left unaddressed and issues that I had raised a while back ignored by the NGO. All this left me in a pretty hopeless situation - no project nor any say in whether I wanted or didn't want to do the new project. I was also beginning to feel negative about the organisation overall and their mode of operation which I found restrictive and lacked innovation and a willingness to change with regards to projects.

It was then that I contacted some organisations that had offered me positions in India that I’d previously rejected since accepting the offer with Indicorps. One organisation was able to contact me immediately afterwards and offer me a position that aligned perfectly with my interests. The position involves managing the Corporate Social Responsibility initiatives of a major consulting firm in Bangalore. There are three initiatives in particular. One working with seniors, another a livelihoods program and lastly a program created to provide scholarships to meritorious students who are Below Poverty Line. What I appreciate best about this organisation and its initiatives is the willingness to enable existing human capital, i.e. to work with existing structures to enable them to contribute effectively to development. It's amazing what I've had to experience over the past few months to come to propagating this opinion, and even more amazing that I've been able to find an organisation that has been able to provide me with everything required in making this happen.

I've only been in Bangalore for four days and am in the initial stage of finalising project plans before beginning implementation in the next few weeks. I will post in greater detail once things start kicking off.

In the meantime, I'd like to begin a new chapter in the phase of this blog dedicated to a new organisation, new opportunities and renewed hope that I can contribute to India's development in a manner that aligns perfectly with my personal philosophy on development as well as my interests at large.

Cheers guys.

Holi Hai!

2007-03-11T16:26:00.000+11:00

Holi in Rajasthan...best thing I've ever done...;)

2007-03-11T16:12:00.000+11:00

Stole this idea from Sheel (www.sheelm.com/blog) thanks Sheel;)

Which states in India have you been to?

This trip has really enhanced the amount of India that I've seen. I'm hoping to cover at least another 4 states before I leave, but as Sheel says, there's always too much to see no matter how much time you spend in any one area. Any recommendations on good places to see in Karnataka? Let me know:)

2007-03-08T19:36:00.000+11:00

Guys I'd like you to meet one of my new friends, Kajal Patel. Kajal is a freelance photographer from the U.K who I met through my work in Ahmedabad. Kajal is currently working on a project in the slums of Gujarat to bring to surface the various 'stories' that thread through the lives of widows. Her work is incredibly powerful and really envokes the emotion of the moment in which it was taken.

Here's a sample of her work here thus far, do have a look!

http://www.trekearth.com/members/kajspice/

Here's to you Kaj!
xo

A Tribute...

2007-02-17T02:01:00.000+11:00

To everyone I love....(apologies for the delay) :)

(clearly I made the right career move in becoming a finance analyst and not an artist!)

Confessions

2007-02-16T16:05:00.001+11:00

I am brilliant at escapism. I thrive on being elusive and enigmatic.
I am wonderful at getting away from people and places I don’t feel a part of.
Home to me is a grand sum total of five people. Three of those people being my immediate family.
I love bashfully and reservedly
I do not see the need in meeting new people or making new friends
Feeling comfortable or content makes me feel as though I’ve settled and am going backwards
I don’t mind chatting, but deep down I much, much prefer silence
I am not a leader, lead and I will follow
I don’t have a low self esteem but I don’t think all that highly of myself either
I am not ready to face the real world.
If I am not exhausted, I am not working hard enough.
India helps me fulfil my dream to serve….and my need to run away from the mundane, tedious, mindless, pointlessness of the 9-5 lifestyle
My dream is to start an NGO and to spend my days working with kids
I do not need anything more than 3 meals a day, a few pairs of clothes and a thatched roof.
I cannot make myself ignorant to issues of poverty or injustice
I will not lie down and play dumb to issues plaguing society just because they don’t affect me directly
I hate the way the Indian diaspora waste their lives in limbo, trying to recreate India through bhangra and hindi movies and consciously discarding parts of their culture that are far more sacred and eternal because its not cool enough.
I cannot socialise with NRI’s without feeling self conscious
I am overly tough on those I love…with great love comes great expectations
I have only ever been inspired by 3 people
Public displays of affection whether they be hugs or praise make me blush to my toes…
Most of the time, I wish I was invisible.
India is my hiding place.
I live for Swami. and Him alone.

Current Highs

2007-02-14T05:31:00.000+11:00

- Watching the world's most dedicated Gandhians spinning with charka's (spinning wheels) during staff prarthna at the Gujarat Vidyapeeth (university started by Gandhiji)

- Sabarmati Ashram on the anniversary of Gandhiji's assassination - Death somehow has a much more unifying, vulnerable edge to it that affects people a lot more than birthdays...

- Getting two HUGE bags of M&M's and a Thumbs Up bottle with 'To Divya with Lowe' from a good friend and fellow colleague here in Rajasthan

- Watching the new volunteer we'd trained teaching my class a hundred times better than I ever did

- Hot breakfast at 7am from an amazing Jaipur Lorrywallah

- Feeding my/our puppies (moti and kalu) roti's and milk everyday

- Having home made sambhar and rasam after MONTHS....!

- Speaking to him everyday

- Playing barefoot soccer with forty kids on desert sand

- Waking up to his voice

- Receiving Lamecards: www.lamecards.com

- Pri

- Being tackled by all my kids on my first day back at school after three weeks

- Holding six of my girls hands at once and becoming a tug-of-war rope!

- Tagore at midnight

- Chai and cookies with a new volunteer during our language lesson

- Seva Cafe

- Seeing my mum, dad and brother in one room for the first time in three months

- Receiving heartfelt sms's just when you need them

- Riding past crumbling haveli's at sunset

- Sitting on my terrace watching the world go by whilst speaking to the one person that constitutes my world

- Running a kids activities session for seven people all over the age of 25!!

- Watching the stars at midnight from my terrace, so big, bright and beautiful that at times I'm tempted to reach out and touch them

- The Bajrang baba mandir on tuesdays

- Dad's joyful reaction when my card finally arrived in Sydney!

- Chai, lots of it, while overlooking the sprawling gardens of the haveli as I watch the steam melt and merge with the early morning mist

Inspiration IS Everywhere!

2007-02-01T01:32:00.000+11:00

And somewhere there are engineers

Helping others fly faster than sound.

But, where are the engineers

Helping those who must live on the ground?

Saw this on a poster today. Was so enchanted by it that I physically stopped and stared for about five minutes until I snapped out of it. My NGO talks a lot about process engineering, about creating something with set processes developed after a proper knowledge base has been created, reworked and proven to be effective. It also fits in with another topic I've been meaning to discuss for a while: best practices. I was recently facilitating an Education Panel for some new volunteers that have just joined our organisation. The purpose was to give three different perspectives on the topic of education in India (a topic so vast and broad it boggles the mind). Anyway, one party was a group of three that I'd invited from one of India's major Education-related NGO's concerned with the issue of providing quality and necessary education to the masses (and primarily sided with scale). The second party was a group of five from a very, very successful school here in Ahmedabad, a school that has developed its own curriculum based on Goldman's Multiple Intelligences. Also a school whose curriculum has received a lot of attention and has begun selling it to other schools. Basically, a place that has created an effective model of education now ready to be franchised. The only problem is that the fees to attend this school are so high that quality education is more or less inaccessible to the masses. The third party was a member from an NGO whose primary task is working with and improving current education structures put in place by the Indian Government. This NGO is engaged with abolishing the factors surrounding child absenteeism from schools (financial/societal factors) as well as providing teachers training and bringing quality education to government run Municipality schools. This of course provided an interesting context for a range of issues from a range of perspectives. Party two began to speak about quality of building effective education models and modules before focusing on scale. But party one said that they were providing education to tens of thousands of children (not fulltime) but at least there were more kids benefiting from their program rather than an elitist program run by party 1 which only benefited 200 kids. Party 3 piped in to state that there was no point in even considering effective education models without first understanding and addressing the societal factors that prevented every child from attending any sort of school. There was a lot of talk about what a child really needed for a quality of education...how that was to be provided to the masses...when would the intersection between quantity vs. quality begin such that every child could receive a good education. But who needed to learn maths and science if you were going to end up working for your parents chai-ka-dukhan business anyway? Why not teach a trade a child favours? But how would a child know that ? How long would that take to figure out? What resources can be used to help a child come to terms with these issues? etc. etc. The issues were fascinating....! The general consensus at the end was that a forum for best practices needed to be created, a working group of sorts whereby concerned representatives from varying backgrounds were provided platform on which to exchange ideas, have an open dialogue and come up with practices that would make children the ONLY stakeholders. One of the members summed it up perfectly when she said "best practices must become common practices".

I'm so inspired by everything that was mentioned, and really, really excited about the possibilities that could come from this.

2007-01-26T17:14:00.000+11:00

A quick shout-out to my village....I miss you guys, all of you. HLji the caretaker, Ash, Rads, Pree, my Partners in Aid and Crime, Maya my host-sis, Masiji by 2nd Mum, Bhillu my bhaiyya. My kids, my school. The cooks at the mess, the bajrang baba mandir, the azan from the mosque at sunset...my bike! I'm thinking of you.

2007-01-26T15:48:00.000+11:00

God. I thought I had it together at last. this year, these next few years. I thought that trying times would iron out my flaws, that I'd be purified like gold against fire. I thought that after fourteen, I'd be all grown up and unfazed by challenges. That life would work itself out and I could sit back and enjoy the ride. But everyday here is difficult...every little task on my tasklist takes twice as long as the time I allot to it. Half an hour to finish a really important presentation due in two days. but there was no electricity, the printer broke down and when I did finally manage to get it done I was notified that the topic had changed. Papers due that I've yet to touch, packages to put together for the new guys that just arrived, workshops to plan, sessions to prepare for, logistical issues that need taking care of. I do everything I can to get these things done and still fail here. Still miss deadlines. Still let myself down. I wish I wasn't the planning type. I wish I could get through life not worrying about the deliverables of the hour, day, month or year. But my plans help me organise the chaos in my head and keep me striving. I take pride in the knowledge of my next step or steps. I take care to plan ahead. If I'm moving to India, I plan a year ahead. If I'm getting a new job, I work it all out well in advance. I don't tell people I plan, just like I don't tell them about my daily task list. I just set my own goals and ensure that they are achieved sometime before midnight that day. But recently, things have been going haywire. Entire structured days have fallen by the wayside - succumbing to poor Indian infrastructure or more pressing demands that come up at odd hours. I feel like a disorganised college student, cramming to get my way through one task after the next. Makes me feel as though my life is out of order and I'm working at strange hours to put it back together. Meetings at 1am, being in the office all night, living on some other timezone...twilight zone? :).

Maybe this isn't something you can grow out of. Or maybe I'm just not as good at organising my time as I had always assumed I was. Hopefully it's just a passing phase.

2007-01-26T01:07:00.000+11:00

Super cheesy I know...forgive me all, been a sentimental time...:)

____________________________________________________________________

There's a story I like to tell my kids…it's about the bamboo and the fern. I tell them that the fern takes no more than a year to sprout, to reach for the sky and to quickly become an immense, beautiful tree. But the bamboo takes years…not one or two but FIVE years. For five years it creates roots…builds a solid foundation before shyly emerging from the earth. Both the fern and the bamboo are beautiful, essential. Both choose to lead their lives differently and yet still strive toward the same heights. I tell this story to help them understand the beauty in all that's different and to appreciate everything for how it is, no matter how much it agrees or disagrees with who they are…and to show gratitude for what they have and are…

I want this post to begin based on those sentiments…about appreciating everything for what it is, not forgoing something because it's different and growing to love what you've been blessed with…

The Girl with the Magical Object

Once upon a time a girl I know got something she'd never imagined she'd ever get. It was magic...illuming her life like nothing ever could…it was the greatest gift that anyone could have bestowed upon her, and she liked it. More than liked it...she loved it. She took all she could from this new found gift, took everything it could offer…and of course, being as selfless as it was, the magical object gave her everything of itself and more, as much as she asked for. She was happier than she had ever been before and took the liberty of taking from it as much as she could…and then some more…and still more, till it started becoming a normal part of her surroundings. Nothing available in abundance is ever appreciated for very long. And this magical object, for all its selflessness, although it was as beautiful as ever, became as natural to her as breathing, but she loved it still and could no longer imagine life without it. One day she woke up and realised she'd begun to take the object for granted…but the thought was fleeting and before it ended, she started having expectations of the object, no longer content enough to appreciate it for what it was. She wanted it to be like this, look like that. Slowly those expectations became impediments and she no longer appreciated the magical item for all its beauty. Pretty soon she had a great list of demands and ultimatums that had to be met by the object for her to be able to value it as she did before. But of course, this object, so beautiful and perfect in itself couldn't change to meet her expectations – it was perfect to begin with. But her ego wouldn't accept it and she kept wanting the object to change so suit her ever expanding demands. One day she woke up…and the object had disappeared. She searched everywhere, begging to have it back and spent her days mourning its loss and being angry at herself for not appreciating it when she had it. She realised she'd give anything to have it back…but by then it was too late. Someone else had appreciated its beauty for what it really was…someone else had been bright enough to love and accept it for itself, and all she was left with in the end was a few disconsolate memories that slipped from her hands like grains of sand…

Years later…

This has happened to her time and time again, many, many times after the first incident. With friendships, with family, with work. But she's wiser now. She knows she won't let it happen now. Not with this….

Her Diary Entry, Today.

I stayed away today, intentionally. Not very successfully, but as far as possible. Just to see how much I truly appreciated what I had.It was painful…there was an actual ache for what I'd given up…my mind reeling with memories, with longing, with desire. That's when I realised that it couldn't be any other way. This was it…and I felt myself recharged, renewed and rejuvenated at the realisation.This is more to me than a passing fancy, more than an object I can pine for and then continue to live without. This is as much a part of me as my family, my soul, God. A permanent, unbreakable part of my existence. This is it. And now I know for sure that I'll never, ever take it for granted.

The End.

2007-01-17T23:54:00.000+11:00

I am only as inadequate as I feel, only as limited as the horizons I set for myself.

Rise above it, overcome it, re-think it, redefine, revamp it, reboot it, review it.

There's a reason why rhetoric really doesn't mean anything at the end of the day. At their core, feelings are much more complex and much, much more a part of being alive than any consolatory term.

2007-01-13T23:59:00.000+11:00

Sometimes life surprises you in ways you never imagined it would. In ways so unexpected, so quickly, that you’re left catching your breath long afterwards whilst being unable to remember what just happened. My life is a whirlwind. I’m all over the place, I am so many people at once, it’s staggering. I am daughter to my mother, my hostmother, sister to my brother, my host sister and my host brother, colleague to my NGO, facilitator to the people I just recruited for the Serve India program, student when writing my white paper, a friend to my friends, a partner to my partner, a teacher to my students, a mentor through my mentorship program and some mish mash of a person between all that. I realize it’s not a unique situation to be in, we all play our roles, say our lines and perform our tasks. But sometimes I wonder which part of me is performing what. When I’m up till 3am lesson planning for my kids and up again at 6 to make roti’s with my host-mother and clean, teaching by 10, mentoring by 12, riding to the office at 1, writing white papers till 5 and recruiting/interviewing/reference checking, cooking again at 6, cleaning afterwards and working again till midnight under the light of my phone because we have no electricity…I wonder…at that moment before I fall asleep, that split second between sleeping and waking when I’m jolted…and realize with a shock that I don’t know who did all that. What robot performed those tasks without flinching, but before that thought has time to complete itself the robot takes over and again I worry about my kids, again it’s back to the tragedy that is my school. The school where my kids proudly tell me they’ll never fail because PrincipalSahib ever so kindly hits them and provides them with the answers during the exams. A school they are proud to be a part of because the education officer thinks they’re all brilliant and keeps promoting PrincipalSahib. Proud because the bastard gets them to make his chai and clean the school. Allows them to run around without having ever taught even the basics, doesn’t mind that they cant afford uniforms and doesn’t care, perpetuates the cycle of poverty and naivety….and before I know it I’m back to sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning when dreaming of painted blackboards, torn uniforms and evil school principals.

I cherish that fifteen minutes a day when I’m normal again, those few minutes of speaking to him when there are no demands, no burdens to bear, and best of all… no expectations.

More later.

Rajasthan Update

2007-01-04T05:19:00.000+11:00

It's been a while since I posted about recent happenings. And there have been many. I'll try and keep it as concise as possible without leaving out anything important or interesting...

So I left Bangalore after speaking to and interacting with a number of NGO's, Colleges and 'figureheads' of various industries. It was an interesting time and the people I came into contact with had mixed reactions to the idea of a semi-gap year for service. Many were enthralled and excited, but equally as many were overwhelmed and unwilling to participate. This taught me a lot about the psychology of youth in India at present, what they want, how and why. It was also useful in rethinking when youth here would be interested in participating in a six month program. The recent economic boom is at its peak and it’s the best time to make money, pursue higher education and still have time for your Cafe Mocha at Cafe Coffee Day. For once, you can shirk off those duties and responsibilities your parents shouldered and make the most of your economic freedom. Can't say I blame them. A good program is one that's flexible and ever-changing. I know I gained a lot from hearing the negative as well as the positive sides and I'm looking forward to adopting certain suggested changes into the program.

After Bangalore was Pune. I spent the few days I had in Pune(about three) similarly to the way I had spent it in Bangalore - meeting a lot of people, interacting with NGO's and young people in colleges. Personally, I felt that Pune was much more open and liberal to the ideas I had in mind and were suggesting, certainly more so than Bangalore and it's been great to see a lot of interested young people contact me about the program of late.

Pune then led to a brief but productive stop-over in Ahmedabad, was in Ahmedabad for all of 10 hours before boarding another bus to Jaipur. From Jaipur (an overnight journey from ahmedabad) it was another four and a half hours to Bagar, the village/town that I have been and will be based in for the next six months...

Bagar is a pretty remarkable town. It's the education hub in this part of Rajasthan and has a lot of people coming in and out of its 32 educational institutions. After spending a week or so gathering my bearings and cycling around the beautiful, deserted haveli's, meeting with many people and interacting with the community at large, an opportunity finally arose to make the experience all the more worthwhile. About 5km's from Bagar is a tiny little suburb or Dhani called Rekhavalli Dhani. I moved there a week ago to live with a local family (mother (widow), her daughter and her son). My host mother or Masiji is the cook of the daily Midday Meals served in the local government/sarkari school. Her daughter, Maya, is in her first year of college and her son works full time in a garment factory. They aren't by any means slum dwellers or rag pickers. Poverty has its layers and from what I've seen and experienced thusfar, my host family is doing a lot better than many familes in other parts of Rajasthan. They are however, still quite economically backward and earn just enough to get by. My days here are spent waking up early (6am), helping to cook over the fire or Chula and running other errands. Incidentally, an average meal here consists of Roti's, a vegetable of sorts and some chaas (buttermilk). It's what they themselves call poor man's food...no fruit, no large assortment of green vegetables and heavily dairy-based. After breakfast I prepare to teach at the local government school for two hours (the school for which my host-mother cooks midday meals). The schooling experience astounds me everyday. Initially I was asked to teach grades 3, 4 and 5 in a combined classroom which was intensely difficult. For one, all the kids had different textbooks, secondly, not a single child in Grade three, four or five could read Hindi or English which meant their homework was never done. Obvious reasons surround this. The two teachers in the school (the principal and one other teacher) rarely show up and when they do are usually sunning themselves in the courtyard of the school. A few of the kids arrive early, clean the school and wait for Prarthna(prayer) to begin. On my first day, after Prarthna, the Principal announced to the school that he had some work to do at home but the new Madam was here if anything was required. He left and didn't come back for the remainder of the day...

I began my first lesson by running through the alphabet; English is the only language I can teach due to a lack of fluency in Hindi/Marwadi. It all began well enough until I realised that the kids had rote-learned the alphabet but couldn't actually identify single letters. For example, I'd tell them to point to the letter 'T' and they would start saying the alphabet from the very beginning and running their hands across the blackboard until they stopped at T. They also had no idea of phonetics and couldn't identify the corresponding sounds for each of the letters.

Day two in school wasn't much better. Principalsahib, whose feet the kids touched as they entered the school decided to sunbathe from early morning until I left at 1pm. He even had the audacity to ask one of the kids to pull up a chair for me so I could also "relax". The kids were running amuck, screaming and chasing eachother around the school, a normal lunchtime scene perhaps...but schooltime? I decided to go back to basics. Alphabet, sounds, pronunciation...this is a table, this is a chair. Translating as much of it into Hindi as I could. Then came the flashcards with upper-case and lower-case alphabets to assess recognition of both and another set of flashcards with pictures corresponding to the letters. We played a few games to help them learn that O is for Ox. To teach them spelling, pronunciation, handwriting and reading. We then played another game which they seemed to like. I'd brought in strips of cardboard and some broken bangles. I distributed them on the floor with the class sitting in a circle. I'd yell out one of the letters and they'd have to make the letter using the cardboard and bangles as fast as they could. They really seemed to enjoy this game and I was happy to see that it stimulated a creative streak in the children as well as taking them away from rote-memorisation of the alphabet and forcing them to recall the letters from memory. We then went over their homework which was ludicrously impossible for them to understand...not only did they have to read long, complex sentences and absurd rhymes, they also had to bear the tortured syntax without being taught the very basics in literacy (in Hindi or English). The fact that each child was provided with a Hindi translation of their entire English textbook was made redundant by their inability to read or write in Hindi or even have a basic awareness of Hindi alphabets...alphabets much more useful to them than any English nursery rhyme. It scares me to think that these kids may achieve some level of fluency in English when I'm done teaching them and yet still be unable to read road signs or instructions in their native language. Most of all, it scares to read that 25% of government school teachers in India are absent on a daily basis and of those who do attend, only one in two actually teach! It's hard not letting these circumstances demotivate me, but going to class and emerging two hours later with a bunch of smiling kids excited about learning something makes it all a tad easier to bear. More on the teaching methodologies, failures and successes later...

After school I usually cycle to the field office to get some work done on my computer, check emails, and plan for the day ahead. Then I cycle back to the dhani to help prepare dinner and am usually in bed by 10pm, lesson planning for the day ahead.

The sheer vastness of issues in India astounds me. Taking scale into account really makes for a horribly depressing picture of the whole scene in all sectors. But I'm trying to just focus on the Dhani...trying not to get swept away in the hopelessness of it all. Trying and failing and resurfacing.

More soon.

Quotable Quotes - A Mixed Bag

2006-12-30T17:19:00.000+11:00

Apologies in advance to the IndianCamelot who shares a mutual hatred of quotes but I couldn't resist these...

"Be the half-assed change you want to see in the world" - Ashish on his strive to becoming more positive about development

"The reason women love to cook..."Large sign across Bangalore billboard for Prestige appliances

"If everyone is a stranger, then everyone is free" quote from an article on the ever expanding Mumbai

"Raghav? Isn't he that little Indian Backstreet Boy?" - The Witty Radhika

"...And to those who worry about us[indian] filmmakers becoming more international than Indian, I say this: It is because my roots are so strong that I can fly" - Mira Nair

"Knowledge is beautiful because we can never complete it" - Rabindranath Tagore

Happy New Year in advance all

2006-12-24T21:46:00.000+11:00

Midnight last night...India time...from Pune to Ahmedabad...

Did I really just turn twenty-four on a bus in the middle of nowhere? Wouldn't have guessed based on all the other birthdays I've celebrated and other ages I've turned and overcome. Feels strange, but then again, its been a strange week. The kind of week in which things have fallen into place...drastic things have worked themselves out leaving me wondering why I bothered attempting to resolve them on my own for so long. Twenty four has crept up on me like that quiet transition between friend and lover, during which all seems as it was before and yet the fundamentals are shifting, changing and growing and new bonds sprout like saplings sheltering what once was but leaving room for new growth. This is the weight of my age this year. Like the winter chill slowly taking possession of India...you don't notice the cold until you cover up. That out of body feeling that tells you things have changed, although leaving you to wonder how or why...

Christmas 2006

2006-12-22T18:48:00.000+11:00

In that light of that star

Lie the ages impearled

And that song from afar

Has swept over the world

Every hearth is a flame

And the beautiful sing

In the homes of the nations

That Jesus is King

We rejoice in the light

And we echo the song

That comes down through the night

Ay! we shout to the lovely

Evangel they bring

And we greet in his cradle

Our Saviour and King

- There's a Song in the Air, Christmas Carol

Happy, holy Christmas everyone! May we bask in the light of the Eternal one, who has left us in body but not in spirit. I don't know what it means to be Christian, I wasn't born one, I've never thought of becoming one, I cannot easily accept that the world has had and will only ever have one Saviour and that too for a certain sect of people - that isn't who Christ is to me. He is fairness, equality and love embodied. Happy Birthday Christ, Salutations to you and all others of your creed, born to shepherd us toward peace and enlightenment.

Merry Christmas All...

2006-12-14T20:51:00.000+11:00

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!! DR. Mahesh

Go you good thing! Go!

Wedding

2006-12-13T02:00:00.000+11:00

Went to very close friends wedding recently. The wedding was in Chennai and the reception in Bangalore. Thought I'd post a few pics to mark the occassion....

The couple

The Mandap after it was all made official

View from the top

Random pots that people had to dance around at the end

Me by the food as always

The groom's good friend's daughter, Alena, whose family flew in all the way from Germany

Simple (?) Living

2006-12-11T15:10:00.000+11:00

I’ve mentioned previously that Simple Living is one of the desired goals espoused by my NGO. We had a workshop at orientation in August to come up with a definition of what Simple Living meant to us as a collective, it was a long, well-thought out debate and we finally concluded the discussion with something along the lines of simple living being to progress through life without having to consume more than what is required and still being able to maintain the same level of satisfaction and happiness.

Simple Living is important in India for a whole range of reasons (as a social worker that is), first of all, you are constantly in interaction with a community in which you are a relative stranger whether it be, in my case, Ahmedabad or Babapur. We are all representatives of the people we were raised by, the people we love and befriend and certainly of the people we work for. Simple example; my entire apartment block knows I work for an NGO, they also know that I’m here on a voluntary basis with a very modest yet reasonable amount of money to see me through the year. This means that I am immediately labeled. I cannot live as they do, and they know it. They know I don’t have a TV and barely any furniture, they also know that I spend 80% of my time anywhere but in my apartment and arrive at odd hours of the night from random places I’ve been to for work such as the Kasturba Ashram and Babapur. They know that I can’t blow money on things such as a TV etc. so it would be a tad awkward if I arrived at home one day carrying a plasma TV or splashed out on buying some brand spanking new clothes. So I try and be simple. Granted, it hasn’t been all that successful thusfar, but the more I think about it, the more I desire to live without things I once depended on. Its creeping up to six months in India for me, and as each day goes by I’m beginning to question each and every object I’ve acquired and consumed. Ironically, this has been all the more highlighted since I’ve been away from Ahmedabad and in Bangalore/Chennai amongst family and friends for a family wedding (more about that later). Anyway, its slowly dawning on me how little I need to survive in life. Its something I’ve been taught, I’ve heard and I’ve written definitions about but its only now that its beginning to sink in.

I don’t need a lot of stuff I’ve indulged in. I really don’t. Money and happiness (to a large extent) truly are mutually exclusive. The people I’ve come across here [outside] family circles, the various people I’ve interacted with have helped me process that lesson step by step. Recently my mother and my brother arrived in India with a 20kg suitcase of things for me, things I’d requested them to bring months ago. And now that I sit here surrounded by it, I wonder, why do I need nutella and cornflakes? A certain, special type of deodorant or accessory? I’d done just fine without the stuff so far, why was it suddenly such a big deal? Why am I trying so hard to recreate Sydney in India? Why am I here then? Why did I bother? I am a tad disappointed to be learning this lesson so far along this experience, but the fact that I can now turn things around excites me, immensely. I cannot come to uplift and empower the downtrodden if I’m having cappuccinos at expensive café’s or gorging myself silly at exclusive restaurants. I can’t watch a child ask his rag-picker mother to buy him chocolate, only to be rejected, whilst I gleefully live upon the stuff myself. I know it seems obvious, and probably is to most of you, but such lessons take time with me. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a tad slow. But knowing this has finally helped me to slowly pry away those shackles that have kept me bound for so long. So very long. There is something so liberating about wearing old fashioned clothing and not giving a damn. There is something to traveling by general class in a train and not feeling out of place or high and mighty that is so incredible. Last week I switched my phone off for a week, neither communicating nor attempting to communicate via a medium I’d always referred to as my lifeline. Suddenly the 12 rupee parathas and sabzis at the lorry-wallah down the street from work don’t sound too bad. I’m happy to walk a little further than opting for an auto, I can do without L’Oreal and the continual need to check email, that’s okay. It all sounds a tad lofty and idealistic I know, but I know I can come to achieve this, and hopefully bring some sort of equilibrium to my rather skewed and unbalanced life of wants and needs.

It's been two weeks and this internal conflict does not seem to want to subside in the slightest. I still feel guilty when I have expensive coffees or even interact in exclusive circles/classes of people. The tribal people in Gir forest, the kids from the poorest government schools come to mind as do all the slum kids in the Tekra in Ahmedabad. I can’t claim to help anyone, that much I know. Help is a term that shouldn’t exist in anyone’s vocabulary, its one of the most patronising terms in the English language, I like to think of any interaction as a exchange, there is never a one sided gain. But whilst I am interacting with these kids, I cannot live with myself if I continue to be who I have been for the past 24 years. It can't happen. Something has to give. And something hopefully will, soon. The thought process has begun and I feel it taking shape as it begins to shadow my every action. It's time for change. And I need your assistance. What are some effective ways of simplifying life without wasting or indulging on the unnecessary? How do you curb those desires that tempt you to go against what you know is a hurdle you are trying to overcome? Any tips? Any ideas? Anything you’ve tried that’s worked? Your advice is much appreciated as always.

Congratulations!

2006-12-09T20:34:00.002+11:00

Dear Friend,
Dear Comrade,

I need you so much more than you need me

You have no idea...

I am so proud of you today

SO proud

Congratulations...

Priyanka, Pinky, Pinksta, Priya... (JUST KIDDING!) :)

Pri. My fave solicitor,

and dearest, dearest friend.

You Rock!

Love

Divs

2006-12-03T23:34:00.000+11:00

The thunder was deafening, a stampede of steps slowly approaching the office with the sound of approaching rain. Something was definitely pounding the pavement. I gingerly looked out of the window to see hordes of people marching. International Disability Day 2006. This pic comes to you courtesy of my photo slave and good friend (not in that order) Sheel.

(P.S - Belated world Aids Day).

**The next few weeks/months will find me marketing our new campaign Serve India (www.serve.in) in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Maharashtra before heading back to Ahmedabad and relocating to Rajasthan for a few months. The adventure begins tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Reminiscing about Babapur

2006-11-28T00:27:00.000+11:00

Gods' Diwali

Babapur River

Bhargav and the antakshari swing

The ever graceful Baa

Students as Teachers Day

Any excuse to burst crackers!

Another Day in Paradise

2006-11-27T23:59:00.000+11:00

What really scares me about life is when things are going smoothly. Its sadistic I know. But much like the Indian “roads” I've become accustomed to the bumps and jumps at every three metre interval. Sure there are always hiccups but they fade, like the day and soon you find yourself lying in bed thinking, my life feels empty today. Theres nothing to worry about, nothing to keep you angry, passionate, inconsolable. A million miles away across the pacific, your closest friends are just awakening to a new bright and beautiful day; getting ready for work, nibbling on lunch or stir frying vegetables for dinner. An odd moment every few days catches them off guard and their thoughts hover over your way, to India. They smile, wondering how you're doing, what you're doing and how life is treating you. They sigh with the slightest dissatisfaction thinking, I wish I’d done that or I can’t wait to do that or even, I’m glad it’s not me.

The setting sun has bathed everything in the office an orange, ephemeral glow. Gopal hands me a cup of chai and says he’s off to Surat on the second. The maddening after work rush has choked ashram road yet again and I wonder if Gandhi’s at peace up the road at Sabarmati Ashram. I watch people on bikes, scooters, cars and on foot rushing to get home, rushing to go somewhere and I stand there on that busy intersection wondering why I’ve got not place to go, but an empty apartment. It was never like this before. There was always somewhere to go, someone to meet, someplace to see. Canberra, so very empty, was always too busy for me. And now. Here. In this congested city with its unyielding traffic of people, I too have found loneliness. Rather, it has found me. The routine of cooking dinner, working, sipping on a hot drink, reading, has settled me down, brought me down from the arrogant reaches of somewhere to the humble soil of simplicity. To bask. To be amongst the emptiness, the solitude. I need to become silent within. To be happy with the nothingness. The office is dark tonight. Shadows whisper amongst themselves in quiet corners. Snatches of conversation prick my ears ‘development here is unique’, ‘the Indian context turns all this around’. A room full of people, a world full of ideas. And yet, all I want to do is crawl under the covers and pretend my dreams aren’t coming true.

Selfish, I know.

Babapur and More...

2006-11-26T21:51:00.000+11:00

Well I'm back at last. The last month and a bit in Babapur was spectacular to say the very least....the days were spent in a flurry of classes and rendezvous with the orphanage children. It was nice to see them say goodbye in English as a tribute to our classes. Was a teary moment. It was particularly hard to say bye to Baa and Bapuji and Miniben who I've become so close to. Bapuji fractured his ankle recently but hobbled using his walker to the dining table on the last day to have lunch with me, made me so teary. A ninety year old pushing himself to that limit out of love. Baa said to me that she didn't want me to go and rathered I stay for another month or so...'My company is going...I will miss you very much Divyaben' she said with a shake in her voice. This place has become a part of my soul. I remember driving here, wondering how I would make it through the month, the unfamiliar terrain, the dry, sandy, rocky mountains the dry streams, the people. Funnily enough, those same, strange brooding landscapes, on my way back to Ahmedabad suddenly became a part of home and Ahmedabad became the big, bad, unusual stranger. Every stream, every hill and every tree in Babapur has etched itself into my soul and I'm wondering how I'm going to be as happy as I was there, back here in the city. It will take time to forget the early morning fog and the shiva mandir. The toll of school bells and the stampede of children at recess. Of blackboards and slates and chalk pieces that never do write well with in the damp weather. Of mid afternoon snacks - bhel, eclairs and amla fruits. Of cardamom and ginger based chai and parle G's to go with it....and the stargazing at night, with all the lights out, watching for shooting stars and meteor showers and singing songs...of roasting corn over a campfire and swinging on Baa's big, wooden swing whilst playing antakshari, eight kids and me in the middle, that poor swing!

Ahmedabad.

Ugh.

Back to reality.

Sorry , Thank You and More

2006-10-31T21:52:00.000+11:00

Sorry guys, I realise that my last post was full of complaints and self-pity, I try to be positive as much and as often as possible but every now and then I falter, my apologies for all the worry caused, the phase has more or less passed and I am more or less back to my old self:). Thank you for all your support during that rough patch, I do appreciate it very much...

Jiggly: Thanks so much for the skin tip, will give it a go as soon as I can :)

Am currently based in a tiny village about twelve hours from Ahmedabad known as Babapur, it's an incredible place and home of an incredible NGO that works in education and village upliftment. It begun shortly after independence as an NGO focused on Gandhiji's principles and aimed to empower village youth to lead India on with confidence. Now they run an orphanage, fifteen highschools, a teachers training college and participate in a range of community service work in the area. It is run by three very inspirational people- Ba(meaning Grandmother for the non-north-Indians), is 77 years old and the most inspiring woman I've ever met. Ba's life changed at the age of twelve when she wrote a letter to her maternal uncle who was in jail at the time stating how upset she was that he was there and no longer with her.Her uncle,a famous freedom fighter, wrote a 22 page letter in response stating that she should be proud that he's in jail and the fact that he had sacrificed his welfare for his country as part of the Quit India movement. He also advised her on how to live life as a Gandhian. Immediately she took a vow that from that day she would only wear Khadi, began to spin her own material, stopped wearing jewelery and dedicated her life to service. She graduated with a bachelors in psychology and a diploma in social service, worked in the union movement, along with her freedom-fighter husband and suddenly decided to give it all up to move to a village and do community service work, fifty years later, here they are...

Bapuji, Ba's husband was an active member of the Quit India movement, he also spent a lot of time in jail fighting for India's freedom and at one time had arrest warrants from five states against him as well as a price for his head! Bapuji is also well educated, spent many years as the chief secretary of Indian Railways and time with Gandhiji. He's also a strong Gandhian, highly principled but lives a very simple life, he just turned 90 but walks 6km a day!

The third inspiration is Ba and Bapuji's daughter who gave up opportunities to work and study overseas to co-run the NGO. She's a sister and mother to many of the orphaned children and has dedicated her life to social service, she's almost fifty, unmarried and entirely devoted to seva.

So with such inspiration around, I definitely can't gripe! My days here are spent with the children from the Orphanage, in an attempt to establish a sustainable english tutoring program. The children are so bright and so attentive that it doesn't appear to be such an impossible task anymore.

Will post photos and write more about it when I'm back in Ahmedabad at the end of November as I have no access to internet unless driven there and even that takes a lot of time....

In the meantime, thanks again for all the support:)

MJ: Happy belated Diwali to you, Anna and Anu, I miss you so much and your wisdom and encouragement continues to inspire me considerably whenever I'm down, so thank you :)

2006-10-23T19:22:00.000+10:00

I feel like crap. I can't quite figure out why, but I do. I don't know whether its the fact that India is running its course through me at a pace I'm struggling to cope with. I feel as though I've aged about twenty years both mentally and physically. The pollution has left me with a bronchital-like cough that will not go away, my skin is permanently clogged with dust no matter how many times I wash my face, my eyes are yellow from all the dust and dirt and grime that India has graced them with. I feel run down, constantly yearning for more sleep and with a complete lack of energy. Mentally I feel demotivated, sluggish and depressed. I feel disconnected from India overall and cut-off from the warmth and security of friends and family back home. As though I'm trapped in limbo. It's probably just a phase and I'm furiously hoping it'll pass soon, but its a powerful thing...ugh.

On a happier note, I spent Diwali in Pune, had a really nice time staying with family friends and catching up with a few friends, a big Diwali/work post Coming Soon....

I'm off to a village tomorrow for a month to work with an NGO that runs alternative education programs for orphans and other underprivileged children, really looking forward to the solitude and the prospect of being able to breathe some fresh air(hopefully)...

Will blog when spirits and health improves.

Happy(belated) Diwali and Eid Mubarak guys.

Naina

2006-10-12T18:11:00.000+10:00

What can I do Naina…to make it better?
What can I say, how can I be?
To make you understand that I’m here for you
You, who can't even see me but knows when to reach for my hand
You, the bright tinkerbell of our lives
Illumining our office with your sweet natured presence
‘Divya Behan, Divya Behan aap kahan se aye? Divya Behan!’
‘Office mein…Naina’
‘Hahn, mei bhi!’
Naina our little girl with cataracts who knows not our faces but touches our cheeks
To feel the shape of our smiles
And the occasional wetness of a tear
Naina to whom life has been brutal
To whom brutality is normalcy, to whom pain is an age old friend
Naina whose arms wrap around me affectionately
Naina who’ll never ask for food but is always hungry
Naina.
Naina.
Naina.
My existence is fast becoming about ensuring your welfare
My morning fruit expeditions now about your nutrition
Masaumbi for vitamin C one day, pomegranate for iron the next
Naina have you eaten? Naina when will you eat?
What can I do? When? How can I make it better kid?
How do I tell you that your life is meaningful to me?
Naina who sits next to me as I write this
Squinting hard in concentration as she draws
Letters and shapes without meaning
And holds them up for my evaluation
Naina whose work has turned our office into an art gallery
Naina with a cheeky smile ‘Divya behan, mei angrezi bolti ti!’
‘kya bolti Naina?’ only to burst into a fit of giggles
As she barrels into what sounds like Chinese in a loud, military tone
Naina with her ‘Divya Behan, happy birthday!’ every day
Naina who runs around the office with my dupatta wrapped around her
Naina who hears me yawn and runs across the room to give me a massage
Naina who asks if I’ve eaten properly
Naina…my little sister.
Naina who churns my insides to mush
When she draws ‘our’ dream house and points to our dream altar
‘Ye Sita ka kamra, ye Ram ka kamra, ye Bhagwan aur Hanuman ka kamra’
aur tumhara kamra kahan hai Naina?
Aapna ghar nahi, ye pura Bhagwan ka ghar
Naina who wont tell me that she's hungry
But will ravenously consume the chiku’s I cut up for her
Naina who won’t eat in front me
Who wants no charity…
Naina whose father drinks away their earnings
Naina whose mother wants to die everday
Naina who acts and dresses like a boy
Because being a girl on the streets isn’t safe.

Naina, I could write about you forever
Naina, I could cry for you everyday

But I won’t.

Because you could use some strength today.

And I could use that smile.

Guess Who Just Gained Another Set of Eyes?!

2006-10-11T22:36:00.000+10:00

You can stop laughing now!!!! :p

One Remedy for Homesickness...

2006-10-09T20:37:00.000+10:00

Every now and then there's that jolt from reality that lets you know that you are far away from anything or anyone familiar in a city whose eyes watch your every move. Most of the time it's easily remedied but once in a while it takes something like browsing through old pictures to bring you back to equlibrium...here are some of my faves that have kept me going as of late....

I remember standing in Forum scanning the crowd for Hrishi, catching up with him was amazing, felt like I was back home after a long, long while. This pic was taken during my first auto ride through the streets of Bangalore on this trip. We were zipping past the city, reminiscing, laughing and eagerly setting out for some caffeinated beverages. Was a great night with a wonderful friend and meant a whole lot...

Two of my most favourite things in the whole world....a latte from Coffee Day and my cousins kid Murali...what a poser huh?

Mal's wedding. What a day. These two don't get nearly as much credit on this blog as they should, perhaps it's because I almost feel a sense of ownership over them both, more like sisters than friends. As long as I've known them, they've made my world a much happier place to live in.

Prazzo and Saf. Enough said :).

More Later... :)

Gandhi Jayanti

2006-10-02T17:13:00.000+10:00

Happy Birthday Gandhiji!

Visiting your ashram the other day brought tears to my eyes. Your humble quarters in which you spun your own cotton, wrote letters in reply to all those that wrote to you and held meetings in a quaint room with some of India's finest. The banks of the Sabarmati, so dry for so long, overflow today, as if in commiseration, for their favourite resident. You provide me with the hope and inspiration that I require in order to lead a simple, meaningful life. To me, you've fast become an elegant combination of father, friend and mentor, a connection I've tried long and hard to establish with you, made easier now by your eternal presence in the Ashram. Help me be righteous, help me to serve without expectation and help me to see the oneness in all beings so as to love all with equal measure.

Aum Tat Sat.

Shout-out

2006-10-02T15:57:00.000+10:00

To three spectacular people undergoing some spectacular challenges...

Mahesh, Flygirl and Jigglypuff.

I can't believe how successful my friends are, makes me feel downright useless (but well connected nevertheless, ha ha:) ).

Mahesh: Best of luck for the medical finals, nearly there, five years of hard work about to pay-off in a big way. I know you'll be an amazing doctor :), once again, Good Luck!

Flygirl: I know you're plugging away at your desk making it hard to do much else. Best of luck with the thesis submission, I'm sure you will revolutionise the way people look at fruitflies (as you've done with me). Hope you're up for an Au Lac dinner sometime post-submission, or maybe I'll just see you in India :). Good Luck!

Jigglypuff: The CA is an ugly, ugly thing but you're nearly at the end of it. I'm in awe of your ability to continually torture yourself with accounting exams, I know it'll all be worth it in the end though. Can't think of a better person to finish the race:), Good Luck mate.

Well it's nice to know that at the end of my stint as an aidworker I can come back to Australia and have my taxes done by Jiggly, my ailments treated by Mahesh and my err...fruitfly issues dealt with by flygirl :). Once again, all the best guys.

Love

Div

You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you...

2006-09-30T23:13:00.000+10:00

Dad- As requested...

At the Office....on any given day

Tracy, my housmate, joking around

The kids at our apartment block in Mithakali
How cute are they?!?!

Me, at the apartment, joking around with Trace

One Post for Three Comments...

2006-09-30T23:04:00.000+10:00

KLN Prasanna left a comment regarding farmer suicides. It's a fairly broad topic and although not as relevant to Chottila District of Gujarat where I was, it's been a huge issue in the states of Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh. Recently I attended a lecture by Vandana Shiva, physicist-cum-anthropologist, she spoke in length about the requirement of a new 'agri-culture'. One that didn't lead to 25,000 suicides and the continued exploitation of farmers. In response to KLN, I wanted to provide a brief overview of the history of farmer suicides in India:

1. In 1990 as part of the World Bank's structural adjustment program the Indian Government was forced to open up its most protected industry - agriculture. 70% of India's economy is agricultural based. A majority of produce created by this industry was locally consumed. However, rice, wheat and corn were exported on a fairly large scale. Imports were heavily restricted, high quotas and tariffs as well as a ban on entry of International Corporations meant farmers were heavily protected. Taxation benefits, social welfare schemes and other monetary incentives were provided to farmers nation-wide.

2. Once this ban was lifted, a number of corporations begun to saturate the Indian market. However, their scope of financial success in India was heavily dependent on breaking cultural barriers which restricted their penetrability into the primary commodity market. In the early 1990's shortly after the adjustment policies were implemented, the price of cotton the international market shot up. In the districts of Warangal(Andhra Pradesh) and Vidharba(Maharashtra) MNC's began to send Indian employees to rural areas to run workshops on the benefits of harvesting cotton. They also began to establish a rapport with local landowners of the village/district and local money lenders. Slowly, as farmers noticed their counterparts gaining significantly from cotton harvests, they began to consider purchasing cotton seeds. Monsanto, an American Multinational GM seed producer was desperately seeking to profit from the Indian agricultural market. In order to promote GM seeds, they began distributing cotton seeds free of cost to farmers in and around the Warangal district of Andhra Pradesh. Farmers, already burdened with high levels of debt, took to the offer as an opportunity for financial freedom. This is where it becomes tricky...and downright painful.

Monsanto supplied the farmers with faulty seeds. Seeds that not only did not flower, but seeds that required the use of up to 21 pesticides to maintain. These pesticides were provided by Monsanto to the local landlord who sold them at excessively high prices to farmers, who now had no choice but to purchase them in order to make some livelihood from flowering crops. Many farmers had also neglected their other harvests to focus on cotton and as a result found themselves drowning in debt. Many took to alcohol, drugs and other abusive habits.

One day a young farmer from Warangal, no longer able to provide even one a meal a day for his family, came up with a plan. At that time, the Andhra Pradesh government provided $2,200 US for families who were victims of suicide. One by one, as farmers came to realise they had no way out of debt, they took to the method used by that young farmer. Many began to drink the pesticides they had purchased at exorbitant prices in order to buy their families some financial freedom with their lives. In 1998 alone more than 150 farmers in Warangal had taken their lives. In Vidarbha alone this year, there were fifty-two cotton farmer suicides in November, seventy-two in December and sixty-eight in January. This figure continues to fluctuate at dangerously high levels.

Long answer and I'm not sure if it’s entirely what you wanted but I thought it would be interesting to post on anyway...:)

Comment # 2 from BK:

Look how happy they are!... and how miserable the western world is!! Lesson to be learned! (Commenting on pictures from village day).

BK, I love you and all mate, but seriously....

Myth #1: Villagers lead happier lives than people in the west or in Urban areas

The one big assumption made by the west it that people in villages lead happier, more enjoyable, meaningful lives. I hate it when people romanticise things they don't understand. My village day entry may have made it sound exciting and enjoyable from my perspective, but life in villages is a hundred times harder to live and enjoy than in urban India.

Myth #2: Villagers are more unified, they lead collective, community-oriented lives.

Yes, but not always out of choice. Bartering is common. Financial dependency is a must, large families mean large loans. Infact, the farmers I spoke to asked me why I wanted to waste my time in a village when they were trying so desperately to get out of rural India.

Myth #3: They don't want to deal with the hustle and bustle of urban India

A whole bunch of families from Dhokalwal had kids in hostels in and around Metropolitan areas of Gujarat. When asked why, many responded that they did not want their children to face the financial hardships that they had faced and wanted them to work for the government or for large private organisations where they were guaranteed financial security

Myth #4: They work with the land and therefore love the land.

They know the land. They depend on the land. And yes, to an extent they love and care for the land. But as my host-mother told me, she didn't want her young children working sixteen hour days, half of which were spent in the scorching heat, for the rest of their lives.

Myth #5: People that smile for photographs are happy.

Pfft. No comment.

Comment #3: Do u know whats happening with the proposed damming of the river narmada. apparently, lakhs of villagers stand to lose their land with no plans for their rehabilitation or compensation.....there was some resistance to this, but it appeared quite futile...

The monsoonal rains have led to flooding all over India. I haven't heard much about Narmada recently but I can tell you what I've seen from flood relief in Ahmedabad and Surat. Despite the backlash to damming that is happening India-wide it is an essential irrigatory process. Granted, many dams are constructed for profitability, but dams are also important sources of hydroelectricity, providers of irrigation water and instruments of regional economic development. In Surat, when dam water was released causing flooding, the military was on standby providing emergency housing, household supplies and meals to required members. In Ahmedabad, the houses on the banks of the Sabarmati are visited by police on days where water release is planned. Infact, I receive an sms each time there are plans to release water on any given day. Relief measures are put in place as required. I'm not saying that this justifies Narmada or any other major damming initiative undertaken by the Government but I am stating that it isn't done blindly without care or concern for the people involved. I know that in the case of Narmada, the worldwide publicity received thanks to Arundhati Roy and the Narmada Bachao Andolan has done wonders in providing media attention and financial aid to victims.

P.S- I hope this answers your questions (somewhat). Keep them coming, perspectives here tend to differ to ridiculous extremes. Gives me a good chance to sift through local papers as well as speak to people on the street about their experiences.

P.P.S- I realise how poorly written these entries are and for this I apologise. Most of them are written really early in the morning or late at night or between chai breaks.

The Village Experience

2006-09-26T22:58:00.000+10:00

Village day begun with all the fellows piling into a local bus to Rajkot (about four hours from Amdavad). From there we headed to Chottila District to a tiny village called Dedukhi. The journey was an interesting one. We travelled by lorry, basically sitting/standing on the back of an open truck, was so much fun and provided a great view of the landscape. Our destination was to a small NGO in Dedukhi called Lok Mitra that’s run by two very incredible individuals, Sonal Behan and Chaitanya Bhai who assist children from villages to go to school whilst simultaneously providing them with an opportunity to make a living for themselves. Lok Mitra gives the students art supplies which they use to make cards, candles and other crafts to sell in a shop purchased especially for the children. The money earned from what is sold is invested in the childrens bank accounts allowing them to be financially independent and gain an education. We spent a few hours there discussing what village life consisted of and had lunch. (On a side note, I had some of the most amazing chai I’ve ever had here, one of the other fellows and I drank about six cups!). From there the group was split up into four and asked to make their way to the villages on foot. My village (Dhokalwal) was about a four kilometre walk, we used the walk as an opportunity to practise for the cultural show that the villagers wanted to put on the following night. Before nightfall we reached Dhokalwal and were asked to make our way to our respective host family’s homes. I made my way to my hosts house (Magan Bhai and Soma Bhai). Magan Bhai is a 27 year old farmer who lives with his wife, two kids, his parents, his mother-in-law and sisters. It was a crowded house and when I walked in, the first thing I noticed was that everyone slept/ate and functioned outside, the two rooms within the house were merely storage space. Upon my arrival there I attempted to introduce myself with some difficulty (Hindi isn’t spoken in many of the villages here and the Gujarati is very different too). But the basic message came across well and before I knew it the house was full of people stating ‘Divya Behan, Divya Behan!’. At about 9pm the women headed off to a meeting and invited me along. It was a meeting of a Self-Help Group or SHG, also run by Lok Mitra. SHG’s are a resource run in many villages across India. They basically function as a bank account for women to put away what little money they have towards their and their childrens futures. It also acts as a lending pool for women who wish to start small businesses. Ultimately, they provide a few hours a week for the women of the village to escape their hectic schedules and discuss issues related to their livelihood. Apparently Dhokalwal SHG’s saved the most amount of money out of the eleven or so groups run by Lok Mitra in that area.

After the meeting we headed home for dinner. Dinner was amazing. We had Rotli’s, which were thicker than normal rotis and made from wheat. We had Rotla’s which were super thick, no less than about three Rotli’s made up just one Rotla. This was eaten with a bean sabzi and milk. Food here isn’t eaten on plates. Basically the roti’s are placed on a table, the family sits around the table with a small bowl of sabzi each, and eat accordingly. Glasses of fresh, non-pasteurised milk are served from the buffalo straight to the family. Incidentally, it’s the tastiest milk I’ve ever had! Milk is consumed with meals three times a day. After dinner a cot was placed for me to sleep, outside in the courtyard. I slept three feet away from a buffalo whose breath kept me warm throughout the night. To sleep with the stars as a ceiling was incredible and something I’d never done before. The first hour or so was spent simply watching the stars before drowsiness overtook me.

The next day we woke up around 5:30 to prepare for the day ahead. I brushed my teeth out in the open and using the water we had just pumped from the hand pump. We swept the entire area clean, washed our dishes with wet mud (they ended up amazingly clean though) and filled our pots with water. I was then asked if I wanted to shower. I eagerly accepted until I realised no-one here showered more than once a week. They pointed to a small stone wall about 5”2 in height. I was asked to shower there. Unfortunately, being all of 5”7, this was a bit of a challenge and involved me showering with my clothes on, soaping my arms and merely drenching every other part of myself, clothes included! Afterwards we had breakfast, very similar to the meal consumed the night before and made more rotla’s and rotli’s for lunch. At about 9:30, my host-mother packed our lunch, some sabzi, roti and dood into a basket and placed it on her head to be carried to the fields. We walked the three-kilometres to the fields and begun working. We begun by weeding then pollination of cotton, we picked ground nuts, sprayed the crops, watered the crops, picked flowers and worked almost non-stop until 7pm that evening. I’d never worked so hard in my life and certainly not to that amount of physical labour! It was scorching hot and my hands were scratched from all the weeding and picking of flowers, manually mowing grass etc. but each time I was tired or frustrated, I’d stand up and take a look at the landscape. There were rolling hills and grasslands and meadows that adorned the horizon, fields of yellow flowers, corn and wheat as well as men, women and children hunched over tending to their crops. A slight breeze would blow with a domino effect that touched the trees at the very tops of the mountains and made their way toward the corn fields to brush across our faces. On that first day, that enchanting moment really hit home. I’m in India, this is the real thing. And not just that, I am a part of India. This was the first mental shift from ‘I am in India’ to ‘I am India’.

At 7pm we made our way back home to prepare for the cultural show. It was around then that Vijay arrived. Vijay is one of the staff members of my NGO, he had just arrived and was checking up to see how I was doing. He is also Gujarati which was a huge advantage as I could finally communicate with my host family on a personal level! I discovered that Magan Bhai’s great grandmother was 110 years old, that he has a brother who escaped farming life in order to become a policeman and that he taught himself to read and write. Quite an amazing chap. After dinner we walked to Sagaram Bhai’s place where the cultural show was to take place. We walked in a large group of about forty people carrying instruments and singing along the way. It was a full moon night and we were walking through fields of yellow grass and wheat that towered above our heads, it was beautiful. At Sagaram Bhai’s the crowd was rearing to go. People were singing, women and men sitting separately playing instruments and chanting. When we walked in they immediately asked us to sing a song. We sang Raghupathi Raghava (for the hundredth time!) and asked them to sing. They refused, insisting we sang something else. We managed to divert from the subject by asking them to teach us garbha, a traditional Gujarati folk dance that involves dancing in concentric circles with lots of coordination required! So we begun, and of course the young girls outdanced us a thousand to one! After elbows and knees jutting out in the wrong places and practically beating the little girl in front me, I knew it was time to stop. But the girls wouldn’t let up, dragging us back to the circle the moment we stopped. Eventually the boys jumped in and the steps changed according to the change of song. Basically a song is sung faster and faster and people are supposed to follow the beat accordingly. Eventually after many embarrassing miscalculations we finally managed to weave some coordination into our moves. At one moment there was about sixty of us in time with the beat, every step, every move, every breath. It was such a strong feeling of unity, so symbolic in capturing the essence of that whole weekend. We were one entity. In time and rhythm with everything in the universe, every cell, every atom. It was a kind of bond I’d never felt before. And of course the next second involved me stumbling and ruining the whole formation!

Eventually after much coaxing they convinced us to sing what will go down in history as the funniest rendition of ‘Lean on Me’ and ‘Amazing Grace’ ever! We forgot lines, we made up lines, we laughed, we were laughed at. It was hilarious. They of course sang and danced beautifully when it was their turn. Eventually we left for home and fell into a deep sleep. Awoke the next day to a similar routine as the day before except at midday we began to walk back to Dedukhi, to the Lok Mithra headquarters. We had lunch there again, a debrief with some of our host families and played with the kids. At four o’clock we climbed back into the lorry singing cheesy hindi songs at the top of our voices until we reached Chottila.

What was the point of village weekend? To experience what life in villages is like and how to immerse oneself into the lifestyle of villagers.

What did I learn? That language isn’t the only tool of unification, love is, laughter is, willingness is. Communication between souls can overcome language barriers.

India’s hopes and dreams reside in villages where old customs and traditions are still practiced with reverence. By that same token, the hopes and dreams of villages lie with cities and urban areas, in their willingness assist in improving health care, farming practices and other essential needs.

Pictures from Village Weekend

2006-09-26T22:09:00.000+10:00

Navrathri - Garba #1

2006-09-25T20:25:00.000+10:00

Arch and I at Garba #1 last night. Arch is a fellow colleague of mine working in education reform.

Sheel, Shaila and I at garba. These two are hilarious and we always have such a blast hanging out. Probably cause way too much mischief when together but I guess thats what keeps us sane.
Their Blogs:

Sheel: www.sheelm.com/blog
Shaila: www.indiancamelot.blogspot.com

The troublesome three yet again

Overall my first garba night in Ahmedabad was amazing. I think theres another five or six to come and I'm sure I'll have plenty more photos to put up. Navrathri is such an interesting time to be in India, there are temples coming up everywhere, and with garba/dandia being Gujarati traditional dances, there's plenty to see/do/hit here for the next few weeks to come.

India. Daily.

2006-09-22T17:28:00.000+10:00

to drown within the frothy entrails of my imagination only to be torn asunder the next moment bitten by reality. to wail. to want.to tolerate. to accept. to embrace. to celebrate. to love him. to love her. to love them. to be the hyphen that connects my two halves. to be the hyphen that rejects both. to walk. to breathe. to float. to fly. to blink. to see. to feel. to know that these issues will continue to exist to know that these situations will continue to persist. and yet. and yet. wanting to contribute some miniscule fraction of my minscule being to benefit a single square centimetre of this earth. to love. to be loved. to desire. to blossom. to hatch. to break-free. to see. to live. to really live, in the true sense of the term. to see. to really see. to long for clarity. to reach for the stars but to be blinded by the morning mist and dew that dampen my vision. to awaken to morning meadows that stretch enticingly apart in both directions. to be torn. to absorb. to float. to fly. to want. to taste. to tolerate. to accept. to embrace. to celebrate. to wipe the tears of a child with hands clinging to me in hunger. to feed. to play. to imagine. mountains of rice, oceans of fresh pineapple juice, valleys of ice-cream. to laugh. to joke. to speak. of lies. of betrayal. of pain. of heartache. of death. to wipe the sweat from Gopal's forehead as he pours my chai. the child whose stall stands next to a school and yet cannot read or write. to writhe in frustration and disbelief. how can I help you kid? what can I do? to keep walking. to remember that ripples become waves. to give it all I've got. and more. to promise. to fulfil. to begin. to walk. to jog. to run. from myself. from this world. from all that is familiar. to lose myself within myself. to find myself half broken. half stumbling. lost. found. up. down. uncertain. to seek. to find. that person I once was. to take her by the hand. toward the person she should be. to question. to debate. to battle with myself. to strive. to change. to tire. to buckle. to sleep. to awaken. renewed. refreshed. gentle tendrils of sunlight surrounding my room. to awake dizzingly unstable. to remember. to regain the strength that once was. to smile. to get up. to keep walking.

Pictures and Stories...

2006-09-20T13:23:00.000+10:00

The first day of orientation was spent in Sughad Village where we celebrated Indian Independence day with a bunch of kids from Sughad primary school. We walked the streets of the village with them chanting famous slogans such as 'Jai Jawan! Jai Kissan!', 'Adi roti cau, Desh ko Bachao!' and 'Safai mei, Khuda Hai!' The purpose of this excercise was to understand the significance and relevance of independence day to Indians in India. The event concluded with an assembly back at the school where patriotic songs on Gujarat were sung alongside the national anthem and Vande Mataram.

Hrishi - Check out the Triranga pillars in the background, thought you might appreciate them! :) Since Gujarat is the home of Gandhiji himself, Independence day here has a special regional significance.

The second half of day one was spent with kids from an NGO called SPRAT. SPRAT works with children from Hindu and Muslim communities who've been affected by Hindu-Muslim riots and attempts to increase awareness between the communities to promote unity and community well-being. Our task was to take five kids each to Muscan Park, a park with rides and food stalls and to have a good time with them. The only problem was language, nevertheless, some clever gesturing by them and some awkward broken Hindi from me meant we could get by. The day ended with many hugs and tears.

This was one of the funniest events of the whole orientation. We participated in a Laughing Club run by Ishwar Kaka and his buddies (all very well educated, well-to-do uncles from in and around Ahmedabad). The excercises were sooo random, like the one in the picture. There was one where we had to lift our hands into the air and shout 'I am Perrrrrfektly alright', and of course the funniest pose was waving our hands one way and yelling "ho, ho" and the other way yelling "ha, ha". Most of us ended up in hysterics. Other excercises such as wiggling your toes and fingers seemed so trivial but obviously had their benefits. Just watching a bunch of 70 somethings wiggle their hips and toes and fake-laughing was enough to have the rest of us in stitches! Here's a video of the experience that my tech-savvy friend Sheel managed to upload: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5077882066782399507&hl=en

Also, check out his blog:

www.sheelm.com/blog

Amdavad Post - I

2006-09-16T23:25:00.000+10:00

So I finally know what it feels like to be there and not be able to get what you want. A monthly stipend is hardly enough to afford my previously, fairly lavish lifestyle. But still, I needed cleaning products, I needed a pillow and sheets and I needed somewhere that sold those items at walking distance, because frankly, I didn't want to spend money on a rickshaw. So I walked over to Adani's, a chain of supermarkets in Amdavad and browsed the aisles. Bought the cheapest bread they had, bought some jam(on sale), cheapest pillow, cheapest sheet, small treat cause I was starving and went to queue up to pay.

In front of me was this little girl holding her Dad's hand. Her eyes happened to glaze over when she spotted a bar of chocolate. Chocolate, my downfall. Dammit. Her Dad noticed her gaze and smiled a big, warm smile. He reached over and grabbed not one but two bars and gave them to her. For a second I remember thinking, this sucks. Why can't I have what I want?? Why is something officially inaccessible to me?? And then the self-pitying thoughts began. Aww you poor deprived soul, why is the world taking something so precious away from you. Then there was the self-disgusted thoughts, you stupid girl, how dare you pity yourself about this? Its just chocolate! You eat three square meals a day and still complain?! Then my mind began to wander. Back to my childhood days in Sydney, those thousands of times going to supermarkets with my Dad, wanting not just chocolate bars but chips and ice-creams and things that amounted to twice our usual grocery bill. And still I remember my Dad, whether he could afford it or not, smile that same warm smile and reach over to give me all and more than what I wanted, and certainly more than what I needed.

Maybe its a love thing and maybe its a consumerist 'I can afford to give you whatever you want with my IIT education/IBM job' thing thats so big in India right now. Or maybe its just me being a selfish so and so.

But sometimes its good to drown. To just let go and pray that whatever forces brought you here, will continue to hold you together.

And it worries me now, makes me sick to my stomach when I think of the times I've walked the streets of India with an ice-cream cone in my hands or a chocolate bar, waving away little kids who wanted what I had. I swear I'm never gonna eat that **** again, certainly not in public. Simple living is the philosophy expounded by my organisation. And sure, it might deprive me of a few ice-cream cones and chocolate bars, but so what?

My Uncle said something very beautiful and profound to me today, "appreciate what you have & you'll come out a better person - such is life in all colours...living like that will help you in accepting people". I hope I can live up to that. I hope I can flush these negativities from my mind that hinder me from fully absorbing the depth and breadth of India.

After all, I didn't come here to eat chocolate, surely!

Thanks Dad, Thanks Uncle, and at the risk of sounding Alanis Morrisette, Thanks India.

2006-09-07T18:59:00.000+10:00

Hi All :)

*I hereby solemly promise to update blog at the conclusion of orientation on the 15th of September*

Hope you're all well :)

Love

Divya

2006-08-12T00:14:00.000+10:00

Hello all:)

Apologies for the hiatus. I hope you're well. I fly off to Gujarat on Monday. Until such time all I've done is visit family and friends and am preparing furiously for Guj.

Nothing of importance or interest to report, but I'm certain there'll be much to report on from Monday onwards.

In the meantime, a few shout-outs:

Durga- Thank you a thousand times over for the photos and comments of encouragement, I can't tell you just how useful they've been :), I miss you and Mike! Love, Div

Hrishi- Can I borrow your swiss-army knife? I seem to be stuck with another stubborn ketchup satchet and the waiters arent manly enough to attempt opening it :)

Ups -Hows the coming back to earth from Heaven thing going? Hope you're well!

MJ- So many reminders of you wherever I look! How's Anu and Anna? I miss you all

2006-08-02T01:52:00.000+10:00

I don't quite know what to make of all this yet...I still feel as though I'm on holidays. It hasn't yet dawned on me that Gujarat is two weeks away, that Real Life beckons after a three hour plane trip. But two separate instances have reinforced my decision to be here, have made it seem so right that I can't help but feel that this the only place for me at this point in time. They may seem frivolous to you, particularly those of you that have spent extended periods of time here, if so, you may not want to read on...

1. I had an extremely emotional moment last Friday...extremely emotional. Flygirl, I'm sure you recall. Tears of happiness no doubt, and yet, they had me sobbing as I sat waiting for a friend. A myriad of emotions running through my head, the Prasad in my hands crushed by the impact, my sari soaked with fresh tears...I sat waiting for the tears to stop, waiting for the sobbing to 'cry itself out' and yet, they would not heed. Feeling so loved yet so alone, I waited. Face in hands, attempting to console myself. Suddenly a hand on my shoulder. I look up. An old lady, a villager, peered back at me with sad eyes. She said something in Telugu, to no avail. Hindi, again, no chance, using what she knew, she managed to convey that I shouldn't cry. That only redoubled the sobs and this time quite a crowd had gathered around me to watch. One by one, they too strode off, but this woman, quite obviously a villager, stood beside me, wiping away my tears with her handkercheif. 'No cry...no cry'....twenty minutes of consolation later and all I could manage was a garbled 'thank you'. At this, she reached into her torn purse and withdrew what little food she had and tried to make me eat. It was a sweet that she had received as Prasad. I politely refused, knowing well how difficult it was to obtain in my situation, let alone hers. Another few minutes later, I recovered enough to convince her I was okay, she leaned over to wipe away the fresh tears that quickly threatened to give away my emotions, blessed and walked away, turning again and again to look at me as she walked away. As the storm within me quelled to a drizzle, I spotted my friends familiar yellow sari as she approached, 'Let's go div...are you okay?', grinning at the irony of the situation I barked back a sarcastic 'of course' as we ran to catch the waiting buses.

2. Waiting in line for Prasad at the Chinmaya Dakshinamurthy Ashram yesterday. A massive queue that stretched right around the building and up the stairs. A few V.I.P's jumped the queue to receive not only the standard sweet-rice and theertham but also a few fruits and twice the amount of everything else. A V.I.P I knew came up and smiled giving me one of the bananas in her bag, not wishing to offend her by refusing, I took it, feeling unworthy of receiving a little extra for no rhyme or reason. A little girl in front of me with a big, beautiful smile and sun-browned locks peered cheekily at me, turning as soon as I caught her eye. Her bright blue dress stained with dirt and hunger in her eyes. Her little sister, a smaller, grubbier version, also eyed me with curiousity. A lady behind me informed me that many of the poor from this area gathered here for Prasad once a week. The banana suddenly felt a little heavier in my hands. The next time she turned around, I quickly presented her with the fruit. Smiling shyly as she took it from my hands. Finally, at the head of this monstrous queue, I watch the little girl and her sister take Prasad only to be yelled at by so-called spritual people serving the food for queing up a second time whilst simultaneously offering the lady behind me twice as much. The girls run off and shoot me a quick glance before they merge into the surrounding darkness. As I walk off I look for them, any of them, to take the tasty treat in my hands. But even as I offered, some were too shy, others hid when spotted and most retreated having retrieved their quota for the week from the line-up. A part of me wanted to roam those streets to find one of those deprived children and to feed them what little I had. A part of me knew that my desires were futile in this part of town where I was a relative new-comer, particularly as a family friend waited for me to give me a lift home. Arriving home to the warmth of friends and family, quickly distributing every morsel before my guilt would make me act otherwise, stopping only to throw the small paper bowl away...conveniently positioned at the top of the bin, with a few hopeful coins waiting inside...

I need to be here. For my sake...not theirs. For my peace of mind. For my sanity. For my spiritual development, my happiness, my self-worth no, not theirs. I need them so much more than they need me.

2006-07-30T14:17:00.000+10:00

India in recap...

Bangalore airport 2am

Buses to Parthi

Incredible Darshan

Amazing monsoonal showers

Getting ready to leave Parthi after two weeks....BUT....He called for an interview

Joy, oh joy! Never had I experienced you until that moment

Back in Bangalore, gearing up for Ahd

Caught up with an old mate

Will write with detail and coherency when I've reached the ground again...

Hope all is well with you my dears, thank you so much for all the wishes and support!

Love,

Divya

2006-07-13T18:23:00.000+10:00

To all those I've been blessed to know,

Thank you for the memories.

It's fearful to think that I can no longer run home or to a friends house when lonely,

But I look forward to exploring a new world and living out my desires and expectations in a place that allows for anything.

I'll miss each and every one of you.... my teachers, my friends, the loves of my life :)

I can't thank you enough.

I'll be back to blogging as soon as life permits.

Love,

Divya

2006-07-12T20:24:00.000+10:00

Enough of the rhetoric. Enough of the over-analysing, the critical analysis, the intellectual mumbo-jumbo. Enough of the cliches, "India is a dichotomy that works", enough of the apologies. Enough talk and more action. Please. Let's start doing something. Let's never let this happen, EVER again.

Another Day, Another Goodbye

2006-07-11T17:53:00.000+10:00

Raj and I chilling at Porcinni's in Newtown yesterday....

the "illumined" cafe;)

Raj mentally yelling at phone :)

Let me guess: "If this photo is gonna be on your wall, it has to reflect my silliness" right Raj?:)

Duck and Miss! :)

2006-07-11T00:17:00.000+10:00

It is thy desire in us that desireth.

It is thy urge in us that would turn our nights,

which are thine,

into days which are thine also.

We cannot ask thee for aught,

for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us:

Thou art our need;

and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all

- On Prayer, Khalil Gibran - The Prophet

Memorable Moments from Last Night

2006-07-09T19:56:00.000+10:00

The Durgz and I :)

Shookie's Pearly Whites! :)

Safro' Hoggin' all the desserts!

Double-trouble from Canberra! :)

Shan and Shai - Happy and Grumpy;p

Ash and I - Happy:)

Sad Goodbye # 1...

2006-07-09T19:38:00.000+10:00

Strolling through Sydney

2006-07-07T15:30:00.000+10:00

Strolling through Sydney yesterday on a gloriously warm and sunny day with great company and incredible views. Beginning at the humble town hall steps and ending at the Botanic Gardens near Mrs. Macquarie's Chair...

Realisation #1: Park is not as kid-friendly as originally assumed. Particularly with these killer Ibis's franctically searching for a feed!

Realisation #2: Whilst views are stunning from afar, water is actually green from pollution when close-up and quite shallow.

Realisation #3: This 'bottle' tree is apparently full of starch...similar to your average middle aged South Indian male, right Abstruser?:)

Realisation #4: I'm Home.

Thanks Mahesh :)

Main Hoon Na

2006-07-04T17:26:00.000+10:00

When you live away from home without a familiar face to guard or guide you, your friends quickly become your new family. You find yourself unable to function without seeing or speaking to them on a regular basis, they are your stand-in parents, the older sister you never had, the love of your life and the centre of your universe. In my short years on this planet, I've been blessed to have plenty of these friends, the friends that will drop everything and come running the moment you need them, the friends that will drive three and a half hours in the pouring rain to console you, the type of friends that will drive to your house to save you from a snail on your carpet, the sort of friend that will call from overseas everyday just because they miss hearing your voice. It's these sort of people that keep you believing in the inherent goodness of humanity, that man is certainly part savage but also part human. Since I've been back home, I've witnessed a kind of love and protection by my friends that has taken my breath away. Their selflessness, the efforts they have gone to to see me have put me to shame at my poor reciprocation of their kind deeds. Yesterday for example, I was reminiscing about university days, thinking about how my close circle of friends had scattered across the planet to pursue their dreams. At that moment, F called from Abu Dhabi, shortly afterwards, C called from Indonesia followed by A who called from India. It was wonderful speaking to them one at a time, laughing over crazy antics and funny moments and hanging up feeling very grateful that we were still in touch but a tad despondent that they weren't arms length away. I'll be the first out of the lot of us to admit that we are all madly in love with one another. We end all our phonecalls with "I love you" which makes onlookers feel as though we're talking to a secret significant other. We constantly refer to eachother as 'darling', 'sweetie' and 'babe' which really has not done much good for any of us in the myriad of Indian functions we've been forced to attend only to be rescued by one of our 'darlings' via a phonecall. In our second year of uni, a group of 20 or so of us 'bosom buddies' went to see the horrific SRK flick, 'Main Hoon Na'. We laughed and poked fun at the characters the whole way through, driving other cinema-goers insane. We even had the audacity to throw popcorn at the screen to voice our disapproval of another poor storyline. Thinking back on it now, I realise that that's exactly why we went. At the end of the movie, stumbling out of the cinema, laughing and carrying on, being thrown filthy looks by disapproving aunties and uncles, we made our way to a cafe, to continue dissecting the poor plot and terrible acting. We came to the conclusion that the only good things about the movie were Zayed Khan with long hair, Sushmita Sen in a sari and the movie title. We spent the rest of the night and the following weeks to come dramatically pausing in mid conversation, hand on hearts to profess our undying love for eachother with a heart-felt 'Don't worry mate...Mein Hoon Na' and proceeding to burst into fits of laughter. This went on for a good few months until other bad movies and catchphrases took over. Last year, after graduation, and as expected, the 20+ group of us ended up in different directions, all over the country as well as overseas, trying to make living for ourselves but still very much in touch. Yesterday, when thinking about all this, F called. Twenty minutes or so later, he had to rush off to a meeting, our conversation ended abruptly and was tinged with a hint of sadness that we couldn't relive our uni days...just when I thought I was going to tear up, I heard him say, "bye Div, love you...", "love you too mate" and suddenly... at the same time and without a moment's hesitation... we said it... "Main Hoon Na".

Laughing and laughing for two minutes till we were both crying, we hung up.

Life in Review...

2006-07-03T01:37:00.000+10:00

Canberra...

2001: Burton and Garran Hall College in my first year of uni, ugly red building, tiny little room with peeling walls, but a great bunch of people I hardly spoke to, too caught up in my own problems. New subjects, new city, new friends brought great joy. Sullivans cafe, the Uni Bar, Asian Bistro, The Labor Club, Cafe Essen and Insomnia became regular haunts with an eclectic group of friends that continue to haunt many of those same places today:). Great year, good laughs, but one that continues to be overshadowed by some harrowing incidents in my personal life.

2002: Same university, new college, hello John XXIII! Also known as the rowdiest college on campus with its fair share of drunks, rednecks and racists. Tough year with attempting to adjust to second year courses and recover emotionally from issues in 01. Much more familiar with Uni life, particularly social aspects that involved wake up, beer, have lunch, beer, go to class, beer, have dinner, beer, sleep, beer. Year was quite literally awash with enormous amounts of alcohol consumption by friends and college dean! It was also the year I dabbled in some alcoholic beverages myself but soon came to my senses and took to my teetotaller ways yet again. Big year in terms of personal growth and development. Became more independent and learnt to live without pining for family at all times. Began working part-time in retail and enjoying lazy weekends after work with friends and becoming more involved in college activities.

2003: Best year of University ever! Social circle expanded to ridiculous proportions, lots of amazing friends with amazing lives, was a year of networking where one friendship inevitably led to another and one party on a Friday night became three. Year was full of memorable moments including the daily walks around the lake after dinner to watch the sunset with adi and gang, organising cultural events such as dances, balls and dinners and making friends that have remained close at heart till this day. GPA also took a turn for the better with a much more mellow social life and more time taken to start enjoying subjects such as South American Politics, Third World Development, Poets of the Twentieth Century, and Microeconomics. Regular haunts remained Gus's, Cafe Essen and Sullies but also expanded to my room which became abuzz with college friends lounging on bed, floor, chair and wherever else to drink, dance and make merry the year away!

2004: Bye bye college! Hello O'Conner house! Rented a mansion with five friends and spent the year hosting parties and dinners. Loved the freedom of large, open plan living which was a great change from cramped college quarters. Continued to meet wonderful people and make new friends, stronger involvement with service activities, bhajans etc. Went overseas, came back a new person with a much stronger resolve to use my abilities for the betterment of those around me. Became the best of friends with housemate and explored every orifice of Canberra with her and a few others. Discovered Goodberries, a divine frozen yoghurt place created to wreak havoc upon the already ailing health of uni students! Relationship with friends and family matured to new levels, turned 21 and had an amazing 21st on a boat in Sydney Harbour, tightened the notch slightly between who I was and who I wanted to be. Firmer career goals established. Year ended with housemates scattered in all directions of Australia due to varying work commitments. Received wonderful offer for a graduate role in the aviation industry.

2005: Moved to a gorgeous, newly renovated townhouse close to the City with two amazing friends. Began working in aviation and finishing off final semester of uni. Spent majority of the year studying four subjects and working full-time. Plenty of time was also spent on experimenting with new recipes with housemate and other housemate’s gf. Year flew with a myriad of work, study, Sai youth, friends and relationships. Graduated in July with a B.A/B.Ec and won my freedom from academia for the rest of the year. Yet to receive proper paper copies of degrees but anyway:p. Year ended with the decision to move back to Sydney temporarily to gauge employment/postgraduate study market. Left for Sydney in December 05 unsure of where life was headed.

2006: Spent nearly three months in Sydney jobless. Caught up with friends and family regularly and lapped up mum's home-cooking, an amazing change from years of cooking for myself/living on take-out. Was jobless but was even firmer in resolve to work overseas. Wonderful opportunity to do so arose, spent three weeks working hard on application but heard nothing for weeks. In the meantime, former employer called offering a position in financial management that was too good to refuse. Moved back to Canberra and into an apartment to spend some time with myself. Worked long hours but was satisfied with challenging nature of job. Enrolled in a Masters program and studied part-time. Made some new friends and spent much more time with uni friends. Made plans to travel overseas in July after Financial Year End. Application submitted three months prior regarding opportunity to work overseas returns positive results. Begin to wrap life up yet again for the move. Move house, resign from work, have a fantastic farewell gathering with a few close friends, drive off to Sydney the next day. Spend weekend with three best friends shopping, eating out and having Chai Lattes. Catch up with one very special friend from Canberra whose departure back to the city made us both unhappy. At home, typing up this entry, reflecting upon the occurrences of the last few years....

Satisfied.

Excited.

Uncertain.

Melancholy.

Terrified.

Ready.

2006-06-29T18:03:00.000+10:00

It's a strange place to be, this place I'm in. Can't say it's depressing, or joyous, it's just odd. It's a strange way to live, to live in that space between all you know and all that is unfamiliar, the blurred borders of tomorrow overshadowed by the melancholy of leaving all that you know behind. Every now and then I'm caught off guard staring into space, wondering what will be and what will happen to all that is. Where the heck am I?

Last Night

2006-06-29T11:25:00.000+10:00

Last Night

15 colleagues celebrating our success in implementing a restructure over dinner in Kingston, bill was two and a half times my salary!
14 very drunk colleagues stumble into Holy Grail for post dinner drinks (note: I was the only exception)
Karoke
Waltzing to Men at Work and DaddyCool
Being propositioned by dodgy looking old guy at the bar as I minded my colleague's coats and handbags
Save colleague from a mafia brawl for protection from old dodgy guy
Trying to stop my boss from falling over from an alcohol overdose
Marriage proposal from random hill-billy
Docey-doe with three colleagues only to have one particularly corpulent workmate knock me over, flying backwards nearly three feet and land in hill-billy's arms!! eeek! Screaming!
An office rendition of Tracy Chapman's 'Give Me One Good Reason' on stage
Watched 14 of Australia's top executives and board members do the Macarena!
Laughed and Laughed and Laughed

This Morning

Got in at 8:30 slightly bleary-eyed to an empty office
Colleagues walk in one-by-one looking very hungover
Coffee run - 15 very strong espressos
Craving for greasy food, i.e. McDonald's breakfast
Denying any and all events from the night before
Meetings, meetings, meetings
Business as usual :)

What I Love MOST about the World Cup

2006-06-28T18:11:00.000+10:00

A wonderful organisation known as Global March Against Child Labour has launched a World Cup campaign to raise awareness of child labour abuses by large sporting organisations in the area of football stitching. Please give generously...the revenue earned by television networks and FIFA per person watching a game has been estimated at $US10...even if a dollar per game were to be donated...think of the difference to be made...:)

"We sincerely hope that this year's World Cup, already dedicated to children in a joint effort by UNICEF and FIFA, will present an opportunity for civil society groups, trade unions, governments, international organisations and the sporting goods industry to work together in establishing a reliable and transparent monitoring system on labour conditions. We hope that FIFA and the sporting goods industry will take the leadership to make football truly a fair game for all"

What I Love about the World Cup - II

2006-06-28T14:18:00.000+10:00

Oh Dear...if only they were as brainy as they are attractive...(my personal favourite is highlighted below)

"My parents have been there for me, ever since I was about 7." - Tim Cahill

"I would not be bothered if we lost every game as long as we won the league." - Mark Viduka.

"Guus Hiddink is the best manager I've ever had at this level. Well, he's the only manager I've actually had at this level. But he's the best manager I've ever had." - Lucas Neill.

"If you don't believe you can win, there is no point in getting out of bed at the end of the day." - John Aloisi.

"I've had 14 bookings this season - 8 of which were my fault, but 7 of which were disputable." - Ned Zelic.

"I've never wanted to leave. I'm here for the rest of my life, and hopefully after that as well." - Mark Schwarzer.

"I'd like to play for an Italian club, like Barcelona." - Vince Grella.

"You've got to believe that you're going to win, and I believe we'll win the World Cup until the final whistle blows and we're knocked out." - Harry Kewell.

"I'm as happy as I can be - but I have been happier." - Mile Sterjovski.

"Leeds is a great club and it's been my home for years, even though I live in Middlesborough." - Mark Viduka.

"I can see the carrot at the end of the tunnel." - Craig Moore.

"I took a whack on my left ankle, but something told me it was my right." - Harry Kewell.

"I couldn't settle in Italy- it was like living in a foreign country." - Vince Grella.

"Germany is a very difficult team to play . . . they have 11 internationals out there." - Zeljko Kalac.

"I always used to put my right boot on first, and then obviously my right sock." - Jason Culina.

"The Brazilians were South American, and the Ukrainians will be more European." - Scott Chipperfield.

"All that remains is for a few dots and commas to be crossed." - Marco Bresciano.

"One accusation you can't throw at me is that I've always done my best." - Craig Moore.

"I'd rather play in front of a full house than an empty crowd." - Mark Viduka.

"Sometimes in football you have to score goals." - Harry Kewell.

What I Love about the World Cup - I

2006-06-28T10:12:00.000+10:00

It's not actually the soccer...

It's this very excited commentator's inability to remain unbiased and neutral in the Aus vs Italy game...hilarious!

"Hiddink ... lost all his courage faced with Italian history and traditions ... He finally reaped fruits which he had sown! They should go home. They don't need to go as far away as Australia as most of them are living in Europe. Farewell!"

The rest of the article is just as funny....you can read all about it here