Fitting in -- the paradox

On my way back from work today I stopped at a Starbucks for much-needed coffee and chanced upon a quartet of Indians at a table – and when I say Indians, I mean true blue Indians, complete with the strong desi accent, men with mustaches, women with tight braids et al.

On another day I would have just shaken my head at the inability of Indians to “assimilate” after taking the trouble to travel half way round the globe. Not today however; today I had doubts about my own so-called “fitting in"….

So instead, I felt a pang of envy: they seemed so comfortable in their own skin, without the need to fit in or the urge to be similar to the people around them. I almost wished I could sit down with them and break down my barriers, speak my native language and be understood, and feel comfortable in the recognition that the four faces around me looked like me.

I am a global citizen for the most part, believing more in the consonance of personalities than cultures, have as many international friends as Indian, and often identify better with the more open-minded cultures than my own idol-worshipping one.

I've made no secret of the fact that I love this country and its people, the wonderful, welcoming, melting pot that it is. But no matter how well you assimilate, how much you can relate to or have in common with the denizens of this country, how much you know about their history and culture, there are those days when you realize you’re different because you're of a different race and color, you speak differently, and well, you’re not the same.

Those are the days when you second-guess every nuance in behavior from the people around you, every light-veined repartee, every lack of a proper response.

I thought I left those days behind me after my first year in this country, when I had learned to roll my r’s and soften my t’s, removed the last vestiges of a pronounced Indian accent, perfected the superficial hello and naturalized the native choice of words -- supposedly “adopted the American way.”

But when you look different and talk different you don’t ever leave those days behind – they come back every once in a while, if only to remind you that there is a land two oceans away where you will always fit in, no matter what….

My very own Candidate Poll !!!

I don't care as much about who wins or loses as I do about the fact that I now know how to do my own Web survey!!!! This is awesome...

If you care, click away and look for the results I'll post here in a week. If you don't care, click anyway because it's cool!

Keeping track of the Dems...

After months of promoting diplomacy both in foreign policy and presidential campaigning, the dems have finally decided to draw their daggers (thank God! What would politics be without wily slugfests?!)

And while the fight between the two top contenders continues, Edwards has decided to step in as the “candidate of peace”. I don't know if voters are going to buy that though -- he did not appear all that statesmanly when his wife went after Hillary sometime ago.

If you ask me, it's time for Joe Biden to finally make his big splash. I am in the minority with Joe Klein, who also doesn't see why someone with so much experience and with some of the best answers to the most important issues still languishes at 3% in the polls. Maybe his book tour will do him some much-needed good – hopefully he’s a better writer than he is a campaigner. Maybe his wordiness will make more sense to people in text?

Is Mac out of the running?

While McCain fires his campaign advisers in an attempt to shift blame (yeah, all’s well with his Iraq and immigration policies but Terry Nelson was not doing his job!), Giuliani’s picture is being carried all over youtube by a scantily-clad woman. Take a guess as to who wins this contest.

It’s little wonder that McCain is stumbling this early (arguably) in the campaign season. That he is sounding like the drunken sailor he sites so often (his oft-repeated joke about ‘maritime’ Congress spending is just about as stale as his Iraq strategy) only happens to be his most trivial folly. The straight talk express that veered off the road while pandering to the much-needed evangelical base in what can only be categorized as a desperate plea to falwell-esque voters, clings desperately to the highway (albeit the extreme right lane) while explaining the war on terrorism.

Giuliani, for all his faults, is not only leading in all national polls and has come out swinging against the “swiftboat style” attack from the firefighters’ union (at least his campaign was quick to put the infamous brand name on it) but also has more money than any of his Republican counterparts.

If the over rated Freddie doesn’t jump in soon, it looks like it could be Rudy all the way...

No such thing as political science

As he so often is, Chris Matthews was bang on target last week, in his definition (or lack thereof) of Political Science:

I don't think there is such a thing as political science.... I think political science is an oxymoron. I don't know what this science is they keeping talking about.....How you can justify calling yourself a political scientist, when the whole thing is about art and personality and—and smart argument and circumstance?

I second this with firsthand experience because that discord between science and the arts is the primary reason for my proverbial fork in the road: one relies on hard evidence and absolute data, the other does away with factual rigidity by celebrating nuances, interpretations and abstractions – it's the tangible vs. the intangible and they don't ever plan to meet halfway.

Mr. President Articulate

After hearing the most powerful man on earth say “nucular” and ‘internets’ for the past seven years, what would happen if the next president of this country were to be determined by eloquence alone.

Going by the debates so far, here are the top contenders:

5. Hillary Clinton: Whoever knew the less charming, less articulate Clinton could actually come out as the most effective candidate in the two Democratic debates (most importantly, leaving buddy Obama far behind, whose turn it is to bumble). Could she perhaps have defied Mendel and inherited genes from husband dearest?

4. Joe Biden: Though his most arresting moment in the debates was an acquiescent “yes” to Brian Williams in response to a question on whether he could control his verbosity, since then, Biden has done anything but. Starting with his signature, “one-two-three...” process of answering questions and going into specific details to explain positions, it is hard to imagine why he remains a second-tier candidate. Perhaps he should stop talking about the issues and merely offer soundbites?

3. Rudy Giuliani: If Obama emerged into the national political scene with his keynote address in the ’04 convention, Rudy reinforced his. And his eloquent and quick responses in the debates have hardly been a surprise (except for the infamous gaffe that was his answer to the ‘pro-choice’ question, which he has pruned and spruced to perfection since). And boy, is he ruthless to his enemies, be it Islamic fundamentalists or his democratic colleagues.

2. Mitt Romney: From his articulate voice-overs in campaign ads to quick-witted debate responses, this Gipper sure has the gift of the gab. “Likeability” earned merely through charm and personality, notwithstanding substance or intelligence (a term I have never understood with Dubya) is suddenly becoming clear to me. Romney’s actions may be politically tailored; his words, on the other hand, are not only spontaneous, but quite often, right on the money.

1. Mike Huckabee: If I weren’t a die-hard agnostic and professional scientist, Huckabee might have had more than a fair shot at convincing me on creationism. The man has such eloquent answers to every question you wonder if he has some kind of “CliffsNotes to presidential debates”. Or maybe it’s an Arkansas thing...

More ratings coming up....

Tryst of the Tennis Titans

It’s about to happen: something I have dreamed of since that fateful day six years ago when the then indomitable God of tennis was toppled by a young, unseasoned, much too cocky up-and-comer. Who would have known that just a couple of years later I’d switch allegiances and root for the young Swiss sensation (the sport of tennis knew, having secretly crowned its next big phenomenon on sanctum sanctorum itself).

Time will stand still as two different eras and contrasting talents face off later this year in what will most likely be an exhibition of tennis artistry never coordinately witnessed on a tennis court (between them, Sampras and Federer encompass every shot ever hit with a tennis racket).

Rudolph, the red-nosed candidate

Hearing Rudy stutter his way through Chris Matthews’ abortion questions at the GOP debate last week, I was pretty disappointed at the surprise GOP frontrunner and the one candidate who until then seemed worthy of the White House (though that worth has steadily declined since W took over).

Considering three of the ten republicans at the debate snootily raised their hands to negate the possibility of evolution and a slightly saner one digressed into a “hand of God” after giving a perfunctory nod to the Darwinian theory, I daresay this country needs to start considering candidates that deal with real issues before going in search of wonderland.

The former mayor did manage to put himself back on the pedestal (or fence, as some might call that precarious "middle") after re-iterating his pro-choice stance today at a Baptist University, no less.

The champion of fake news is for real!

He may be the epitome of fake news, but there is nothing fake about him.

Got to watch the “real” Jon Stewart at his act last weekend and was treated to an hour and half of rip-roaring political humor, some cheerful daily life banter accompanied by extensive impersonations and mockeries of religious frivolities (my personal favorite) – and through it all, he had our sides splitting. There were also witty comebacks to fans in the audience including an obsessive female one (not me).

My only complaint is that having not heeded to Ticketmaster’s urges on time, we ended up in the nosebleed section.

On second thoughts, there is a certain comfort in seeing such exalted personalities from afar – blur the image a little so they still have that semblance of unreality you often associate with them (it also helps to be myopic and too vain to succumb to glasses).

And now, to a petty observation: for those that have only seen him on the more flattering media of celluloid, when he says he’s tiny, he sure as hell means it.

Paraphrasing Oliver Goldsmith,

And still they gaz'd and still the wonder grew,
That one small frame could carry all he knew.

A mosaic of talents (and turfs)

Finally, a chance for Nadal to look as spectacular as Federer, on the same court. As you can see, it has taken some ground-breaking to get to that point.

I must say, this idea comes close to the time tunnel I often fantasize about with a Sampras of the '90s vs. a Fed of the '00s.

Kerry trumps Colbert

To all those Kerry-bashers out there who go on about him being stiff and slow, not being spontaneous or unable to deliver a joke (though the Swiss boat veterans would swear that a lot worse can be spun about him), I think he answered, and then some, on The Colbert Report last night.

Colbert, who’s modus operandi is to pounce on his democratic guests from the moment he prances up to them and capitalize on the head start and prepared notes thereon, was, to say the least, stumped (don't get me wrong -- I think Colbert is awesome, I just think often times he relies too much on that tongue in his cheek). Kerry’s sharp repartees just kept coming. He even threw in a little self-deprecatory humor with the “I was against it [the environment] before I was for it.”

Sure, he left out a word in a carefully crafted joke at last year’s California campaign fiasco, but he seems to have little trouble enunciating when the words are his own.

It’s always good to see a politician break the mold of serious, suave, no-frills diction and indulge in some good-natured humor (think McCain on SNL and Bill Clinton’s Final Days bit at the 2000 Correspondents’ dinner).

Looking the other way

Why is it that the majority of mainstream, politically-active, media-savvy African Americans seek the “next” episode of their supposed victimization by white people and almost bask in it? And reasonable people like Bill Cosby get kicked in the shins when they point out the actual problem, which is pretty much black-contrived.

And what's more inexcusable than hip-hop-inspired objectification of women, is Al Sharpton playing goodwill ambassador in this debate. He probably fosters more retrogress in the Black community with his constant clinging to the race card than anyone else.

Here’s an absolute eye-opener from Jason Whitlock, a KansasCity columnist, about the totally overblown Don Imus gaffe (Just to be clear, I’m far from a fan of the CBS shock jock, all the more reason why I don’t like to see and hear his three fateful words quoted and re-quoted to the point of being indelibly branded on the airwaves for many more weeks to come).

As I often do, I turn to Bill Maher for the bottome line: If this is the biggest problem they [Sharpton and Jackson] have, then the civil rights movement is in a lot better shape than I thought it was, because I think there are real issues they should be dealing with.

Could you unloosen my laces?

At first glance, it simply seems like a convoluted way of saying, “tighten” - along the lines of ‘unfasten’ and ‘unlace.’

But no, thanks to The Atlantic Monthly’s authoritative Word Court, I now know that “unloosen” actually equates to “loosen” (try explaining that to a mathematician). If you’re not convinced, Shakespeare and Shelley and Sheridan used “unloose”.

I did some research and learned that it just so happened that un and in were randomly used in words long before their non-un and non-in (doesn’t non seem innocuous by comparison?) counterparts came into being, as a result of which all of them stuck around, meaning pretty much the same thing. For instance, the word “inflammable” simply preceded “flammable,” and now both are here to stay (till someone actually lights something on fire thinking it’s IN-flammable).
And then there’s fat chance and slim chance that mean roughly the same thing; not to mention I give or don’t give a rat’s ass. The list goes on.

The English language sure could use some unloosening...

And as if that were not enough, The Unword Dictionary allows you to make up your own words. After all, in this world of open-sourcing everything, shouldn't words be given their due?

Can he do no wrong?

Upon reading this NYT article, I got to wondering if Barack Obama could actually do any wrong in the eyes of the people. The essay describes the “lower key” adopted by Obama in his campaign speeches in small-town America. As opposed to the rock-star image attributed to him, mostly thanks to his keynote address at the ’04 DNC, this Barack is, according to Iowans themselves, “peaceful” and “like a professor.”

And I, for my part, must admit that after all these months of criticizing Obama’s close-to-zero experience to hold the highest office in the nation (an opinion I still strongly adhere to), am going to buy into some of the Obama hype – mostly courtesy of his showing on David Letterman last night.

We all know he is unlike any other politician (some would say he is barely one). But yesterday he delineated himself even more with his spot-on, quick-witted humor.

“Which order are we talking about?” he leaned forward to clarify on Letterman’s suggestion that the Hillary-Obama ticket would be a powerful one, stimulating a round of crowd applause, just one of his many repartees that sent the audience roaring.

Not over the top smart-alecky, yet not drearily cautious. Letterman said he’d vote for his suit. Me, I am going for the charming banter.

A-Rod's log

Was doing my usual tennis circuit online to see what's going on in the racket world, and came across Andy Roddick's blog . Sure enough, the guy's as articulate and funny on the keyboard as he is viva voce. It's good to have an actual participant of the sporting world telling us how it feels like (I mean, John McEnroe and Chris Clarey are great but do you see them on court?)

I recall being pretty impressed with Roger's ATP blog (you could say that's simply because it's Fed, but take my word for it, you see there that he is really just an endearing 26-year-old: very engaging and funny), but let's face it, his language isn't really much to speak of (especially since there is so much else to speak of).

The much-touted Tursunov's blog turned out to be a complete disappointment (bad language and little humor) and even the Queen's own man, Andy Murray is pretty ineloquent.

So A-Rod, while I'm all for you racketing your way to more titles, I'll really look forward to your post-tennis stints -- I recommend the New York Times or plain old ESPN2.

Sticking to his 'guns'

This is precisely why Giuliani is the best Republican candidate there is - sticking to his guns on the issues he believes in, despite the fact that a few placards might go down.

Mitt Romney is flip-flopping on every issue from gun-control to abortion, just to emerge as the "traditional conservative he isn't." (He could run an election against himself - the pro-life Romney who was a hunter all his life vs. the pro-abortion rights Romney who has hunted twice in his life).

And McCain, our erstwhile 'maverick' of the Republican party, is pandering to the likes of Falwell and Robertson and committing public gaffes on his wide-ranging opinions on gay marriage and the Iraq war, the latter being his most ludicrous one so far. You don't call a place that has been bombed half a dozen times in the past year "a safe, bustling place full of hopeful and warmly welcoming Iraqis."

Considering the GOP's next highly-celebrated would-be could-be candidate is a prosecutor-turned-lobbyist-turned-actor-turned-politician, the Gippers will do well to embrace America's mayor, even if he happens to live in the real world the rest of his party seems totally disengaged from.

Humanizing celluloid

Since I have spent about the last decade personifying the boob tube, almost giving it the place of a significant other, it was intriguing to see another mind think likewise: here’s Lore Sjoberg, battling with his strong feelings for “the other screen” as the computer creeps slowly into his life, taking away from the once indispensable television.

'The Namesake' lives up to its name

Written by the prolific Jumpha Lahiri, directed by the incomparable Mira Nair, starring arguably the best Indian actress of the era, it would be hard to imagine The Namesake to be anything less than spectacular. And spectacular it is, in part because it paints a realistic picture of Indians living in America, who are constantly torn between conforming to lofty Indian ideals in the earnest hope that their roots are not forgotten and trying to blur those very lines that delineate them from others.

With ample help from the clear-thinking Jumpha Lahiri the movie explores the trials of an Indian kid growing up in the US, while also articulating the hardships of first generation Indian parents who, while not entirely on board with their children’s dating habits or lifestyles, manage to endure it to merely the extent needed to keep their own peace of mind and their children just short of insane.

Tabu does an excellent job in the role of a conservative yet progressive, well-learned Indian woman who hurts from her son’s seemingly scant regard for family affairs, but is also extremely touched when he delivers at the right time. Kal Penn, for his part, is spot on in his portrayal of a youngster drawn by the glamor of the American lifestyle. The movie sees him grow from a self-indulgent college kid lounging in his girlfriend’s affluent family home in Oyster Bay to a responsible young man when he suddenly finds himself thrown into a situation that demands it.

The Namesake does away with the rosy-eyed unrealism of Mississippi Masala and the heart-wrenching bleakness of Monsoon Wedding, in exploring the trials and tribulations of every Indian wanting to live the American dream, and living it well.

After being assaulted with disasters like ABCD and American Desi, we finally have something that comes close to the American version of Bend it Like Bekham.

Tandoori flavored papadums?

My best pals in Philadelphia are unequivocally American, except that they know the subtle differences in flavor between chicken tikka and chicken 65, often manage to surprise me with almost flawless enunciations of “mughlai” and unforeseen disclosures of very indigenous terms like kabuli channa – they are, of course, an exclusively northeastern breed – more global than most, well-traveled, cosmopolitan and as a result, very aware of the world across the Atlantic.

While it’s rewarding to hang out with people that can accompany you to a Brazilian meat-orgy (without premonitions of offending the Almighty) and the seedy Indian deli that serves delicious mutton biryani and enjoy them both the same, my biggest complaint is their unbelievable lack of introduction to southern Indian cuisine. And worse still, their belief that it cannot be that much different from fare that hails from the Northern part of the subcontinent.

“There’s a world of difference,” I often yell. “You wouldn’t know unless you have had it.”

“Well, I like dosa,” my Canadian friend offers; I must admit that he is privy to the kind of clandestine information about the Indian palate you only get from extended stays in tandoori-rich London. In this instance, however, I have to point out the oversight.

After I explain to him that Udipi's crispy, larger-than-life sheet of rice and lentils is hardly a south Indian staple, he is subject to elaborate instruction on the topic of Southern Indian spices and seasonings. A consensus on tamarind and lentils is reached, following which, everyone agrees they must find the staples just as delectable.

Since I am hardly the authority on South Indian cooking, treating them to culinary delights from my hometown is not an option. Same reason why, I often make an SOS trip to Whole Foods to avail of surprisingly good “sambhar from a can.”

But even the thought of tamarind-laced lentils soaking up aromatic basmati rice is not enough to quell the sheer horror that engulfs me when this item peers smugly from one of the store’s lofty aisles:

Tandoori flavored papadums

Tandoori is a curry flavor used exclusively in northern India and a papadum is batter from fermented lentils fried to a delicious crispness to complement south Indian rice dishes. The two flavors can never ever be put together in a single dish, without disastrous consequences to the unsuspecting palate. Think fish and cheese.

It’s the Indian Way!

A couple days ago, I got a call from an old pal in India I went to college with. It was great to hear from her, catching up, reminiscing et al, but what made me see red was her request (analyzing the wording closely, some may call it a demand, but then again, she earned that right when we went through five years of college together, some good, some not so good): her sister was visiting the States for a month as part of a work thing and I was expected to visit and engage her over every weekend during her stay.

Let alone the fact that I live about 3 hours by train from the part of Jersey that she intends to visit, I am so content with my little town-city that I haven’t made a trip seeking entertainment or culture in the past three months. It would be too much trouble to make a trip to entertain someone I know by association to someone I probably don’t relate to anymore.

After I hung up the phone, I tried to look at things from her perspective. It's true that I work full time at a far-from-leisurely Cardiology Department and go to school in the evenings for a Masters program. Other than a stress-relieving (and totally mandatory) binge-drinking trip on Friday nights and the occasional movie or dinner on Saturday, I pretty much have very little time to relax. As does almost anyone worth his or her salt in the United States (yet people somehow always manage to say hello or open a door for a stranger, which amazes me). But folks in India wouldn’t necessarily get that.

In a land where one half of the average day is spent hosting unannounced guests and attending to phones that ring constantly and the other half in elaborate meal preparations, 6 hours on a train for four weekends in a row for small-talk is routine.

I love my home country and its ways but those ways don’t work here; in a world where people are too busy chasing dreams, chasing trains seems frivolous, unless you’re getting somewhere on them.

This reminds me of some very amusing situations
I found myself in, with my US-bred, 5-year old niece, when she was observing the ways of Indian life for the first time.

“Why does the phone always ring in India?”
“Why do people keep coming home?”
“Why do we have to keep going from one house to another?”
“Why do we go to so many temples?”
“Why does he bring milk to the house?”
“Why is the plumber sitting and drinking tea?”
“We could just stop at a Burger King, couldn’t we?”

Very profound questions these, and ones that cannot be answered without indulging in some very luxurious Indian living....

McCain – Too good to be president?

From this and years past, it’s hard to imagine the Senator from Arizona playing the machiavellian, wily slugfest that is winning the presidency.

Touting your arch rival for the Republican nomination more than a year before the election is not exactly what politicians today would call game plan for D-day (wouldn’t the world be a wonderful place if they did?)

Can McCain with his good will and urbane disposition take on what would most likely become an ugly brawl with America’s mayor? Going by their respective addresses at the ’04 RNC, it seems like Giuliani can kill an opponent with words alone (remember, he doesn’t need the guns!) but McCain is far too gracious even with his democratic colleagues. What’s more, he’s not known to repudiate when he’s villianized (think 2000).

And if his opponent for the primaries is tough, crime-fighting, relentless go-getter Giuliani, it seems like old John will have to give up his graces somewhere down the road to the nomination. But then again, isn’t that what people love about him – that polished language and bipartisan outlook – sticking up for buddy Kerry during the swift boat episode, standing by Bush even after W dragged him through the mud in ’00, hardly ever saying a dirty word about his opponents and yet sticking to his guns about the things he believes in?

Seems like it will be a tough pickle. And boy, will he need the juices.

Going by the polls

From time-blog, my latest internet must-stop, this is a scary prospect for the dems, cos if Obama should manage to clinch the nomination, he's a looooong shot to win the presidency (‘not black enough’ for African Americans, too black for the white conservatives and most importantly, VERY inexperienced).

The good news is that Giuliani is leading McCain on the GOP side. Wow, would that be a cool race…or a cool ticket, as the case may be…

A technology-challenged technology hub

A few days ago, I had to rummage through a stack of old documents to find a phone number for a university I used to attend – consolidating talk time, direction and re-direction to a million right and wrong people and sheer inefficiency, information that could have been retrieved in the dotcom world in less than thirty seconds (or to use computer lingo @ a million bps) took about an hour.

About 40% of Indians are in the Information Technology field and India enjoys more than 60% of the market share of outsourced technical services. You don’t usually have to walk more than a few blocks to find your resident geek squad in computer-oriented cities like Bangalore and Chennai. In such a technology oriented region, it’s ironical that one does not yet find information such as phone numbers and names through the google toolbar on one’s browser. Things that are best answered by the click of a button still take postal, telephonic, personal and sometimes even telepathic communication.

Most organizations and institutions do not have a functional website, if they do, they’re not frequently updated, if they are, they don’t get adequately used, when they do, they are painstakingly slow. Having been tuned to click on Riteaid.com’s store locator to find the phone number for the nearest drugstore and search my school’s directory for a professor’s contact, the click of a mouse is usually my first source of information, as it should be; it seems ridiculous to have to make a dozen calls or drive ten blocks in search of such counsel.

It’s not without change, however. There are some areas where the advancement surprises you: train tickets are booked online in no time (tickets are still shipped to you, though), minute cell phones unfold into ass-kicking modems during transit, 24/7 technical support whips up life saving answers in seconds…

I’d still like to be able to prop myself up in front of my computer in the middle of the night because I need to find an answer to a pressing question, or simply, because I can….

The season factor

While slumping forward and shutting my eyes in defiant disregard of the teacher in the 90 degree heat of an afternoon class, I’ve often envied the serene temperate climate from the very geography lesson I was listlessly disengaging from.

If the ruthless temperatures of the tropics affect your productivity mentally, there’s little doubt as to what they do to the physical: perpetually dodging unrelenting rays from that huge ball of fire, constant dehydration that keeps you reaching for iced water with no satiation in sight, endless beads of sweat that put huge boxes of Kleenex to shame. And if the heat itself won’t kill you, the bugs that thrive in it just might.

Needless to say, when I was transposed to the land of sub-zero winters (aka Mountain Zone, North America), I spent a long time acclimatizing, and even longer recanting my aversion to timeless Indian summers. But as the cycle went on, I made my peace with it. Extreme temperature of any form is bad, but it’s easier to get through the bone-chilling winter knowing that Spring is just round the corner and the sweltering summer knowing that Fall is going to come a-knocking. And if I’ve basked in the 80 degree heat of my native land the past two weeks, it’s only because I spent the last two months below zero.

The tropics have no such reprieve. The third world countries as they are called make up a huge section at or near the roasting equator: giving history due credit, I wonder if high temperatures without the respite of seasonal changes indeed have something to do with productivity (or lack thereof).

Innovations, Inc.

Yesterday was the much dreaded but extremely crucial day that every resident alien encounters on her traverses back home: the visa day. After going through my papers for roughly the hundredth time I headed to the consulate. If the sheer magnitude of the task at hand has not succeeded in scaring you out of your wits end then the stringent entry restriction at the embassy certainly will. I was told that my zippered black messenger bag was too ominous a piece of paraphenelia to carry into the consulate grounds. And that was not all: I was stripped of cell phone, pager and basically every piece of communication except my larynx before I finally stumbled in carrying about ten armfuls worth of documents in two weary ones.

If the entry restrictions are stringent anything that goes on the forms is even more so. Within minutes, I was sent right back outside because the picture was not of the right size, shape and color (thankfully the shapes and colors of the visages themselves are exempt from this scrutiny, because what usually ends up on the form in such circumstances is a countenance with one too many tense facial muscles and profuse sweating).

I walked out in a daze with less than a half hour to get the job done before my 1 pm interview. Now to first find a public telephone to make a desperate plea for help and then a studio would take about a half hour in the crowded area of the city that harbors the embassy; I wasn’t even thinking about picture taking and development. But much to my glee (or whatever qualifies as glee under such circumstances) no sooner had I exited, than a bunch of autorickshaw operators came at me yelling “photo, photo?”.

In heart-racing-thriller fashion, I was whisked away to an obscure photo studio where the picture taking, development, drying and gluing took less than 20 minutes. I was brought back just shy of 1 pm, enough to make my interview.

It took one innovative auto~driver to connect the dots, literally, from the young and aspiring US-hopeful (of whom there are millions) to the very poorly elucidated instructions on the consulate website (that change at the rate of a thousand bytes a second) to the photo studio that is willing to devote its time to rapid-fire picture taking that no other in the vicinity is likely to do. In any other time and place this might have been an excellent business strategy and millions of dollars might have been involved. I got away with a measly 600 Indian rupees, a couple of pictures that I clutched close to my heart as I returned and a visa that’s hopefully on its way soon…..

In a place like India people can often dream up brilliant ideas without that quintessential B-school class and often times before being able to afford that self-improvement guide on the New York Times bestseller list. To use a paraphrased but much overused and clichéd phrase, “Necessity is the mother of in(ova)tion.”

India's predicament

Ask any fairly informed person what India’s biggest problem is and they would tell you that it is the population. That’s more than obvious after engaging in so much as a well-illustrated piece in National Geographic, an extended documentary on PBS or a quick trip to the country. But what I am talking about here is a lesser known, less ominous yet extremely potent by-product of this – one that borders on the sociological that most people in India would deem too frivolous to worry about in the face of real problems, and that really is my point. While the sight of hungry children begging for food on the streets or of poorly clothed men languishing without basic amenities is heart-wrenching, what is almost just as disturbing is the spectacle of grown men yelling at each other over road blockades, workers at airport security making life hell for travel-weary passengers, people displaying less than what would qualify as civil behavior in public places and the constant need to prod, urge and downright beg to get even the smallest of matters accomplished.

Ever wondered how life itself would improve significantly if people were simply “nice”? There are times when those at “Information” really cannot help or the people at Tech support gave you the wrong installation software by accident, but it would make things better if they would just acknowledge in some way that they would really like to right the wrongs and make life a little easier, not just because it is their job but also because you are a fellow human being. The reasons for this recurring problem in India are twofold, both stemming from the big populace: one, there are too many of us: it’s hard to respect another individual when you are predominantly looking at him as a hindrance in that dangerous race called survival of the fittest. Two: we have bigger problems to deal with than being polite. What people don’t get is that they are not mutually exclusive: you could smile and still run to catch that bus you are running late for.

I must, however, say that decorum has improved significantly. Due to my less than desirable experiences here three years ago, I came with a preemptive strategy – one that involves screaming and yelling and a lot of white-knuckled fisting before the problem is even fully realized – but I contend that I haven’t had to use it much. That’s not because things are happening any faster or better – it still takes at least five stops at five different banks to get your money changed and the cable guy hasn’t come around to fix our internet in two weeks, but at least people are beginning to be polite and apologetic about it.

It’s probably the tech revolution (so people aren’t gritting their teeth in front of their computers as much), it’s probably the American influences (the guys at Marry Jones eatery likely observed a Burger King on TV), it’s probably the call waiting centers (I bet dealing with angry American customers requires extensive training in frivolous niceties), but I am not complaining...it's made life here a little easier.

A Distant Familarity

It's a different world out here, one I have not kept up with, one I have lost track of, one I have broken away from, but yet one I am strangely familiar with...

After spending close to twenty four hours on air (on flights that were required to be no more than 18 hours in toto) I'm on land now -- and a very different land than one I've gotten used to the past few years -- a land where cows roam freely alongside cars on the streets, where each reckless driver is at his unrestrained best, where autorickshaws often sputter but get you to your intended destination, where you can pull down the window and yell at a fellow human being but no bridges are burned....There's a lot I have to look at, a lot I have to see, and there is no doubt that I will whine and complain, teeth will grind, fist bones may emaciate and hair will soon be dishevelled but something tells me I will love it all the same...

It's still strange that I have to 'get used to' a world I was once accustomed to. I now have to stop short of that "thankyou" I overuse lest the store person thought I was a little too suspiciously affable, I search for words and stop in mid sentence as my mind kick starts a rapid translation and sometimes just plonk whole sentences in English between well crafted sentences in my native language, my hand stands in midair as I reach for that paper towel, I often retrace steps from the wrong side of the car (and more importantly swing across to the "right" side of the street just in time).......

The Rat Race is on...

Like Newt Gingrich said on Fox News Sunday, “...these candidates are running for an entire year — to get into a campaign to run for an entire year to get sworn in in January of 2009.”

Really! There’re so many candidates, it’s hard to keep track. It reminds me of the California recall election to replace the infamous Gray Davis (that prompted the Simpsons to do a powerful parody where practically everybody – including Homer - runs for Mayor of the town. Sitcoms and comedy shows can actually do away with the “creativity” department because the politicians seem to be doing the funny bit all on their own...Think Dean’s scream and Allen’s makaka moment).

As for ’08, there are the stars, of course, led by Hillary and Barack Obama (who’s unseated Edwards from the throne of “purty face”, which, ironically enough, has given the latter more credibility. Also, recall that he wins in the experience and age departments), followed closely by Rudy (go Giulliani!) and McCain. Of the front running Gippers, one’s too libertarian and the other’s too pro-war.

Then there are the candidates lurking in the shadows, just waiting to pounce at a political gaffe; Biden has already had a shot at that with his patronizing comment on fellow contender Barack (a la Kerry, he has a wide open mouth with too many words), Mitt Romney proclaims he’s going to give the republicans what they want (and he might be the only one considering he’s the sole social conservative running). Bill Richardson probably has good prospects considering his foreign policy experience and he can ride on that wave that no senator has won the White House since JFK – more govs, anyone?

The meat coma

When the cold has reached the deep recesses of your bones, what could be better than an endless supply of red meat for insulation. Well, fleece works, wool’s pretty unflappable and down’s downright impervious, but they don’t seem to go very well with the scintillating house red!

Since the wind chill yesterday hit below zero, we needed no further coaxing. Planned a trip to the local Brazilian rodizio where servers come to the table armed with different cuts of meat on a skewer. And just when you think it couldn’t get any better, they slice out a mouth-watering piece of just the right cut, done to just the right degree.

Filet mignon, pork ribs, lamb chops, tender sirloin, chicken wrapped in crispy bacon, the works. And if you tired of the meat (god forbid!), there’s always the salad bar to rummage in, not to mention a generous helping of sides. Though I must say it was hard to tell the plantains from the peppers after gorging on all the heavy fare – meat coma, I think they call it.

But that’s the good kind, if ever there was one....

Fogo de Chao -- hands down, best churrascaria in Philly

Breaking yet another hiatus...

I take on a new avocation, like it, love it, get obsessed with it, go overboard with it and then tire of it.

It happened with instant messaging, it happened with discussion forums, it happened with online chat rooms, why, it has even happened with email! And now it’s happened with blogging as well.

Technology seems to especially instigate this form of crest and trough mentality – my guess is that it changes so rapidly, it piques human interest in a way few things do. And our attention span is somewhat shorter than the fast pace of technology. So there! That’s my excuse.

This revitalization is actually part of a class assignment – which means I’m going to keep to it. Also the reason why the blog will be changing its tone a bit for the next few months: rather than rambling on and on about whatever has the misfortune of catching my fancy at a particular moment, I am going to try and convey my thoughts on a broader range of issues, which will hopefully include politics, science, technology, food, drink, Philly and sports.

Talking of current, the big thing in Philly right now is ice-skating (although we’re just calling it moving around!). Will be quite an adventure to get to work and later to an evening class today!