Day out in a hilly neighborhood

Last evening, I went on a walk with my friends, in a hilly neighborhood of the town. 

I saw beautiful, decorated, quaint, brick buildings invoking nostalgia.

I saw tall, glossy, smug-looking buildings spanning the skyline, inspiring awe and submission.

I peeked into a balcony decorated with beautiful red Chinese lanterns, and beautiful potted plants precariously, yet aesthetically placed on the balcony railings.

I also saw a house whose balcony was filled with plants, the windowsill was decorated with beautiful indoor plants well-lit with an array of tube-lights.

I saw a telescope peeking to the sky from behind a glass wall from some star gazer's apartment.

I jumped under a cherry tree, shaking the branches and letting the petals shower on me.

I plucked a beautiful blue bell shaped flower with beautiful scent. They call it Bluebells, it seems.

I saw some dandelions, a few in full bloom, a few inviting to blow the seeding flower away.

There were some daffodils too, ever gorgeous, happy and diva-like.

I was curious about a cluster of bell shaped dark blue flowers, named Grape Hyacinths.

I saw the Sun hiding behind the clouds as he set into the night with all its colorful glory. I saw the cars racing through the highway with zooming speed.

I saw a homeless man scurrying along the footpath with all his possessions tightly packed in a shopping cart.

I saw night slowly embarking on the city sky. Yellow lights started to twinkle from the buildings, as well as zooming fast on the highway.

It was a nice day out in the hilly neighborhood.

my crude take on struggles of feminism: USA vs India

Yesterday, I had to rush to somewhere, so I took a cab for a short distance. The cab driver was Kenyan and seemed to be a gentleman. I have observed that my conversations with the cab drivers with middle-eastern or African origin tend to start with them saying, "Are you Indian?" (I can almost hear them saying it.) and the conversation flows from there. He did educate me about the history of Indian immigration in Kenya apart from discussing about Seattle weather, places in America, and immigrant life. As the discussion casually meandered through different topics, he said, and I am quoting here to the best of my memory, "You know, I have observed that in America, women are really in a fight against men, but that is not the case in other places." I did not have an answer to that. At the same time, I had arrived at my destination, so I had to get down. But the last piece of conversation lingered behind.

Now if we come to think of it, why is it so, really? I have not gathered enough information or evidence regarding this to come to a strong conclusion.

It is true that India is much more misogynist as a society, and more open and unapologetic about it. A woman has to fight it in so many complex layers. It is also true that there are outright vocal groups like Gulab gang taking strong aggressive actions against misogyny. On the other hand, I do feel safer in USA than India. Many Indian women have shared the opinion that safety is one of the most important reasons for them staying back in USA. It's true that when I am in bus, I do not think twice before taking a seat next to a man, whereas in India I would be in utter panic throughout the time if I had to. When I am interacting with men, I do not find them staring at my boobs and be unapologetic about it. I walk around after dark much more comfortably not worrying about my life. 

Yet something is fundamentally missing here. I do realise that there is a strong lack of female role models here. In India, we have a lot of role models to follow starting from strong female leaders, and strong females in family such as mothers and grandmothers playing the role of matriarchs. Women in these roles are admired by people from both genders. I think American society is missing that. While there is a lot of talk and awareness about feminism, women empowerment, certainly more than India, it somehow does not seem to be enough. There is a negative attitude like ridicule, and dismissal, to a point where a woman will almost end up questioning her own experiences.

Despite all the misogyny in all different levels in India, I was never dismissed as a person. I never found my voice drowning in noise. Here I do see that tendency to dismiss. One has to put extra effort to make people to realize that "I exist", "I have an opinion that matters". For a long time, I thought it may have to do with my own personality, but when I shared with other women, I realized it is a battle everyone is fighting in their own different way.

I agree, I need to dig deeper to understand this attitude of American society. Still, I can firmly say that the advantage of Indian society is that the misogyny women experience in India is blatant, bare, and right in front of us. So every women is strongly aware of it. She knows who is her enemy and what it looks like. Although the complexity and nuanced nature of the issue imposes a big challenge, it does help us women to make a conscious or subconscious choice between whether to deal with it, or fight it; be vocal about it, or let our actions speak. 

In USA, strict law and order system, and perhaps some social norms ( that I am not aware about yet) ensures women's safety and general respect. One can see women in almost all types of jobs working with pride. I think the problem of enormous amount of complexity that comes with an ancient and hierarchical society like India is also not present here. Yet the tendency to dismiss and the sense of insecurity regarding treating a woman as a person remains prevalent and much more subtly so. When you do not know what is your enemy, it is tough to make a sophisticated choice. I guess it may be one of the reasons why women had to (or have to) declare an open fight against men or patriarchy.

If we put it metaphorically, let us imagine two people who are causing harm to you. You know the first person won't listen to any sensible rational conversation. Either they will dismiss you or they will try to sabotage you. What would you do? Suffer silently, or wage an open war. But you find hope that you can find a solution to your problem with the second person possibly through dialog, or bending rules, or manipulation, or by just outgrowing them. Then you won't feel the urgency to put up an open fight, and at the same time you will have the courage to protect and nourish your cause.

I know my analysis  and conclusion are crude, but I hope this encourages people to consider the matter instead of jumping into conclusion about people, norms, and society as feminazy, MCP and other derogatory terms.

Well, signing off while thanking my cab driver for making me think over the topic.

 

 

Three stories of perseverance

Last week, I received good news from three different friends of mine. Those were news of success, achievement and accomplishment.

The first news was from someone who had received rejection despite their best effort. Their best was not good enough. They held on, and finally outgrew their failure by striving for alternative, hopefully better  options. Their story was of "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

The second news was from someone who had finally reached the milestone, that they had set out for years back. Theirs was a long, arduous journey full of frustration, setbacks, and uncertainties. But they did not give up, and eventually reached there.

The third news was a story of climbing a ladder of success. Their story was of dedication, focus, clear goal and patience. They started out small, took one deliberate step at a time, and gave their best each time.

I felt thankful that they shared the good news with me. Although I have not been an intimate part of their respective journeys, I was aware of them by our conversations now and then. I am sure they might have felt a sense of "I am not good enough", "I won't be able to make it", "This is too hard and painful", and many other difficult emotions. But, in the end, they made it. They are winners of their own battles.  And what sets them apart from everyone else is the fact that they did not give up. They marched on, in a style that was their own. 

My heart goes out to each one out there who are struggling. Just hang in there. Your day will come. :)

The two countries - Persia and Iran

It was a Saturday afternoon. I went to the Indian store for grocery shopping. Since the Indian store is far from my home, I tend to go there once in a few months with a long list and load my cart with bags. So after my tiresome grocery experience, I called for cab. When I met the cab driver, it was mildly awkward. The driver looked white, his name (from my app) sounded like an African name, and his attitude was like an Indian man (read tashan). Unlike typical drivers, he did not greet me with great enthusiasm or any follow up conversations. I won't lie if I say I resented that he did not help me with my luggage, although he helped in holding the cart. It was not unpleasant, but something not usual either. I got into the cab, turned my GPS on, texted my friend to be online just in case. A few minutes passed in silence. It was bothering me. So I decided, "Enough. Start talking." And I asked him, "mmm...huh....am sorry, but I am not sure if I pronounced your name correctly. How do you pronounce your name?" Then he said his name. It is actually two names, that the app joined together as one. Now it made sense. The name was an Arabic name. It resembled a Pakistani singer, but I could not recall his face. So I got lost in thought. Then he quickly added, "It is like the name of a famous Pakistani singer." I agreed, "Yes, that's what I was thinking".

Now, my other confusion started. So he is a muslim. He looks like he is white. He is not excited at me being obviously Indian. So he might be anywhere from Pakistan to west Asia. He spoke of the singer admirably, but he did not have the same pride as a Pakistani would about the singer. Then where is he from?

Well, this time it did not take me long. I asked and he replied, "I am from Iran." I was relieved, for it gave a rest to my confusion. Now my mind shifted from being confused to being curious. I told him that I have met a lot of Iranian people in my grad school and made a few good friends. I asked him if he is doing ok with the situation that arose thanks to the recent elections. He said with great confidence, "Ya...ya. It's all good. I have my green card. So I do not have to worry. But if Trump decides to send me back, I will ask him to book a first class flight ticket for my country. He is like a family friend.", and laughed. Then the conversation started flowing. We exchanged our experiences and opinions on life in USA, life as expatriates, what we miss about our home country etc, etc. 

Then the interesting part came. I asked, "How do Americans react when they know you are from Iran?" He said with his typical tashan, "See, I don't tell them right away. I tell them I am from two countries. First, I was in Persia. ". We both paused. Then he continued, "Then I became citizen of Iran. So I am from both Persia and Iran."  I was like "What, they did not get it?!" And he said, "Nope." I laughed hard. That joke, just made my day :)

He continued, "When they hear Persia, they think it is some country in the eastern Europe. Even though they don't know, they are afraid to ask. So if I ask, 'Have you heard of it?', they say, a weak yes. But when they hear Iran, they get shocked. " I was admiring his wit! I asked, "Well, do you reveal them at all?" He said, "Sometimes yes. I tell them after some time, 'Do you know Persia and Iran are the same countries?' " and laughed. This time his laughter had a tone of seriousness and irritation that such memories brought him. 

Then he went on the ignorance about the world in American education, how people change their names when they move here, or try to ape American culture, and forget their own culture... and many other topics. I agreed with some, defended some,  was clueless about some, and tried to fill my G.K. tank with some other topics.

When I reached home, he not only helped me with my luggage, but stopped and waited in his car until I entered my apartment.

Watch what you say to your loved ones

A few months ago, I went to a day-long painting workshop. After a short early-morning adventure, I finally found my venue. The instructor was an old lady, probably in her 60s. The workshop was really nice, and I got to learn a lot of techniques, skills, and styles. She also showed her paintings, which were beautiful. During the lessons, she would tell small stories about her childhood days, how she would ride on horse in the countryside, how everybody knew each other, how her parents had a huge rock collection. I loved those stories for they gave me a chance to glance at how life in America was back in the old days. 

During noon, most of us headed out for lunch. I was new to the area, so I followed them. As we walked, I was curious about how long she has been painting. She said, her Mom was a painter, and she got inspired from her. She used to paint when she was young, but she stopped painting after she got married. She resumed painting only since last 12 years, and has been painting ever since. I exclaimed, "Why?" She said, her husband did not think  she painted well. He dismissed her painting and often ridiculed her. And her eyes started welling up in tears, and she could not speak further. I did not know what to say. They got divorced after 25 years of marriage. I tried to console and divert her with some lame words, while cringing inside. Then she said, that her ailing Mom came to stay with her one day. She asked her Mom, "What would you like to do?" Her Mom said, "What we always did." And they started painting together. They continued to paint until her Mom took her last breath. My instructor continues to paint to cherish the memory of her Mom and the beautiful time they spent together.

Her story both shocked and moved me. Here is a woman, with amazing painting skills, stopped it for TWENTY FIVE long years, because someone she loved rejected it. And it has been long since her ex-husband was out of her life, more than a decade. She had gathered courage to realize that she is actually good at what she does, and to actually resume the practice. Still she was hurting. Still her eyes were welling up with tears when she remembered about it. Still she could not find words to explain her situation.

This lady's story just told me what can a loved one do to you. Recently, I read a facebook post saying that you are a result of the people around you.  It reminded me of her story on how two important persons in her life shaped her life. On one hand, her Mom who pulled her up for a better life, and her ex-husband who dragged her down. I felt scared. It made me realize how much power do we have to make drastic changes in others' lives. 

I see so many people constantly criticizing their spouses, and even enjoying it, dismissing and humiliating their children, ridiculing people around them, and thriving from the act. We must understand that our words and actions have a strong impact on people around us, and especially our loved ones, because they need us, they seek our approval, the same way we do. To those who justify their act of dismissing, or being mean, or being negative to their loved ones for whatever reason, I have a sincere request. Please be kind, at least to those you love. Watch what you say to them. Watch what you say about them. Watch what you do to them. Yes, karma is a bitch, and it is going to chase you back. Even if you don't care about that,  please realize that  you have the potential to destroy someone's life and break someone's soul.

The wonder in those eyes...

After I got in the bus to work (the preceding story goes here), I got a seat next to a Mom with her  few months old baby. The baby was strapped against the Mom's chest with a strapped bag. The strapped bag was holding the baby pretty robustly, I must say. Every time I see these advanced baby holding tools, I feel impressed and appreciate technology. 

Any way, the baby was super cute, with big black eyes. I could not help staring at him, and he also stared back, with lots of curiosity, as if he was just grasping everything that he was seeing when he was looking at me. I did not want to annoy his Mom. So I broke the eye contact, but nevertheless continued watching him. He was watching everything, staring at people around him, at the constantly moving road. He would let out a scream of excitement whenever he found something interesting, and whenever the scene changed, say from forests, to the mesh of concrete highways. He would shake his hands and legs briefly as he screamed, and then quickly go back to grasping all his surrounding. He was a delight to watch. His Mom would laugh every time he screamed. I got to talk to her briefly before I got down at my stop, and she said, it was her baby's first day out in the city. That explained why he was so excited, filled with wonder about everything that was going on around him!

That morning, he made my day. I wish more grown up people could wonder like that...

Two life lessons in two seconds

It is the story of the other day, when I was very relaxed and chilled out. I was not in any rush, even though I was slightly late to work.  I had to walk a little from my house, go to the other side of the highway on a over-bridge, and catch the bus right after climbing down the over-bridge. I was walking slowly, as if I have all the time in the world. I had one flight of stairs to climb down, and a bus came to the stop. I hurried up. But the bus left right at the moment I stepped on to the platform with a dramatic effect. How insensitive! I felt bad, and rejected. I scolded myself, "Opportunities won't be sitting out there waiting for you! You have to rush and hurry up, if you want to catch them!"

And right when I started lecturing myself all the wisdom, another bus came, within a second after the first bus left. And I cheered up, "Yeah! If one opportunity gets lost, no worries, another will come."

 And my day started rolling with the bus :)