NRI Pulse Online Magazine

Divided!!

Random Rant — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 14:49:00 GMT

BY GAUTAM VELPULA

I got up today in slightly better spirits than what my life has been allowing recently. Wondering what I was going to do at work today, I got dressed put on my shoes and started out to work. See I have been having some sporadic back pain and realized maybe it is because of sitting in my chair all day. So I decided to make some changes and walking the less than ½ mile seemed like a good place to start.

Walking is an amazing thing to do especially when you are not running late and there are lots of people who are. The Indian man who is always late, fidgeting around waiting for the walk light to cross the road, I am sure the place he leases out next will be on the other side of the road. The Indian girl who walks one step and runs two, she just needs a better alarm clock or she just needs to cut her hair short, it must take forever to groom all that. The Indian guy eating his breakfast walking, does he do that by choice? Or is he simply saving time. These are the regulars, there are a few like me who do not walk everyday but you will see them every now and then.

I get to work take my seat and I still have not made my mind up. What am I going to do today? See we have a killer couple of weeks and looks like we are finally ahead and don’t have to work that hard anymore. So I spend most of my day randomly looking at past work. Surfing the internet and compiling and recompiling my code (that is programming lingo for killing time).

Lunch time is here finally and I trudge down to the café downstairs to get something to eat. I greet the guard on my way back and she responds with the warm smile I am used to now. Our social contract works she gives me a warm smile everyday and I make it a point to say hello no matter who I am walking with. Downstairs it’s the same scene like any day. The Indian guy on his phone talking to his long distance girlfriend on the phone, boy has he been on that phone a lot these days, and he doesn’t smile enough makes me think they are having problems. The older Indian man unpacking his lunch with a couple of colleagues, one of them seems like he’s not very happy being there. I eat my quite lunch and walk back to my desk and go back to compiling my code. Close of business is here and I gather my things and start the walk back to my apartment. I see I missed the Indian girl she must have caught the 5:40 home. The older man must be on the 6:20 the Indian guy is having his evening snack (yes while he is walking) I reach home hang up coat lay down on my bed and start to wonder. Why have I never greeted any of these people? Why have they never greeted me? Surely they must recognize me, they see me every day. Do I look unfriendly? Is it just me? Then I realize it is all Indians who do this. There is something about us, we are innately unsocial. We do not feel affection to our country men; it is not me or the man who is late every day. The girl who needs a haircut or the guy who has to eat while he walks, it is everyone. We just do not greet each other. We are not a country we are just a bunch of people who come from geographic locations which fall with a boundary of a country recognized as India. We have no affection no pride no sense of belonging.

After 63 years of Independence we are still struggling to find an excuse to forget the divisions we have built over the centuries before we decided to be one country. I for one cannot think of one. If we just took a minute and tried to think of all the divisions we have in our mind, it would either mean we either are set in our divided ways and we won’t be making false statements about Indian Unity or we will forget them and make true statements about Indian unity.

How to Run a ‘Freebie Junk’ Newspaper

NRI Pulse Online Magazine — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 15:11:00 GMT

BY VEENA RAO

A reader comment on a popular Indian newspaper’s online edition report about my entry into the 2010 Book of Records read: “NRI Pulse and several others like it are freebie junk mail you also find lying around in cartons outside stores Indians frequent. Surprising Limca recognized this "achievement".”

This comment, which I do not think was posted by an Atlanta resident, stood out bold, audacious, taunting, amongst a bunch of congratulatory notes on that particular news website, and is the only negative comment I’ve received so far. What’s worse, each time I google ‘freebie junk newspaper’ (try it), the report “US-based Veena Rao enters Limca Book of Records’ comes right up on the first page without fail.

The comment begged the question: Is a ‘freebie’ publication ‘junk’ just because it is free? Or is it content quality, journalistic values and reach within the community that sets the standards for a publication? Would a community continue to pick up, read, and come back for more ‘junk’ year after year? Would ‘junk’ material not have met its end soon?

Maybe there are businessmen out there who run ‘freebie’ publications with the only objective of filling it end to end with advertisements. There is no focus on maintaining journalistic standards, simply because there is no journalism involved. But even these publications must surely provide some useful material to the reader, or they wouldn’t survive.

Setting up a newspaper has never been easier than it is today. All you need is computer software and Internet, and you can have an entire newspaper office online. But keeping a newspaper alive year after year is harder than it has ever been, because of the shrinking advertiser market. Our printer tells me that over 40 publications that used to print with him closed down in the past two years!

Mainstream US newspapers have had it worse. Dwindling circulation figures, shrinking revenue, massive job cuts... Some big names have closed down during the height of the current recession. People don’t subscribe to newspapers any more. We get all the news online. Us desis too. Reading the day’s newspaper with the morning cuppa is a habit long dead. We fall back into the habit during our trips o India, then fall into our online obsession when we come back home.

Ultimately, I think it is the ‘freebie junk’ nature of our newspaper that has helped us survive four years. People will always pick up a publication with plenty of good reading material if it is offered free of cost. It helps that our paper has news and features that are not all found online. It helps that we make news of Atlanta happenings. It also helps that our set up is small, and our overheads low. That, according to a recent survey, is the key to survival in these difficult times.

It also helps that we serve a community that is appreciative of our sincere efforts at providing a stronger platform for all of us- even if that platform is in ‘freebie junk’ format.

Bindi and Tilak

NRI Pulse Online Magazine — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 13:33:00 GMT

BY KAMESHWARS. BHARGAVA

What are Bindi and Tilak ?

Bindi and Tilak arereligious marks on a Hindu’s forehead between the eyebrows,Bindi is in the form of a dot. It is derived from the word “Bindu” in Sanskrit, which means “drop” or “small particle”. Bindi is called “Pottu” in Tamil and Malyalam;“Bottu” or “Tilakam” in Telegu; “Bottu” or “Tilaka” inKannad; “Teep” in Bengali.It is worn by both ladies and men. Some people consider Bindi as a symbol of goddessParvati signifying female energy. Tilak is an elongated form of Bindi and takes on various formsbut all the forms honor the central dot. The Tilak is generally worn bymen. The dot orBindi has an important place in Hindu scriptures. It is said that, in thebeginning, all 36 tattavas – the primeval categories ofexistence that comprise the whole universe were condensed in a single dot, called the“Parabindu”.

Origin of Bindi and Tilak

The use of Bindi and Tilak is said to have started in Vedictimes, when ash (vibhuti)from the burnt offerings of a sacrificial fire was used toput a mark on the forehead. Theuse of kum-kum toput a bindi also goes back to times immemorial and has been mentioned inancient Hindu scriptures. A hymn inRigveda describes Surya’s wife,the goddess Usha, as wearing a bright red dot on herforehead symbolic of the risingsun. Radha used aflamelike design on her forehead with kum-kum.Banbhatta’s Kadambri composed inthe 7^th century refers to trident shaped sectarian marks on the forehead of the devotees of lord Vishnu. The Puranas which date from 10^th– 11^thcentury also refer to Shaivite’s practice of using tilak ontheir forehead. The Shaktas,who worship goddess Kali, paint a red dot on their foreheadsemulating the red dot

below the third eye of the goddess. Some scholars interpret the red color as a symbol of blood. In ancient times, in Aryan society, a groom used to apply a dot of his ownblood on his bride’s forehead as a recognition ofwedlock. Some people associate thered bindi with the ancient practice of offering bloodsacrifice to appease the gods.

Bindi and Tilak – Their Application

The application of bindi and tilak is meant to invoke religious feelings, and is regardedas a blessing of the Lord and a mark of auspiciousness and greetings. Some regard the bindi and tilak as a protection against evil,wrong tendencies, bad dreams, and accidents.

All religious rites and ceremonies of Hindus begin with theapplication of a bindi or tilakto invoke gods. Atilak is also applied by the priest during a person’s visit to a temple asa sign of the deity’s blessings for both men and women. During a pujathe kum-kum paste or a sandal wood paste is first applied to the deity and then passed around among the participants as prasadam,blessed offerings that carry the deity’s vibrations. The custom of putting a tilak or bindi is also followed whilewelcoming or bidding farewell to guests and relatives. In olden days the head priest of the state would put a tilak on theforehead of kings and maharajas when they ascended thethrone. The ceremony was known as “RajTilak”. “Veer Tilak” was used to anointvictors after a war. In presenttimes some erstwhile rajasand talukdars, still carry on the custom of putting a tilak onthe forehead of the person inheriting an estate.

Bindi and tilak are worn by Hindu men and women, rishis andsaints, priests and swamis,pious householders and, above all, by deities in temples andhome shrines.

Tilak does not have a standard form and is applied differently by members affiliated withdifferent sects and subsects. The most common form is a dot or a dot with a long vertical extension and is worn by those not affiliated with anyparticular sect. Worshippers of Lord Vishnu, known as Vaishnavas wear a vertical V or U shaped tilak using ash (vibhuti), clay or sandalwood paste.Thisis a sign of preservation or protection. Worshippers of lord Shiva, known asSaivites draw three horizontal stripes (tripundra)with vibhuti or sandalwood paste anda red dot between the eyebrows. This isas a reminder of God’s three-fold nature of creator, preserver, anddestroyer. Worshippersof shakti (devi)put a dot with red powder or kum-kum. This evokes the super power of Adi Paramshakti, the universal motherfrom whom all life and energy is believed to emanate.

Whenever a tilak is applied to a person some mantra isrecited. One such mantra is as follows:

AdityaVasvo Rudra Vishvedeva Sapaitrakaa

Tilakam Le Pryanchantu Dharma Kamarth Sidhdhyet

“With theblessings of all Deities, Adityas, Rudras and your ancestors may

the tilak help you in the attainmentof dharma, karma, and artha.”

While applying tilak some people say, “O Lord, protect usfrom evil effects of Trigunatmika Maya, which has Satva, Rajas, and Tamas as its binding chords.”

Others apply tilak with a prayer, “ May I remember the Lord. May a pious feeling pervade all my activities. May I be righteous in my deeds.”

Material used for bindi and tilak is generally vermillionpaste (turmeric mixed with lime and/or camphor), turmeric paste, kum-kum, ash (vibhuti), sandalwood paste by itself or mixed with saffron. The paste is usually applied with the ringfinger (third from the thumb) and/or the thumb of the right hand. The mark is usually topped with a fewunbroken grains of rice. The grainssymbolize firmness and steadfastness of the brain and are also a symbol ofpeace. They are also known as Deo Dhaniya (grains from God).

It is said that at the base of the thumb lies Venus whichrepresents life’s forces , health, creation of new life, gentility andpoliteness. At the base of the ringfinger lies the Sun, which represents brilliance, firmness, honor, respect, andfaith.

Symbolism of the Point between the Eyebrows

The spot, or the point on the forehead between the eyebrows,where the bindi is applied is the most important psychic location and a majornerve point in the human body. It isconsidered the seat of latent wisdom, mental concentration, and spiritualenergy. All thoughts and actions aresaid to be governed by this spot. Inworship the spot is known by various names i.e. “ajna chakra”, “third eye”, “eyeof wisdom”, or “the mind’s eye”. Itrepresents the third eye of spiritual sight which can see things that thephysical eye cannot see i.e. it controls and evokes the divine. Ajna chakra or the third eye is a spoton which yogis meditate to become one with Brahamana.Yogis and devout Hindus meditate on the spot to accumulate energy throughdivine insight, power, and wisdom to cultivate one’s spiritual vision toperceive and understand life’s inner working with the

mind’s eye.

Some people regard the central point as the base of creationitself, symbolizing auspiciousness and good fortune.

According to the followers of Tantarism, the chakra(seat of concealed wisdom) is the exit point for Kundalini energy. The bindiis applied to retain energy and strengthen concentration. It is also said to protect against demonsand misfortune.

Modern Trend

Bindi has been a traditional mark on the forehead of Hindusover the centuries, for both men and women. For women it also represents their marital status. In recent times, instead of a religioussymbol, it has become a fashion accessory for many women. Instead of just a simple dot, modern bindisare of different shapes, hues, and designs, ranging from simple to verydecorative. The material used isplastic or thin felt in the form of a sticker bindi which can easily be put onor removed. Many ladies keep a numberof bindis in different shapes and colors to match with their dress.

In modern times, the bindi has become a decorative item andis also worn by non Hindu

women in other countries. In China, since the second century, women wore similar marks for purelydecorative purposes. This becamepopular during the Tang dynasty.

A holiday in Greece

Maya Nair — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 01:26:00 GMT

BY MAYA NAIR

Greece and India have a long history together. According to Indians, Athens may not be the most “ancient” city that Europeans consider it to be. However, traveling to Greece is a very interesting and enjoyable experience.

Atlanta has direct flights to Greece. Getting through the airport and customs is a breeze and US citizens do not need a visa for a short vacation. As the plane circles around the airport to touchdown, we can see all the construction in the popular areas of Athens. To own a small apartment is the dream of most young Athenians.

The view of Athens from the plane:

Of course McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken (with Delivery service!) are there before us.

It is very easy to get into a taxi and see all of Athens in a short time. The Mediterranean in its entire splendor is around wherever you move to.

The different faces of the Mediterranean are below

The best time to go to Greece is May through September except that July and August are the hottest there. People from India can easily take that heat though. You just need to have a cap or scarf with you to cover your head. It rarely snows there and the winter season is usually mild because of the Mediterranean effect. The rainy season is in September/October.

People spend a lot of time eating and drinking. This cafe has a nice view of the famous Acropoli hill.

See the amazing view of the city of Athens from the Acropoli:

The cuisine is centered around seafood. Chili peppers and spicy food is almost non-existant there – Indians beware! Of course, it is easy to find Indian restaurants in Athens. Or carry a bottle of chilli powder with you.

Some more sights around Athens:

Time to go on a Mediterranean Cruise!

There are many other interesting sights in the rest of Greece too.
For now,
Adio - Yassoo!

On A Shopping Spree!

Mahadev Desai — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 18:48:00 GMT

BY MAHADEV DESAI

I try to avoid shopping as much as I can. But sometimes it is unavoidable. Last Thursday morning I opened the fridgefor milk. No milk. No bread for breakfast either. I had to quickly resolve this crisis! I toldmy wife I would get milk and bread and be back in half an hour. I jumped in mycar and drove to the newly opened D-Mart located about six miles from my home. Nearthe entrance, there were signs in Chinese, Spanish, and English (but not inHindi) offering huge discounts and bargains. I didn’t bother to pick a shoppingbasket as I thought I wouldn’t need one. It was a huge warehouse-like storewith aisles upon aisles selling Korean, Mexican, Indian groceries, seafood,fruits and vegetables; etc.I wished I had more time and money to hunt forbargains. I bought a loaf of ‘White Mountain’ bread and dashed to the frozenitems corner for milk.

I wanted only one gallon but it was on sale so bought twogallons instead. I carried one plastic gallonin my right and second in my left hand and tucked the loaf under my chin and waddledlike a penguin towards the cashiers. Ten feet away and the loaf slipped fromunderneath my chin and fell on the floor. I felt like a clumsy idiot. I put the milk gallons on the floor andpicked up the loaf. And suddenly remembered that Bintu likes orange juice. I left the milk and loaf on the floor andrushed to get a shopping basket. I returned,put the milk and bread in it and went to look for orange juice. I like to munchLays potato chips. I could not resist the tempting offer,” Buy one, get one free’,so I bought two large size packets of chips.

My wife loves ice cream –I bought a big tub of Mayfield ice-creamfor her. As I passed the Fruits and Vegetables counters, I noticed that becausethe D-Mart had just moved in this location, its prices were really low comparedto other stores. Normally my wife buys fruits and vegetables but I thought Iwould give her a surprise. The basketwas full and now I needed a shopping cart. So I left the basket on the floorand ran out to get a cart. By the timeI returned, someone had kicked my basket aside. I emptied the contents into thecart and bought some vegetables and fruits. Wrong vegetables at wrong price asusual!

While I was shopping, I saw a young man wearing a hood over his head tasting grapes,strawberries, cherries, slices of bread, muffins and other free samples as ifhe was attending a friend’s birthday party. He picked some bananas and put in a plastic bag as if to buy those but left the bag near theBakery counter and sneaked out quietly for free coffee !. I pushed the cart tothe cashier next to the Express Lane. Though the Express Lane was meant for customers with ten or less items,I saw a few customers check out despite carrying more than ten items. There are only five customers ahead of me,so it shouldn’t take long, I thought.

The first customer was an old lady. She had bought twenty items and had a bunchof coupons-some well past expiry date! Some were slightly torn, some wrinkledand some from other stores. The cashierpatiently sorted those out while I closed my eyes and recited Hanuman Chalisa.“Who on earth thought of bribing potential customers with coupons?” The secondcustomer changed his mind about Tomato soup after the cashier had checked itout. He thought it was too expensiveand wanted that item to be cancelled. The third customer wanted to pay bycredit card. When the Credit card wasrejected by the machine, he couldn’t believe it and argued furiously with the cashier,who was almost in tears. She had tosummon her supervisor for help. The man was escorted out by the securityofficer. Next customer was an old lady who took hours to open her purse, takeout dollar bills, count them thrice and also rummaged for loose cents and dimesto pay $37 and seventy two cents! The fifth customer was apparently a housewifearmed with a cell phone. As soon as thecashier began checking out the first item, the phone rang. “Yes, honey. I’m atD-Mart. What? You need six eggs? O.K. dear, I’ll get it.” ‘Excuse me; I’ll beback in a sec.”She told the cashier and coolly walked to get eggs. The cashier looked helpless.

At last, it was my turn. Guess what! The customer in suitsand tie behind me said, “You mind, Sir! I have only a sandwich and a coke. I got to rush back to my office” “Sure, goahead. But next time, try the Express lane” I said. The cashier asked me inbroken English if I had a discount card. When I said ‘No’, she cheered up, “Would you like one, Sir? It is free” ,asif she was handing me keys to a new Mercedez ! She gave me a Form to fillin. I was conscious of the long line ofcustomers behind me, so I folded the Form and put it in my pocket. I cursedmyself for losing 5% discount. ‘Look Sir, this banana is squashed.Would youlike to get another one?” Bintu eatsmore bananas than a monkey and I had bought a dozen instead of usual six. But in a hurry, I had put the bunch under themilk gallon and squashed one. “Never mind. You can charge me for it” I said.

I reached homean hour late. When my wife saw megetting out of the car carrying four heavy bags, she said, “Is a snow stormhitting Atlanta or what?”
”Don’t start please. I saved you some money. And don’t ask me to return anything for I have already thrown thereceipt away!” Now you know why I hate shopping!

Golf on a Sunday?

Mahadev Desai — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 12:54:00 GMT

BY MAHADEV DESAI

It was Sunday. All the house chores were done the previous day. I got up and looked at the blue skies. It was fairly cool and breezy. I was sipping the 3^rd round of spicy chai in an ‘Atlanta Braves’ mug, trying to shift my brain from third to top gear.

Chipper was relaxing,listening to Rahman’s music. Thank God, I had no journalistic assignment for the day. I was looking forward to watching the U.S. Open “Men’s” Finals between Nadal and Federer.

The phone rang. It was for my wife. I had to interrupt her in her morning Pooja. After putting the phone down, she announced,”Shantaben has invited me to go watch a Hindi movie,"Wake up, Sid”at her house. She was in the middle of her breakfast, so I accepted her invitation and put the phone down. “I bet,” I said. I couldimagine Shantaben stuffing herself on toast, chevda, and muffins.

I was about to turn on theT/V, when in ran Bintu. He came in so fast as if he was making a home run from the third base! Panting and puffing, he said,” Dad, can I get an air rifle. “Hehad a new Tee shirt on with a ‘Star wars’ logo on it.

“Where did you get this from? I asked. He smiled and said, “I bought it from Andy, with my own savings in the piggy bank.60% off the list price and 5% cash discount!” I think Bintuwill be Treasury Secretary when he grows up.

I said, “Listen Bintu, I am sorry to disappoint you. Don’t you know our President is trying to discourage use of rifles? It is not safe. You can blind some one if you are not careful with your aim.” Bintu protested, “But dad, I’ll be careful, honest. Like my pal Billy, I’ll shoot only birds.”

I stood my ground, “I understand what you say but unlike Billy, remember you are a Hindu. You should practice non-violence in thoughts and deeds. You shouldn’t be shooting birds or eating them either. Think of some better gift instead.”

Bintu needed some time to digest this, so he dashed in the garage, grabbed his bike and furiously pedaled away. He loves biking. Maybe he is trying to reduce his carbon print. With him,where there is a wheel, there is a way.

I turned on the TV. Federerhad won the first set-a tie breaker. While Nadal was resting in a chair, hishead covered with a towel and looking like Lawrence of Arabia, Bud Weiser andCoca Cola were merrily pushing their refreshing drinks and ensuring fat bonuses for their top brass!

My friend Rishi called. “What are you doing today? Feel like agame of golf-it’s a beautiful day.” I was afraid my wife would kill me if I stayed out all day, so I whispered,” we’ll have to make it snappy. Nine holes only.”

I am good with games, both indoors and outdoors that involves balls-soccer, volleyball, cricket, tennis, table tennis,bowling and golf. I would love to try baseball and basketball too (if I can learn to jump like Michael Jordan!).

I watched 9.30 a.m. CNNSports news. Nadal had won the second set. My wife came down after finishing her pooja (I bet she was thinking of “Wake up, Sid” while praying!). She reminded me of Bintu’s approaching birthday at the end of the month and listed a few chores for Monday.

It was ten minutes to eleven. “Look what you did. You made me miss 10-30 a.m. news! She retorted, “Whats so important with the news that you need to

watch it every half hour.Third World War hasn’t begun yet, let me assure you.” I said, “It’s not that. I wanted to know fate of Nadal.”. She seemed more interested in the tennis results than me. “

Bintu had left the radio on in his bedroom and I had already heard Nadal had lost the third set. My wife was rooting for Nadal so she was a bit dejected,because Federer had won. ‘Shame, the guy is taking all the prize money away and adding to the massive U.S.deficit’ she moaned. And left for Shantaben’s home.

Rishi honked from his car.And we were away. I like Rishi but not his attitude. His ego is worse than his handicap. And he is tight fisted too. The course he had booked was worse than the Old maidan in Mumbai. It took us an hour to find the place. It got 15degrees hotter by the time we reached the 9th hole. I was feeling like a boiled potato in a pressure cooker. I was playing golf after a long interval so I had to take seven practice swings before hitting the ball. I was wearing my new pairof glasses. So the very first shot I hit landed in the rough, where the grass was as tall as sugarcane in Haiti. I spent ten minutes looking for the ball and when I spotted one, it was with a different brand name! Three hits ended in someone’s garden and two went for a swim in the water pool. All the time I was conscious of the time, so I hurried my shots. I am surprised I didn’t get a speeding ticket. Rishi practices regularly. His birdie putts would have madeTiger proud! He was a clear winner and I had to buy him a six pack Budweiser.

I felt miserable on return trip home, as I had to listen to Rishi’s bragging about his game. Golf needs tremendous practice. No wonder Churchill said,” It is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an even smaller hole with weapons singularly ill designed for the purpose.

My wife on the other hand was in a good mood after seeing Ranbir Kapoor. She was making sweet rice kheer.I dipped my finger in it and tasted saffron. “Where did you get all this saffron from?” I asked. “Well, I bought three bags of Tilda rice and got free samples of saffron with it.” I said,’Well,that's not a wise move. Who will eat all the basmati rice?” She was ready with the answer,” It won’t last that long. Instead of dal and roti,we can now switch to curd-rice, tamarind- rice,idlis,khichdi, and sweet-rice!“

She asked me about my golf game. When I told her I had lost, she said,” I am so happy. It is better if you wield a pen than swing a golf club’.

Kindhearted that she is, shetook some kheer to Shantaben. Shantaben gorged on it. In the evening, when she accompanied us for a strollin the sub-division, she walked like a doll whose batteries had almost runout.

Coffee and Chocolate Cake!

Mahadev Desai — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 14:39:00 GMT

BY MAHADEV DESAI

It was past midnight when I requested my wife who was watching Bollywood comedy Golmaal withBintu to make me a cup of tea. She hit the pause button and grumbling went into the kitchen and shouted, “Sorry, we’ve run out of Typhoo tea leaves. Will a cupof Nescafe coffee do instead?” “Well, anything, Nescafe or Folgers- so long as it is a hot beverage,” I replied.

While she was makingcoffee, I entertained myself by listening to Meerabai’s pag ghunghroo bandh bhajan. After ten minutes, Bintu who was alsomad at me because Paresh Rawal was still on pause, entered my room and put amug of coffee on my table. “How come you get to drink coffee whereas I am forced to drink milk? It’s not fair, Dad? he said. I.

I took a sip-coffee was dark and more bitter than quinine! Iremembered Meerabai’s lines,zahar kapyala Ranaji ne bheja…I could have sung, coffee ka pyala Biwiji ne bheja, peevatPatidev…While they were laughing their heads off watching the antics in Golmaal, I sneaked into the kitchen to check out the coffee she had used. No wonder the coffee I tried was bitter-she had emptied the whole cachet(well past the expiry date) of coffee powder to brew one cup of coffee and over-boiled the coffee-and to make matters worse, forgotten to add enough milkand sugar!

I slowly opened the kitchen door and emptied the coffee in a flower-pot. No refills please! Then I opened the fridge and found a small piece of chocolate cake(no thanks to Bintu!). My wife makes delicious cakes but guards her recipes like The Coca-Cola Company. Got the cake but where was the steaming, frothy coffee withhillocks of foam in a stainless steel tumbler!

Usually ahot cup of masala chai is my lifeline between waking and getting my brain cells working. It restores my sense ofharmony. But occasionally I don’t mind trying a cup of coffee when I am away from home. Coffee that I was served at some airport lounges and on someairlines left a lot to be desired. It reminded me of a testy comment made by Army General Cariappa to the airhostess,"Miss, if what you’ve given me is coffee, could I have some tea, please? But then if this is tea, I’d like some coffee."

In India, youth is fast embracing coffee culture. CaféCoffee Day and Barista and Qwiky’s are becoming favorite haunts for collegians, yuppies and under 40s crowd to chill out.

Last month, I took my neighbor Kantibhai’s in-laws from Nairobi to Satrbucks after a shopping spree. It was like being on the floors of New York Stock Exchange! The variety of coffee it serves is mind-boggling. I couldn’t either spellor pronounce some of the exotic names of the coffees. I volunteered to get the drinks. Little did I realize the challenge facing me! Caffeinated or decaf? Small, medium or large. Hot oriced? What is banana, coconut frappuccino, I asked. ‘Well, a frappuccino is chocolate and frap concentrate blendedwith ice and topped with whipped cream’ man behind the counter rattled off. Andwhat is a latté, please. Latte is anespresso shot or two, steamed milk and bit of foam at the top. Or you may liketo order a cappuccino which is like a latte but with lot of foam. For me, understanding all these deep mysteriesof coffee offerings was more difficult than finding a cure for swine flu! Impatientcustomers behind me were getting irate-I had to run to Kantibhai to find outtheir preferences. Shantaben opted fora frappuccino, Kantibhai ordered a medium decaf. Coffee with hazelnut flavor,sans milk or sugar. Black coffee in the morning and Black Label in the eveningworks fine for me”, he quipped. Rambhaiwho had blood pressure settled for hot chocolate drink, and Kashiben who had diabetes and was lactose intolerant asked fora soy latte with Sweet’ Low.I had small decaf with low fat 2% milk and brown sugar, stirred but notshaken.

The coffee saga had a pleasant ending. A family friend, Mrs.Laxmi, from Kerala, had come to Atlantato attend a Maths.Conference. At dawn,I was still in bed when rich aroma of roasted coffee beans and boiling milk wafted through my bedroom door and teased my senses. I heard the whirr of electric grinder-at first I thought it was my wife grinding dhokla mix for Laxmi. But when I got up and stepped into the kitchen, Laxmi greeted me with a smile and offered me a cup of coffee that tickled my taste buds-like a glass of vintage Merlot wine, it was a perfectblend of flavor, aroma, body and acidity. Sheer ambrosia, good to the last drop. So ecstatic I felt, I could have kissed Laxmi.

She stayed with us for three days and imparted her secretart of brewing a delicious cup of coffee. She even gave me choicest coffee beans from Kerala and udipi filter(I wish she had sneaked in full cream buffalo milk!through Customs!) t to help me brew a perfect cup of Mysore coffee.

My ever grateful wife thanked Laxmi for the heavenly coffee-treats and as a gesture of her appreciation, disclosed her Chocolate Cake recipe to her.

Travel Blog - Luxembourg

Maya Nair — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 21:46:00 GMT

One of the most interesting places I have seen is Luxembourg, supposedly one of the richest countries in the world. The people there are very friendly and explained that since Luxembourg is so small that many of the workers live outside the country which results in the high GNP for its residents. Luxembourg is sometimes referred to as the Grand Duchy.

The City Centre

Although it is a small country, it is easy to travel to the three bordering countries Belgium, France and Germany using the Eurail flexi-pass that allows us to travel through several countries in a matter of hours. We can also reach Luxembourg through any of the above countries. It also has its own airlines called LuxAir which has connections to CDG and other major airports in Europe.

Fall is certainly a great time to visit Europe and Luxembourg is no exception.

Those who love old cathedrals and forts will have a great time in Luxembourg and neighboring countries. To get around the city, we can use taxis or bikes. As in most European countries, you will rarely see any gas guzzlers on the streets. Most people walk or take the bus or train.

The parks in Luxembourg are very enjoyable. The city center is one of the main attractions. Also, there is the Museum of Natural History, Casino Luxembourg, Nationa Museum of Art and History and the Notre Dame Cathedral. The American Cemetery Memorial, Casemates du Bock. Petrusse Express and Palace of the Grand Dukes are also of interest to most travelers.

The currency is Euros and the language spoken is French, English or Luxembourgish(an offshoot of the German language). Street signs are in French; so brush up on your French before you go. Most people I met spoke English too.

Try to spend some time in Luxembourg when you travel to any of its neighboring countries. Here are some more pictures for you:

McDonalds (!!) in Luxembourg.

Yummmmy treats await...

Retiring in America

NRI Pulse Online Magazine — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 15:08:00 GMT

BY ARUN MISRA, PH.D.*

Many of us have thought of going back to India to retire. In old age income goes down, pension benefits are smaller, and cost as well as insurance-premiums for health care services rise. It then makes perfect sense to move to a less expensive place. Household help is readily available at cheaper rates in India.The cost of medical care is modest in comparison to USA. Availability of family members and childhood friends, if you pick up a suitable place, is another attraction. Hence we have been contemplating, for years,to move back to India, when it is time to finally rest and die.

Butthe story of Hans from Germany made us to think differently. In 1970s, Hans went to visit New Delhi, from Bonn. Hans liked India very much, met an Indian girl, Anita, fell in love with her, and got married. Hans came back to Germany, sold and disposed of his assets, and was back in India with plenty of capital to establish a factory near Delhi, and the couple, as they say, ’ lived happily there ever after‘.

Once Hans and Anita approached retirement, they came to visit USA. They fell in love with this country. Both researched and concluded that USA was a good place to retire. Of course USA is a nice place to live, but the cost of living is so much higher than in India. USA does nothave adequate social services for elderly people, like Europe has, but is much better than that of India. Cost of health care is higher than India and Europe, but the quality of services arefar superior. The pollution, filth and other inconveniences of India are non-existent in the US.

Thusit dawned upon us that ‘Retiring in America’ is better than ‘Retiring inIndia’. If you have enough funds, retire in America. If you are poor, retire in India. This is why Tatas are treated in Paris, not Mumbai when theyfall sick, and are cremated in Switzerland, not Mumbai, when they die. Hence, Muslim Aga Khan makes his abode in Paris and not in Pakistan.

Reflectingon what I achieved in the last 30 years or so of my stay in the US, since I arrived here in my late thirties, I came to some interesting conclusions. Being fired from one job to another, and being transferred from one place to the next, in addition to being unhappy with the working conditions, in India, Icame to teach and do research in Biotechnology and Genetic Engineering in theUS, exactly during the same years German Hans moved to India. I had already lived for years in Europe (especiallyHans’s Germany) and Australia, and had visited US couple of times prior to coming to live here.

In India, even if you do not perform your duties properly, if your colleagues and supervisors do not like you, you never get fired. Just get transferred, may be to a remote place, in a similar job. This is considered enough punishment in the service career. Me being fired and transferred, again and again, makes me kind of unusual. I was pretty different, had relatively plenty of success in teaching and research at a young age in Biology. I became a college professor at age 19, and was the Dean of the school at age 31. I wrote several books and published dozens of research papers, during this period. But what I wanted to do and achieve, was not coming forth quick enough for me,hence I took many risks in my jobs,resulting into demotions, firings and transfers.

With this baggage, I arrived in USA where opportunities were plenty, and the freedom to carve your own niche, encouraged. It took me just few months to realize that I came from ‘frying pan into fire’. The bosses in US are so very powerful, treat their employees like slaves and getting fired was so easy. Hence I came across a spate of‘firings’, early in the US. Anywhere I started, in teaching or in research,every time I got fired a few weeks later. I acted strange for my supervisors,found my colleagues very mean, and my bosses were crazy. Be it New York, Chicago, South Dakota, Miami, St Louis,Mississippi, and Atlanta, I was fired and dismissed from numerous schools again and again. Being on temporary visa,which were generally issued for a specific job and a particular employer, I had to run to Immigration authorities time and again, to stay legal and avoid being out of status, for years. I must be lucky as well as smart, since I always found a job within a few days of being fired, every time. The visas changed into several kinds over the years.

ButI never gave up, and survived again and again, moving from one job to the next and from one city to another, many a times within a few weeks, carrying all my belongings into a suitcase in Greyhound Buses.

In India, where I came from, you can not be fired, just get transferred, if you are no good and/or you are not liked by your superiors. Here in the US the firing was so easy, so quick and so strange to me. ‘You can be fired if the Boss does not like the color of your socks’, I was told. Scary stuff. Many warnings I received, before being fired, did not affect me much. I considered them scare tactics, like ‘speed checked by detection devices’ along the roads.In India we called them, ‘love letters’. I did not realize that those were keptin my files for making a legal case for eventual firing, which may not be easily contested.

By the time all this occurred, it was too late. I was too old to change my ways.Employers found a pattern in my behavior to get rid of me quickly.

But when my wife and three teenage children arrived from India, couple of years later, I had to change, be docile to the bosses and fit into the mold. I could no longer pick my stuff in a suitcase , scream at the boss, and just leave. I had four more adults to carry along, which was impossible, and would have shattered their American Dreams.Hence I transformed myself into an obsequious fellow, pleased my bosses, colleagues and students at colleges and universities, and eventually received an employer sponsored coveted Green card, permanent residency, for the entire family, to stay and work in the USA. This is considered a great loyalty to the employer,as well establishes one’s merit to substitute a US citizen in employment, by being superior to the available talent in the country.

Those3-4 years were hell for me. I was not my own, but a devout, obedient part of a big ‘slaving-machine’,

withno brain, no personality, no independence, no freedom. I just worked for someone or some organizations, at low wages for years, and never complained, to reserve a berth in the American capitalism.

Ileft academia and joined the business world. My productivity and money generating ability was going to

bethe measure of success for me, I was told. People would tolerate all my idiosyncrasy, if I generated plenty of business, and was profitable forthe establishment. I excelled in business, got numerous awards.

This was similar to my publishing numerous research papers, writing books and teaching interesting courses, when Iwas in the academia. But the business ventures were also short lived. I did not last for more than 4-5 years, same time period, 5-6 years, of the academia. I was so very wrong about the capitalism. Business had its own norms. Making profit was not enough. One has to be likable, part of a team,be popular, work slow, be teachable, and follow instructions. Brilliance, and disregard for rules and regulations were not tolerated. Both academia and business had similar systems to follow, both had their own politicking to encounter. I was again on a roll, being fired from one company to another (in insurance, investments, real estate, mortgage etc), had no office to go to, no fancy business cards, and nothing to do. I acquired US citizenship in the meantime though.

Ithen started solo, became CEO of my own company, started selling and servicing whatever I could, especially insurance, investments, real estate and mortgage.This has lasted for over two decades now. I never had too much to do, but I always made a decent income, and enjoyed my journey of life. It is obvious, if you work hard, have some talent,there are many avenues in the US to survive and succeed.

I am at a stage where I can retire peacefully and enjoy the fruits of my deeds.

I never really found a proper job, nor had a vocation or profession, have been running from pillar to post, for the last twenty years or so, like a rolling stone that gathers no moss.

ButI have thoroughly enjoyed, what I did.

LikeGhalib, I could say, ‘hazaron hasraten, … jin pe dam nikle, bahut nikle, … phirbhi kam nikle’.

In English, I had numerous goals and ambitions, some came to fruition, but many more were never realized/achieved.

Thus, when people ask me now, What have I done, and what I am doing lately ? I simply say, ‘I really came, over 30 years ago, to retire in America.’

______________________

*Financial Planner & Realtor

Phone770/232-7447, fax 678/840-0070

Web: www.arunmisra.com,E-Mail : misrausa@yahoo.com

Puerto Vallarta

Maya Nair — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 22:39:00 GMT

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore; Dream; Discover.” – Mark Twain

There is no best time for travel. We have to schedule a time every year and decide to try one yet unknown place at a time.

Travel certainly opens up our minds. Everyone, especially children need to see how people live in other parts of the world. Our spiritual growth depends on our outlook and understanding. Our outlook is shaped by our experiences and there is nothing better to shape our understanding than travel. It helps us to see everyone in the world as One. Many of the wars will end when people on “opposite” sides are forced to see each other as brothers and sisters.

I love traveling; dreaming, planning and experiencing one new place at a time. J Most of the time is spent taking pictures so that I wouldn’t forget a single sight. It was only after our children were grown up that we started to travel. That, I think was a big mistake. We should have traveled sooner, before the children grew up and left home! L Travel is the biggest school in the world!

For my first travelog I will focus on one of the most popular destinations in Mexico – Puerto Vallarta.

We went to Puerto Vallarta for the first time in 2005. Most of the time, the people there assumed that we were Mexicans too. So we felt completely at home! The plantains, coconut trees, papaya, mangoes, lemons and Indian vegetation all over the place helped too. J

Mexico is closest to US and is still one of the best options for visitors from US. The people are friendly, we get almost everything from US there (cheaper to boot) and their hotels are among the finest. The food is healthy and inexpensive too.

Hotel accomodations include beach and swimming pool

Puerto Vallarta is a fully developed tourist location which can be reached by road, air or cruise ship. It is located on the western part of Mexico, bordering the Pacific Ocean. A mind boggling array of adventure tours awaits the eager traveler. Depending on our budget and time schedules, we can spend 24 hours outside the hotel if we wish.

Mexico is a shopper's paradise!

Most of the inhabitants of Mexico are descendants of the ancient Mayan Civilization. The Maya Civilization (2600 B.C) is known for its fully developed written language as well as its art, architecture, and mathematical and astronomical systems. Maya influence is evident from Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador and to as far as central Mexico.

Notes – Dollars are accepted in most establishments. It is best to have a cell phone with international calling services so that you can call back to US or any other country. Remember to take your valid passport. You may rent a car or use taxis to get around. Many of the taxis accept dollars and return the change in pesos.

Swimming with the Dolphins - a spiritual activity

Plumeria flowers in abundance

There are so many things to do in “Mehico” that we always want to return there. Here is a list of tours and things to do:

Mexico has hundreds of acres of Rain forests. Canopy tours are abundant where you fly from platforms above the jungle on zip lines and swing like a monkey through the trees. Good for the really adventurous J
Swimming with Dolphins in a closed swimming pool and trained dolphins (great for kids) or in the open Ocean guided by expert trainers.
Scuba diving, snorkeling or sailing in the mesmerizing turquoise waters of Cancun. Be mesmerized the beauty of the underwater world that opens up in front of your eyes or hear the songs of the humpback whales.
Whale watching in the waters of the Pacific Ocean (only certain times of the year)
Swimming with the dolphins, getting a kiss from them as well as riding on them by holding on to their flippers (its fun!)
Go on an adventure trip on the Sierra Madre Mountains in a Jungle buggy. Get ready for an exciting, bumpy ride through the rain forest where you will see amazing flowers and gigantic trees along with some animals that we may be familiar with in India. Its fun!
Of course, the regular resort activities such as swimming, sailing, boating, fishing, shopping, biking and other healthy adventures abound in this amazing tourist destination.

For more information on what you can do in Puerto Vallarta, Google it or go to:

http://www.puertovallartatours.net/

http://www.vallartadiscovery.com/

http://www.vallarta-adventures.com/

http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attractions-g150793-Activities-c25-Puerto_Vallarta_Pacific_Coast.html

Watching a Bollywood Film (in lighter vein)

Mahadev Desai — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 18:40:00 GMT

BY MAHADEV DESAI

Of late, I have stopped either renting or buying DVDs of Bollywood or Hollywood movies. Instead, I order it online and watch it in the comfort of my home. It was past midnight when I finished watching Clint Eastwood’s latest ‘Gran Torino’. When I entered my bedroom, my wife was already fast asleep. I too floated into dreamland the moment I hit the bed. I dreamt that I was sharing a cup of masala chai with my Gujarati college-friend Raju from Rajkot. He had spent a year in Atlanta in the early nineties, and then moved to Miami. He had relocated in Atlanta and obtained my contact address through our friend Jagdish. In my dream I was narrating the plot of Gran Torino to Raju, who is a Clint Eastwood fan.

When I finished doing that I asked him, “Raju, I know you prefer Hollywood to Bollywood, but have you tried watching a Bollywood movie like 'Veer Zaara' or ‘Swades’ or 'Jodha Akbar' in one of Atlanta’s cinemas? “ Raju began laughing. “Do you know why I don’t like going to the cinema to watch Indian movies? Let me pour you some more tea” He filled my cup with piping hot tea and recounted his first and only visit to a cinema in Coral Springs, Florida in1994.

“On that Sunday afternoon, Raju was at a loose end. He had heard his friends speak of the local cinema. On a number of occasions, they had invited him to accompany them to watch an Indian movie at that Cinema, but every time he had politely declined them. He rather preferred watching videos of American movies in his apartment. In his young days, he had seen a couple of Indian films but he had been confused by the complexity of the plot, intertwined relationships of the characters, etc. He had almost given up on Indian films. But today was different. Sheer curiosity impelled him to visit the Cinema. He didn't know the name of the film or the time of the show, so he thumbed through the yellow pages and dialed the number. It kept ringing but no one answered. He cursed his luck, noted the address of the cinema and got in his car. In his anger, he missed a turn, pulled up at a Texaco gas station and asked for directions. The attendant looked at the name and address and shook his head. “Never heard of it. But I think it might be in the opposite direction, near the K Mart." Raju got back in his car and made a U turn on the road. A passing car honked at him. He made a rude sign. He nearly got booked for speeding. Luckily he saw the cop's car in his rearview mirror, slowed down and let it overtake his car. Finally he found the Cinema. It was located in a corner of the shopping mall. It looked as if it could do with some renovation and a coat of fresh paint. It appeared that he was the first to arrive. It was 8 p.m. He parked his car and walked towards the ROXY Cinema. The letter R had fallen off so the fluorescent sign read OXY Cinema! He looked for a poster showing the name of the film, names of the film stars, timings of the show etc. Lucky! He saw two posters. The first one was of a film which had already been shown the previous week. The poster had not been removed yet. The second one, of the current movie was torn in the corner. The film's name appeared to be ...Rani. He stood there baffled as ever. He saw a car being parked near his. Two youths got out. One had earrings on and a red handkerchief around his neck. He was chewing a paan and smoking a cigarette. He banged the door shut and pushed his friend forward. Raju timidly asked him which film was on that night. He spit on the ground and laughed," Who the hell cares, yaar. Just go in and when the film starts you will know. They are all the same. Old wine with new labels. It could be Dil-ki-Rani or Sapno-ki-Rani or even Meri-Rani. All bakwas! " He kicked an empty can. Raju was no wiser. 8-45 p.m. He saw a person enter the booking office. He tapped on the window and asked for a ticket, offering a ten dollar note.

The clerk shouted,” Not now.I don't have change. Wait till I sell a few tickets." "What time does the show start?” asked Raju. The clerk laughed and said,” Looks as if you are here for the first time. The show will start when we have enough fans inside the cinema.” and he stretched his hand to answer the incessantly ringing phone. Half an hour passed. Slowly people trickled in. The booking office opened and he got his ticket. They were all rushing to get inside. He showed his ticket to the doorkeeper who almost snatched it from his hand, casually tore it into two and shoved one bit in his hand. Inside it was pitch dark. The only dim light shone from the two red EXIT signs above the doors near the screen. Raju had to grope for his seat.

"Ouch, watch where you are going! You've crushed my toe, you fool!” shrieked a buxom lady.

Raju apologized profusely and slumped in the nearest empty seat. More people arrived. There was a lot of commotion. They were greeting each other with loud "hellos’,” how are you"etc.;waving to one another, offering seats, changing seats as if they were playing musical chairs; walking in and out of the cinema and behaving as if they were at a football match. Mothers came in with babies in strollers. The strollers were parked on the worn out carpeted aisle. A few people almost tripped in the dark when they failed to see those strollers. Suddenly there was a hush. The film was on. At first the name was upside down. People clapped and booed. The operator realized his mistake and the screen went blank. There were more jeers and catcalls. After a brief pause, it started again. The film was RAJA RANI. The suspense over its title was over! It was the usual mixture-love triangle, courtroom scene,suicide,murder,rape,fisticuffs etc.interlaced with sexy lyrics,dances and songs(with actress in five saris during one song). Some people were still restless. As soon a song came on,some got up and went out the cinema. Some went to the restroom,some to get popcorn,some to smoke. There was no air-conditioning. It was hot and humid inside. The children were either crying or running up and down the aisle. It was difficult to concentrate.

At last the INTERVAL sign on the screen. More commotion. More chitchat. Some were busy analyzing the film like informed critics.! Some were returning with platefuls of samosas,and other savories. It was like a grand picnic! Raju wondered whether he was in a cinema or a restaurant. The interval was over but people were still walking in and out. The film resumed. In one scene, the hero fought against six 'goondas' and made them run for their lives! When he won, some of the audience clapped widely as if he had scored an only goal against Brazil! A teenage Romeo sitting next with Raju was trying to kiss his reluctant Juliet in the dark. He heard Romeo whisper" Be a sport, just one! Look, how Juhi is having fun with Khan!" Juliet retorted, "Juhi gets lakhs of Rupees for that. I don't get even popcorn!” That floored Romeo. The film was finally over. Raju came out with a headache! He saw the Manager sticking a poster for the new film. He saw Raju and asked,"So,did you enjoy? Very popular film.Juhi-what fantastic acting. Don't miss next week's film!" Raju kept mum. He probably felt that the entertainment off-screen was better than the on-screen goings-on.It was quite dark. As he headed for his car,he saw two ruffians with shaved heads and torn jeans fighting with each other. The Security Guard walked up to them and said,"Hey guys, break it up. What's going on?" One of them replied casually,” Nothing Officer, just practicing the Amir Khan’s sidekick!"

“Yes,Raju, now I understand but things are a lot better now. I know you love cricket-let me offer you a treat. I’ll take you to one of the upscale Atlanta multiplex cinemas to watch movie “Lagaan’ How about that. When the movie ends, you’ll be cheering and clapping like this”

And cheering and clapping woke me up!

Extra Hormone

NRI Pulse Online Magazine — Tue, 12 May 2009 15:44:00 GMT

BY ARUN MISRA*

In ancient texts, like Mahabharat, there is a story about a king, who existed thousands of years ago, desired to experience how the women, especially his queen enjoyed the act of sex. Since the king, probably, had to argue and beg a lot to get the queen ready to have sex with him. The perpetual problem of men, since time immemorial. But those were the advanced scientific ages, where the things like : sex-change operation, vagina rejuvenation, breast augmentation, increasing penis size, silicon implants, hormonal treatments and other forms of plastic surgery, were long forgotten. People used to visit a Guru, a risi, who recited a mantra, and desired things were accomplished in a split second.

The king, thus, went to a risi in the forest and asked for help. ‘Can you transform me into a woman, Gurudev ? I have experienced sex as a man, seems very pleasurable, but I wish to experience the same act as a woman.’ The primitive texts of Kamasutra, Anang Rang, Koka Pandit etc were non-existent then, and some people have a strong urge of ‘inventing the wheel again’ and accomplish things on their own level. The guru, recited a mantra, with his eyes closed, touched the king on the forehead, and the king turned into a beautiful woman.

The smart people who are now called gay and lesbians, had not appeared on the earth then, either.

Hence the king, back in the palace, with the consent and help of his queen, slept with numerous men to experience the act of sex as a woman. After a while, the king was expected to go back to the guru and risi, who would have changed him, with mantra, back as a man and king. The king, now a woman, refused to become a man again, and said, ‘ I enjoy sex more as a woman than I used to, as a man. Hence I am not going to change to manhood.’ Is there a lesson or moral for all of us, in this story ?

Who has more of sex-hormones and/or sex-drive ? Man or Woman ? It can be argued that it is very specific, since a particular man may have more sexual desire, more of sex-hormones, and may enjoy the sex-act more than a particular woman, and/or vice versa. But what should we conclude in general and for an average situations, since ‘men are from mars, and women from venus.’ Instead of putting my opinions to test, I submit a few more examples to illustrate the point. Prophet Mohammad said, ‘men can have four wives’. Seems very smart to me. Did the prophet realize the need for men to have multiple sex-partners ?
Kings and Nawabs have exceeded this in having Harems.

The same Sanskrit texts also say that women have a higher degree of ‘kam’ (sexual desire), than men. But the women also have at the same time a far higher degree of ‘lajja’ (embarrassment), are bashful, hence subdue and hide their passions and control their sexual advances, compared to men. Hence the song, ‘sautan ke sang…’, ‘husband spending time/night with other woman’ and the jealousy and competition between women for the same man. Equally prevalent is, ‘one woman chased by two men’. Lord Vishnu, sleeps on the bed of serpents, since Laksmi will not let the Lord sleep on the earth, as Laksmi (Sridevi) is jealous of Bhudevi (earth), the other consort of Vishnu. Lord Ram had one Sita, while Lord Krishna had several Gopis including Radha and kept collecting more wives, when Krishna moved from Gokul to Mathura and Dwarka.

Once the women reach menopause, their hormone levels go down, child bearing is not possible, the sex-drive starts fading. Their elderly men, spouses or companions, then start looking for the company of younger women who get aroused more easily or seek the comfort of wealth and/or security from the older men. This has created a huge empire of prostitutes and call girls (also call men), for the sake of more exciting, and less boring, sex and romance. Many politicians and affluent people, thus, maintain concubines and mistresses. Many of these fall from grace, and get into legal troubles when their affairs are exposed. The guy who taught me at the driving-school, three decades ago, in St Louis, had both a wife and a girl friend at the same time, and will enjoy speaking about his love-life with both women, while driving.

He said, ‘One woman is not enough for me. Once a month woman are alright and easy, but the other three weeks of the month, it takes so much of effort to lay them down. Hence I have the second one, in case the first one is not readily available. My sex-life become less stressful and easier, thus.’ I learned a big secret in infidelity.

Aren’t some men in India very lucky to have two wives ? I know several of them. Men get married in villages at an early age to a village, illiterate girl, who stays in the ancestral village home for all their lives, see their husbands once or twice a year, when the man comes home from the job in a far away city.

The women get children from these occasional encounters, or through the letters sent by their husbands in mail. The husband starts getting education, gets a nicer job in the city, marries again, this time an educated colleague at work, and stars living with her in the city. Thus, the man maintain two separate families, and has children from both spouses. The children at village, are not educated like their mother, and tend to the family farm, while the second wife in the city raises few educated professional children. Some men are smarter and keep both wives in the same household, the two women complimenting each other as sisters, the younger doing more domestic chores thus helping the older wife in cooking and cleaning, as the older one is getting frail and weak.

After, all in Mithila in ancient times, Risi Yajnvalkya had two wives, Maitreyi and Katyayini ,

With Maitreyi, the risi discussed philosophy and spirituality, and with Katyayini, enjoyed the finer (or mundane) things in life like : food, sex, music, art and playfulness, since the risi had a very wide array of interests and talent.
But some men (we hear much less about women though) have a higher dose of hormones in them, which makes them to chase younger women, since they need to put their pants down, quite often.
_______________
* Financial Planner and Realtor in Atlanta.
Web : www.arunmisra.com E-Mail : misrausa@yahoo.com

“It’s not me baby, it’s the economy”

NRI Pulse Online Magazine — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 14:07:00 GMT

BY MEGHANA JOSHI

No, I didn’t tell these infamous words to dear husband when he put his second request for a Rolex sub-mariner. If I had, I would have been happy for saying so. I told this to my little darling.

This weekend, I finally made the heart wrenching decision of keeping Terrible Two (my second daughter- two years old) home after careful consideration of my current economical status of being ungainfully employed. All invoices lead to bleak signs of recovery in the next two quarters at least, and it only made sense to cut down on something like that. Terrible two would probably wonder why she isn’t going school come Monday, but wishful thinking says she will probably forget all about it in my tender loving care.

I feel like a failure today. Six months ago, I quit my well paying job to stand on my own two feet and free myself from cubicle and paycheck slavery. First few months were great, and I thought I had it all covered. Then came a lull where invoices weren’t paid, and projects were cancelled. I still hung in there, volunteering for a few religious projects and keeping myself well connected and networked. Then came the harsh reality of seeing my trusted people file bankruptcy and lose it all, along with my promised projects.

Now the time came to cut down expenses. Of course the first one in sight in the $1350 Montessori fees for my little one’s amusement and enjoyment. On the sly, I haven’t signed up mighty eight (my first daughter- eight years old), for color-me-mine, chess and golf classes this quarter. She hasn’t noticed yet, but will notice very soon. And probably throw a tantrum. But she will understand that she has a long life ahead to learn and unlearn many things. Hopefully without much drama.

Out of guilt, I went to Lakeshore learning center and bought a whole lot of preschool learning puzzles from Melissa and Doug to keep her learning. For those who don’t know, they are the toys mostly used in schools. They are a little expensive, but made of wood, so sturdy and there is no worry of lead unlike the Made in china toys.

Mighty eight asks, "Is Terrible two going to be homeschooled for preschool?
"Yes, probably"
"Oh, you are increasing her chances of going to higher studies by 12%"
"Huh?"
"I saw it in a movie. But don't home school me. Anyway, I go to public school, and after school color me mine, chess and golf classes aren't so expensive. Oh wait! You didn't sign me up for spring quarter!!"
"Yeah baby, it's not me, it's the economy"
“I understand. But can I keep at least one of them?”
“Yes, you may”

I need to vent more about this, but I will refrain from doing so. I will hurt me more than anyone else. Everyone tells me to cherish these moments with my daughter, and enjoying seeing grow up. But deep down, I am not at peace knowing the truth that I didn’t quit a career to be a mother. The guilt of taking this step purely for financial reasons bothers me. I have always maintained that the time you spend with doesn’t matter as much as the quality. Now suddenly to think otherwise is not possible.

One of Mighty eight’s class parents bought a Porsche Carrera yesterday, other drives a yellow Lamborghini, and everyone has euro SUVs that are hardly a year old. My neighbor shines his Bentley every morning as I pull my Honda out of the garage. No one seems to be worried about the economy. To top it, none of these women have ever worked! Their husbands probably earn as much as my guy does except for the Bentley neighbor who is a lawyer. I don't know how they are managing it.

There is something that I am not doing right, or there is a lot they have got wrong.

Coming to think of it, they might as well be living a lie. The lady who walked out on the house that I live in had such expensive furniture, the car, the closet.. Everything was so sophisticated. So much so that I wondered if I will ever be able to match her taste in decorating the place. She had stacked shoes so high that Carrie Bradshaw would never be able to. But in the end, she had to walk out and live in a dingy apartment. No one would rent her a decent one because of her credit score. Her kid had to go to community college even when she was accepted in good colleges, and the other one had to shift schools in high school.

I might be using this example to just feel better today, but hey, whatever works! I will have to hit the stores today and stack up on preschool supplies so that come tomorrow, terrible two feels home. Till September, it will be mommy-daughter time at home. I will have to discipline my little darling, I will have to teach her manners, and I will have to be a mother, not a buddy that I am right now, and still be able to let her love me the same.

My mother told me to send her to her loving care, but I brought my child in this world to mother her, and she needs me more than she needs her grandparents. She is my responsibility, not theirs. I had to say no thank you, and that I am a grownup who can take care of her own issues, and in this case, her progenies, and my worries shall not be yours anymore.

I shouldn’t have gone crying to her, but I am bound by habit. She has to know everything about everything going in our lives. She mothered me, and I am her responsibility, at least emotionally! I needed someone other than my dear husband to tell me that it’s OK, it’s not a big deal and life will be normal, very soon. Oh, I needed her to tell me that she believes in me and that I will succeed very soon, and I shouldn’t go back to cubicle slavery out of desperation.

Raising children in the culture gap

NRI Pulse Online Magazine — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 12:34:00 GMT

BY MAYA NAIR

There are many parents in the Indian diaspora who are now grappling with the late stage effects of child-raising gone awry. Unfortunately, our Indian parenting skills may not always be very effective within this melting pot culture.

As some of us know, India used to have a very strict code for raising children. Wake up early, read up on our religious and non-religious books, compulsively take a bath in the moring, do puja before going to school, etc.

Even though some children were fortunate enough to be allowed some playtime, many of us weren't. And we had to do other chores of help the parents after returning from school.

And the homework !!! Indian schools and teachers were so strict! There was no school board to support us or stop hte teachers from doling out cruel punishment. One school I studied at (thankfully, only a brief year there!) was St Joseph's school in Kalamasherry, a small town near Cochin, where they ritually flogged all kids, once for each exam they "failed"!!

And the govt did nothing! This school was even commended by the govt for its high achievements! I wonder if that school still exists and if they still flog the innocent children there while teaching them a grade level higher than the norm. I wonder how many of those kids have emotional issues now. Sad.

Here, in the USA, we soon find out that child rearing is something we need books for. What we learned from our parents in India has no connection to how children "need to be" raised here. And our children don't understand why we are so strict, why we always encourage them to do better and why, oh why do they have to get A grades when the parents of their friends are always so proud when the kids just do "regular everyday stuff"??

Unfortunately, children don't come with their own documentation or "Quickstart" manuals. So our only option was to advice them about the way we grew up. I did walk miles to school in the rain and snow (ok, no snow! )

Most of us are tough on our first child. The second one gets an easy ride. Some parents still think of their children as trophies. When Indian parents get together, the conversations turn to money or colleges. Even when the child is five years old, Indian parents are already chalking out colleges and looking at future employment opportunities! Little do they understand that the child has a brain for a reason. Hey, let them think! they are not YOU!

In this land of anorexia, bulimia, and all sorts of mysterious conditions, it is better to take the safe road when raising children. Although most of us have dreams for our children (or are they our own unfulfilled dreams?) it is futile to make them do anything that they are not willing to do.

From kindergarten, these children are told that they are individuals, their likes and dislikes are important and that they alone should decide where life will lead them. For Indian parents, that is a very unchartered path indeed. We did what our parents told us and we had few choices. Why should our kids have choices? Wouldn't that be dangerous?

However, in this country, and even in India nowadays, so many careers are popping up every day. But all middle-class Indian or Indian-American parents are still shooting for "Doctor or Engineer" careers - for their children! Its like they are stuck in a time warp!

Although most of our jobs have now gone to India, the newer ideas still seem to come from creative brains who are schooled in a non-restricted, out-of-the-box American style education. These brains are behind all the new ideas that come up in the world. Alas, with our schooling, we suck at design, but are excellent at maintenance!!

Many of us have problems thinking creatively for the only reason that we weren't allowed to do so while growing up. Now that we are in the USA where every child has access to the best that the world can offer, shouldn't we allow them to make decisions and learn from them? Isn't that what life is all about?