Of Whales, Monkeys and Bindis

I know what I am about to say can be taken the wrong way. But are we really better than whales or monkeys?

For a people that prides itself on its culture and spends hours touting its alleged superiority, Indians seem to have come in behind whales and monkeys when it comes to embracing more people into our culture. I can’t tell you the number of times the Indian cultural police have hit the headlines complaining about the influence of the Western culture on the modern youth. Yet, when the modern w. youth does adopt one of the Indian cultural practices, what did they do?

I am referring, of course, to a slightly dated story on Selena Gomez sporting a bindi. I spent a good portion of my life being pulled up by random aunts, uncles, not to mention my dear mother about not sporting a bindi.

This cartoon sums up the Bindi troubles of any South Indian Brahm lass (Got this from http://tambrahmrage.tumblr.com/ – I tried to find the link to this post, but couldn’t. Luckily I had sent it for laughs within my family a while ago)

 

pottu yenga

So, I expected the news that Selena Gomez was wearing one to strengthen their position. I mean, all they had to say was: “It is even fashionable, you still don’t want a bindi?”

I expected the Indian c.police to namaste-her, make an example of her and what not. What they proceeded to do, instead, was ask her to learn of the deep cultural ramifications of the bindi and enlightened folks like me about how it is not a fashion accessory.

http://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-style/news/selena-gomez-wears-bindi-for-4th-time-despite-controversy-2013254

I can see your eyebrows shooting past the bindi mark now.

Bindi

Well, the news item I read had nothing to do with bindis. It has to do with how these species learnt cultural behaviors from one another and adapted to changing conditions. Bringing more to the fold was critical to adaptation.

http://phenomena.nationalgeographic.com/2013/04/25/on-copyca-whales-conformist-monkeys-and-animal-cultures/

Clearly, we are lacking there. Also, it was just cool to link the cultural adaptations of monkeys, whales and humans.

That also correlates with this study where Indians ranked near the very bottom of the pile of folks surveyed, they would much rather live near themselves than welcome racial ethnicity. Even when they wear bindis.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2013/05/15/a-fascinating-map-of-the-worlds-most-and-least-racially-tolerant-countries/?hpid=z2

And so it goes ….

Despicable Me?

One time, we were waiting to start our hike at an unearthly hour in the morning. Typically, parking at the hiking spot tends to be a bit tight and we spend a few cycles trying to find parking. We watched sullenly as cars circled around the space and then made their way down-hill to park elsewhere. Then, a noisy bunch of people came and parked in the handicapped parking spot and piled out. At first we thought the kindly driver was dropping folks off and then was going to find a parking spot as the rest of the rambunctious party stretched themselves. But no. A bunch of solid people piled out of the car and all the solid people stretched on their solid limbs. The driver clambered out as well flexing his strong muscles and cracking his knuckles.

A bunch of hikers watching the whole scene unfold, kindly drew their attention to the fact that they were parked in the disabled spot. The knuckle-cracking driver said, “Oh don’t worry! I borrowed a disabled parking spot sticker and am planning to use it!” He then proceeded to look extremely proud of himself, like the most novel idea for the parking problem was his and he hung the disabled card before proceeding to crunch a few times.

My friends and I were shocked! I would have thought somebody who pulled a low trick like that would have the sense to be ashamed about it.

It turns out that it takes all kinds to make a world. I had dismissed the lot to the back of my brain till this news item brought them back to the foreground again.

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/disney_world_srich_kid_outrage_zTBA0xrvZRkIVc1zItXGDP
http://www.cnn.com/2013/05/15/us/disney-skipping-lines/index.html

These rich people in NY hire disabled people for the day to take with them to Disneyland posing as family members, so they can cut lines and use the disabled access lines.

disabled

Now really! Come on! What is their favorite movie? Despicable Me?

Buggy Drivers

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have self driven cars as the norm. I would love to use the time towards things I enjoy more than driving. Reading, for instance, or writing. I spent the morning crawling across 5 miles that I could have run across in the same time. When this happens, the mind looks for options and what a beautiful option Science threw my way!

Some scientists in Tokyo got moths to drive a free moving polystyrene ball. I quote:
The moths would scramble, or dance, across the surface, moving the ball, which moved the vehicle.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2013/05/08/182312510/moths-that-drive-cars-really

“Awesome!” I thought to myself and read on. Already envisioning a larger moth at the wheel of my car while I lolled around in the back. I wouldn’t have to make conversation with the moth, I could even sleep! *Gasp* A smile was slowly coming across my face.

I had hardly gone past a few paragraphs with that smile when this put a stopper on my daydreams.

The problem is, they didn’t know they were driving. They are moths, after all. What they thought they were doing was zeroing in on a lady moth. Dr. Ando procured a supply of moth perfume, the pheromone scent of an aroused female, placed it at the end of a tube, turned on a tiny fan and blew the scent at the male.

Buggy Driver

I am not sure I would like to entrust my precious life to a moth who is more interested in showing off for the female species. I mean what if this moth smelt a tantalizing fe-moth in the ocean or flying t. moth above? Too risky if I intend to nap in the backseat, on the whole.

As a software engineer, I should have known to stay away from buggy drivers – sigh!

Google’s self driving cars seem to be a better bet for now.

The Real Estate Tent

I am not much of a financial-reports-reading sort of person. I can’t call myself as having my pulse in the economic hub of things, but I know the housing market is picking up in the US. “How?” you ask. You see, the market only has to increase slightly every other day and a glossy piece of paper arrives with a picture of a realtor on it.

I suppose somebody told the realtor community that posting their own pictures on pamphlets appeals to folks.

“Look friendly, look approachable and open and smile!” says the photographer before clicking away.

So, every single one of them wills themselves to put up pictures of themselves. The problem is that some people want to look sincere too. But when they have to also look approachable and open and warm, they are trying really hard to put a lot into that smile and the results are slightly bizarre. There was one realtor whose picture looked like she was pursued by a clown down a scary path that leads into a forest with a puppet party at the end of the path and the only thing to lead her to the puppet party was a nasty smell that she was sniffing out sincerely.

Every time a realtor leaves their precious picture on my doorstep, I smile (a genuine smile) and look at the pictures. I must note down what I think of each realtor without knowing a thing about them and make a collection of it. Of course, real estate is a tough business and people try all the options available to them. Mostly I bestow a benign eye at their attempts and wish them luck, but this one went a bit too far in my opinion.

This was his pamphlet:

Image

I am all for enthusiasm, don’t get me wrong here. I am an enthusiastic person myself, but I know to draw the line. Really! This is MY house he are talking about. What does he mean by saying “I want to sell it immediately?”

I suppose realtors will soon be leaving complimentary tents along with their pamphlets so we can camp out in neighboring fields while they sell our house!

I like the gall. Just for that, I am not selling my house! I should take a print-out of that and give it back to him with a picture of myself on it. You know? Frighten the fellow a bit.

Sense of Humour? Wicked!

I sometimes wonder why people have such a wicked sense of humor (How do you pluralize sense of humor? Is it sense of humors or senses of humor or senses of humors)

I remember one time walking down the street in the evening and admiring the beauty of the large moon. The next day, I see a you-tube video pasted all over my Facebook page explaining the beauty of the moon and how to make sure that the phenomenon was really a matter of perception. When closer to the horizon, it seems bigger, that is all.

The problem is not the video. The problem is the place asking one to verify for yourself by bending and observing the moon through your legs like this:

Image

Before you know it, the roads are full of chaps bending over and trying to verify the size of the moon through their legs. There is nothing more inviting for a practical joke than a person attempting that on the road. Do you think there is some kind of reality video app for everyone who clicked the video to see them bending over and making fools of themselves on the street? There was one man who was wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. He had that prosperous-lawyer-or-accountant look about him. One minute, he was breezing along admiring the large moon and the next his stride faltered. It is hard to see whether a man is blushing from the back, but in his case, proved easy. He was blushing pretty indeed. He looked discreetly over his shoulder, discovered we were walking behind him, and might boot him on the back if he exposed himself to the risk and shelved the idea. But, had he been a man of stronger nerves, I should not have been surprised if I had seen him peering through his legs at the moon.

There are three or four methods by which people get you.

I don’t know whether you’ve seen these numerous posts that tell you life’s most wondrous things will unfold before if you cock your eyes and type ‘1’. I usually ignore these, but gave in to my curiosity just once. I cocked my eyes and sat at the edge of the chair waiting for life’s mysteries to unfold before me as I typed ‘1’. But I swear nothing happened. Nothing. I suppose that is the mystery of life.

There is nothing to expect when you expect it.

Then of course, there are these huge matrices of letters telling you that the first word you find describes you the best. I found ‘TUB’ I wonder what that means…oh well.

How Public Policy Shapes Life

Public policy is powerful. Public policy shapes our daily actions more than we realize. There are also results that are not always foreseen by the policymakers.

Take the experience of shopping for instance. Recently, the county we live in passed a decree that forbade businesses from doling out plastic bags. We could buy one for 10c if really wanted, but the idea was to encourage more environment friendly bags.

Where before, people were before doing their shopping in the most organized manner possible and sometimes preferring to finish up their grocery alone, the recent public policy of no plastic bags and charging 10c for the bags has increased family togetherness.

I walk into stores and I see large families shopping together. There is a sea change I tell you. The change is best explained in the check-out lanes where the harassed looking clerks ask you whether you would like a bag for 10c and you look him in the eye and say, “No Siree! No I don’t. You see I have 5 children of my own and I offered to babysit three of my neighbors. Then, I just borrowed a bus and came grocery shopping!”

There is a look of utter disbelief on the clerk’s face. The table is full of groceries and the customers have no bags! This is when the customers stoop in with a bugle call to the children, “So Ed, Louis, Dennis and Menace pick up the bread, milk, meats and sauces. Don’t hold the eggs and yogurt in one hand Millie! Tie a string around the goat cheese and hang it around the baby’s neck. Anne, do you have the pastas? Good! Whose that child? Does she belong to our party?”

“Yes Father.”
“Well…come here then and lend a hand with the ice creams young lady.” Nobody is spared. The produce is collected and the family outing is done without spending a dime on bags.

Image

That is economy.

PS: I like the idea of no plastic bags, and marvel at how a simple policy can change people into bringing their own bags. The environmental awareness was the same before, yet the implementation of the policy made all the difference.

The Distinguished Frog

I attended a conference recently. While there, two aspects of my brain were exploding. One was the silly part of it, and of course the other was the real theme of the conference. As usual, I am here to blog about the former, since the latter will be up on you-tube in a series of presentations in one form or the other.

The proceedings started and all the folks were busy gorging at the free Continental Breakfast Line. There is something about these breakfasts that have people starting off with a muffin, then moving on to yogurt followed by orange juice and then coffee before having another muffin. It happened right when folks were stuffing their third muffin into their mouths. A busy looking man with a shiny pate came up to the front of the room and addressed the audience. A respectful hush fell upon one and all. He said a few words about why we were all gathered there, and then said, “Well….this wonderful person here is going to facilitate the proceedings and he, as you all know, needs no introduction!”

I have been to tons of programs where people start the proceedings by saying, “Mr. Gasbag here is very famous and needs no introduction.” When this happens, I settle down deeply in my chair to listen to the 15 minute introduction that follows, ripe with details the audience had no clue about and in some cases what Mrs Gasbag did not know.

But this time it was different. Mr Shiny Pate kept mum after this, while polite laughter broke out through the room. He smiled at the poor fish and bid him to come up to the front of the room. The poor wonderful-person now made it awkwardly to the limelight. I have a feeling Mr. S. Pate might have forgotten his name, but all the same, that was quite a jar.

The whole audience gulped their muffins as one. Because, apart from a handful of folks in the room, the rest did not know the wonderful-person at all. Meanwhile, it was almost as if I could see the debate raging in his head. “Do I introduce myself? Or don’t I introduce myself? Am I distinguished enough or am I not? ” He gulped and he finally decided against it. He decided to test his popularity and it must have hurt him. He was one of those academic types who are happiest when analyzing the result of their latest research paper, not winning popularity contests.

It was the wrong choice. Just as soon as he skirted the introduction and started on the agenda instead, I saw that the room, like myself, was scrambling at the packet handed to us to see who he was.

Well, that shows us doesn’t it? One may be the most distinguished frog in the pond, but when frogs from other ponds gather, where are we?

Image

This picture is so bad, I should have actually gone for the one I liked on google images – sigh!

The Journey starts with Garbage Trucks

I spent the morning on the curb wearing a jacket over my frumpy night-clothes with an infant in my arms. The mists had not yet lifted, and I yearned for the warmth of the bed. Unlike me, the infant was fully awake and extremely excited at the sight before him. He gasped in awe and chuckled with glee. We were watching the garbage truck and the driver do his duty.

photo (2)

My mind was pulled back 15 years when the similar thing was being done for the nephew. His ambitions wavered with time of course. But the solid one for a few years was to be a garbage truck driver. The garbage truck drivers must look grand to their little eyes: Sitting high on their seats like exalted thrones, manning the wicked machines and watch as cars steered respectfully from them.

I remembered taking the nephew on trips in India more than a decade ago. He would insist on waiting for a bus with two ladders in the back. Like fools, we would let buses go by waiting for the two-laddered ones, because he believed that those buses traveled faster.

Today is the nephew’s birthday and I watch with love and pride as he looks to enter college in the fall.

A honk pulled me back to the present. The son was beside himself with glee. The garbage truck driver was honking and waving at him before turning away from our street. My star-struck son and I came home to call and wish my nephew a happy birthday!

Life has its deja-vus.

Is Photography Art?

Sometimes I think a monkey would do a better job with a camera. But on the other hand I think, people should open their minds a little more to appreciate true art. What is art? Is it something that kindles some kind of emotion in others? What if it brings joy to others?

The other day we found this gorgeous field stretching out for a few miles carpeted with yellow flowers. My heart whooped with joy and I insisted on getting there on the week-end for a picture shoot.
“I will put this up on Facebook!” I cried. Thrilled at my unique idea, we went there for our picture shoot. Saturday morning, I found the place jam-packed with Facebook-profile-picture-takers. People I tell you! Tut! Tut!

When the daughter was much younger, I used to swing her around me really fast. We have a beautiful picture on the Hawaiian coasts doing this.I wanted a similar one of me throwing my son up in the air and catching him. I had to throw and catch a few times before we got this picture. But I totally loved it, and promptly made it my profile pic on Faceb.

Image

The daughter is tall for her age and has outgrown the swinging-by-mother stage, but believes that her father, the hero, can still catch her as she jumps in the air. I tried telling her that she is too old for that, to which she says, “But appa is really strong, and I can jump! He doesn’t have to throw me.” Put something like that out to the husband and he can’t resist. He summons up his imaginary biceps and steps forth gallantly to make her jump and catch her. I gingerly took the camera, aware that I can’t take the same number of chances he took to get a good picture.

I suppose this happens to wildlife photographers all the time. They lie waiting for the lion to jump, and the lion roars and skips instead. My feelings were similar. What is my lioness skipped?

I focussed and refocused yelling “1-2-3” loud enough for horses in neighboring fields to jump. They did a marvelous job and she jumped- much higher than I expected and got this picture.

Image

I totally blame it on her. I mean I had my camera focussed for where I thought she was going to jump and she shot past it. Whose fault is that really?

My school did a good job on me with its motto: “Never Give In”. So what if I got one bad picture? I plowed on. This time the strong man wanted a portrait. I attempted to truly give him the picture of a lifetime. I’ve always wondered why photographers show off about blurring certain objects and making others sharper. How hard can it be? See?

Image

Like the daughter kindly pointed out, even the houses in the far background are sharp. I challenged the husband to take a picture of me like that and he couldn’t. I believe I took the harder picture. He was a bit upset initially, but the bad pictures had all of us laughing (quite heartily I might add) at my expense – so that is true art in my opinion. Go on…’Like’ my pictures please.

The Small Joys …

I remember it vividly. The father came home beaming one evening. The President of India was visiting our School and the general populace was abuzz. I remember all of us feverishly polishing our shoes for days, like the President’s prime task of the day was to check our shoes. This activity was encouraged almost with indecent glee by everyone. Really, I don’t know why we polished our shoes that hard.

So, why was the father beaming? Oh..yes…sorry, I lost my train of thought and got carried away with the shoe-polishing. The father was given the honorable task of signing all the permit cards into the auditorium where the President would give his speech. He thought that the honor was bestowed on him because he was a responsible member of the teaching community etc. I told him that it might be because his signature was the hardest to emulate. His signature is like a hot cooked ‘Cup-o-Noodle’ slipped off your hands and splashed across the pages. Something like this cool 3-D pen.

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/this-could-be-big-abc-news/3-d-printing-revolution-gets-first-pen-173841593.html

He laughed at my description and selected his best pen to get started. Around the 100th card, his hands started paining. He complained and carried on. By the time 500 cards were signed…well, there is no need to go into what shape he was in.

Every now and then, situations arise where my esteemed signature is required on paragraph 3.4 on page 12, and then again in 4.2 on page 16. Fifteen such pages later, the joy of using a pen (even a special one) fades a little, and I think of the father and the President’s visit. Maybe, one of those ‘Software License Agreements’ are the best. You know the ones where you don’t read what it says and just hit the cute looking ‘Accept’ button to proceed? Those ones.

Anyway, I noticed small things that can make the drudgery of this better. Some people have the forethought of placing those little placeholders to indicate the place of signature, but I recently had a 300 page stack without the placeholders and I missed them so sorely.

It is little things that make a difference. I have always marveled at the housekeeping staff in places I have worked in. For the most part, you don’t see them around and yet, everything is available. That is the kind of efficacy that the President of India would have liked to see. Not polished shoes. Anyway…

Imagine my joy every time I walk into our mini-kitchen and see the tea bags placed like this?

Image

What are the little things that you notice that bring you joy?