The ladies

Alright, back to the book. I’m in the final stages of the story, maybe another 60 pages or so and I must admit it’s not a bad book at all. It took me so long to comprehend but the book is well written. There is a certain element of mystery present with Grigori trying to find out his real parents are and that Nina is hiding something. Remember I said the other day I know who his parents are? Yeah, I was wrong but I have another guess and this time I am very sure I’m right.

That brings me to Nina – ballerina. She comes from very humble beginnings and is introduced to ballet by her mother. So from a very young age she and her best friend Vera both ballerina wannabes do everything to reach the zenith. At this juncture in the story, Nina is the prime ballerina. Without going into too much detail about Vera and her life, let me just say she is one of the prime characters in the book, along with Nina’s husband Viktor, the dapper poet. The best part about the way the story is written is the shuffling between the past and the present (one chapter in Stalin-era Russia), one in present-time Boston. So the Stalin-era Russia portrays Nina’s life, her difficult existence in those hard political times and her sway to the top. Her love for Viktor is passionate and her hatred for her mother-in-law (whom she has to call Madame) immense. So, at some point she deflects from Russia (again, I’ll spare most details) and goes to Europe – Paris, London – and finally Boston. On the way, she’s constantly building her collection of the most amazing jewels; amber, diamonds, emeralds, you name it. Brooches, combs, pins, earrings, necklaces, pendants, rings all feature in her priceless collection that is to be auctioned off.

Now Nina has secrets that she doesn’t want to let out, from her days in Russia – she knows something but she won’t talk about it, doesn’t want to think about it and chooses to be rude to everyone who brings her remotely close to those memories. Oh btw, she is now very old and in a wheel chair which kind of explains why she is so miserable. Grigori wants to talk to her, but she doesn’t. He has memorabilia he wants to share with her so she would tell him something but so far he hasn’t had any luck.

Drew Brooks is just fascinated with Russia and she loves her job (yeah, she is one of those). She senses Nina is hiding something too and wants to get to the bottom along with Grigori. So now, they’ve both teamed up to pressure the old woman to give up her secrets. We’ll see what happens.

The jewelry descriptions from the auction catalogue scattered at chapter beginnings lend a nice flavor to the book.

LOT 7

Diamond Earstuds. Each 4-prong-set with a round brilliant-cut diamond weighing approx. 1.64 and 1.61 cts., color and clarity H/VS2, 18kt white gold mounts, Russian hallmarks. $20,000-22,000.

Fresh take

The run down on the book can wait until later but for now, I'd like to share a novel experience from last evening.

Given my multiple frustrations yesterday, I went home and decided to meditate. So after dinner, I switched on my iPod and turned on the Soham meditation tape my dad sent me from India. Soham is a breathing technique practiced in India since several thousand years and it’s supposed to do a ton of wonderful things for you – remove toxins from the body, promote mental clarity, etc. It’s a 42 minute tape after which you are in a sort of deep trance. So the best thing to do is let yourself be for a few minutes, which is what I did. This is what happened.

At first there was darkness and out of nowhere a speck of bright light came forth. This light became brighter and brighter until it was huge and then it sort of exploded and was now everywhere. Then the light starting showing me some shapes & figures – a bird shape that manifested out of nowhere, then a hill and finally a snow clad mountain. Further, it seemed that this light was now inside me (I don’t know if this makes sense but that’s the feeling I had) and I could feel the vastness of me (not the physical me but beyond that) and that of everyone else. For a split second, I could begin to fathom how huge the universe really is. And this is the most wacky part – I felt as if I was traveling with the light, it was taking me somewhere.

Just as I was about to come out of my trance, something inside me started humming the Upanishad mantra.

Asato ma sat gamaya

Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya

Mrityo ma amrutam gamaya

It means –

Lead me from the unreal to the real

Lead me from darkness to light

Lead me from death to immortality

Curiosity got the better of me this morning and I started hunting for a meaning of my experience and stumbled upon this on an article on the nature of mind.

The purpose of path mahamudra (nature of the mind) is to see the basis mahamudra. We do that by dispelling the darkness of the heart. Each time we meditate we clarify that darkness. The true nature of mind is light and has no darkness. We do not always see that light, but we can see it. So why don't we see it? All the temporary stains obscure it. It is similar to how the clouds obscure the sun. The stains are temporary because they can be dispelled. So that is the purpose of meditation practice, to see that fundamental mind.

I don’t really know why we are here and what our true purpose is but I would like to believe we are here for each other, to share our experiences and propel each other to a higher state of consciousness. Some of us are too distracted to let to our real mind show us the path. Others, myself included, are too frustrated. But if I can say anything from my experience last night, it’s that it doesn’t matter if the universe has a blue print for us or not. As long as we shut out all the other noises and manage to listen to the one voice that matters, we’ll realize that regardless of what life holds for us, it is still beautiful. It exposes us to many different situations and leaves it up to us to make choices that can either harm or make the smallest difference in someone’s life. We choose whether to be happy or sad, frustrated or motivated, helpful or hurtful. A choice made at some point in our lives contributes to the state of mind either now or in the future. We just need to perhaps learn to make better choices.

This entry might seem for some as me showing off but I do this in all humility and with hope that if I can come forth and talk about some of the “insane” experiences I’ve had, more people will think it ok do so too. What do you think?

Does the universe have a plan?

Now I’m not saying that I wish anything bad on me, on the contrary the only message I’m sending this universe finds itself wrapped in prosperity and happiness. But I’m on the cusp of flinging my arms up to the heavens and asking, how long must I endure? When does this torture end? When am I relieved of this? These mindless vocations aren’t going anywhere, aren’t doing anything, helping no one and driving me mad!

I know I should be glad I have a job – thank you universe – but my patience is running out. When does my purpose flash before me? All along I thought it would be like a sci-fi movie when the aliens land in their jazzy, gaudy, over the top saucers that my life’s purpose would flash before me. Or suddenly I would have this thought that would enable me to change the entire course of my life, kind of like the Buddha, I would find the purpose of my life by probing the depths of my empty mind. So far all I find is void.

This afternoon, I had to subject myself to one of the most unanticipated tortures of the week – the weekly meeting. For this reason alone, I hate Tuesdays and more and more so when the clock threatens to chime to 3 pm. These meetings, scheduled on my calendar for 30 minutes, always take 45 – 60 minutes.  Someone once suggested we extend them on our outlook calendar to their normal length so we wouldn’t wait with bated breath after 30 minutes for them to finish. Shortly afterward, I pictured myself in my boxing gloves and the person who suggested so as my punching bag. It was a really good work out!

At some point in the meeting today, my creative juices threatened to overflow and spill on everyone else in the room. I was afraid, since I didn’t know what form these juices would take – anger, hatred, silliness or something else I haven’t yet encountered. So I was faced with a challenge to transform the juices into something I was familiar with and that didn’t make mockery of myself and have me lose my job. Wasn’t easy at all but I managed to turn them into a sad poem. I called it “Utter Boredom”.

I’m laughing in my head

At how bored I really am

Pondering at the meaning of

This mindless meet

I realize I’m expected to sit through

And make intelligent comments too

But seriously

My mind isn’t cooperating

This universe has a plan for me

As it does for every being

My patience though is running out

And I need it to come in full view now

After the torture was done and I returned to my desk, I started wondering what if this universe having a plan for me was all b.s.? And what if there was no plan and my life would continue on the same trajectory? That thought was so scary, I left it right there and ran as fast as I could the other way. No, not brave enough to finish that.

Towards the end of my day, I received an email from an angry participant who claimed to have started the project but for one reason or another couldn’t finish it. His email ended with the words, “are you running a scam? If so, I will be very upset.”

Enough said.



Not over it yet

Really, I mean why must I endure this? Not only is all my privacy lost but all hope is gone with it. Isn’t it enough that boredom propels me to start a blog? Now I have to be careful of what is on my screen so any top dog walking by doesn’t see me being unproductive. What a joke!

Yes, I am still resentful and not over the fact that my seating arrangement is changed. Some of you may be tired of reading my rant but seriously this feeling is compounded by the shitty weather, boring tasks, no motivation and wanting to sleep! Ugh, I know bad combination.

I did get to read some of the book though last night and this morning – the only time I will be reading now, barring lunch breaks. If the weather decides to cooperate (not for long), I can sit on the roof in the building, if not at least there is a kitchen area here I can go eat and sit. I say at least because my old job didn’t even have this and I cannot remember the number of times we cursed them for not providing with some “break-time space”. Anyway, enough of corporate bashing for today (although they deserve much more) and back to the more important task at hand – Russian Winter.

So Nina is one of the main characters (the old woman auctioning her jewels), another character is Grigori Solodin. He works at a university in Boston, the department of foreign languages. This guy’s wife just died (by just, I mean 2 years ago) and still wears his grief on his shoulder, which makes him very attractive to women. I don’t understand why we women find the need to go save others when we ourselves are in a pile of misery!?! We want to save the world, how about we start with ourselves? No, don’t want that. Let’s go date some guy who is still not over his dead wife and make him fall in love with us. That’s our idea of a challenge. Anyway, this Grigori guy is a professor and teaches Russian. His parents were scientists so when he tells people his background they are surprised he chose languages or was really bad at math in school. But he was adopted so his thing is to find his real family. He owns this amber pendant which matches one of Nina’s jewels so he has this strong feeling that somehow he is related to Nina’s husband’s family. Add to that, Nina’s husband – Viktor – was a poet and Grigori is obsessed with his work. He has translated a bunch of his poems and quotes them night and day. I have an inkling of how Grigori might be related to Nina and her family but we’ll wait and see if I am right. No, I’m not going to share it here because if I do I have to then share whether I was right. And that, some people may not appreciate. So, Grigori donated his pendant, anonymously, to the auction as well and is waiting on Nina to speak with him. But that old, miserable woman doesn’t want to and wants him to go away, which clearly he won’t.

There is a third character – Drew Brooks – she works at the auction house. I’ll give her run down tomorrow when I’m still hating this absurd setup. Oh that reminds me, I need to say more about Nina as well besides that she is old and miserable. She used to be a ballerina and was married to this dapper poet (I mentioned earlier). More on that tomorrow along with the auction house lady.

Ciao!

Disaster befalls Project B-52!

This is a total disaster! All my plans have gone down the drain! They changed the seating arrangement at work, and I have lost ALL my privacy! Extremely displeased with this ridiculous arrangement! Not to say that I cannot read anything now because I’m in full view of everyone! Ugh!

Needless to say, absolutely no one likes this crap and we’re all up in arms about why we have to forego literally all of our privacy! But nothing is going to change and we have to accept our fate:(

Besides that, it’s a rainy morning here in New York and coming into to work today the wind blew all rain on me soaking my pants! It’s just not a good morning for me, at work or outside. It’s really the perfect day to stay in bed and snuggle.

The weekend weather was perfect and the slight dip yesterday was refreshing. I went to H-Mart yesterday for the first time (Korean grocery store) and was amazed at the variety of things they sell there. Tubs and tubs of khimchi in giant transparent plastic bags, delicious almond breads, yogurt breads (I know it doesn’t sound appealing but trust me, it was bloody delicious). I especially was amazed by the size of fish I saw. Huge!!

On another note, reading was the last thing on my mind this past week so Russian Winter is far from being done. So far, the book’s alright. There are moments when the book is good; I like the concept of one chapter from the past, the next one from the present. The author makes the past more intriguing than the present; I enjoy reading the past more. One thing though, the main character (her name is Nina and she used to be a ballet dancer and is now auctioning all these amazing jewels) comes across so sweet, naïve and in love in the past but in the present she is one miserable old woman! She is bitchy and complaining so I’m kind of curious to see what happened in her life to make her so bitter towards everyone.

Ambitious, eh!

Today is going by pretty well at work. The misery of the past few days made me go to the library last evening and pick up another book. It’s called “Russian Winter” and is written by Daphne Kalotay. It’s about gems, diamonds, ballet, mystery of family, etc. Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it? So I started reading it yesterday on the bus. It’s a pretty fat book (about 460+ pages) and so far I’m close to 50 pages. I don’t know if it’ll be done by Sunday but I had to start reading something since the weekend is still so far away and I wouldn't start the next book until Monday. Remember my paranoia about my brain cells turning to mush?  

So far it's interesting. I'm not completely hooked on the book like House of Sand & Fog but its not bad either. We'll see how it goes.

Wish me luck as I attempt to down this monster within the next 3 days!

Sad story

This week has been especially special. With absolutely no work to distract me, I had the pleasure of marathon-ing through House of Sand & Fog in a matter of 3 days! Yep, I’m happy to report I have finished the book.

If you want to know how desperate people can get and what desperation can drive a person to do, this is the book for you. I’ll be honest, towards the latter part it started dragging a bit with the same determination portrayed again and again for the 3 characters. What really kept me going is being unable to figure out how it would end. As I neared the end I figured there was only one way for it to end (don’t worry I won’t share it here and spoil it for any wannabe readers) but the book surprised me with its ruthless end.

I still don’t know with whom my sympathy lies – the immigrant who wanted to give his family a better life, a woman who was simply a victim of circumstances and not ready to let go or the hopeless romantic (really hopeless) who went to serious lengths to make his lover happy.

The Boston Globe said of the book, “A page-turner with a beating heart.” Really, I couldn’t agree more.

Yep, definitely watching the movie.

Wow!

You can strip a man of everything, all his belongings and wealth could be gone, the ego will remain. This book is a reminder of that. The two main characters are absolutely opposites, in more ways than one. Kathy Nicolo is a down and out woman, working menial jobs cleaning people’s homes. She lives alone, used to be a cocaine addict but for the past 3 years is now clean. Her husband, Nick, left her because she wanted children and he didn’t want the responsibility. Each time she describes her situation, her past and things that happened to her you wonder how she cannot see where she is going wrong. But when life isn’t going the way you want it, I guess, that’s what usually happens. Just when you think everything that could possibly go wrong has gone awry, something else manages to screw up. I’m quick to judge Kathy and also feel a certain disdain for her because she isn’t solving her problems but really haven’t we all been there? So how can I judge her?

On the other hand is Behrani, a high ranking ex-officer from the Iranian air force. Here is a man who cannot let go of the past. (Again, something we all are guilty of exhibiting at some point in our lives). He cannot seem to forget his luxurious past life and all the comforts it afforded him. So much so, that despite of living in a foreign land where no one knows him, he goes great lengths to keep up appearances. He doesn’t seem to understand why the Americans are so free, living wherever, however and do not care to judge. He keeps up appearances; his wife keeps up appearances so that their community can think they are doing well and are rich and bountiful. He is constantly afraid of being judged by his family, his newly married daughter, her new family. But really what kind of love is that which judges?

Needless to say I’m totally hooked on this emotionally charged, drama filled book. The more I read it, the more I love the title. Sheer genius! Two people desperately clinging to this house but like sand and fog it's slipping through their fingers!

Fiction matters

I’m bending the rules and instead of drama picking up a fiction book. And the final book for the month could be non-fiction. I’ll see how I’m feeling and what I’m in the mood for.

On Thursday I saw Nicholas Kristof outside the New York Times building which made me want to read the revolutionary book, Half the Sky. But by Saturday morning, I changed my mind again. Visiting the library on Friday didn’t help either. Every book I was in the mood for was either checked out, in transit or new! (New is the library's way of informing you the book isn't on the shelf yet).

So I went home, looking desperately at the bookshelf and saw House of Sand and Fog staring back at me. For the past few months, I’ve been meaning to read it but saved it for a later time. Now, the time has come.

House of Sand and Fog, by Andre Dubus III, is a suspense book of three fragile but determined people who get entangled in some sort of escalating crisis. The novel is set in California and features Colonel Behrani, once a wealthy man from Iran, now struggling to make ends meet. Kathy Nicolo, a troubled young woman and Sheriff Lester Burdon, a married man who finds himself falling in love with Kathy.

The novel adapted into a movie, with the same name, starring Ben Kingsley and Jennifer Connolly was released in 2003.

Have any of you read the book or seen the movie? Let me know your impressions. If I like the book enough, I might see the movie. (Usually prefer that order, since most books converted into movies are such a letdown!)

This & That

I had to share this. Simply took my breath away to realize such beauty can be found  in impending destruction!

Fishermen rescuing their boats before Tropical storm Karl arrives in Mexico.
Courtesy: BBC



On another note, here are some nuggets from “SantaLand Diaries”. As I mentioned earlier, SantaLand Diaries was based off Sedaris’ experience working as an elf around Christmas time at Macy’s in New York.

“I’d like to work for UPS because, in my opinion, it’s an opportunity to showcase my substantial leadership skills in one of the finest private delivery companies this country has seen since the Pony Express!” His thought when applying for a job as a driver at UPS.

“I said I liked the uniforms and the UPS interviewer turned my application facedown on his desk and said, “Give me a break.”

“The woman at Macy’s asked, “Would you be interested in full-time elf or evening and weekend elf?” I said, “Full-time elf.” I have an appointment next Wednesday at noon. I am a thirty-three year old man applying for a job as an elf.”

“I’m certain that I failed my drug test. My urine had roaches and stems floating in it, but still they hired me because I am short, five feet five inches. Almost everyone they hired is short. One is a dwarf.”

“A spotted child visited Santa, climbed up on his lap, and expressed a wish to recover from chicken pox. Santa leapt up.”

“Santa’s thrust this afternoon was the boredom of his nine-year relationship. He would wave the children good-bye and then turn to me, saying, “I want an affair, goddamn it – just a little one, just something to get me through the next four or five years.”

Jesus Shaves is another funny essay in the book. It is simply HILARIOUS when you listen to him narrating it. His voice makes all the difference! “He nice, the Jesus.” LOL! Enjoy it!

Time to pick the next book.

Life goes on

Living in New York I have seen my share of homeless people. Everywhere you look, there is a swarm of homeless men and women dragging their heels along with their carts (stored in which are all of their possessions), a rather sad sight, exacerbated by the recession. I pass an old man every evening at Port Authority and he rouses in me fleeting guilt about my inability to help him.

Perched up on the side walk, early this morning, I saw an old homeless black man kneeling on a piece of cardboard against a wooden table hanging with one leg and partly supported by a shopping cart which no doubt held his possessions. On this table, were a crystal cross and the Holy Bible. The man kneeling with his hands in prayer position took me by surprise. Not because the homeless don’t pray but because I’ve never seen one and had never thought of the homeless as the praying kind. Am I daft? I don’t think so.

I continued walking towards work and passed a pizza shop. By the window were cooks, hand rolling the fresh dough, preparing toppings and getting ready to put the pizza in the brick oven with the fresh smell of bread wafting out on the street. A perfectly gorgeous fall morning!

Somehow that homeless man with the crystal cross stayed with me. I don’t yet know why or what about him struck me so much. Knowing how we all go to God when things turn sour for us, the homeless man had the most to pray for. But as I walked away from him, I took a piece of him with me. Something is tugging away at my heart from the sight I saw.  I don’t know what he was asking for (maybe the most obvious) or if he was even asking for anything but I wish he receives it. As for me, not knowing his eventual fate, some peace of mind will suffice.

EPA dates

Last night was a revelation of sorts. After dealing with bags, sweaters and the seemingly unending commute I finally got home thinking there had to be some food for my ailing soul. Instead my husband (I should state here that I love him very much) decided to put up his feet and wait on me to get home. No, seriously that was his answer when I inquired why he hadn't made any dinner.

So we decided to go out for a dinner date at an EPA super fund site meeting. Oh didn't I mention? I live above a nice thick layer of arsenic and coal tar. For those who don't know what these are, simply put, prolonged contact with them can kill you. Coal tar is highly carcinogenic and arsenic is a whole other tale!

The project manager at the super fund meeting

The one good thing about this EPA meeting was they had food. At first I was shy to get food (instead I should feel entitled. For making me live above a bed of these lethal whatnots and not informing me they existed, I deserved more than food from these environmentalists!) but when the endless drone of politics and what's going on with the site and why don't you clean it up took it's toll on me I ate some cheese, wraps and fruit. One thing I should say - I almost never, ever pass up on free food.

In the midst of my wonderful evening with these EPA guys I was told that the arsenic is sort-of spread and sort-of contained. Unable to understand this watch your step otherwise you'll owe millions talk, my husband decided to cut the b.s. and ask if the water was exposed to these metals and if there were any health hazards to the residents? No, we were confidently told but when he decided to press them more they all jumped on him like a pack of hungry wolves. And here I thought I was getting free food.

Finally at 10pm we decided we'd had enough. With my belly full, I got home and decided to head for the shower before I heard a whimpering sound behind me, "what about dinner?"

I'm done with 2 essays from the book, the first hilarious, second very sad! I'll write some nuggets tomorrow.

WHY? PLEASE TELL ME WHY?

Now I'm not prejudicial to any race, religion, caste or creed least to say my own kin. But when you are standing next to someone for 45 minutes and the person cannot stop moving, hitting you with their bag (with an oh, I'm sorry afterwards. Seriously how many times are you going to hit me with that blasted bag of yours?), walking to and fro to see if the bus had arrived (as if the bus is going to arrive quickly because she is anxious) and thinking to change buses! My goodness, what a pain in the ass! This Indian woman wouldn't stop at anything to annoy the living day lights out of me. Reading a lot about spirituality and the essence to keep my emotions in check even when provoked and in face of chaos, I tried so hard until that nut job got under my skin! At some point she and another lady ahead of me probably thought I was crazy since I was laughing to David Sedaris talk about his experiences of being an elf at Macy's but after a while his stark humor couldn't stop me from being annoyed at this woman and her bags!

And then when the bus finally arrived, she had the nerve to smile at me as if we were friends!

I hate port authority and the people that come through it, the selfishness that emanates from them where they think there are the only ones wanting to get home with no one around them in any similar need. The smallest catastrophe at that dumb place leads to deluge of people flooded there and leading to nothing but annoyance for each other. So why was I stuck there for so long? Who knows!

I would have been better off going to my company's happy hour for some free drinks and absolutely no vegetarian food, instead of subjecting myself to this abominable torture. Yes they scheduled it for a Monday, why? Because it would be the cheapest day to do so. But oh wait, as I write this those poor bastards are getting rained on. Yep they are at an outdoor patio.

Finally the bus arrived but the moment I sat down a woman started her hysterics in Spanish, wildly waving the bus driver. What was wrong with her? I still don't have the privilege of knowing. Then an older lady came and sat next to me who started fidgeting with her sweater. In a bid to put it on she got trapped, numerous times, in her own bag. Another bag features in my prime time drama-filled commute.

Total commute time: 2.05 hours. Normal commute time: 45 minutes.

Holidays on Ice

So with 49 weeks to go, for humor this week I turn to the hilarious David Sedaris. When I was putting together this reading theme and came to humor I really couldn’t think of anyone else. I kept laughing in my head thinking about some of his lines from his previous work that I’ve read. Needless to say my entries this week will be laughing nuggets from Holidays on Ice.

Sedaris is funny. Really, really funny! He is that laugh out loud kind of humor and the thing is he writes about things we see every day around us and really have experienced in some form. He just makes it humorous. He simply turns to his family, his life, his experiences and some daily droll for side-splitting humor. His humor has been called “autobiographical and self-deprecating”.

Holidays on Ice was published in December 1997 and is a collection of some published and some new essays. SantaLand Diaries, one of the essays in the book (perhaps the best one) is Sedaris' experiences working as an elf at Macy's department store. The essay was originally broadcast on NPR, and is also included in Sedaris' first book Barrel Fever.

I’m so excited to start this book! (Yes, the work is still pouring in).

The Creation Word

Rumi’s poems were a lot of fun! I say were because I finished the stock of 90 poems earlier this morning. I might pick up something short term to read between now and Sunday or watch some mindless TV. We’ll see, but in the mean time here is a gem.

THE CREATION WORD

Three days now it has been like this.

I dip my pitcher in the fountain.

It fills with blood.

The rose garden is all desert

thorns and stone.

I chant spells to lure the genii back

into the bottle. Nothing happens.

A beloved’s frown destroys the lover.

Come back. Brighten my eye,

even if I do not deserve it.

My loving asks, What have I done?

A voice replies, Do not look to yourself.

The cause is beyond every here and now.

The life gift is given

and then taken away.

It is not for us to know why, or how.

Grace comes with the creation word, Be.

That gate opens without hesitating.

Between the push of buh

and the smooth launch of ee,

there is an infinite moment

when everything happens.

Who are the real animals?

You know how as we get closer to September 11, every year, there is some sort of a book or a movie or something else released to remind us of the atrocities that were committed? So last night, I was switching between watching Kim Clijsters advance to the semis and a movie called My trip to Al-Qaeda on HBO. I first saw it for only a few moments and found it really dull so I flipped back to the US Open. But then curiosity got the better of me and I gave it another shot.

My trip to Al-Qaeda is a movie about a journalist who is investigating the Taliban and its allies while maintaining a neutral tone about them – I guess a very hard thing to do. This journalist, Lawrence Wright, is actually a pretty bright fellow; who wrote a very interesting book called The Looming Tower. 

A banner predicting
Afghanistan's fate so far
 hangs at its museum

Anyway, so in the last 30 minutes that the movie had remaining he was talking about the Taliban and how relentlessly tormenting those guys are. He also tackled some issues from the Bush administration about torture and wire tapping. But what really saddened me was when he talked about the museum and the zoo. As all ancient cities, Kabul too had a museum which had some pretty cool relics. So the Taliban decide they don’t want any more of that art—it’s anti-Muslim—entered the museum with a sledge hammer and destroyed it all! Art that was preserved from the time of Alexander the great and Genghis Khan! You know how old that is!?!? Then art that couldn’t be sledge hammered, they blew it up. Remember the Bamiyan Buddhas? Those were only from the 6th century, grrrrr!

Marjan, the blind lion

Then they move on to the zoo and decide to kill the animals. One of them enters the enclosure of a lone, old lion, Marjan and starts dancing in front of him singing “who’s the lion now”. The lion bite off the bastard’s arm; another Taliban guy saw this and threw a grenade in the enclosure blinding the lion. Another one went and cut off a bear’s nose. Why? Because his beard isn’t long enough, he said. The only 3 animals who survived the brutality were Marjan, the blind lion, the now nose less bear and a wild boar. Everyone else was massacred by these unholy, sacrilegious, vile, wicked bastards!

It boils my blood to see them destroy relics, murder animals, treat women like property and be overall inhumanely sadistic. But, however heretical they maybe, burning their Koran as a way to stand up to their crimes is not the way to go. I can totally understand the hatred and animosity people feel against them (the Taliban are rampant in India) but a great soul once said “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” They may treat everything around them without any reverence but if we decide to do the same, what is really the difference between us and them? Burning a Koran is perhaps the first step towards adopting an attitude that ultimately leads to disrespecting the other greater things we venerate. Lawrence Wright mentioned in his film last night that more Muslims are being killed by Al-Qaeda and its atrocities than any other means. A Muslim FBI agent, Soufan, stood up to the torture being committed by Bush and his administration and used calm, peaceful, culture centric methods to extract information from the terrorists captured. Information that was actually real and helped the forces track down other terrorists and prevent many attacks. As much as we think building schools, educating women and spreading a general awareness of other countries and cultures is the slow way; that might be our only choice if we want any chance at a harmonious coexistence. We’ll never know until we try. Isn't peace worth that much?

Twist to the tale

Last week I mentioned I was thinking about doing some interesting things with the list. I will still be reading but I shall try to give it some sort of direction. So I’ve come up with a theme idea. Each month shall have a theme and in turn each quarter shall have an over-arching theme. So quarter 3 will be about entertainment in which I shall tackle fun subjects such as poetry, humor, drama and some fiction. For this week, I have started off with poetry. I’ve been too busy with eating some really delicious food and drinking lots of ginger wine to provide an intro to the book but I did start reading it (since Monday 12.30 am).

Coming back to the themes, I will introduce the quarter and monthly themes at the beginning of each quarter. The book I pick will only be revealed at the beginning of the week. However, I’m open to suggestions so if there is a particular book you have in mind for a given theme, feel free to share.

So this week is poetry and I’m reading Rumi. For a lot of you who don’t know who he is here is some back ground on the great poet.

Rumi, born in 1207, was a poet, theologian, jurist and Sufi mystic. There is no proper consensus on where he was born, some say in the region that is now Afghanistan, others Tajikistan and some Persia (now Iran). Rumi is a descriptive name meaning "the Roman" since he lived most of his life in an area called Rum because it was once ruled by the Eastern Roman Empire. Rumi's works are written in the New Persian language and his importance is considered to transcend national and ethnic borders. His original works are widely read in their original language across the Persian-speaking world but translations are very popular in other countries. His poetry has influenced Persian literature as well as Urdu, Punjabi and other Pakistani languages. In 2007, he was described as the "most popular poet in America”.

The book I’m reading is called “Rumi: Bridge to the Soul". Translated by Coleman Barks, it was introduced with 90 poems, not translated hitherto; most not even published in any form, in 2007 the year of Rumi’s 800th birthday. (Which was a great big deal. Even UNESCO was involved and all sorts of stamps commemorating him were introduced in Afghanistan and other countries that revere him). The Bridge, in the title, refers to the Khajou bridge in Iran the author visited in 2006 which promoted this book. The “soul bridge” refers to Rumi who crosses cultures and religions and brings us all together irrespective of caste, creed or religion.

Now, I know poetry is not everyone’s cup of tea. (I couldn’t read it at all until I read Hafiz), but if you are even a tiny bit interested, Rumi’s work is really worth exploring. Most of it is readily available online. 

Of the 90 poems, I’ve already finished 25. Here is a snippet from one of them, called Earsight.

Do you want the sweetness of food

or the sweetness of the one

who put the sweetness in food?

There are amazing things in the ocean,

and there is one who is the ocean.

Think of a carpenter’s alert comprehension

when he builds a house.

Now think of the one

who creates consciousness.

It takes skill to extract oil from a nut.

Now consider how sight lives in the eye.

And on it goes to absolute bliss and peace.

Journey to find yourself

"If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it." That's how Song of Solomon concludes. One of the most liberating thoughts I've read in a while. The book starts off with Macon Dead's birth and how throughout his life he tries to fly, literally! It outlines his life and how he thinks he is always the butt of people trying to kill him, how people want his life and how he wants his family and his friend (Guitar) to share their happiness with him but he doesn't want to partake in their sorrow.

Throughout his life he wants to be a grown-up but does not want any of the responsibility that comes along with it. He protects his mother from his father's anger but does not want to know what propelled his father towards such hatred for his mother. Macon listens to his mother rant about what his father did to her, how he left her untouched after his sisters were born, how she was craving for the touch of a man and how she had to "trick" him to conceive Macon. But he doesn't understand it. Through most of the book, the reader feels sorry for him almost to slap him and say, "dude, what don't you get? how are you so oblivious to everything around you?"

Then the book takes a turn around and off he goes in search of gold. Here, Morrison does a brilliant job of using a corollary -- he searches for gold but until the time he sits down in the jungle and Guitar tries to kill him it doesn't dawn on him that the gold he is looking for is internal and not a precious metal. His search ends when he finds himself. He realizes the value of his mother and her suffering, his father and why he clung on to his past, his sisters and their consternation for him, Hagar's dedication to him, Pilate's love for him and his folly in not valuing it.

He understands in order to live happily, to enjoy your life you have to cherish the people that come along in it. Macon Dead travels far away to come home in style and finally becomes the man he only thought he was.

Slow progress

I've been MIA for a couple of days with the long weekend coming up. But a quick update the reading status -- I have about 120 pages to go. This is going to be hard because I'm enjoying a long weekend away from home with family, doing late nights over delicious food and lots of alcohol! This weekend has suddenly become an interactive, social weekend and threatens to throw me off track. In all honesty, it looks increasingly difficult to achieve the goal I set for myself but I'm not giving up.

A word on the book, just one -- sublime!

List of 11 demands by hostage taker

I just had to share this. James Lee took some folks as hostage earlier today at the Discovery Channel headquarters. His list of 11 demands is a must-read. Freaking nut job! Comments on the article are hilarious too!!

Engrossing!

I was long under the impression all Nobel laureates wrote in the Salman Rushdie language (I know he hasn’t been awarded one yet, perhaps because even they can’t figure out what he is trying to say) obscure to little brains like mine. But Toni Morrison turned my theory upside down. Song of Solomon is a wonderfully written novel, not only is it beautiful lyrical prose but also at times very funny. She portrays her characters vividly, but not so much that you cannot cultivate your own image, rendering them distinctly human. It seems like an extraordinary piece of work; despite using such simple language it is exceedingly rich.

The story is fast moving, but not one where you cannot keep pace with. It almost feels like reading Dan Brown or Steig Larsson where there is a compulsive desire to read that one extra page. So far it is irresistible and I cannot put it down.

Btw, I have a feeling I'm busted and my boss knows about my blog! How else should I explain me being busy?

Or perhaps it's shortlived and I will be back to Project B-52 in full force shortly.