Best weekend ever!

Included so many of my favorite things: spending time with family and friends, snowboarding, smores on an open fire, Taco Bell, a hot tub, a pool, getting rocket-launched off of a bed (thanks Sweta!), mind-numbing TV shows, great conversations, new underwear, you name it.

Highlights:

1. Snowboarding: I can now do spins! Also, Vish let me teach him...he's a rockstar and such a quick learner.

2. Swimming: (Confession: I actually daydream about it if it's been too long) Got to swim for the first time in over a year! Did 102 laps (51, if you count there/back as 1). So satisfied- should hold me over for a while.

Now, some news:

1. I leave for NY tomorrow, then I go back to India for a couple of months to finish out a few projects, including the films. But I will be back in time for the Shamrock Shuffle (now a family tradition), if anyone wants to run it (8k) with me.

2. I've probably got a job with Chi Public Schools
when I get back.

3. And, contrary to popular belief, in comparision to my brothers, I am actually the normal one:

Activism, Insanity, and Waste

Instead of just the usual New Years Resolutions, this year I start by looking back. So...

Lessons of 2005-

1. Angry activism doesn't effect change for the long term.

Over this year, I met a lot of rageful activists, sincerely passionate about whatever their issue or cause. What I am learning is that angry activism can spread their anger throughout the masses and inspire immediate action, but their movement isn't sustainable. (Don't get me wrong- there is a lot to be angry about: economic disparity, lack of access to healthcare, children' s rights, ongoing systems of racial oppression, economic and linguistic colonialism, environmental apathy, IMF arrogance, the not-so-separate Church and State.. the list goes on). But action rooted in and inspired by anger cannot last; it isn't productive. No one likes being angry. It creates bitter and hostile people who are perpetually looking for the next fight, the next victory and always looking to label the next oppressor, or antagonist. It doesn't work long term. Anger isn't condusive to coming up with constructive, productive solutions.

2. Introspection is necessary, but can go too far.

For the majority of 2005, I was living in India. Many of the people I met had the deliberate goal of wanting to understand themselves better. It requires a lot of introspection, a lot of looking at the parts of oneself that aren't so great. It's hard- but it's also addictive. There is no way I can begin to encapsulate how much I have discovered about myself. Sounds hokey, I know. One of the biggest revelations I had was about how much I had yet to learn. But it's hard to question such fundamental things about yourself and your purpose without skating the edge of insanity. For instance, Viral, a good friend of mine who founded CharityFocus, recently finished an advanced Vipassana course, a month-long, solitary, silent mediation. How many of us could do that without going crazy...in a room by ourselves, without talking to anyone for a month? But he is one of the most grounded people I have ever met and he did it. He's so unconditionally happy with himself and can make sense of any situation. He's also one of the most positive men I have ever met. The strength of his foundation is definitely something I strive for.

3. We live in a culture of waste.

I don't really need to elaborate on this one. Water, food, electricity, clothes, you name it... just look at the amount of plastic bottles in your bathroom right now. Or the plastic bags for fruit at the grocery store. Or the unbelievable amounts of food pitched at restaurants. It makes me sad that not many people seem to notice or care because we are all just so used to it.

So, on the the constructive part:

Resolutions-

1. Be more proactive.
I am not a victim of my circumstances.
2. Take better care of myself.
Cook healthier. Run. Swim. Find opportunities and follow through-head off anxiety attacks. Write.
3. Stop fearing uncertainty.
Trust life and the consequences of my choices.
4. (last but not least) Run the marathon.
No broken legs this time. No leaving the country. No malaria. No excuses this year.

From La Frontera/ Borderlands

I walk through the hole in the fence
to the other side.
Under my fingers I feel the gritty wire
rusted by 139 years
of the salty breath of the sea.

Beneath the iron sky
Mexican children kick their soccer ball across,
run after it, entering the US

I press my hand to the steel curtain-
chainlink fence crowned with rolled barbed wire-
rippling from the sea where Tijuana touches San Diego
unrolling over mountains
and plains
and deserts,
this "Tortilla Curtain" turning into el rio Grande
flowing down to the flatlands
of the Magic Valley of South Texas
its mouth emptying into the Gulf.

1,950 mile-long open wound
dividing a pueblo, a culture,
running down the length of my body,
staking fence rods in my flesh,
splits me splits me
me raja me raja

This is my home
this thin edge of
barbwire.

But the skin of the earth is seamless.
The sea cannot be fenced,
el mar does not stop at borders.
To show the white man what she thought of his
arrogance,
Yemaya blew that wire fence down.

This land was Mexican once,
was Indian always
and is.
And will be again.

--Gloria Anzaldua

Remind me to punch myself next time I complain about something

Fragile life makes light of quake, 64 days later

MUZAFFARABAD: A woman has been recovered alive from the debris of her flattened home near Muzaffarabad, 64 days after the October 8 earthquake, medics said. Forty-year-old Naqsha Bibi was rescued from the rubble of the wrecked Kamser refugee camp by some people who were digging to retrieve the bodies of their kin on Sunday evening, said Dr Hafizur Rehman of Pakistan Islamic Medical Association (PIMA) hospital.

She was rushed to PIMA facility where her condition is stated to be out of danger. Doctors say she does not bear any visible wound or cut on her body. However, she is malnourished and 80 percent of muscles have withered. "She has been admitted to the intensive care unit of the hospital and we are closely monitoring her condition," said Doctor Hafiz, the incharge of PIMA Field Surgical Hospital. He said: "We have started administering liquid to control the dehydration she is suffering from. She is improving and we do hope she will survive." "It is miraculous that she survived two months under the debris and without eating or drinking," said Dr Riaz, another physician of the PIMA. The villagers who dug the woman out said pieces of rotten food were found in the hole, and that she might have survived by drinking rainwater, Hafeez said. Over-200 people died in the Kamser refugee camp, 6 kms north west of Muzaffarabad, due to the October 8 tremblor.

Progress on the home front

Starting to answer the 'what now?' question has been the reason I fell off the face of the planet for a bit.

I've completely thrown myself into applying to jobs and grad school, heart and soul. (A HUGE thank you to everyone that helped me make the deadline today!!) Finding cool opportunities, meeting inspiring people, and, as always, so impressed with all the unbelievable things that my friends and family are up to (though they can never see it themselves).

Highlights:

1. Went to a forum organized by some amazing women who have all started their own things (dance companies, publishing, galleries, music tours) and are making a living doing what they love (all Indian, all artists -- I didn't know that it actually happens!) My jaw was dropped the entire time.

2. Crashed on my brother's apartment floor for a week to get advice from my old professors (weird) (luckily some ppl I know and love (that are my own age) live in town).

3. Chased a FedEx truck (to its main distribution center) (near Midway airport) (with my mom) (during a snowstorm).

4. Surrounded by, and super grateful for, all the crazy-inspiring people that push me to challenge myself. You guys rock.

so, long story short: no, I am not "home eating Cheetoes" as my cousin likes to believe.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. :)

"People who do not break things first will never learn to create anything."

It's a Tagalog proverb. The vague type of wise saying that can mean whatever you need it to mean ... in order to push you in the direction in which you are subconsciously pushing yourself in anyway.

A good friend of mine once told me that you should never forget that the world is a really big place. With globalization making the world smaller and smaller, it's hard to remember that there is also infinite room for possibility. Only our minds' self- imposed limits tell us otherwise.

Since I've been back in the states, I've realized that all of my friends and family are in really different spaces. Well on their way to becoming academics, doctors, activists, entreprenuers, nurses, architects, graphic designers, corporate successes, mothers, husbands, artists, lawyers, pharmacists... My brother's graduating this year (AAAAAA!!!!) with poli sci and history. My cousin's majoring in voice performance and piano. Everyone is all over the place (a fact that I love). I find myself wondering what category I fall into- in their heads, as well as my own. But what's crazy to think, is how different our perspectives are. Each of our respective choices recreate our environments, which, in turn, re-inform our lives.

I'm not making sense. Here's what I mean: when I was doing improv, the people I was surrounded by were all actors and sketch writers. In that circle, it was normal to wait tables (to have the necessary flexibility to make auditions), to not have health insurance, to be living flamboyant lives on next to no money: always waiting for a break. It was insecure, but they all lived in flux waiting for the opportunity to be what they wanted to be. Their vision kept them afloat; unstable, but beautiful in theory.

When I worked corporate at the bank, I was surrounded by people who had sacrificed the lives they had pictured for themselves (police officers, high school teachers for low-income hispanic neighborhoods, fathers who had time for their children, musicians, a broadway singer), because they made a ton of money, which apparently made up for their sacrifice. Our conversations at lunch were about interest rates and loans and investments- money and how to best make more of it. It was stable, and super comfortable, but it was slowly making me numb to everything I used to be passionate about.

At my internships, the focus was on impressing the people I needed to impress to get ahead. I had to give the greatest presentations, the most thorough research, the most captivating powerpoint speechs. I learned a lot, for sure, but it was about selling things I didn't necessarily believe.

When I started this fellowship, I was surrounded and supported by people who dared me to think bigger. Whenever I failed and fell flat on my face, I was helped up and pushed back out into the field. Conversations were about what it means to be resiliant or accountable or passionate. No one was getting paid, no one really got any recognition (outside of the press we got for the 'idea' of what we were doing), but everyone was inspired and challenged, everyday.

Maybe it's lofty idealism.. but maybe it's also necessary. Maybe we trap ourselves in our own lives. Loans and fear and mortgages and unhealthy relationships and other people's expectations and ... all the things that stop us. And then we give up, "because it's too late." What does that even mean??? When is it ok to stop trying?? I'm 25 and I feel like I am just beginning to understand all the things I am capable of doing. When my dad graduated with his masters, a 90 year old woman graduated with him. When Shiv went to study Carnatic violin, one of the masters she studied alongside was 80 (the woman had started playing when she was 75!)

Am I running away from responsibilty? Am I a flake? Maybe, depending on who decides. But many of the people that inspire me could've been called flakes, too: (bill drayton, anjali desai, anand, ruth forman, maya angelou, kelly tsai, guri mehta, pavi, anar patel, my mom .... the list goes on) All I know is that, to do justice to the potential and opportunity and privilege that I have been afforded, I want to make something substantial of myself.

The question is, though it makes the whole conversation circular, what does 'substantial' mean, and whose definition matters?

From her essay "Confronting Empire"

What can we do?

We can hone our memory, we can learn from our history. We can continue to build public opinion until it becomes a deafening roar...

We can reinvent civil disobedience in a million different ways. In other words, we can come up with a million ways of becoming a collective pain in the ass...

Our strategy should be not only to confront Empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe.

The corporate relvolution will collapse if we refuse to busy what they are selling- their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability.

Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them.

Arundhati Roy, February 2003.
An Ordinary Person’s Guide to Empire
(This book is amazing.)

A journey ends as another begins.

said my goodbyes to everyone. someone unexpected cried (b/c i guess you never really know who notices you). packed up and headed to the airport: me and shiv, dharmesh, arch and Lakshmi, shiv's kids. boarded plane. laughed, cried and remembered the everythings over the past 15 months. fell asleep on Shiv on the flight to mumbai. bought expensive mumbai airport earrings b/c we could. hugged shiv, who has been my rock this year, goodbye. boarded flight to Frankfort, passed out. woke up sad: it finally hit that shiv and me, the journeys we've taken together for so long, have finally split ways. the woman next to me on the flight was from milano. practiced my italian- still on point- this cheered me up. baggage claim took an hour. I finally left the gate... hoping my mom remembered my flight number - i hadn't talked to her in over a week. scanned the sea of faces for someone familiar- no one. a few seconds go by... and then i hear my name, being screamed, on the other side of the partition. a good deal of my family is there... over 15 people. (I am glad that airport security is ok with this.) Next thing i know, there are balloons tied to me, flowers, a welcome home sign complete with old pictures of me when i had an 80's haircut (although, in my defense, it was the 80's back then). A tornado of hugs; I am loved. I am home.

It's great to be back.

Forward thinking

All of our dreams and hopes are placed on the shoulders of our youth. They must think, as we have, that we must plan changes not in terms of minutes, hours, weeks or years, but by generations.
Each generation takes one more step up the ladder to liberation and humanism. We made some changes to open those doors, now it’s your turn to keep them open. To study what has happened in history and what is taking place in the world today. Evaluate, figure out what is noble, what is truth, what has meaning? And then take your position as vanguard, the leaders, to use your professional skills and knowledge to change this society for the better. Never let the world change you. Change the world. It’s yours.



- (quote by Rodolfo Corky Gonzales, Pics of Anup and G-rav)

Wouldn't you know; they don't put their mailing address on the website...

To _______, Head of Corporate Responsibility, McDonald’s Corporation:

I am an Indian-American born and raised in Chicago; I have been living and working in India for the past 15 months. I ate at the McDonald’s on Ashram Road in Ahmedabad, Gujarat for the first time yesterday (November 10, 2005). The food is exactly as I had remember at home, but I am absolutely shocked at the amount of packaging McDonald’s uses at one of their Indian franchises.

In a country plagued by a culture of littering and mismanaged garbage disposal, I am surprised and considerably disappointed at the amount of garbage your corporation is directly (and seemingly shamelessly) producing.

I understand that McDonald’s is not the only culprit, nor the greatest contributor to the huge amounts of waste produced in this city, country… even globally. But, as a part of coming into another country, and as a trailblazer in global marketing, you should set an example. You have a responsibility to not only set the high standard that I would hope you would hold yourself up to, but also a responsibility to understand how you can contribute to the betterment of a country beyond increasing your profit margins.

You have the resources, technology and capacity to find creative, resourceful ways to use much less packaging. The solution would likely also save money currently spent toward creating and disposing of the current amounts of packaging used. It would not hurt your brand; in fact, showing that you care for and respect the environment in which you work can only help your business.

I look forward to your reply and thank you so much for your time.

Sincerely,
RHS

(If anyone can get their hands on their corporate mailing address, can you pass it along?--> Thanks!)

Happy Freakin Diwali and Eid!!!

I can't even begin to explain how much is going through my mind right now.... overload. Sensory and otherwise. Diwali is inexplicably beautiful though. Rows of lit divas along every street. The work and design efforts put into rangoli despite it's inherently temporary-ness... new year rituals that finally make sense to me... (did I mention I can put a sari on by myself?!?!... meeeeep) I am all out of words... so I'll write about this crazy vivid dream I had a few nights ago (I get really excited when I dream in color)....

I am in Anytown, India, hitch hiking a ride home. I get a ride in a jeep; one of the men sitting next to me starts getting fresh, I make a scene, the driver kicks said guy off the jeep. Later, I end up at this guy (freshmaster funk)’s house because, apparently, I am really good friends with his daughter, who’s maybe 12. She is beautiful, despite her wild, tangled hair and her ragged clothing. She has an easy smile despite how shy she seems. Her mom has passed away long back, so it’s her, her father and her grandparents. I start talking to her about why she doesn’t go to school, and her father rushes her into the bathroom to take a bath. Then he comes up to me and asks me if I understand Urdu (the family is apparently Muslim). I tell him, yes, I understand it.... and that I also understand Hindi, Arabic and any other language he tries to use to tell his daughter that she can’t go to school because it is against their samaj (community). He says, ‘good, then we understand one another.’

(this is when it starts to get weird)

So then I am sitting silently in the main room with her grandparents. Her older cousin walks into the room and she starts doing somersaults in the air. I am wondering what in the world is going on; the grandparents don’t even look up. Then this girl, my friend, walks in, bathed and clean, but still in the same ragged clothes and the same tangled hair. The grandparents say, ‘Aren’t you going to school?’ Suddenly the girl starts spinning, hair flying all crazy (not scary; it looks a lot like a scene from Fantasia). When she finally stops spinning, she’s wearing thick, black lawyer glasses, hair pinned up, nicely dressed and ready, evidently, to leave for school. The cousin (somersaulter) is dressed and ready to go with her. Then the father walks in, and this same 'force' (who I assume is the girl’s mom) beats up the guy, similar to the last scene of Ghost, but not that bad- b/c I don’t like violent dreams…the grandparents don’t even look up.

Weird.

Then, in the space between asleep and awake, I have this thought: No matter how much work I do, in the end I’m only laying groundwork. The real changes are going to come from the people in the community themselves.

And I woke up. (I’m dreaming about my work. I’m in trouble.)

Ah, badmash...