Some rumblings

In today's op-ed in the Times, David Brooks writes about Louann Brizendine’s book, “The Female Brain.” I have not read the book yet. But it is quite coincidental how lately I have run into conversations with people, I have encountered exactly the point he makes. That people by and large are trying their level best to honor ancient stereotypes and appreciate gender differences. Now, one group drinks the religious juice and sermonizes what Jesus said. And another group looks into science and combinations of chemicals and hormones to prove that women are nurturing and caring and what men are, and by its very design they are meant to be behave differently. My take is this social change is a part of a process. People have simple gotten sick and tired of the mavericks starting from Freud to the hippies of the 60s who propounded new ways of living - either by altering your own thinking or by altering your environment. I don't care much what the instrinsic truth or validity of such studies. What matters is whether it works or not. The philosophy and pschychology that gave rise to feminism and other weird ideas have not provided happines and have failed. So let's try something different. And a generation later we may find something else.

Cab ride and a schism

Few months back I wrote about a cab ride which educated me about Ghana. Two days back I was back inside a cab on my way to Dulles. Looking at the cabbie, I almost felt a momentary deja vu. But before my hopes of another possibility of a sweet ride to some African country could take shape, my ears heard, "I am from Calacinas." Once he saw my face distrught and puzzled he immediately clarified,"North Carolina. That's what I call it" And then he began. What followed was a tirade - thoughts that I read in papers but rarely hear on a one to one conversation. For the simple reason - that I don't hang around such minds at work or for pleasure. This, I thought, is the beauty of a cab ride. I get to get captive company of people I usually not encounter.

I was quiet and spoke just enough to get him to keep talking. He loved to hear himself talk. And I loved it too. Rare enough, but there comes a time when a man gets a clear ground where he can speak out with all his heart. At times, even with all his throat and lungs, when enthusiasm translates to intensity, and intensity shows up in a constant spray of saliva - wetting your surroundings. I did not mind. Yes, that's where I took him to. After all how often do you get a black man speak out his mind - devoid of political correctness, bereft of concerns about what his black brothers are going to think. Sure enough, this only comes in an encounter with a perfect stranger.

I wish I could write everything he said. Besides being inappropriate, I dont think it makes any point. But I wish to mark out few of the interesting things he spoke. I was most interested in the words he was using. For example, he thought eradication of slavery is an illusion. "We were all in chains for many years. Lincoln unchained us . True, but he knew that we were like the bird who after living inside the cage for long has forgotten to fly." The same thing has happened to the black people. They stayed back where they were used to. "The minds of black people are ignorant and are in chains. They have lost the gift of imagination, of thinking through things, they are servile." Chains as a physical object it has become a mental abstraction which is by far more dangerous for the entire black community. What he spoke about reminded me of a debate I participated in many years back on whether Indian independence is still an illusion. An event that is marked on red ink on calendars, but it our minds we as Indians are still servile and forgotten to fly.

Religion, he says, "is a diversion that keeps people away from reality." People are mostly foolish, and especially blacks have sort of plays second fiddle to the whites who seem to have got the church and the religious machinery all in their control. He passed on some interesting anecdotes. "Black people like bwon ball games, white the white. I disagree, but I have learned through life that in some cases disagreemts are best kept to one's ownself. In this case, Tiger Woods is an living exception. And as far baseball, it was true until few years back. Now, baseball is dominated by hispanics.

The most interesting comment was about how he thought colored people had dominating genes. In other words, his thory was blacks will dominate the world and whites are scared about that. He cited that an offspring of a mixed couple tends to look more black than white. Talk to any medico. That's not true. Anyway, people have their own thoughts and opinions. Life encompasses everything, and I feel at the end of the day nothing matters. The significance of opinions with which people fight is all a function of time. Think about the next two minutes, I may be freaking out because my internet is running slow, think about a year, I am concerned whether I will make in to my next career move. Think about 20 years - retirement, and then, another 100 years - I am dead and gone. Who cares whether the black dominates of the Indians. Someone recently characterized - the world is divided into two groups: one who divide the world into two groups and the others who don't. As long as I live, I wish I can overcome the challenges imposed by shortness of timescale and think an a part of a whole. As I got off from the cab ride, for another flight to the west - I felt I enjoyed the ride. After all for me, he was another human being, working hard to make a living for himself and his family, and yes like anybody else he has his view of the world. And it is this diversity that makes life a joyful expereince to live by.

In Village

I was off to New York last weekend. Every time I visit this city, it is as if I discover a new part of me. For one I realize that there is something common about big cities. New York, Paris, and Calcutta. In some sense they are similar in their own ways - like they belong to the one and exclusive metro club, the people's equivalent the billionaire club. Just like it does not matter which nationality you belong to. If you are billionaire you are more likely to do some common things - own your own jet, own a villa in French riveria, and probably shop at Asprey. Same goes with cities. A city like New York albeit located in US is more similar to Paris, and more importantly, the place I grew up - Calcutta. The fact that it is in America pales into a background. Compare New York with Indianapolis and also with Paris and you will understand what I mean.

Yesterday, I was up in the East Village - strolled along the sidewalks gazing at those artists and peddlers. I always love to hang out in this area. I love it better than Midtown. Not so many touristy but rather much of local artisty is present. Here I can treat myself to beautiful art and browze through DVDs of Goddard. Stop by Strand Book Store which by far is my all time favorite. An Italian lunch in Little Italy, and then stroll back to Union square to watch a group 100 people chanting "On Namah Shivayam" at a "Art of Living" session. While this is going on a black man walks around - shouting and yelling his frustrations - "The Indians are taking over, and I dont get to talk about my Christ." No matter how thin you slice it there will always be two sides. This is what I remembered

I have been taking it slow these days. I leave for san Francisco day after tomorrow. As I keep playing corners with Washington DC and San Francisco during weekdays and New York during weekends, I feel I am lucky. I feel I am having some of the best days in my life.

Power of first impressions

I recentlly read Malcolm Gladwell's Blink. It is a book that explores the power of first impressions: how they are formed, how they influence us, when they are really useful, when they are not, and more specifically, when and how they can get catastrophic. I was simply glued to this book for the last three days - as he insightfully probes into deeply interesting yet mysterious issues like dating, identifying good quality art , and even mind reading. Blink is about the power of the "first two seconds" as he says. The book is fascinating with examples drawn from NYPD to Tennis reflexes, from speed dating to Tom Hank's audition, from distinguishing coke from Pepsi to food tasting. Gladwell's style is lucid, fluid, simple, yet his work is richly researched - all that makes reading a true joy. I am a big fan of his writing in The New Yorker but somehow with a "blink" of an eye I have resisted reading his earlier book "The Tipping Point". Now, letting go of my unconscious, and allowing my conscious to decide - it has entered my fall reading list. Blink was a wonderful read. Serious with an undercurrent of humor, and no doubt very interesting.

Live from NY

Beerfest in Times Square
Walking down in Central Park
And never looking back
Dinner at Utsav
And much more...
As my holiday in NY is about complete

Windy in NYC

Past midnight now, I am lying here in Mama's apartment in NYC. The Hudson is 30 feet from my window and the wind is almost blowing me away. Driving through Manhattan was really cool tonight. A very calm and quiet friday morning. At times I get superstitious in saying stuff like that, as if something else may happen tomorrow. But well, whatever...events keep happening.

I had lovely day - nothing much to do or say. A nice friday night - watched Talagadamadagada Nights (Pardon me for not getting the name right). And then a nice dinner. I am in no mood for deep thinking and finding a purpose behind anything today. I guess today was actually living my purpose - that is - enjoy and be grateful for having a beautiful day. That I have been good and that I feel fulfilled.