The Sound of God

I'm in Huntsville again, which means my days are full of meetings listening to people talk, and my evenings are very quiet. Every evening I make plans to do something new, just to keep myself busy. Last night I drove for hours in my boredom. The roads in Huntsville are very different from the ones in California. They remind me of the open roads to Gangauli; two lane roads with fields of wheat surrounding you on both sides. The weather this week has been unusually pleasant... hot but not humid. More like California's summers. I was driving down these empty quiet roads with my window rolled down. After awhile I heard a very loud sound, I thought it was my engine, so I pulled over and turned off my car. The sound got louder when I turned my car off. It was the sound of thousands of crickets singing in the brush that surrounded me. Aiya, the music of the crickets was so loud it was deafening. I was moved by the shear beauty of it. I thought for a moment this is what God sounds like. As a scientist you understand more about the world around you than most people. What most people consider miracles can easily be explained with simple science. I know in the science community religion is very prominent. That element of the unknown always leads us to believe in a higher power. The sound of the millions of crickets singing could easily be explained as a typical summer night in Alabama... It was the force of the sound that moved me. I felt like I was standing in the center of of an orchestra. I could actually feel the music in my heart.
I know in my past blogs I have spoken about the virtue of silence... today I'm thinking the power of noise.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

Aiya, 

I'm sorry I haven't written in a long time. I have spent a large part of the past month traveling for work. Some of it was very exciting, I got to stand inside the space shuttle! A lot of my travels were pure work. I do not get sent to glamorous locations, unless you consider Huntsville, Alabama glamorous. Huntsville is a small town, with a lot of engineers and scientists. There is something very nice about small town America. People are much simpler and the world is much quieter. I long for this, I've noticed: simple and quiet.

I don't think it's possible to go to new places and not meet new people. I don't think it's possible to meet new people and not fall in love with the new places. People are the souls of their town. I leave a little piece of my heart in every place I go. I've left a little piece of my heart in Nand Nagar in Varanasi as well.

I have been going to Huntsville about every other week. I've noticed when I'm there, I want to be in California, when I'm in California I want to be there. I don't have any friends there. In fact I eat all my meals alone when I'm there. I am just in love with the serenity of Alabama. I realize that any place where your heart is is your home. Most of the time your heart resides with people, every now and then it resides with a place...

A Tribute to My Mothers

As you know, I am not mother. I'm still single and looking :)

My two closest friends are mother's of two children, and one of my sisters is the mother of an almost one year old. I have watched all three of these amazing women raise their children, each in their own way. My sister quit her engineering job and after three months of working. She couldn't bare to be away from her daughter. She hated the separation and missing the new achievements her daughters was getting through daily. She now works on her photography business from home, and spends every minute with her daughter. She recently brought her daughter in for a routine checkup, her pediatrician was amazed at her daughters advancements in speech and interactions. She doesn't speak in words yet, but she sure does try to communicate with you. She can say book, duck, button, eye, and if you say nose she'll point to her nose :) 

One of my friends has two sons. She chose to continue working after having her first son. She lives in a very fortunate arrangement, with her parents. While she works part time her parents take care of her children. Her children are also far advanced. I can have full conversations with her five year old son. In fact I recently had a thought that in a few years he will surpass me in intelligence. His mind is quick and detail oriented. At four years old he pointed out to me that I laughed at him about something, and it hurt his feelings. He constantly reminds me that children are intelligent thoughtful beings, never to be underestimated.

My other friend also has two children and her first is a girl. My friend quit her job and became a full time mom when her daughter was born. She had a very particular way she wanted to raise her children and she has accomplished this. Her daughter, age four, speaks english and telugu. She loves to dance, and dress up like a girl. She refuses to leave the house without a bindhi and some bangles.  I'm hoping to give her her first bharatnatyam lessons.

These are all mothers and children I am close to. They are each raising their children in different manners, yet all their children are above average in most categories. The only commonality I have seen in all homes is a safe loving environment for children. Princess Diana once said, "All children need is a little tender loving care." I truly believe this statement. This is why babysitters fail in most cases. They may look after the children, and provide them with everything they need, but in most cases they do not love the child. A mother's love is irreplaceable.

Aiya, I was initially going to post about my great adventures last week, until I read your comment. I agree most children that do well have amazing parents in their life, that guide them along. Mothers are truly unsung heroes. My post is a tribute to the great mothers I know. Thank you for reminding me!

Aiya,
I'm currently on work travel. This past week I was at Kennedy Space Center for the launch. I'm on the structural stress analysis team for the shuttle, so I had a chance to view the launch, and go inside the shuttles. I will be sending you pictures when I get back to California. I'll be on travel for another week!
I'm missing your comments!
Anita

On Fables and Myths

I've always admired my father. There have definitely been points in my life when I have hated him, every child goes through this. You feel your parents have wronged you for various reasons... but my father has this one quality which I have never been able to de-fable. He's fearless. He's truly fearless. He's conquered the most ridiculous odds purely on his ability to face anything that has come up against him, and not backdown. 

Growing up I never looked up to superheroes, because my father was one in my eyes.  When I was 10 I went for a walk with my father. This was 1987 and California didn't have any rules against walking your dog without a leash. As we passed by this house three or four dogs came charging at us. I was terrified of dogs, especially the ones that bark and charge at you. I was frozen in fear, I could not move. I was watching those dogs, baring their teeth, come closer and closer. From the corner of my eye, I noticed my father running towards the dogs. Between us and the dogs there was a stick lying on the ground... he was amazingly running towards the stick. He picked it up and started warding the dogs away from us. At one point there were 4 dogs jumping all over him.  I will never forget his face, he wasn't scared. Superheroes were nothing compared to him.

I think about that moment from time to time. The fact that he saw the stick in this situation is what puzzled me the most, but there were other factors that I think about. See the odds that he would get to the stick before the dogs was slim... too slim. Even if he got the stick, did he really think he could fight off four huge dogs with one stick? There is a "fight or flight" mechanism built into each of us. In that situation I know for me it was flight... no question. For my father it was fight. It is always fight with him. He has never once backed down from a challenge. I notice it even today in his Alzheimers. I go for a walk with my father once a week. I try to jog his memory and make him laugh as much as I can. I will always try to get him to sing his favorite Dev Anand songs. Today I challenged him with "I bet I know more songs than you do." He took on the challenge. He doesn't remember any of the songs from the movies, so he made up songs. He made up a new song for every film song I sang. At the end I had to let him win, because I just memorized some songs, he made up about 20 songs in 30 minutes. It was brilliant.

I'm not sure if my future children will ever know my father, but they will definitely know the fables and myths that surround his existence.

The Color Brown

As an artist I love colors. I love everything about them.  All of God's beauty can be found in a simple rainbow. I have taken on an internship with my sister as an assistant photographer for weddings. Most of my sister's clients are Indian, therefore most of the weddings are Indian weddings.  As you already know Aiya, Indian weddings are the most beautiful spectacle of colors. Red lehnghas, orange marigolds, blue saris, white dhothis, saffron colored sweets, it's just amazing.  Interlaced in all the brilliance is the color that God chose for the Indian race... the color brown. I think the color brown could possibly be the most hated color in India. I recently read an article about how the Indian population spends billions of dollars a year on complexion lightening creams. I wonder about this phenomenon. 

In my household my father focused so hard on education with his children we never heard about our skin color. The first time I realized I had dark skin was when someone pointed it out (Gujarati guy in college). It was never a point of concern for me. As a mature adult I see how thoroughly skin color matters in the Indian community. Matrimonial ads list education, profession, height, and skin color. Why does it matter so much?

I wonder if the whole issue began with the British rule in India. It is being propagated by Bollywood. The fair skinned, light eyed actresses are role models for beauty in a country where 100's of million of people are dark skinned, brown eyed.  I'm just confused by the whole topic.

In retrospect Americans spend billions of dollars a year on tanning creams, so maybe it's just about not being satisfied with what you have... 

Love, Betrayal, and Karma

I had a friend once that fearlessly loved.  She loved a man of a different race, religion, creed. Their differences brought them together. She enjoyed his views on life, he enjoyed her Indian ways. I remember the first time I saw her "in love." Her face had changed, the sun seemed to be inside her eyes. Every ounce of her being was glowing with this love. I had not met this boy that had brought such happiness to my friend, but I wondered if his face glowed too. 

Over the next three years I watched my friend through this love. Their love affair was tumultuous to say the least. Their differences that had once brought them together, now tore them apart, he knew he couldn't marry someone of a different religion. She was willing to sacrifice all she had for one lifetime with him. I did eventually meet this boy, deep into the relationship. I met him after watching my friend drown in love for three years. Her face no longer glowed with love, it was now desperate. She lived in a constant fear that he would leave her. Leave her all by herself. His face did not glow. He could not meet my eyes, during that dinner. His entire energy was ashamed and embarrassed of the betrayal he was sure to commit. 

They say that all great love stories end in tragedy. This one ended in marriage and a broken heart. He eventually chose his family and his religion over his love. He married a girl that his parents had arranged for him. My friend and her broken heart lost hope.

Over the years I watched her spiral out of control into her misery. I tried to help, but I just couldn't. The weight of her grief was too heavy for me to carry. After three years of consoling her, and standing by her side, I had to cut her off.  She was taking me down with her. 

It's been two years since I talked to my friend, and I always wonder what has become of her. Yesterday as I was waiting to cross the street I noticed the man in the car at the stoplight staring at me. Our eyes met, there was recognition... and there he was: married, with his wife, and his newborn child. He had the look of quiet desperation in his eyes.  I realized something that I had never thought of before. Maybe his life was the more tragic. My friend has a chance to find her new love, to move on. He was sitting in that car staring at me remembering her. And I saw it in his eyes. 

Gandhi once said, "A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave." My friend was very brave...