tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66877842687753275542024-02-07T01:02:34.862-05:00Open ScrollA collection of my thoughts and experiences...Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-40293278605850124922017-07-10T11:32:00.002-04:002017-07-10T11:32:57.568-04:00When life gives you lemons<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Three questions to ask yourself before making your lemonade-</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<ol>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Ask yourself if you are treating yourself as a victim</b> <b>i.e. your negative state of mind is a result of some external force.</b> While it is okay to be negative but if you consider yourself as a victim then you are giving the power of healing/hurting to the other person. Then you lose control over your emotions and depend on the other person to fix things for you. In reality, you are powerful enough to make yourself positive by giving positive feedback to yourself and changing how you react to the other person (e.g., replacing anger with love and understanding). This also means that you have to actively take ownership of your life and actions because then everything that happens to you is under YOUR control, not the external force.</span></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Ask yourself if you are spending most of your time brooding and judging other people's actions.</b> If you are then that's not a productive use of your precious time. It also means that you have extra brain power that is looking for some work to do. Channelize it to do useful things that advance your career and mind. Focus on YOURSELF, your actions, your thoughts, your emotions and leave everything else to the higher powers. If you are judging others then you are assuming that you are superior to them or have a higher moral ground which is not very healthy in relationships. Everyone has their reasons for their actions which may or may not be obvious. Accept things as they are and if you are facing a hard situation then probably there are things that you need to learn from that and move on. Brooding just makes us negative and pessimistic. Don't do it.</span></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Ask yourself what is your identity.</b> If you are <i>only</i> seeing yourself as a mother, a father, a wife or a husband then these are again dependent on other people. It is not about YOU anymore but someone else giving you this identity and thus at other people's mercy to preserve this identity for you. Instead, think what you can call your own. You can define your identity as a doctor, a spiritual healer, an educator, a researcher, a photographer or something else where the power to make or break that identity rests with you, not any external person. Having an identity that is under your control is important because it gives you a sense of worth and purpose that no one else can take away from you, whatever happens. It also means that you are a unique individual that can exist independent of what other people say or do. </span></li>
</ol>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">All these points bring the focus back to you. It is very easy to submit ourselves to our minds which really has no clue what to do with all the brain power. You are a powerful soul, remember that. You are also a winner because you defeated millions of other competitors to come into this world (we all did). So tell your mind to stop making yourself think otherwise.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, please do the SAVERS activity every day (just 6 min) - <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://lifehacker.com/start-your-day-off-right-with-the-savers-morning-routin-1716241117&source=gmail&ust=1499784699307000&usg=AFQjCNHQ-SEWcsPKsFV7VrxiTcrNLTwf3w" href="http://lifehacker.com/start-your-day-off-right-with-the-savers-morning-routin-1716241117" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://lifehacker.com/start-<wbr></wbr>your-day-off-right-with-the-<wbr></wbr>savers-morning-routin-<wbr></wbr>1716241117</a></span></div>
Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-4981083404226460702016-07-06T01:58:00.000-04:002016-07-06T01:58:19.684-04:00Bourbon Street<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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“Titties… come inside for titties!”
– shouted the man across the street. The famous Bourbon Street in New Orleans, the place that's famous for fancy drinks (Fish Bowl!), seems to be a place from another era. The casualness in the air in this
distinct road is only broken by the urgency of this man trying to hustle “gentlemen”
into his club. The windows are covered with dark film as is usual with any
strip club but what’s not usual is the openness of the locals to display their “items.”
The girls stand outside wearing bikini, trying to pick their potential
customers. A few over enthusiastic ones even jump on the road and stop the men
walking by and try to get them inside in an almost pleading voice. The bright
pink neon lights flash behind them advertising that the men will not be
disappointed. My friend asked me – “Who would pay to see a naked girl?” And
then continued in the same breath while looking at the drunk men leaving the bar
next door – “Of course, who else.” Bourbon street can probably pass off as a
place in Vegas if those voodoo shops had not been there. The voodoo shop two steps
away promises to relieve you of your spiritual pain and stress and proudly
display their dolls. Add some men standing on the balcony of a club shouting “Show
your tits, show your tits...” and throwing bead garlands down on the street as tourists
walk-by; Bourbon street holds on to its title of a street from another era.
These men standing on the balcony are probably married or have girlfriends or
female friends with them who are also shouting “Show your tits, show your tits.”
Next, I see the women tourists walking underneath the balcony actually pick up
the bead garland and flash their breasts to the people standing on the balcony.
People take pictures, laugh, cheer and move on, happy and smiling. The woman
who flashed just now is also happy, the men standing on the balcony are
definitely happy and the women accompanying them are also smiling so they must
be happy. Business as usual on Bourbon street. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another usual thing in New Orleans
is its open drink policy- you can walk on the street with open alcoholic drinks.
But what’s unusual is the surprising large percentage of sober crowd on Bourbon
street. The men on the balcony and the women walking by seem to know their
limits really well! No one is puking or has passed out on the street. However, Bourbon
street still manages to smell like a dirty toilet. But something stronger than
this smell has captivated me here. I witnessed raw human nature, sexual
provocations, unrestrained but civilized demonstration of the equation between
men and women, and restrained yet animalistic instincts devoid of social norms.
Actually the social norm here is to be wild, untamed, non-conforming and provocative;
both for men and women. The outcome is what is so interesting. The women
working in the strip clubs are doing their jobs by flashing themselves but why
were the women tourists walking underneath the balcony flashing themselves at
the slightest provocation? It was almost like a “dare” game and the women who
did not flash were booed away; they were not “women enough.” Before you jump
and say “what about the men?” let’s think, what about them? The men going into
the strip clubs are going to meet the opposite sex within a designated place to
do whatever they need to do with a shared understanding but why are the men
standing on the balcony brazenly provoking strangers? Why are the women
accompanying them happy about it? Why is this scene playing out on Bourbon
street only and not on any other street in downtown with lines of clubs (e.g.,
Frenchmen street has bars but it’s known for it’s live jazz, not this debauchery)?
I have to give it to these merry men and women that there’s no forced physical
contact on the street and there are boundaries that are not crossed and
everything happens under an umbrella of having “fun” but when does it stop
becoming fun? Our Uber driver was telling us stories about drunk women in
revealing clothes passing out on his backseat. His voice reflected excitement –
“beautiful girls wear short shorts showing their butt cheeks and revealing tops…
girl do you want me to touch or watch but not touch or not watch at all? What
do you want me to do?” He explains that obviously he wakes them up politely and
urges them to step out and he makes sure that they enter their homes safely.
But why did he think the girl was “saying” something to him through her
clothes? If there was a guy who had passed out in the backseat wearing short
shorts and revealing clothes, would a female driver have had the same thoughts?
If a man had his penis attached to his chest where it was clearly visible instead
of being tucked between his legs, would he have faced the same issues as women
did? Would he have been asked to flash it?<o:p></o:p></div>
Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-47680684684546082532014-02-15T09:57:00.000-05:002014-02-15T13:17:38.900-05:00Face-off with Facebook So it has come to this! (yes, that's a popular line that I didn't invent. Go figure out the reference)<br />
<br />
I have been noticing a disturbing habit that I have developed ever since Facebook became a thing. I wake up and the first thing I do is tap the 'f' icon in my phone or start typing 'f' in the browser. It's very comforting, perhaps very refreshing even to scroll through all the things I missed while I was sleeping. There are wonderful heart warming videos, extreme videos, interesting shares, personal anecdotes, war of words about politics, tons and tons of pictures, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork" target="_blank">HONY</a> and also the entire world's comments to everything you can imagine. It feels a very newspaper-like thing to do first thing in the morning - catch up with the world. It's even better! It's dynamic, has a new update every second and that too from your very own "friends"! Very fascinating but very time consuming as well. Before I realize, I've already devoted 2 hours of my precious morning to this comforting blue and white interface (<a href="http://www.fastcompany.com/3009317/why-is-facebook-blue-the-science-behind-colors-in-marketing" target="_blank">the color was actually designed to soothe</a>). And then, it is also very addictive to quickly browse through the FB newsfeed between tasks or when you don't feel like working.<br />
<br />
So here I am trying to think about the next paragraph that I should write to complete my dissertation proposal argument but I get this sudden urge to "utilize" this gap to check on the FB updates. Poof! I lost my train of thought and I'm not sure when or whether I'll catch the next one. Oh well! Now that I have lost my thought, might as well "utilize" the time by scrolling through some of my friends' profiles and see what they have been up to. After 5 min of scrolling, I feel very content. Somehow knowing what time they woke up, brushed their teeth, went to gym, had breakfast, what they had for breakfast, how they look (selfies) when they left for work, what they thought about the guy next to them in the train/bus, where they went for lunch, with whom, what they think about the game last night, their lack of desire to work (and spend time on FB instead... exactly), what their kids/spouse is saying and even that they have an upset stomach or are doing some sort of countdown to some mysterious event in their life (that they don't want to share but still want people to know that something important/terrible is going to happen), is very reassuring. I feel connected to the "world." Never mind that I just ignored what my friend sitting next to me said. I would have "liked" what he said if he said that on FB. Why waste my precious FB time that I want to spend virtually shadowing all the people in my friend list?<br />
<br />
Perhaps the biggest reason for my addiction to this endless stream of updates is my desire to know something new. My wife reminded me of this just now and I think it's pretty accurate. As human beings (this is the only philosophical line, promise!) we all have an innate tendency to be attracted towards learning new things. Had that not been the case, we would be still living on trees (perhaps there is a TailBook for our monkey friends?). The point is that FB newsfeed very nicely caters to that innate need. There's a new update every second so how can we look somewhere else! The other reason is that I feel very connected with my friends. To a large extent, FB really has helped me get in touch with friends from my childhood days. It feels good to catch up with them once in a while and stay connected. But beyond that, I don't think I want to "live" with them. The FB newsfeed essentially makes me feel that I am living with all my friends in one giant house! That's the level of connection that I can do without. It's not even meaningful after sometime. There's also the gratification that you get by seeing how many people approve of what you are saying a.k.a Likes. That symbol is perhaps Facebook's biggest contribution in this century. But do I really care about that kind of approval? It's like paying importance to what your neighbor thinks about your new socks.<br />
<br />
So why this long rant about my FB habit? First, it needs to stop, hence the face-off. Second, I think I have found an alternative for myself. Yes! From now on I'll <a href="http://www.feedly.com/" target="_blank">feed</a> my curiosity to learn new things by actually reading about innovative things and cool projects. <a href="http://www.feedly.com/" target="_blank">Feedly</a> (or any other RSS feed reader) effectively pulls together all the cool things happening around me. So I'm replacing my FB newsfeed with more relevant feeds (you know, still trying to keep that newspaper-like feeling). I also want to start reading books again (it's been so long!). Actually ReadBook, not FaceBook.<br />
<br />
This public rant also means that I want you, my friend, to help me break my habit. Maybe, next time if you see frequent updates from me, send me a reminder? :) Yup. I'll use Facebook to help me get rid of Facebook. How cool is that?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-47252795544768449502013-08-24T13:09:00.000-04:002013-08-24T13:09:52.207-04:00Retarded rapistRetarded rapist,<br />
<br />
Normally I would have started my letter with "dear" but you are definitely not dear to me or deserve any bit of politeness. You are not even fit to be classified as an animal, forget about belonging to my species. Even animals don't pin one of their own and force themselves in. So what are you?<br />
<br />
In my species, we have a unique gift - mind along with a conscience that helps us decide what is wrong or right. Sorry to say, but you don't have either. Probably you never had them (which surprises me because you were born out of the body of some woman who belongs to my species) or you lost them while mutating into the rapist species. I guess you are finding it very satisfying or even somewhat glorifying to be made a separate species unto yourself. Tell me, are you happy? Is it the same happiness or joy you get while you are shoving yourself into the body of a helpless girl (yeah, that's what we call them in my species. Nope, not an object or thing but a "girl" who has a life and feelings and emotions... in short things you won't understand)? Do you feel any emotions?<br />
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Perhaps you are thinking - "What's the big deal in this? I have my d!@k and she has her thing, aren't they meant to go together? Ain't I doing the normal thing?" Well, let me try to get down to your level and try to help you understand (which I'm not sure you have the remote ability to do because you don't have a mind in the first place... but I'll still try because you were born out of one of my species). There's a thing called "consent", which of course you won't get now but try to think of it in terms of your thing. If someone were to ask you - "Can I cut off your d!@k?", you would obviously say no. That asking part is called "consent". If someone bypasses that question and just goes ahead with the cutting part then how would you feel? Probably intense pain but probably not violated because you don't know what violation means. When you force yourself into her, without her consent, she feels that pain along with the violation because human beings respect one another and every one of us has their own private space. Probably, I lost you in that previous sentence when I was talking about "respect" and "private space". Just assume that they are concepts more important than your d!@k that's hanging down there, probably in shame because even it did not expect to be used in this way.<br />
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Perhaps you are now thinking - "She was the one who wandered into that desolate area dressed in short clothes. I am a man and she provoked me, so it's her fault. Plus she needed to be taught a lesson." First of all, you are not a "man". So dare you try to call yourself one of my own. Second point, you are the one who got provoked and acted. You start by staring at her and then proceed to ogle her. You've already invaded her privacy at this stage. Still not satisfied, you decide it's up to your supreme authority to teach her a lesson. Why? Who gave you that authority? Every person in my species has a mind of his/her own, so keep your lesson to yourself. You are so pathetic that you get these urges and so weak that you cannot curb those urges. What makes you think that having a d!@k gives you the right to act in such retarded ways? Look the other way if you are feeling provoked. Or go home and use your hand. It's your problem and your fault.<br />
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You won't understand "rights" and "freedom" so I won't even go there. But please don't get married with one of my species. You are not fit to be a husband or a father. Those roles need responsible, matured and caring men, not a rapist like you. Of course your curriculum vitae would grow bigger if you land up in those roles. It will read something like this - Year XXX1: Raped a stranger; Year XXX2: Raped wife; Year XXX3: Raped daughter. It flummoxes me to even think that you came out of a woman's body. Poor woman who carried you around and nurtured you for 9 months, if not more.<br />
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I'm not sure where evolution is headed but surely your species won't survive for long. Not because of some law or cruel punishment (you are obviously not afraid of those because nothing has changed since the Nirbhaya case even after all the policy changes and death-penalty announcements). Your species won't last long because we men and women will educate ourselves and our kids. <b>Not what to wear, but how to think and behave and listen to our conscience.</b> We will empower them with sex-education and gender-awareness so that they don't mutate into your species. We will teach them how to empathize and care. We will treat them as we would like them to treat others. We will make a "good samaritan law" which would encourage men and women to come together against rapists like you without worrying about getting harassed. We will make sure that you are the one who is the social outcast, not your victim.<br />
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Sounds too philosophical? Trust me, the work has already begun and people are getting fed up of your acts. That's why I am writing this letter to you and my friends are getting angry on your actions. When we attain the critical mass, you should run with your d!@k in your hand because you won't have a place in my society at that moment.<br />
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- A human<br />
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<br />Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-89686247624542128882013-07-01T09:43:00.000-04:002013-07-01T10:25:35.653-04:00Going back<i>Will I return to India once I finish my higher studies in US?</i> This has been a topic of much discussion ever since I came to the US in 2007. Initially my friends and relatives were more concerned about this than me and kept on probing me. My stand was very clear - <i>I will definitely go back to India after I am done! </i>They laughed and professed that I will stay here forever once I am here for 5 years. They said it would be hard to adjust to the chaos and inefficient system in India if I return after 5-6 years. I brushed off their concerns saying that if I can adjust to a foreign place, culture and system without any problem, then I can definitely "adjust" and be comfortable in the country where I have grown up and spent 25 years! I failed to understand why this was such a hard concept to grasp! After my Masters degree, I saw some of my friends return to India. I was very happy to see them go back. It gave a boost to my conviction to return back to India. I started my PhD program in 2009, strongly determined to return back as soon as I graduated. I saw some more friends leave lucrative jobs in US and take up jobs in India. My resolution to return became even stronger. My parents, relatives and friends were in India. I was visiting them every year and every time I craved to stay more. That is enough reason to go back! Right? The answer to this question <i>was</i> "Definitely right!" till 2012 but now it has turned into a "Maybe"! Smiling faces of people who had told me that I will change my mind after 5 years were grinning now and saying <i>"we</i> <i>had told you!." </i>Were they actually right? <i>Is it really the case that I <b>cannot</b> adjust with the Indian system anymore or is it the case that I <b>do not </b>want to adjust? Is it actually about staying in US or is it about not returning to India? What about the love for my parents, relatives and families? Was I lying all this time that I will go back to India? Why don't I want to go back? </i><br />
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It is true that a place changes a lot in 5 years. I have seen Delhi (the place where I grew up) change every time I go back for a visit. This time when I visited India in the winters of 2012, I was still determined to come back to India for good after my PhD. So I was scouting for possible jobs related to my research area. I met many interesting people and became aware of interesting opportunities. However, academic opportunities aside, I was shocked by the cultural and moral degradation of the society. I am not a moral police (popular for thrashing couples enjoying quiet moments in the park... nope that's not me) or nor do I claim myself to be an epitome of morality. But I do respect human beings and give them the politeness they deserve. I wasn't expecting Delhi to be a chart-topper in this aspect but I wasn't expecting it to fall off the chart completely! <br />
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The day after I landed in Delhi, I had my visa interview at the US embassy for renewing my visa. I was helping my taxi park at a designated spot that had been identified by a security guard. As my taxi was positioning itself to occupy the spot, a white luxury sedan zipped in and parked in my spot, almost running over my feet. I knocked on the window to get the driver's attention. The driver, a "gentleman" in his early 30's dressed in formal attire (he looked like a CEO of some company), stepped out and started abusing me - "<i>teri gadi hai yeh bh* ch*? haath kaise lagaya toone?" ("Is this your car<abuse>? How dare you touch it?"). </abuse></i>I was taken aback but I tried to reason with him and looked around trying to find the security guard. He was standing at a distance, trying not to get involved in the whole mess. The driver retorted even angrily now - <i>"tu guard hai? teri himmat kaise hui meri gadi mei haath lagaane ki?" ("Are you the person in charge of parking? How dare you touch my car?").</i> At this point, I saw this conversation going in two directions - I could just shut up, walk away and do my business calmly OR keep on arguing with this dumbhead and risk getting shot (pretty much every person in Delhi is some politician's someone and has a gun that is used to end arguments.... no this is not my figment of imagination but the actual state of things). I chose visa-stamping instead of getting shot. So I shut-up and went away. My friend later said that this was usual and I found it alarming because I had lived in US for too long. He suggested that I would get used to it if I lived in Delhi again. Fortunately, my wife and her sister were not there. Who knows what humiliation they might have had to suffer if they were at the scene (it's a different story that while I was having this argument, the coffee shop they were sitting in nearby forced them to buy a mineral water bottle worth Rs. 80/- because the staff had not clarified that it was not complimentary and not the usual Rs. 15/- either).<br />
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This brings me to my next experience. After wrapping up my business in Delhi, I went to visit my parents in Kolkata. While I was there, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2012_Delhi_gang_rape_case" target="_blank"><span style="color: #999999;">Nirbhaya rape</span></a> case happened in Delhi. Rapes had become a daily thing, especially in the north. There was no age based discrimination. 3 year olds were being raped every week in addition to the usual teenagers and young adults. The police and government blamed the females for provoking men to rape them (a 3 year girl provoking, really!?). Skimpy attire was blamed. Rapists roamed around freely, proud that they had taught the females a "lesson" for not adhering to the social norms of dressing "properly". There was a section of the society which blamed Nirbhaya and her male friend for daring to watch a movie together at night and then taking a bus back home. Their arguments gave a thumbs-up to the rapists. This is not a singular case, neither is the reaction. I used to work in a multinational software company in Gurgaon till 2007 and it discouraged females from staying late in office as it would get unsafe for them on their way back home. This atmosphere of panic and fear was further fanned by the stance taken by the various government officials and police. Whenever a female was raped, she was ridiculed and asked embarrassing questions by these authorities that tried to find fault in what the girl was wearing or doing. It's a different story that none of the accused were ever punished. After the Nirbhaya case, there were mass protests all across the nation. The government passed a law that increased the punishment of rapists. Everyone rejoiced but the rapists raped some more females and went about their daily business. Nothing changed. To come back to my point, in Delhi (and other northern bordering areas) any girl could be raped any moment, irrespective of their attire. Is this a healthy atmosphere to live in? You never know if your wife, sister, daughter, mother will return home safely or not. I still remember my horrified reaction when I heard about this incident. I was startled by the hypocrisy of the so called "cultured" society that prayed in front of female deities but still objectified and disrespected women. While the "system" was busy saving the rapists, it was also making sure parents of young girls were not spared. Take the Talwars' case in Noida. 5 years ago their daughter and domestic help were found murdered inside the house. The case has been dragging on till now and the parents have been jailed. When I read the <a href="http://tehelka.com/framed-the-aarushi-hemraj-murder-case-an-investigation/?singlepage=1" target="_blank"><span style="color: #999999;">detailed account of this incident</span></a> and the injustice that had happened, only one thought ran through my mind - <i>this could have been any parent! </i>I started reconsidering my decision to return back. I certainly did not want to expose my wife and family to those uncivilized animals in the streets and the paranoia of disrespect. Was I overreacting because I had stayed in US for 5 years?<br />
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Now, there are still lots of good people around and I had many wonderful experiences - both of remote rural and urban India. But I am left wondering what to do about the vulnerability of human life and eternal fear in the minds of women on a daily basis. My friends who had returned back to India are still there. Another close friend recently returned after staying in the US for 10+ years. They are all doing fine (at least they claim that till now!). One of my friend said that as long as your daily schedule revolves around office and home, you should be fine. The events around you will not bother you that much. But again, is this a healthy environment to live in? It's not about the fascination of staying in US that is making me stop and rethink. There are things that are wrong in US as well but I can at least live my daily life without the perpetual fear. I have not closed the doors yet and hopefully the time to return to India will come soon. After all, where else in the world can you enjoy dhaba ka khana (roadside restaurants) while traveling on a highway or have a samosa-jalebi pitstop while walking on the road?<br />
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<br />Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-11557868331188483082013-06-10T23:05:00.000-04:002013-06-10T23:34:08.533-04:00Apartment 1005<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
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It is hard to imagine that we will not be staying in this apartment anymore. I submitted the notice stating that we will vacate this apartment at the end of the current lease term in August 2013. It was 2010, the year we got married and moved into this studio apartment in South Loop. I had never lived in a high-rise before. I grew up in a house that was on the ground floor and never gave a thought to what it would be like to live in a high-rise. When I walked into this studio on the 10th floor, I remember getting mobbed by so many thoughts and emotions! My first home as a married man, my first home with Neena, my first experience of high-rise and my first experience of living in a building with a 24 hrs doorman and maintenance! </div>
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Looking down from the window, I remember thinking - "look at those tiny people and vehicles on the road!". Everything seemed like a game with a pre-destined outcome - vehicles running around on their own and stopping obediently at the traffic lights. Little men, women, children and their pets crossing the road hurriedly and going about their business. Everything was happening smoothly and systematically. I almost felt like god - looking down at the world and it's tiny inhabitants. But the minute I was back on the street, the same setting seemed so chaotic! There was noise all around with people shouting, cars honking, cars and bikes jumping lights and children running away from their parents. From the 10th floor everything seemed to be planned out and certain but walk down to the street level and you did not know what was going to happen the next moment. This was so much similar to how life goes, I wondered. When you are living your life and trying to plan things on the ground, you do not know what is going to happen the next moment. But when you zoom out and take a holistic view of your life (from above), it seems well planned and systematic. </div>
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With one entire wall made of huge windows facing west, every evening was magical. We saw the sun set over the horizon, leaving a crimson red sky in it's wake. For the first time, I actually noticed the sun setting at different places in the west at different times of the year. The universe was alive and I was seeing it every day! After the sunset, the city beneath us transformed. What was once filled with people rushing to their offices in the morning, was taken over by neon lights garlanding the pathways through which vehicles went like a procession with their red tails high in the air. When I woke up in the middle of the night for water, I always used to stand by the window for sometime. The garlanded road was mostly deserted except for a few taxis. A couple of homeless people walked across the street to the Roosevelt train station or the #12 bus stand. Some cars stopped at the gas station opposite to our building. The 24 hours Jewel-Osco was still alive and people came out of that place with huge shopping bags. I always wonder who shops at those odd hours! Some houses still had their lights on. I could see a TV playing in a dark room. The city was surely alive even at this odd hour!</div>
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It is incredible to think that the first three years of my marriage were spent in this apartment. These walls have been witness to so many emotions, feelings and conversations that if walls could speak, they would tell the story of an ever-growing love and understanding between two people. I consider this apartment very lucky from that perspective. A female car-rental agent at Midway airport had once mentioned to both of us that the first 6 years of a married life are always the most important and difficult (yes out of all the places, a car-rental agent at the airport!). In a way, this home has given us the strength to survive 50% of that time and grow strong together. I believe having good vibes is very important and this place has excellent vibes that helped us grow as friends and lovers. We had fun cooking together in the small but cozy kitchen that was just the right size to fit the two of us :) The kitchen was the place for long conversations and unwinding after a hectic day. We used to stand there and cook and see the sun setting down over the horizon… it was just magical! </div>
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I wish we could stay here forever and forever but nothing can remain constant forever… especially the rent! So now the market has decided that these walls, the windows, the closets, the kitchen and the view are worth more than what we can afford. We will pack all our memories, love, adventures and vibes into small boxes and move out (thankfully to a great neighborhood in Wicker Park!) soon. It is still hard to believe that 3 years have passed by so quickly. We will miss the apartment and also the great South Loop neighborhood that has developed so much in front of our eyes. Trader Joes, Flo and Santos, Pita Heaven, Nepal House, Potbelly, Yolk, Wabash Tap… we will miss them all. Both of us love to eat out and explore new places and that's why we chose the Wicker Park neighborhood! Life is too short to waste it living boringly and we don't know what will happen next moment. So we might as well enjoy an awesome egg salad sandwich at Jerry's and then some amazing home-made tiramisu at Letizia's on an evening stroll in Wicker Park. In the end, like this apartment had taught us the first day, everything works out and seems to be planned and systematic from the above :)</div>
<br />Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-20291802103170431232012-04-06T11:27:00.004-04:002012-04-06T11:37:21.684-04:005 minutes<div><p class="p1">.</p><p class="p1">The last 5 minutes of the evening class are always the hardest. Trying to summarize a three hour class in those 5 minutes when our attention is already somewhere else, is really tough. As we wrapped up the discussions, I started packing my stuff. The laptop charger went in first and then the papers. Time up, laptop closed and put away in my bag, I rushed out of the building. It had been a long day and I was eager to get back home to my love. I was actually very hungry too. As I descended the flight of stairs into the Blue Line train station, I saw many students waiting to catch the train. The train rolled in after 5 impatient minutes and swallowed all the souls on the platform. The ride was boring as usual. Everyone around me was dead tired after their long day. Some were yawning while some were already asleep. I stood by the door, waiting for my stop - Jackson station. "This is Jackson. Please change here for the Red Line train." Obediently, I got off and tried to dodge my way through the wave of people walking towards the Red Line train station. There was oncoming traffic too - people who had got off the Red Line and were trying to catch the Blue Line. Everyone was in a rush. I was in a rush.</p><p class="p2"><span>As I ascended the stairs to the Red Line station, a beautiful music filled my ears. It was some sort of a violin-like string instrument. My hurried steps slowed down and the music lifted me through the final flight of stairs. I saw an old man sitting just a couple of steps away from the stairs and playing a 2-string instrument. He had his cassette player churning out karaoke tunes one after the other and he was adding his beautiful composition effortlessly. I stared at him for 5 minutes. His left hand deftly plucked one string or the other, at particular points. Sometimes two fingers touched the same string at two different points. With his right hand, he effortlessly guided the bow over the strings. The smooth movements of his hands with sudden rapid motions in between to match the tempo of the music, made it look like his hands were dancing to the beautiful tune. It was hard to believe that I was not at a concert but instead standing in a train station waiting to catch my train. As I re-entered my real world again, I looked around and saw that other people were also watching him play. The platform was crowded but no one clapped when he was done playing one composition. The old man had his suitcase out in front of him, open and requesting alms. My hands instinctively reached out for my wallet and I pulled out a dollar. I dropped the dollar in his suitcase - my offering in return for the soul lifting music that he was playing. He bowed his head acknowledging the donation and continued to play. This time I clapped when he finished his composition. He looked at me and gave me a huge smile. I could see his shining eyes, squinting behind his glasses. The cassette player jumped to the next track and he focused his attention on the strings once more. I looked around. No one was really paying any attention to his music. He was just another street musician playing to himself. Most people had their headphones on and were oblivious to what was going on in the Jackson Red Line world. They obviously did not care much about a live human playing in front of them. I clapped again but I was the only one. There seemed to be just two people on the platform - that old man and me. It was strangely lonely.</span></p><p class="p2"><span>And then I saw a young couple walk past me towards the old man. The girl stopped in front of him and reached inside her purse. She was looking for something particular. Her hands came out, tightly holding on to the pennies, quarters and cents. She let them fall inside his alms bag. A couple of more searches inside the purse brought out more quarters and pennies. These ended up in the alms bag as well. Her partner was smiling and watching her in amusement. Once again, the old man bowed to acknowledge the young girl and continued to play his music. He finished his composition and stopped. The young girl clapped and the old man gave her the big smile. She looked around to see why no one else was clapping. Her face questioned the existence of the crowd around her at that moment in time. A soft melody once again filled the air and she started dancing very nimbly. A couple of quick ballet steps and then her feet stopped. Her body was still swaying to the melody. As the beautiful composition finished, we clapped. She held her partner's arm and they stood there listening to the music with a smile on their face. I moved a step closer to the old man.</span><span></span></p><p class="p2"><span>His instrument seemed really old. The head of his instrument was taped to the rest of the body with a scotch tape. The strings had rusted from areas where his fingers did not dance. Splinters were projecting out from the base and the instrument seemed to be as old as the old man himself. I did not know his name. I would just remember his soul-lifting music and his big smile. He made me forget my rush and connected me to my love there and then, on the train station. I felt like I was dancing to his music with my love. My train finally rolled in. I did not feel like leaving. I did not want this experience to become a memory. I wanted to continue enjoying the present. The doors opened and swallowed me along with the huge crowd once again. As the train pulled away from the station, the old man was left alone, for real. He continued playing and the music slowly became a memory, a beautiful memory that took me to a different world and back in just 5 melodious and peaceful minutes...</span></p><p class="p2"><span>.</span></p><p class="p2"><span>.</span></p><p class="p2"><span>.</span></p></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6tKcrrWjFX5Kls7a07v-YA4Oz2SI2wE-WOqqgda89vrTjlOy6gfKSuqR30289xqJ2jh_rcWtajNGVZq9tVaWqFX4JmrwMw8ecmokc6EkuXsaCify2HwjgeA5dbvSgbAwK9llHo7YQAZq/s1600/Photo0976.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6tKcrrWjFX5Kls7a07v-YA4Oz2SI2wE-WOqqgda89vrTjlOy6gfKSuqR30289xqJ2jh_rcWtajNGVZq9tVaWqFX4JmrwMw8ecmokc6EkuXsaCify2HwjgeA5dbvSgbAwK9llHo7YQAZq/s320/Photo0976.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728311865952734258" /></a><br /><p class="p1"><br /></p>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-19072493648908175762012-01-06T20:51:00.004-05:002012-01-06T22:31:55.191-05:00The business of heelsIt is funny to note the symbiotic relationship between various businesses as we have them today and the apparent ignorance of the general public in helping them grow at their expense. Recently I went into a retail store and as I was strolling by, I noticed the section with all types of support pads for your feet. Nothing wrong with that. Everyone has a right to customize the shoe they bought the other day and make it more comfortable. But what caught my attention were the n number of products for making heels comfortable to wear for the women. Think of a cushion for any part of the feet and it was available. As I understand from my wife, wearing heels is not very comfortable so one would require these AND one looks very sexy wearing heels. I see the point in that argument but what doesn't make sense to me is the entire chain of events which happens once a woman starts endorsing heels regularly.<div><br />I've had the good fortune of holding a heel in my hand and analyzing its shape and form. I was amazed at the poor design of this product which was supposed to make a woman look sexy. First, the front of the heel is generally so narrow that the normal 4 toes have to literally fight for space. Unfortunately, the fight resolves only when the big toe agrees to twist in a weird way and land on top of the next toe. Have these fights and resolutions a couple of times and one can very well start to see the beginnings of bunion. Given the popularity of heels, its not surprising to see the increasing number of bunions. Wait, I have never heard a man with bunions. Perhaps we know the reason now! Secondly, the material on the inside of the heel (the portion where the foot rests) is just a piece of wood with a fancy fabric cover on it. As I felt the form of the material, I remembered the wooden footwear (<span style="font-style:italic;">khorom</span>) that monks used to wear ages ago. I used to think that there was a universal consensus and shift to shoes that cushions your steps. But what I had in my hand was defying that universal belief. No wonder one would need extra cushions! Thirdly, the oh-so-sexy design of the heel makes it impossible to walk around wearing them for a long time. Can you imagine walking on your toes for a long time? That is what the posture amounts to when a woman puts on heels. So in comes a second pair of boring-not-sexy-but-very-comfortable shoes. One can find them without fail hidden inside the faithful purse that follows a woman everywhere. This completes my analytical tirade but I still haven't got to the business part of the story.<br /><br />As I was standing in that retail store, I realized how the medical industry, insurance business, shoe industry and shoe accessory industry were having a feast together. Women are encouraged to wear heels to look sexy. But they get bunions as a result of wearing them. So they go to see their doctor who very wisely advises her to get proper cushions for her heels. Maybe getting a physiotherapy is also on the table. So another business avenue. Every medical advice costs money and that's what the insurance businesses are for. The shoe accessory business starts flourishing. But it is still not possible to wear these heels for long. So the not-so-sexy-but-functional shoe business picks up as a daily wear and also as a post-heel trauma wear.<br /><br />Well, it may not be this simple but you get the idea about the connection. It is an endless loop because women will always want to wear heels with or without knowing the repercussions. It is sad that in such a design obsessed era, style and fashion are becoming synonymous with uncomfortable and non-functional designs. Any takers for the challenge to design comfortable and functional fashion? You can start with designing comfortable heels...</div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-32876346856776952902011-08-10T18:01:00.004-04:002011-08-10T18:39:05.147-04:00What will people say?.
<br />"My child didn't come first! Now what will I tell my neighbors?". What a tragedy... for the child! Poor soul, having to study and compete not for the sake of learning but pleasing the neighbors. I've heard this remorseful complaint from so many parents now that I wonder if children are mere tools to help parents boast in front of others. Agreed that man is a social creature and needs to live in the society. Does that mean that everything needs to be "approved" by the society? For some people, yes. And this is not just in academics but virtually in every aspect of daily life. "What will people say" is a very common metric for evaluating ones actions. Does this metric reflect an insecurity that you don't "belong" to the society if you do something that might be scoffed at by that society? Is this a herd mentality? We all have our priorities in life. For some people who have been brought up with the belief that what the society says is the final word, societal acceptance is their priority. For them, there's nothing wrong in living the life from their neighbor's point of view. I wonder how that neighbor lives his/her life - from their neighbor's point of view? Where does this chain end? I feel that these people are not living their life but instead trying to follow a set of rules laid down by somebody else. Parents often try to "use" their children to realize their own dreams... fulfill promises they made to themselves but could not achieve for whatever reason. As if not happy with themselves following the rules, they want their children to follow them too. Well, they learned from their parents and now they are passing it on to their kids... I sometimes wonder that it is we who make the society so why do we still want to get "approved" by it?
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<br />Let's think about it for a second in a different context. We upload our picture on Facebook and then wait for people to come and comment on it, LIKE it and show their "approval". We don't put up anything that the Facebook society would not like, do we? No, because we want to stay in the good book of the society. In a time when "ratings" of all types (product ratings, movie ratings, personal ratings, ...) help us make our decisions, it is not surprising that we start living the life which the society has given the "top ratings" or "approved". So now, if our parents say "what will people say", is that a surprising thing? Maybe not, they are seeking the approval of the society that they are familiar with. But is it the right thing to do? Probably not, because then we lose our individuality and don't think for ourself anymore. Instead, we live our life like the society wants us to. Sounds a lot like a zombie being controlled by the society? It may very well be the case :)
<br />.
<br />Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-7908908354503689132011-07-30T20:10:00.002-04:002011-07-31T14:47:13.450-04:00Darn! The blood test was negative...The quest to have a concrete definitive answer sometimes goes too far. Especially in the field of medicine where doctors generally recommend a bunch of tests in order to "eliminate possibilities". But what happens if all the tests come out to be negative and you still have the problem? Your body definitely isn't communicating to the doctor via the tests but it is surely needs help! Unfortunately, going by my personal experience over the last couple of months, doctors seem to understand just one language - test reports. So if your body isn't speaking that language then be ready to undergo more tests because until reports give a positive diagnosis, the doctors don't really know what's going on.Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-25509575888629088752011-07-11T07:29:00.004-04:002011-07-11T07:52:15.183-04:00The old pump house magicEvery morning at 5am, the old pump house across the park slowly came to life. It was almost magic in the wee hours of the morning where the plumber ("the magician" - Sharad bhayia) somehow brought the old machine to life. A couple of attempts were always needed and of course the machine complained everyday. There was almost a pattern to the magic - press the button followed by a loud noise of a motor as if it was almost going to come apart (though not a bang but a distinct shriek), then as if with a shift in gear and change of minds (accompanied by a full throttled shriek) the machine came to life. Once in a while when it was too tired to wake up that early, the magician had to pour some water on it and try again. There was no way that old machine could be left on its own because all of us depended on our daily water supply for it. The full throttled noise reassured everyone in the apartment compound that everything was going to be normal that day and it was time for people to get up and begin their day. A silent dawn meant trouble and so one day when the machine gave up in its attempt to start the day, all the people descended down in the park to offer their advice and help the magician. This was going to be a long day and sitting across the park, I just hoped that the old machine would have enough grease to come back to life once again and play that magic tune at 5 in the morning...Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-36802882927790659452010-12-17T07:28:00.002-05:002010-12-17T08:03:05.548-05:00The ultimate consumer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; "><h2 class="def-header" style="background-image: url(http://www.merriam-webster.com/styles/default/images/reference/hardrule-background.jpg); background-repeat: repeat-x; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; color: rgb(123, 123, 123); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 20px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: 0% 50%; "><span style="background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: white; padding-right: 15px; background-position: initial initial; ">Definition of <em style="font-style: normal; ">CONSUME</em></span></h2><div class="vt" style="color: rgb(122, 122, 122); display: block; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 8px; ">transitive verb</div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">1</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> to do away with completely <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/destroy" style="color: rgb(41, 101, 199); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none; ">destroy</a> <span class="vi"><fire>consumed</em>several buildings></span></span></div></div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">2</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">a</em> <strong>:</strong> to <a class="iAs" classname="iAs" href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/consume#" target="_blank" itxtdid="28397789" style="float: none; left: auto; right: auto; top: auto; bottom: auto; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; background-color: transparent !important; line-height: normal; text-align: left; position: static !important; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 1px !important; padding-left: 0px; font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(0, 100, 0) !important; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal !important; text-decoration: underline !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 100, 0) !important; border-bottom-width: 0.075em !important; ">spend</a> wastefully <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/squander" style="color: rgb(41, 101, 199); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none; ">squander</a></span><span class="ssens"><span class="break" style="display: block; height: 10px; "></span><em class="sn" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">b</em> <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/use+up" style="color: rgb(41, 101, 199); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none; ">use up</a> <span class="vi"><writing>consumed</em> much of his time></span></span></div></div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">3</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">a</em> <strong>:</strong> to eat or drink especially in great quantity <span class="vi"><<em>consumed</em>several bags of pretzels></span></span><span class="ssens"><span class="break" style="display: block; height: 10px; "></span><em class="sn" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">b</em> <strong>:</strong> to enjoy avidly <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/devour" style="color: rgb(41, 101, 199); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none; ">devour</a> <span class="vi"><mysteries,>consume</em><em>s</em> for <a class="iAs" classname="iAs" href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/consume#" target="_blank" itxtdid="28377132" style="float: none; left: auto; right: auto; top: auto; bottom: auto; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; background-color: transparent !important; line-height: normal; text-align: left; position: static !important; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 1px !important; padding-left: 0px; font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(0, 100, 0) !important; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal !important; text-decoration: underline !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 100, 0) !important; border-bottom-width: 0.075em !important; ">fun</a> — E. R. Lipson></span></span></div></div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">4</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> to engage fully <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/engross" style="color: rgb(41, 101, 199); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none; ">engross</a> <span class="vi"><<em>consumed</em> with curiosity></span></span></div></div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">5</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> to utilize as a <a class="iAs" classname="iAs" href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/consume#" target="_blank" itxtdid="28305689" style="float: none; left: auto; right: auto; top: auto; bottom: auto; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; background-color: transparent !important; line-height: normal; text-align: left; position: static !important; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 1px !important; padding-left: 0px; font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(0, 100, 0) !important; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal !important; text-decoration: underline !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 100, 0) !important; border-bottom-width: 0.075em !important; ">customer</a> <span class="vi"><<em>consume</em> goods and services></span></span></div></div><div class="vt" style="color: rgb(122, 122, 122); display: block; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 8px; ">intransitive verb</div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">1</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> to waste or burn away <strong>:</strong> <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/perish" style="color: rgb(41, 101, 199); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: small-caps; text-decoration: none; ">perish</a></span></div></div><div class="sblk"><div class="snum" style="color: black; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; ">2</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; "><span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> to utilize economic goods</span></div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; ">
<br /></div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; ">I was thinking about the word "consume" and realized that it was an almost perfect definition for who I (or I guess any other human being!) was. From the time I get up in the morning, I start "consuming" food & water. I "consume" news and all sorts of info in my inbox. I "consume" the services of the public transportation later on while traveling to my college. There I "consume" knowledge [although I have a little trouble thinking of consuming knowledge but we can debate about that in another post :)]. I get "consumed" by my conversations with my friends and professors. If there's a party, I "consume" more STUFF Sometimes I also "consume" my time doing nothing! So more or less, I am a "consumer" of daily life...</div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; ">But everything that I have just mentioned is all about me doing something with my life and I see people around me pretty much doing the same things. That's kind of selfish, isn't it? So, is being a consumer, an act of selfishness? We get so engrossed in our daily lives that we sometimes forget that we can be more than just consumers. We can give to people around us. But that generally comes secondary to our consumer nature. </div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; ">As I am thinking about it more, I am beginning to question whether its really me who is the consumer or is it my life? Is my life "consuming" me? But how can that be different from me? I define what my life is and what I will do with my life. How can it be the other way round? I just feel that as we are going on with our daily life, our life starts controlling us more rather than the other way round. Take a very simple (and perhaps cliche) example - I work hard, earn lots of money and start traveling around the country just for fun (because I have money now!). Now I have defined what my life would be like. Now in order to keep that definition, my life makes me work harder so that I am able to visit more places and I try saving up more. I think about savings before spending money on anything. My consumption pattern is overshadowed by my life's consumption pattern. But is that a bad thing? I don't know. I like traveling but I'm not in favor of the idea of promoting my or my life's consumer instincts. Maybe if I couple the definition of life as a traveller with "giving" then it will be better. But then am I "consuming" (engrossing) myself in the act of giving??? </div><div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px; ">
<br /></div></div></span>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-51193736442173084302010-11-22T07:06:00.005-05:002011-07-31T14:49:38.522-04:00Engineering v/s HormonesIt's funny to think that WE (yeah... the grand "WE" - me, you , the person in front of you, etc.) are expected to perform our best when our bodies & minds are least prepared to do so. I'm talking about the undergraduates - yup, the one in front of you or even the one you have left behind as your past. The have to deal with the hormonal craziness of a teenager and the emotional upheavals as a result as well as go through the undergrad drill and grill. Not being sure of what they want to do with life doesn't help either. All of us go through this stage and it's a weird feeling but no one seems to remember their experiences!Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-51191827267870655782010-11-21T07:38:00.006-05:002010-11-21T10:03:50.897-05:00A typical Sunday morning start - quite atypical in US...<div><br /></div>The darkness of the night has not yet passed by and the halogen lamps on the street are shining brightly. The silence of the pre-dawn hours is periodically broken by the call of the flying bats. The sky is trying hard to keep itself wrapped in the star-studded blanket as the sparrows and crows gradually announce the arrival of dawn. The 'dong-dong' sound of the temple bell hitches a ride with the gentle breeze. I hear more bells as the priest conducts the morning prayers. A distinct voice blows over the morning dew - 'Allah-o-akbar', announcing the first hour of prayers. The radio begins to crackle from one of the houses and an energetic female voice sputters the morning news. The sky has turned crimson red now. The sparrows start their day early and hop on the cemented road looking for worms, wary of the cat walking by. The crows are not amused by the feline presence either and make a rucus from their vantage position atop the cable TV wire crisscrossing overhead. Bang! Something heavy seems to have landed on the front verandah. I decide to jump on this morning bandwagon and pull myself out of the bed. The Sunday morning newspaper is lying on the verandah... it's quite a fat package! Looks like it decided to pick up a couple of Morning Glory leaves for me while it was on its arial route to the verandah. The newspaper bhaiya surely knows how to wish good-morning! I spread out the newspaper on the table and tune in to the happenings over the world. So much seems to have happened while the sky was trying to hold on to its star-studded blanket! The crows are still making a rucus about the cat so they obviously don't care about anything else that goes on in the world. As I flip through the first page of the newspaper, I wonder if the crows are really the wise ones. Knowing the misdeeds of a politician is not that much fun. The feline furry four legged animal is actually worth paying more attention to. I see it slip by the sunflower plants, eagerly looking for something to eat. I return to the cartoon section, chai and hot aloo parantha. There's nothing more wonderful than this trio. <div><br /></div><div>Sitting on the 10th floor of a high rise apartment building in downtown chicago on a foggy cold morning makes me miss these things back home all the more. No sparrows, no crows, no cats, no temple bells, no 'Allah-o-akbar' calls, no fat newspaper with Morning Glory leaves, no morning dew, no cable TV lines... maybe its time to have some fresh aloo parantha and chai to make up for this loss!</div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-63788424341975627932010-10-14T19:59:00.004-04:002010-10-14T20:41:48.715-04:00Notebook v/s ComputerI have been thinking for the last couple of days on how computers have changed us and how we do things. I'll leave the benefits and disadvantages debate for someone else but what I am really talking about is what have computers taken away from us that using notebooks afforded? I remember myself (seems like a long time ago) taking notes and drawing while listening to the teacher or reading a book. It definitely took more time but now that I think about it, there was an organic feel to the whole experience. I was actually embodying the concept that I was engaged in. When you think of it, writing and drawing are forms of gesturing. It's just that the level of abstraction is different. You are translating what the teacher is saying or what you are reading into textual and graphical form with certain kinds of hand movement. Now take the same activity and think about doing it using computers (laptops included). You translate those sayings and readings into textual or graphical representation with a series of button clicks and key presses. This will also count as gesture but something has changed here. It's a different mode of translation and you are making different body movements. <div><br /></div><div>I remember my mom telling me when I was in school to "write it down to remember". And when I wrote things down, I did remember them better. What was happening? Did writing help make a new pathway in my brain? </div><div><br /></div><div>Consider this as well, handwriting analysis claims that a person's personality can be gauged by looking at his handwriting. Hence handwriting serves as a window into a person's emotions, thoughts, basic nature and overall personality. That means handwriting is a way of expressing these dimensions about oneself. When you take that medium of expression away, does something change about the person? I have seen people say that their handwriting is not good as it used to be because they have been using laptops for a long time. So that means their handwriting has evolved (or rather devolved) as a result of using computers. If we continue with our chain of thought that handwriting is a window into a person's overall personality, does that then mean that the person has changed as well over time along with his handwriting?</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to get back to that issue of embodiment again. When we write, we "feel" the words. We "create" the words alphabet by alphabet. When we are small, we learn to "create" the alphabets by writing them repeatedly. We then write words until we get them into our heads. Certainly something happened as a result of that act of writing things down. The only thing I can think of now is that when I am trying to learn a word, I see the word first. My brain processes the visual information. If I then say the word aloud, my auditory senses add to the visual information and reinforce the learning. If I go further and write it down, my motor senses provide another feedback and I'm guessing that reinforces the learning further. Instead if I just press the button 'a' on my computer, I have performed a different kind of motor activity which sends a different kind of signal back to my brain - when you press this button, you type 'a' instead of the message that you can 'write' alphabet 'a' like this... </div><div><br /></div><div>I strongly feel that there is something very important to the act of writing that is missing when we type on our computers. One might argue that typing on the computer is faster and lets us engage in activities which require higher cognitive abilities. I don't disagree with them but we also need to think about what we take away from kids when we replace their notebooks with computers in this increasingly hi-tech world...</div><div><br /></div><div>(Thanks to Matt for brainstorming :) )</div><div><br /></div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-79934909076447463642010-09-24T01:49:00.004-04:002010-09-24T02:28:51.582-04:00What if...Drum beats, melodious music, wave of hands, rhythmic feet movement and perspiring yet happy faces... The floor was filled with people of all ages, race, and gender. There were a bunch of asian students occupying one corner of the floor while americans were distributed around the room and could be found with their Indian friends, trying to learn a move or two. Enthusiastic Indians were also scattered around mentoring their "students" diligently. Uncles and aunties were witnessing this amazing cultural exchange from the first row of the seats. Some of them even decided to jump right in the mix and show that they were still capable of shaking their legs... With loud bhangra music in the background, everyone was dancing to their heart's content. This was the first day of <a href="http://explorechicago.org/city/en/supporting_narrative/events___special_events/special_events/dca_tourism/world_music_festival/Sept_21.html">Incredible India musical fest in Chicago</a>. Everyone was trying out new moves and new styles except for one girl. She kept on sitting there, right next to the dance floor, staring at all the people on the dance floor through her glasses. She seemed to be a student as she had a bag loosely hanging from the back of her chair. She had a faint smile on her face and her hands moved a little as if to follow the rhythm. She moved a little bit to get a better view of a new move on the dance floor but there wasn't much space for the wheels of her wheelchair to turn. Her fingers were crippled and her legs immobile. She moved the joystick on her wheelchair with the help of her index finger and moved to another corner to get a better view of the dance floor. She sat there the whole time people danced and rejoiced. She seemed to be rejoicing too but its very hard for me to imagine what kind of rejoicing that might be. She seemed content and satisfied with the fact that she could see people dancing at such close encounters. That seemed to be all she wanted. She might be visualizing herself dancing like that young girl on the dance floor. She might be moving her legs freely in any direction, absorbing the bhangra beats. She might be laughing and doing that head and leg move. But she might also be thinking "what if I could do that in real"... "What if I could get up now... What if I could jump up and down, run around, shake my legs, and wave my hands with the rhythm of the drums and the melodious music... "What if I could just get up and walk...". What if....Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-9610709316577718662010-09-18T09:00:00.004-04:002010-09-18T12:13:52.109-04:00Hyeee peeeople!!The last one year in Chicago has certainly been very eventful with lots of things happening (and not happening!). But what I cherish the most are the new friends I have made here. It is amazing how strangers walk into your life and then become friends in no time... or should I say a family! <br />As I walked back from my college every day I crossed a cozy pub (Rick's Bar) at the corner of Taylor St and Western. With its open door and bright neon sign, it was very welcoming and used to attract me. I could see people laughing inside, having a good time. It was generally late every day and although I wanted to go through those welcoming doors, I wasn't sure whether I should or not. I guess I hesitated because I have never been a regular bar person and there was a wall around me that stopped me from stepping outside my comfort zone and experience something new. Every day I saw people with drinks, playing pool or darts, smiling and talking. Just by walking past this pub and seeing those smiling faces made me smile and by the time I reached home, I used to feel very peaceful and happy. I used to see the same set of customers everyday. The person behind the bar changed everyday but I assumed that there might be rotations. So it was the same person every other day (approximately). For some reason, I felt that it was a family owned pub. These were the people I saw behind the bar and you can see for yourself why I made that connection - a cool tall guy in his early 30's, a young vivacious beautiful girl in her early 20's (although with girls you never know their age and should never guess!), a blonde lady with a not-so-cheerful face (or more accurately - with an artificial smile) in her late 50's, and finally a short grumpy man (must be Rick) with wrinkled face maybe in his late 50's too. So there I was, it seemed like a family! Anyways... so everyday I saw the "son" or the "daughter" of that grumpy man and occasionally their mother and the grumpy father himself behind the bar. Sometimes they would also stand outside near the open doors, sharing a smoke on a cold night, cheerful as usual. And as I walked past, once in a while I thought - Maybe they have lots of problems in life and that's why they come here... but then its good that they can find happiness in this family pub! <br /><br />One day, after Neena came to Chicago and had started going to college here, as we were walking down Taylor St., we decided to stop and go through those welcoming doors! Neena was much more conversant with pubs and I felt confident going inside with her. I knew I wouldn't make a fool of myself with her as she knew a lot about drinks, etc. So there we were, INSIDE Rick's bar!! There were a lot of hilarious one-liners on the wall around us (e.g. "Never trust a man who is not drunk" - So you get the point right?). The place was dimly lit. On the far end was a dart board against the wall and another console game by its side. There was a door which I figured led to a small restaurant next door. On the far end, but against another wall was a "juke-box" (I still don't know what it is exactly called!). There were 4-5 tall round tables along the same wall that led to the door. The main door (yes, those welcoming doors!) were facing the bar. Behind the bar, there were rows and rows and rows (... and more rows!) of bottles (of course vodka, tequila, rum etc.) of all colors and shapes that you can possibly think of. Separating these rows in half was a not-so-new cash register and below the register there were some more exotic looking bottles. The wall behind the bottles had a huge mirror (running across pretty much the entire wall). There were a couple of drink-list of beers with their prices stuck on top of the mirror. A plastic notice board hung casually at the end of the wall below a medium sized TV. There were 3 TV's - 2 huge and 1 medium sized. One huge TV was facing us when we sat at the bar with our back towards the door while another one was stuck high on the wall next to the door. So I had to stretch my neck to the left side to see it... Oh I forgot to mention the dance floor and the pool table. So once you enter the pub through those welcoming doors, you have a huge window with all the neon signs on your left (facing Western) and another row of windows on your right (facing Taylor). Then you have the bar on the left, the tall tables on the right. As you keep on walking and once you go past the bar, you hit the pool table. To your immediate left is the dance floor and immediate right is that song-box. Go past the pool table and dance floor and song table, and you'll end up playing darts and some video game. If you feel like taking a piss then the door is right next to the video game console on your left (that's the male one bro!). Of course the female one is right next to it! There is a black and white picture of the Beatles group hanging between the console and the restroom. A sign hanging above the bar mentions that minimum credit card purchase is $10 and then there are all those funny one-liners all around. "How may I help you today?" (a female voice breaks my observation spree)..... I am still coming to terms that I am INSIDE the pub - "Uhhh?"... I didn't know what to order ("A Miller Lite please" would have been just fine .. but that's so boring!). And I had Neena with me... so I just looked at her and she quickly made her mind (and mine) and we were all set (I don't remember what we had the first time... must be some margarita or something... or maybe the Irish Creme?). And then we started chatting with "Rick's daughter". She asked us if we were new to the place and we started telling her about how we had moved from Atlanta blah blah blah... I saw the same faces that I had seen all these months and they were laughing as usual, cracking jokes and pulling each other's legs. There was an old man too in that group. he didn't seem to have any teeth but he was really enjoying his beer. There he was, sitting in his usual spot - one seat away from me on my left, happily sipping his beer. He poured his beer into a glass and then had it slowly. There was another late-50's man in between us and he had a small laptop in front. He was also drinking beer but directly from the bottle (wonder what the difference in drinking styles reflects about the person). He had the CTA (Chicago Transportation Authority) website open in his laptop and he was looking at the live-update for route #49. Let me put you in the right context here. Bus route #49 runs north-south on Western and there's a CTA website where you can check the exact time a bus is supposed to arrive at a bus-stop. The Western and Taylor bus-stop was right across the road. So by checking the bus-timing for that stop, one could predict when the bus would go past the pub. So.. my man was sitting inside this pub, checking the bus timing and predicting when the bus would go past the Western facing window and then looking outside to check if the website was actually reporting accurate task. What a wonderful way to spend your time!! The young girl was talking to the customers and always had a smile on her face. I realized from the way they were talking to her that they were long-time customers and knew her well. <br /><br />Everybody seemed to have their own small world but also seemed to be a part of this pub. As we walked out of the pub that day after finishing our drinks, we saw that everyone was still sitting and drinking and talking. It seemed as if they didn't have any rush to go anywhere or do anything. The only person moving was that young girl. I felt that if I were to walk in the next day, I would see the same set of people in the same place doing the same thing... as if time had stopped inside the pub for these people. Rachael wished us goodnight and we wished her the same. So Rachael was Rick's daughter... hmmm... We became Neena and Chandan instead of 2 strangers who had walked into that pub for the first time. After the wall had been broken, I wanted to go there every friday! There was something about that place that attracted me a lot. Now when I walked past that pub and saw those familiar faces, I smiled at some, waved at some and they waved and smiled back at me. Neena and I went to that pub many more times after that but not as frequently as those other people. The girl behind the bar became Rachael - a good friend of ours (and NOT Rick's daughter!!!!), Rick's son became Dave (and he was NOT Rick's son!!!), the toothless man became Franky, and the CTA bus-tracker man became Richard. There were other people who sat at the tall tables but they were kind of in the background when you sat at the bar and I never got to know anyone well. The people at the bar were a part of one family (the bar-family) and the ones at the table were the table-family. <br /><br />Whenever we walked past that pub, Frankie used to wave to us and say "Hyeee Peeeople". For him we were "people" :) I have never heard anyone greet like that so it was really unique. He had a distinct voice and very friendly demeanor. Although old (late 70's), he's still young at heart. We found out that Franky worked at the Lu-Lu's, a hamburger place on Taylor. He didn't seem to have a famliy.... ummmm.. I'll take that back... Rachael, Dave, Richard, and the people in Rick's Bar were his family. <br /><br />Yesterday we went to Rick's Bar again after 2 months. It was Rachael's birthday yesterday and she was so excited to see us. We gave her a bunch of pink roses and 2 chocolates and then sat down at that familiar bar. We sat at the same place as always. Richard was right there on my left but this time he was playing with a small handheld video-game. I asked Rachael about Franky and she smiled at me. After a while, Franky walked in, smiling as usual and said "Hyeeee Peeeople". The same old style and distinct voice. The same love and affection. I looked at him and smiled. He came straight towards me and put his hand on my shoulder. I was sitting at the bar and so turned towards him. He asked me - "Where have you been?". I told him that we had gone to India to get married over the summer. I suddenly realized that I had become a part of his family too and he was missing us all summer. I felt like hugging him but didn't. He smiled again and patted me on my shoulder and waved at Rachael while pointing to us. Before I could realize it, he had bought us a drink to celebrate our return to the "bar-family". He did it with such flair and style that he should have been in his early 30's and not late 70's. Rachel was also quick to notice the gesture and asked us what we would like. We had a Blue MF (I don't swear in public :P). We thanked Franky for the drinks. I was still trying to make sense of the whole situation. I had not realized that we had become a part of those people in Rick's Bar who always used to laugh, have fun, crack jokes and relax. I was no longer looking at them from outside while walking back home from college. I was INSIDE the pub, within those welcoming doors with Franky and the rest of the bar-family around me. Rachael was her usual as well. She was very excited that we had come to meet her and brought her flowers. We felt that we were at home. Franky returned to his usual seat and poured beer into his glass and started sipping. I smiled at him and he smiled back... full of love and peace. Franky reminded me of my grandfather. That's right, Franky was the eldest in the bar-family and he must have got worried when two small kids (me and Neena) were missing for two months. Maybe I am just imagining too much but then that's what I was feeling at that time... We bought Franky one round of drinks too. He was very happy and gave me a toothless smile. As we walked out of that pub yesterday after wishing Rachel Happy Birthday again, we were feeling very happy and content. Maybe it was the Blue MF or maybe it was the bar-family... Who cares what it was actually. All I cared was that we were back and had become "people" again.... "Hyeee Peeeople" :) <br /><br />(18th September, 2010) <br /><br />.Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-23990977622251011182010-03-30T17:55:00.003-04:002010-03-30T18:02:20.974-04:00Fun Theory to change people's behavior<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This is an amazing experiment. Changing people's behavior/practices/routines :)<div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lXh2n0aPyw">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lXh2n0aPyw</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-30744441745222968132010-02-23T12:44:00.001-05:002010-02-23T12:47:57.500-05:00Right to Education Act 2009 (India)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 16px; ">Sixteen years after the idea was first mooted, the Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act, 2009 has finally been notified, after receiving the assent of the President of India. Article 21-A, as inserted by the Constitution (Eighty-Sixth Amendment) Act, 2002, provides for free and compulsory education of all children in the age group of six to fourteen years as a Fundamental Right. Consequently, the Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act, 2009, has been enacted by the Parliament. The salient features of the Right of Education Bill include free and compulsory education to all children of India in the six to 14 age group; no child shall be held back, expelled, or required to pass a board examination until completion of elementary education; a child who completes elementary education (upto class 8) shall be awarded a certificate; calls for a fixed student-teacher ratio; will apply to all of India except Jammu and Kashmir; provides for 25 % reservation for economically disadvantaged communities in admission to Class One in all private schools; mandates improvement in quality of education; school teachers will need adequate professional degree within five years or else will lose job; school infrastructure (where there is problem) to be improved in three years, else recognition cancelled; and financial burden will be shared between state and central government.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(source: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; "><a href="http://www.digitallearning.in/news/news-details.asp?Title=Right-to-Education-Act-2009-in-action&newsid=16745"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://www.digitallearning.in/news/news-details.asp?Title=Right-to-Education-Act-2009-in-action&newsid=16745</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">)</span></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To read the full law, click here -<b> </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="http://education.nic.in/Elementary/free%20and%20compulsory.pdf"><b>http://education.nic.in/Elementary/free%20and%20compulsory.pdf</b></a></span></span></span></span></div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-27004170612881123992010-02-22T09:23:00.001-05:002010-02-22T09:25:17.243-05:00Look within<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span>A man feared his wife wasn't hearing well as she used to and he thought<br />she might need a hearing aid. Not quite sure how to approach her, he<br />called his family doctor to discuss the problem. The doctor told him<br />there is a simple, informal test; which he could perform and give them a<br />better idea about her hearing loss.<br /></span><br /><br /><br />"Here's what you do," said the doctor, "stand about 40 feet away from<br />her, and in a normal conversational speaking tone, see if she hears you.<br />If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a<br />response."<br /><br /><br /><br /><span>That evening, when his wife was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, he was<br />in the drawing room, standing about 40 feet away from her. "Honey,<br />what's for dinner?" he asked in a normal tone. No response! So he moved<br />closer to the kitchen, about 30 feet from his wife and repeated "Honey,<br />what's for dinner?" Still there was no response. Next, he moved into the<br />dining room where he was placed about 20 feet from his wife and asked<br />the same question. Still further, he didn't get his awaited response. He<br />now walked up to the kitchen door which was another 10 feet away and<br />asked "Honey, what's for dinner?" Again no response! So he walks up and<br />whispers behind her "Honey, what's for dinner?" "Steve, for the fifth<br />time I've said, "Chicken". "Do you have some hearing problem?"<br /><br /></span><br /><br /><span>Sometimes, the problem may not be with the other person as we always<br />think; it could be within us.<br /><br />Let's look within ourselves before we find fault with others...</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span>(email from <a href="www.uttishthata.org">Uttishthata</a> on 22 Feb 2010)</span></span></div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-66448253630642515222010-02-17T08:56:00.003-05:002010-02-17T10:32:07.271-05:00Looking beyond evidencesScientific evidence certainly helps us in achieving the stated goal but often times we get so caught up in them that we forget to look at all the other possible outcomes. We stop looking beyond the evidences. In this context, I liked a dialog from Patch Adams (must watch if you haven't!) - <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 10px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 10px; font-family:Arial;font-size:medium;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Arthur: How many fingers do you see?</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Patch: There are four fingers, Arthur.</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Arthur: [You are just] another idiot. No! Look at me. You're focusing on the problem. If you focus on the problem, you can't see the solution. Never focus on the problem! Look beyond the fingers. How many do you see?</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Patch: Eight.</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Arthur: Yes! See what no one else sees. See what everyone chooses not to see... out of fear, conformity or laziness. See the whole world anew each day.</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: -25px; margin-left: 25px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So try to see what everyone else chooses </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">not</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> to see out of fear, conformity or laziness. Look beyond the problem and evidences.</span></span></p></span></div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-22612439857986653102010-02-12T17:36:00.000-05:002010-02-12T17:37:04.626-05:00Are assessments really required?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Are assessments really required? Who are they important for - students or teachers/researchers? Do the students really need to know what they "know"? When they are in the class interacting with their peers and teachers then they are obviously learning "something". Education researchers keep on saying that the agency of learning needs to be with the learner (e.g. Collins) but then when we think about evaluation, we find that the students are evaluated on what the teachers/researchers think they should know. Moreover, any kind of evaluation seems to be framed to ascertain how good the teacher was or the learning environment was, and this is known by the performance of the student on the evaluations. Does the student really need to know how good the teacher was? Let us argue that the student really gains from the evaluation as he/she gets a chance to measure his/her knowledge and then compare with others to determine relative knowledge or use the measurement to secure further educational opportunities (e.g. progressing through the grades, transfer from school to college, etc.). This notion of quantification of knowledge is disturbing because can the evaluator really know "everything" the student learned? The evaluations are mostly based on what the students "ought to know" by the end of the school year. So if the evaluators don't know what the students really learned and they evaluate the students on what they should have learned, is that a fair way of ascertaining which students are more intelligent than others (very often evaluation results i.e. marks are used to indicate the intelligence of the student)? Moreover, given that we know that every student is unique and internalizes knowledge in different ways, are standardized evaluations justified? </div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Suppose we do away with the complete system of evaluation, and let the students discover & internalize knowledge in their own unique way then how can we know whether that student can or cannot do a specific task later on in life (example write a letter to the boss)? Well, I would argue that this task later on his life also presents a learning opportunity and can be utilized as such. There is a constant push to prepare our students to face the "harsh realities of life" and we justify their schooling along that argument. Hence we keep on testing them to see if they are well prepared to move to the next stage in life and this goes on throughout the life. Maybe the "harsh realities" aren't that harsh if we stop thinking like that. But alas, the generation before the students were brought up thinking like that and so are the students now. They will do the same to their students and it will go on... Is it all in the mind? Are evaluations a way to know what's in the mind? Who's mind - the teachers or the students?</div></span>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-70911174003385689732010-02-07T19:51:00.003-05:002010-02-07T20:22:29.882-05:00Make my child the most intelligent of all...This thought came to me when our Learning Science cohort was discussing the research study where they found that US students were not at par with students from other nations (particularly China and India). This race to be the "best" has been going on since the launch of Sputnik which spurred the US govt to invest a lot of money into educating the "citizens of tomorrow" so that they were scientific thinkers and could compete with the Soviets. With time the competitor changed and now its the Asians who are leading the race. <div>I have been wondering since that class discussion whether who is at the top really matters. The US wants its kids to beat the Chinese and then ..... then what? We'll have one more study which will claim that US kids are now at the top (and of course someone will dispute that claim and there will be many more studies trying to prove/disprove that). Excelling in studies is definitely important and one must strive to gain as much knowledge as possible but one must not forget that every child is distinctly different. That doesn't mean that US kids are dumb or Indian kids are intelligent but what it means is that people from different cultures have different goals and needs and these influence the way the entire community thinks and acts. For example, in India, learning is given a divine status. There is a goddess of learning. So it is automatically put at a very high pedestal and is viewed as something that will enhance a person spiritually and help him/her lead a better life. One may not hear or say this aloud but I feel it is there within each one of us as a subconscious force driving us to gain knowledge. There is also a huge social value attached to education. Educated people are respected by the society and they automatically gain a high status in the community. So you see, the motivation factor to gain knowledge is completely different as compared to US where the stress is on beating the kids across the globe. Of course these are not the only ones and there are LOTS of other factors influencing the game but for the sake of argument I've used these couple. In fact now even the Indians are getting into the race business...</div><div>So all these examples are simply to stress that every community has its own "local" needs and goals. In trying to compete with the kids across the globe we are putting too much stress on our kids at home and that is getting reflected in disastrous ways (increased suicide rates, increase in diseases amongst kids, etc.). Why can't we just settle for goals that are meaningful to each community and structure the learning experience of the kids accordingly. Why do we need to make every child on the globe the most intelligent? Some of you might be saying globalization demands that. But like we saw, education is a complicated matter... it's not just schools, kids and curriculum. There's a huge socio-cultural aspect to it which is often neglected. Globalization can merge markets across the globe but can it also merge socio-economic and cultural values? People across the globe will remain different and their differences should be acknowledged and respected. The race to be the global first shouldn't take a toll on the kids... let them play and learn at their own pace.</div><div><br /></div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-23452988610440019742010-02-06T10:22:00.003-05:002010-02-06T10:49:17.689-05:00What's the price of evidence?For me this question is mainly situated within the context of research and hence my focus is on experimental evidence. Is spending billions of dollars and thousands of man hours worth the effort in trying to find evidence to support a claim? I was recently watching a National Geographic program where they were investigating the horrible 9/11 attack. There is a lot of controversy surrounding why the twin towers fell down - because of heat from the burning aviation fuel or because of the impact. Numerous agencies have investigated this controversy and have their stories ready for the consumer. Purdue even got a grant allowing them to model the whole incident in way that allows everyone to analyze each second of the impact from 360 degrees and find out what happened. They spent almost 2 years and (I am guessing) millions of dollars in addition to the thousands of man hours into building this excellent model from scratch. In the end they concluded that the building collapsed as a result of heat that melted the steel beams holding the tower upright. However, another agency dismissed this evidence claiming that it wasn't representative of what actually happened and started their own investigation. <div><br /></div><div>There are two things that this program made me think. The first is that in cases of this magnitude, anything is possible. In fact it might be both the heat and the impact. That's kind of logical conclusion. But I don't claim expertise on that and hence won't comment on it further. However, the second point is the relevance of investing so much effort into finding evidences and then dismissing them. Evidences are definitely needed to substantiate a claim but my point is at what cost? Take another example, in education research, millions of dollars are spent every year identifying and analyzing problems and then designing solutions for them. We even spend a lot of time investigating issues which are kind of obvious (like if a kid studies in a quiet room then he/she would learn better). We also spend considerable research effort (time and money) into proving the value of a particular education technique (like learning by doing is better than rote learning... kind of obvious too huh?). My point here is not that finding evidence is not necessary or useless. It is absolutely needed but what I am asking is to consider the cost involved in the task. Is it worth the cost?</div>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6687784268775327554.post-2291877249017479522010-01-30T11:05:00.001-05:002010-01-30T11:05:37.255-05:00Designers as change makers<div>An interesting series of interviews:</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.designwala.org/2010/01/designers-as-changemakers-part-4-ritwik-dey/">http://www.designwala.org/2010/01/designers-as-changemakers-part-4-ritwik-dey/</a>Chandanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02541953899638018238noreply@blogger.com0