A Special Post : Two Stories --Same Human Connection

Today I am writing for those who visit this specially.

Those come here to read my updates and those who have followed it for years. As I have mentioned else place on this blog, I have YouTube channel and I have another places where I contribute regularly. 

So, coming here is not as regular. 

But I will never give up this space. 

This blog holds special meaning for me. Not just because this was the first blog I ever created. But for a few other reasons.

1. Those special people who still click on it, on purpose. I know there are many (I get about 200-600 hits a month) who come here for  topic or images.  But then there are others who come for the writing or simply to check up on what have I been upto. So, this post is specially for them, who come to get an update about me, and sometimes email me or leave a comment on the blog. 

Thanks, and please leave comments, it always makes my day. 

2. I have documented my life here in some way for the last 12 years. 

Yes, 12 years. 

This blog does not give a detailed account of my personal life.

Yet, if you read through many of the posts, you will figure out many themes and meanings in my life.

On an average I have about 36-37 posts a year. 

Considering that during this time, I have travelled through 17 brand new countries (not counting those before 2010. The year 2009, which I still need to write about in detail, was something special. I travelled through 13 different countries, on train, bus, boat, and ofcourse planes). 

I have published about 12 professional articles,15 non academic, one short story on amazon, started a youtube channel, working on a larger book length project right now...and released my first 24 minute film last year. I have been India about India about 11 times, to the US 6 times, to Spain 4 times, Germany 3 times, Japan 2 times...so and so forth....

Yet, on an average 36-37 posts a year.

During this time writing emails has gone downhill, although I am one of the few people who still writes emails. 

Most emails, with most people were repetitive.  

Around late in first decade of 2000, people started to put their pictures and thoughts on FaceBook. 

Something, I still do not do.

I share the pictures I take, to give a perspective. Not pictures of me or my family.

Somethings should remain private. My simplistic thinking.

There is a tradition in India of not saying the name of those you love. Especially between married couples. Its a way of protecting that energy. Keeping it sacred. 

Same with images of people. 

But also, a realisation that my pictures should not be imposed on other people's feeds. My pics are not important.  Even if I think they are.

So they remain with me. 

Although to be honest, I have a hard time finding pictures of myself. I am always behind the camera.

A little creativity --and  picture becomes more intriguing rather than a show 

The ones I take of myself are usually on my computer, in Photo Booth. Its like a time lag of 200 photos over 10 years. 

But I choose to write here, because it brings me back the simplicity, when I wrote simply to write, and wrote for a few friends.

And I continue.

Many of the posts here are not saved on my computer. I think they should be. 

I have so many precious incidents documented here.

The past decade has always been difficult with regards to life issues.

Yes Life issues, something that I hardly share on this blog. At least not openly. 

Sometimes, when I return to this blog, I am amazed at how much I have recorded. I could not have written it all in my hand written journals. 

I must admit writing in a journal is different from writing on this blog. I know that this can be accessed by strangers, no matter that it is anonymous. There is always a fear of being found out. And I want to limit some thoughts to my journals. 

There are many ways of adding story to a picture....I love what light and camera angles can do, even with computer's Photo Booth

So, today, on a Saturday, even though I generally post on Friday evenings, I decided to dedicate some time to this blog.

I want to share two incidents from this week. First about food, and second about unplanned conversations that can evoke nostalgia, a strong yet fleeting connection and rejuvenate us because it brings us human connection. 

I have been working in Gothenburg. Love the city. 

But also some days I buy cooked food to save time. And because I am simply exhausted, working between two towns. But more importantly here I have access to so much 'international food'. Even getting nice Chinese or Italian in Karlstad is not easy.

Here in Goteborg, I can get Indian and Greek, and Chinese and Vietnamese ....you name it.

I stay in city centre. Even better, close to metro and buses, and very close to many eateries.

So, this last week I visited an Indian restaurant for a take away twice. I have been having some 'gum' issues.  So have restricted my food to soups, rice and noodles for a few weeks.

Rice and daal, sounded wholesome and warm and healthy.

I got it two days ago on Wednesday. The  yesterday, that is friday, I went again and ordered the same.

The person serving me at the counter insisted I have something else. 

'No try no 81, or 83, they are all vegetarian'.

At some point, he asked me where I was from. He told me the last time he was from India. This time, he told me he was from Nepal and asked if I could speak hindi.

We started chatting in hindi. He insisted that I try something other than what `i ordered.

I have to be careful, and need to have something soft., I said.

'yes,' i assure you 81 channa masala is soft and delicious. he repeated.

Ok, I ordered, and then asked, 'but why do you insist when I am fine with what i had two days ago?'

'Because you have to try other things from our place, because it is good for your mouth and taste to try something new.'

I simply smiled. It was a combination of 'care and pride'. He wanted me to have a good experience, also wanted me to think good of his restaurant.

There's an asian touch. As we call it, Apnapan. The feeling of belonging. 

I smiled, and we talked about a few other things. How he came to this country. He told me he had been here for 5 years. He shared his name. I told him I knew another Kamal *meaning lotus, from Nepal. I told him people usually thought I was from Nepal or Mexico or Spain or Italy, its interesting how I am perceived. 

I asked him I could get a small packet of sweetened aniseed, which you get in Indian restaurants after meals. Its is a digesting and a mouth freshner.

He packed the anise, and two types of chutneys.

Ah, the feeling of familiarity lasted the whole evening. For a short time, on a cold evening, I felt like I was home.

Second Incident.  Three days ago. Wednesday. The first time I went to that restaurant to get rice and daal, I stopped at Kvillefoto (https://kvillefoto.se) to ask if they could get me a few negatives of a few glamour shots, some old family pics etc. (you can watch the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02T6b4NHX7w)

The best part was that without thinking I did my first few minutes of conversation in Swedish.

He said that they did. But today there is no need for a negative because they make a digital image of it and can remove any scratches etc. 

I wanted to ask him about getting a camera for my youtube channel. 

'Oh I know nothing of it' he said. I was surprised. Then he pointed at the long row of cameras behind him and said, 'All these are analogs. These are old cameras. Film is still hard to find, but they are getting more and more demand. Analog is coming back in fashion, people want to see pictures that are not perfect....'

I was listening intently. I talked about my first Pentax and realised that even that was not an analogue. I had forgotten. I never owned an analogue. Maybe the disposals ones.

I have two of my father's cameras. One of them, Minolta, really dear to him. 

So I talked about Minolta, long lenses, and another one that my father gave me, a really old camera.

The man smiled.

Then I told him to watch Sean Tucker's youtube channel.  He said, he already did.

He shared a few pictures, told me about following natural light and showed me various ways I could get some pasteboards if I wished. 

I have been meaning to get pasteboards made of flowers from different countries. 

Then I asked him, if I could interview him about photography for my channel. He agreed.

I was so happy. Only I know how hard it is for me to find time. I have gazillion ideas but to keep it all up is hard.

But still such a soulful conversation, that when I stepped out of the photoshop I had a spring in my walk.

Such power, human connection has.

So, I wanted this to be focus of my very first story of 2023. I hope you will remember and I wish you experience many warm moments like this in the coming year.

Bounty of Busy Bangkok: Aromas and Audio

Apologies for missing a week. The computer was away, used my old computer and just could not bring myself to write. Realised even though I have several other places where I write and contribute and just began one other blog, there is something 'homey' about this one. 

Thailand remains my all time love. Asia --in general excites me. 

I return to this FOR YOU ALL.   Even though this is hidden, it gets nearly 400 hits a month. 

Regardless, here is a blog from August 22, 2011, so nearly a decade ago.  This blog amazes me.  I surprise myself, with the amount of work that has been a part of this blog.

Thanks all for reading and returning and reading. 

__________________________

Bangkok is a jungle, people will say.  And in many ways it is.  The second time I arrived there, in 2009 (the first time was ages ago), I came from Wellington, New Zealand's capital.  Bangkok was nothing like is Kiwi counterpart.  A capital city ...yes, but that is where comparison stopped.  Bangkok has nearly times and a half the population of entire New Zealand.  The first time I came to Bangkok from Botswana.  A country of less than 2 million people.  And my first thought was 'wow, this city must use the same amount of electricity that Kanye does in a year.'  Kanye was the little town/village in the South of Botswana that I called home.  The first year there was no electricity at my school.  I ended up using candles and kerosene to light my little house.  That was a big change from growing up in New Delhi.  So, a stop in Bangkok for someone who called Kanye home was 'truly illuminating'!!  Strangely enough it did not seem any less stark from Wellington NZ.  Unilke NZ which was organized and maintained a certain 'English Subtlety' Bangkok was brazen, daring and demure at the same time. 

At 5.7 million people, Bangkok though still much less populated than New Delhi, is like a live wire.  Absolutely alive, electric, life giving, bright and yet at times dangerous. 

I have to admit though that the danger is not nearly as much as the beauty of the city.  As much as the city gives you.....

There are sites to see and 

smells to smell, 

sounds to hear, 

of horns and bells

The city offers you everything....what you find in the city is only a reflection of who you are...

I am short of time --so I will let pictures do most of the talking.

Anyone who has heard of Bangkok must have also heard of tuk-tuks.  Tuks-tuks are the Thai version of Indian 'three wheelers'.  Slightly wider than three-wheelers (or scooters are they are called in India), Tuk-tuks not always covered on three sides like scooters.  But just like their Indian counter part, because of their shape, they are speedier, and offer the passengers much more adventure.  By shape, I do not mean the mechanical advantage or any such 'technical' aspect.  I mean because of their shape, their drivers can take much more liberty in driving.  Tuk-tuk's triangular shape allows them to break the traffic rules without offending the other royal vehicles.  

US!!.  We decided to see the Grand Palace.  One of the most toursity of places in Bangkok.  But would it be fun if we took a taxi?  Absolutely not!! So we crammed in a tuk-tuk and 'doubled our fun!!'

Where else but Bangkok can you see shocking pink cabs.  By the way, there are about four colors of cabs in Bangkok.  The cabs alone add a splash of color to the streets.

No matter how many times I have seen them, I still stop dead in my tracks when I see a Monk.  And start clicking my camera like a mad person.  

Monks: The regular and raggity shopping centre outside Wat Mahathat.  There are regular shops, quite fancy.  And then the street vendors just crowd it, leaving little space for onlookers, and customers.  But that is the joy....there is so much to see that one never gets bored!!

One of the delights of Bangkok is its street food.  And for non vegetarians it is a heaven!!  I have never been able to keep track of all the variety available on the streets.  This was my third time in the country and every time I have discovered new foods. A young woman from Switzerland said that she had been living in Bangkok for a more than a year and still she discovers a new street food or new fruit or vegetable every so often!! Bounty!!

Here the man makes mini pancakes, stuff them with sweet filling, rolls them and puts them on the side....ready to be sold. 

I just walked into an alley that was perpendicular to the street shown above. Lo and Behold, I was in another world.  That is the joy of Asia.  Little streets open into other little streets.  This is a much organized version of street restaurants that you will find all over south east asia.  Most of these are unorganized, haphazard, but very functional.  This set up may be jointly used by several small 'noodle/pad thai shops.'  Many young people meet here for dinner after work, before heading home. I am told not many people in Bangkok cook.  

Right after the street restaurant was a string of fortune tellers.  Ah just my luck, they seemed good, and I could afford them but we did not speak the same language.  I am seriously thinking of learning Thai.  I can already count till ten!! ha, ha..

Ah finally, I had been looking for this one.  Last time I found them in Thailand and Laos.  Pancakes is what they call them.  But they are not the kind of pancakes we are used to.  These are more like fried rotis/chappatis, the Indian bread.  Only stuffed.  Although plain ones are available, my favorite ones are cheese and banana.  You can get them in various flavors.  Cheese, Banana, nutella, plain sugar, pineapple etc. I went to this vendor twice.  By the end of the day, I knew I had had enough sugar for this lifetime......but that did not stop me from eating just one more.....

So this was one of the many new foods I discovered this time. Well, wanna guess what this is? 

Plain bananas being roasted.  The healthiest of foods.  Once roasted the bananas are then peeled and flattened. Some times, instead of flattening them a stick is inserted so people eat them like popsickles.  Very healthy, unless ofcourse you say 'yes' to the 'coconut sugar sauce that comes with it!!"

Dont ask me what this is.  Half the time I do not try anything for the fear of biting into something 'meaty' but am fascinated by how many ways can we use the same foods to honor our taste buds!!

Ok, I have forgotten what this is.  Will have to get back to you all for that one.  The smaller version of this is called 'longan'.  But this one....I was in a rush so just took a picture and boarded my bus.  

Asia is known for variety.....of the people, of food, of culture, even diversity of thought.  But there is a kind of unity of thought.  Even in the communist countries like Vietnam, there is a belief of reincarnation.  I am not sure whether or not that is true.  But I do believe the idea of reincarnation originated from the basic understanding that 'life continues' and that what we know is very narrow.  We will never know it all.  The universe and its ways are much more complicated than what we can comprehend.  And while we acknowledge that, let us celebrate the diversity that we see on the surface....because at the heart of it all...all is ONE !!

A Toast to Those Who Make us Laugh

First published on September 5, 2012, I remember this time being a sad time for me. I remember how I had cried about not having a direction.  I am still directionless, but in the these last 7 some years I have made some major strides.  Some professional publications, several popular news paper articles, a bit of a name as a public intellectual and papers in two areas that I really wanted to work towards. 

I have a created a bit of a community even though, I still want to move. But I have some real friends, although the concept that without a family --seroiusly friends are a weak link to this world.  Friendship, to me, is the strongest relationship, but family is stronger.  It just is so. Not just to me, but just is so.  You cannot replace family and relationships that you can have with adult siblings. That is why single children often have a hard time in life.  No one's fault.  Sometime you cannot help it.  But it is a hard life for them--the only children.  They may cling to people who are not good for them, or may make not very many good choices--- for their sense of the world is limited.  And unless they are loners, they will forever rely on friends, who may or may not return loyalties. And if 'only children' are awake to the loneliness of the world, they know what this paragraph just talked about.  Many of them become awake to it later in life. And often end up having a few children.  I have a friend who knew she wanted at least two, since she is an only child.

So, when this blog was written, was a difficult time, and yet this post will tell you that I had learnt to appreciate simple joys and pleasure and learnt to notice good wherever I could. I remember this day like yesterday. Their voices still echo in my ears, and I clearly remember the expressions on their faces.  And incidentally, i found a handwritten note to myself where I had jotted down details of this event, since it happened on a plane.  I must have written it either on the plane or when I arrived on the other end.  

Wonder where these people are today?  If I saw them today, I would still raise a toast to them--for the memory those hours on the plane and that trip, I still remember vividly!!

Being a flight attendant can be a taxing job.  Hats off to those who make it seem easy, and consider bringing smiles to the passengers a part of their job.  P, is the first one from the right. March, 2012.

Their jokes were silly but with every giggle my insides got loose.  By the time I got off the plane, I felt my stomach relax, as one's body does after a good session of yoga.  P, is the first one from the right. March 2012. 

I was headed to India for a conference.  Luckily this one coincided with Holi, the festival of colors.  Something I had not been in India for nearly two decades.  I was tired, and had much to do.  All of february I had been sick.  So I carried that fatigue with me. 

I remember dozing off in the bus to Arlanda Airport.  All the time my mind was rushing.  You know when you are asleep  but the list of things to do is scrolling at the back of your consciousness.  

Sometime I wonder why do I have that, when I have much less responsibilities in terms of 'everyday life' than many other people.  I think it is because I have had the wrong gauge.  I cannot and should not gauge myself according to the world.  

The gauge for those who live on the edges must be different, as are our lives. It is not about car pooling, mortgages, looking for better schools, or watching trees grow.  In its nomadic ways it is much wider.  Not how many gadgets you can have--but instead--how may you use the same pan for various activities.

A frying pan, deep enough to be a Karahi (Indian frying skillet with two handles on the opposite ends), and can be used as tava (the flat pan used to cook chapatis).  That way it reduces on the clutter in the kitchen and the amount of things that must be carried with every move.  

Another thing that has happened with incessant travel is that instead of seats by the window, I ask for seats in the aisle, so I do not need to bother others during the flight and so that I can take the needed break from the seat when I wish, without disturbing others.  Seeing the sights through the window, which used to be a priority isn't anymore.

So, I was exhausted from trying to place where my life was.  I was at the edge and making massive decisions mentally.  Of what I am going to keep and what to let go. What to say good bye to and what to welcome.

All of it in the form of 'attitudes and modes of thinking.'

It was then when the following incident happened.

I am going to try and write all of it--from memory and notes in my journal---but there is something about the moment that cannot be captured--even on a page, in the most beautiful words.

Once the moment is gone, everything else is a mere re-creation--copying and pasting.  And probably looses a generation or two with each re-production.  A joke dropped, a detail missed, a few words jumbled.  The spontaneity is gone.

And then there is the simplicity of the moment.  When your love smiled at you without knowing he/she was smiling, when a toddler said something profound but with an innocence, without an intention that left the parent gaping in awe, when a vendor decided to give you a discount for no reason except that you say hello with a smile, when a bus driver stopped that extra minute so you could get on the bus....all those great moments that, if frozen, could be turned into novels.  That 'moment' is hard to capture.

But then we have the words, the re-creation, in the hope of 'grasping the moment.'

It started with me asking for a cup of water.  'hot water'.

I pressed the button on my chair, and felt like the leader of some starship enterprirse when the young flight attendant appeared on my side.

And then I waited.  But nothing happened for the next 15 minutes.  My throat was dry from Swedish winter, so I walked to the back of the airplane.

'Oh, I forgot it', said the young man tapping his forehead.

"Don't worry, dont worry' I said trying to make him feel comfortable and relieve his guilt.

'Oh, he is not worried.' said the funny one with a straight face.  I gave a blank look.

It took me a few seconds to realize that he was joking.

As I  headed towards the toilet he said, 'Do you have a voucher?"

The he extended his hand towards me, "Let me see your voucher?"

'A voucher?"  I was confused.  May be now they have these new rules that I know nothing of.  So I looked blankly at him.

' And if you do not have one, let me print you one.' He turned towards the kitchen area.

I was still a little confused so I just waved and headed for my business.

When I stepped out he told me, with a very serious face, that I owed him 2 euros.

By this time I was getting in on the joke.  His co-workers were unruffled, probably because they were used to his ways.  Which made it all seem realistic.  One had to have a combination of sense of humor and an understanding of practical jokes to both understand and appreciate the situation.

(I am proud to say that I do both) ;))

I wanted to stand there, relax, enjoy the conversation and more such scenarios.  So, I just stood there.

One of the greatest joys of traveling alone, short term or long term in life, that you never have to explain your behavior to others.

He had to leave to take care of others.

I stood alone with African-British guy, admiring his british accent.  Which is so different from listening to African American men.  The man was very friendly and started chatting right away.

'If you stayed here with this group, you'll hear things you cannot imagine.'

I nodded.   'But that is good --he makes us laugh, and I could have used it.

Then the men standing there went on tell me that they'd been up since 2 am, and had a back to back run between Stockholm and London, a two hour flight.  And that these jokes and other ways of making light of the situation kept them going.

'Its not just good for you but us too, you know.' He said.

'Yeah, but he does it with a striaght face.' I said, unable to control my laughter.

I know.  He nodded.

'And with all the charging he is talking about, the way England is right now people might believe him.!!'

The African British guy laughed. "I know.'

'So you live in Sweden? he asked.  We had already talked about me having lived in a few countries.

'Yes',

'How's the country?

'Gorgeous, stunning, sort of Utopia ....unbelievable , I've never felt this safe anywhere else.'

'You think you will stay here forever?

'Not sure!'

'Utopia and not sure?

'well, you know, Utopia can be like heaven, perfect, and a little boring.'

'And the US?

'Oh the US that is another story.  Its like loving someone who is not right for you, this attractive-looking person in a mohawk, sleeveless leather jacket, chains, tattoos and piercings, someone without a steady income.  Those your parents told you to keep away from. And you look at him, and your heart melts, and you feel a familiar pang, as if you have known him a while.'

'I understand' he said solemnly.  As if he knew what i was talking about. And then he chuckled.

The funny one, let me call him P, (for P. G. Woodhouse ;)) came back.

A woman walked up and said she wanted to use the toilet....

'Maam do you have a voucher' said P one again.  She did not know he was talking to her, but when she looked up, she sort of ignored and continued to her destination,

'Maam, wait if you do not have a voucher let me print you one. Its 2 euros'  And he turned to his side as if turning towards a printer.

The woman smiled and stepped into the toilet cabin.

'Well, maam, listen if you go in without a voucher the door will lock itself and you will not be able to step out.'  The woman smiled, blushed and pulled the toilet door shut from inside.

P, with his straight face turned to others standing in the que.  'See, if you fly with us often, I suggest you get an identity card.  An ID would be good for frequent flyers.  Its two euros.'

'An ID card and voucher both 2, Euros? I thought that would be more' I said.

"Well, we are generous.'  he tilted his head to the side.  Still no indication that this was a joke or that he was being funny.

A man came looking for water.

'Sir, we are going to be bringing trays out soon.'

"No, here' he waved a plastic glass at the attendant.  He did not want to waste a plastic glass, he wanted reuse the one he had been given a few minutes ago.

'Ah, you must be Swedish,' I said, He smiled in agreement. 'That's so Swedish, so conscientious'. I said aloud.

And I looked at the flight attendants standing next to me smiled, and pointed 'That's a swede for you.'

The African-British nodded back.

I asked the young one, how many years have you been working as an attendant?

"six years' he said.

'You look a little young to have done this for so many years'

P said, with a straight face again, ''she did not say that about me...'

Another with unruly hair was walking up towards the gang I was talking to.

'Sir, Sir, let me get you a brush' said P.

I could not stop laughing because the unruly hair was artificial hair attached to his cap.  It was meant to be a 'fun hat'.  Luckily the man did not hear it.

At some point P said, 'here let me show you my straight jacket, the mental health people carry  me in.  When I leave the plane I have to slip into that straight jacket.'

P's face was serious as ever and I was laughing so hard that my intestines were complaining for having them exercise.

Before I knew, the heaviness, the stress, the life questions had all vanished into nothingness.  How could I not be grateful?

It would be awkward to stay there very long.  When I told them, that they had made my day by making me laugh P said, 'Well, then you get to clean the plane after we land, nothing comes for free.'

I laughed hard.  Bowed and said, 'Gladly Sir, if that means you will make many others laugh like this...it would be an honor'

And meant it.  

This post is dedicated to all those who consider making people laugh their job, regardless of what they get paid for.

Lisbon, Nottingham, Race & Gender

I have about 100 drafts on this website. Yes, 100!  With some writing and some pictures.  So, often I have no time to go back and check.  But browsing through some drafts I found this one from 2011.  It did not even have a title but just took the first words in the post --Lisbon, Portugal and turned it into the title by default. Which caught my attention.  

I was there for a conference.  I remember this picture because a stranger who I talked to for an hour took it.  I remember it because I had lied and made up a few things about myself while talking to him.  The thing is when you travel as much as I have, people cannot locate you, and they cannot exactly place you.  For a long time, I did not know this.  But I learnt it over the years.  When I was called, a Mexican,  a Spanish,  a Siberian,  a Chinese,  a Nepali,  an Italian, an Australian (often in Fiji) and the best 'a half-breed'.  So much so that an Indian woman in Fiji, my first semester there, after asking me a few times where I was from, and me explaining that I grew up in India--finally asked me, "No, so what race are you?'.

Race is an interesting concept. I had none, until I left India.  We do not talk in terms of race. Indian is not a race. Its a culture. A civilisation.  But no race.  Why? Its one of the oldest surviving civilisations and also has experienced much more mixing of people than possibly anywhere else in the world (a geneticist who studies this told me).  So even in a country like the US and definitely in Europe, people of Euro origin have intermixed more among themselves than other races, and the same goes for other races there--afro origin, asian, etc. It might be changing slightly, but will take a long time to arrive at what is a country like India.  We have 'everything'.  People who look white and those who look oriental and those who look african and oh yes middle eastern with that peculiar nose.  

  For those who are interested in learning more can read in this new study  (Craniofacial reconstruction of the Indus Valley Civilization individuals found at 4500-year-old Rakhigarhi cemetery)to see what Indians 1000s of years ago looked like. You cannot really place them in any part of the world. They seem to have all kinds of features. 

So I have no race.  

We have intermingled for 1000s of years.  But it was in the US where this question became so very important.  Now after applying for jobs and grants around them world I have realised how important that question is mainly in the predominantly 'white nations'.  The questions on gets asked are obviously --gender (and presently they add questions on in-between genders, including non-binary), race, religion, disability etc.

Race--religion--why is that important?  At least when I was growing up, we were never asked that in India.  May be our names told it all. I will not be surprised if they start asking those questions, what with missionaries converting like crazy and people keeping their old names to get some benefits.  They can get benefits as christians as minorities and with their names they claim benefits of the backward classes.  It also allows them easy blending in a Hindu majority country.  Its cheating but many do it.  So may be now in India too we will start asking about religion on the questionnaires.  

But race?  We are all one race.  Even those with different skin colors.  In one family we can have different colors.  Interesting how in countries like Fiji and Botswana they almost called me white, where as most of my 'white' friends, especially the ones in north America  always mentioned 'how dark I was'.  Reminds me how Gandhi's son talked about being beaten up by blacks in South Africa for not being black enough and by whites for not being white. :)

Lisbon, Porgutal, 

So, in Lisbon, after the conference was over, I had about 20 hrs left and I decided to see the city.  Met this guy from Greece, who tried to guess where I was from and failed miserably. I do not remember what I told him.  I definitely am honest about being an Indian --but other things I let slide to give me privacy and a sense of security.  Those things include talking about length of my marriage and the number of my children.  I am not alone in this.  In my travels I have met many women, mostly white and asian, who talk about wearing a wedding ring to create a ring of security around them when travelling. Women have shared with me how they usually talk about their husband coming to visit in a day or so. 'We are travelling and will meet in the capital city in two days. We wanted to see different cities', they tell fellow male travellers. In this case I spun stories as well. It was fun and made me feel safe. 

Another experience when you are travelling happens when you are having a decent chat with someone and the guy usually says, 'Can I buy you a drink?'. I want to shake my head hard and say emphatically, 'No, absolutely not' who do you think I am?' But I usually make up stuff like, I have a bus to Portugal in 20 minutes, or I am leaving town tonight. I detest this way of buying someone's time. Coming from where I come from, girls from good families would never ever do this. And what strange way of buying someone's time.  We buy drinks and meals for our friends all the time, but we have known them a long time and that act is not 'buying' but a contribution towards an ongoing relationship.  Has meaning. 

A male friend said he never lied when he was travelling. 'Ah, the male privilege!!'  I am not a gender-studies person, nor do I believe in this crazy 'female independence' (another post is required on it--I believe in interdependence of the genders, males and females need each other).  But I do believe in biological advantage.  Well, one does not have to believe in it, it is.  

It just is.

A woman has years of fertility, men usually don't.  Women are more vulnerable during travel, men are not.  Not as much.  Men have more physical strength, women do not.  Physically, women are weaker.  Here is women's advantage: they get pregnant and they can choose not to share it with the man.  Walk away, abort the child without his permission or never tell him.  Ofcourse paternity tests today can help, but what if she aborts without the man knowing.  That is biological advantage. And as a researcher let me add 'Given all things constant' meaning exceptions exist and somethings can be altered--but there is such a thing as nature and our societies understood that.  And therefore most cultures placed importance on women taking care of themselves. Not provoking men or placing themselves in dangerous situations.  A friend and I debated recently over this (a real good friend)--that women should not be blamed for dressing the way they do, or putting themselves in harm's way if something bad happens to them.  My answer is what my older cousin shared with me.  When you know that you have splinters and glass spread all over the road outside of your house, it is stupid to want to put responsibility on the street cleaners and blame them if everything is not clean. And one cannot wait to leave the house.  Instead, the wise thing to do is to wear shoes.  Secure your feet.  And then help the cleaners clean, work with the community on weekends to clean it.  But keep wearing your shoes until yo know its completely safe!!

Today in this female independence environment women are told that the problem is always 'on the outside. and that we can and must teach men to be different/better.  Absolutely we can!

But we ALWAYS have.  That is why there was always a difference between men who were raised well and those who were not.  In India joint families were great for that reason. Men grew up with aunties and sisters and cousins and had to learn how to behave with women.  Sure there are some men who are not that good or caring.  But this image of men as animals especially in non-western cultures is definitely media generated.  I can say this from my experience. But we should never forget--never forget there is such a thing as biology and nature.  When we ignore that we create a schizophrenic society, as I see much in the west --with non western societies hopelessly following suit. Without any thought.  So in our present day societies women have become like men, taking all responsibility and doing much more.  Men on the other hand have not learnt to be like women.  They cannot.  And may be that also keeps a bit of sanity to this world (a detailed post on that will come later).

Nottingham, January, 2011

But what I do do is talk to children. All over the world. Grateful when their parents allow me to talk to them. I think we do not give them enough attention.  So I can say 'I love you' in about 13-16 languages.  Hindi, Urdu, English, Spanish, Swedish, German, Russian, Magyar (Hungarian), Setswana, Punjabi, Bengali, Gujarati, French, Greek, Chinese, Polish (and now I am forgetting some)---I love to say that to children around the world.  It is so beautiful to see their expressions --a delight when they feel someone is giving them attention in their language. This above picture was with a little tourist in Nottingham, where I had gone for  some official work. 

Nottingham, January, 2011

So yes, I have no race--I am just a human being and often not even focussed on being a woman, but I have a heart and I speak the language of children....good enough?

Smiling Salesman

First published on November 28, 2012--Here it is again. I remember this incident like it was yesterday.  Remember his face like I saw him this morning.  And the joy that spread his face when I took this picture still makes me all happy and want to be the nicest person in the world!!  Thank you sir!! We should all smile, we never know how it is helping someone!!

We were headed to Tak Tseng: The Tiger's Nest.  One of the oldest Monasteries in Bhutan.  

It was nearly 3000 ft above the sea level.  From ground to the monastery was about three hour gruesome climb.  As is always the case, there were vendors selling goods at the base.  

I have learnt to identify things that we must spend money on and those that we should leave alone.  This year my goal was to 'not shop'.  Mostly, I have realized, I spend just as much time in looking for gift as in enjoying my break.  This break was meant to take me deep within.  So my goal also was to not buy gifts for anyone, to not talk to many people, just be alone, not email, no phone calls, no connection with the world.  All of it proved difficult, but useful in the long run. But I reduced my email checking considerably, only spoke with 2-3 ultra important people who would not let me alone, during this time. I had left my check-in bag at Singapore and carried only a hand-luggage to Bhutan.  Half of which was filled with paper and books to read.

I did not realize not buying gifts would prove so difficult.  I would look at things, and then come back a dozen time to buy them and at least two times I would return with the good in my hand.  But at least ten times I resisted the urge to buy.  It was a great exercise for someone like me, who spent many hours on looking for gifts. Among other things, this time, a resolution and carrying only my hand luggage proved helpful.

I have also realized that souvenirs often cost more (in time and effort) than what they mean to who you present them to.  So, this year....I knew whatever I bought would either be for other people, or something I could not do without.

There was one such a thing they were selling at the base.

A walking stick.  

I have climbed a few of these 'high up' places, so I know how important a stick is.  As I started looking at them, about three people rushed with their sticks towards me.  The sticks were very nicely shaved and sanded.  Very smooth, and very strong.  

'Buy from me, from me' all three said. Two women and one man. 

I have to admit though that the vendors were not as aggressive as I have seen in other countries.

Then this woman came up to me and said, 'buy from me, the other two are together, I am alone.'

That one line made the decision for me.  This man tried smiling, cajoling, but I leaned toward the woman who had said, 'buy it from me, I am alone.'

The man, with a child-like round face, responded with a pout.  I felt really bad for turning his smiling face to a pout.

'I am sorry, I am sorry' I told him, 'Ok promise I will try and buy something from you when I return.'

But he would not look at me.  My last image of him, before I headed towards the monastery was that of a face that was 'sad, forlorn, disappointmented.'

I felt bad, but needed only one stick.  And I had to be ruthless to stick to my 'no frivolous buying policy.'

I met some of the most interesting people on my first hike up to Tak Tseng (I went twice).  I will write about those people in another post.  

On my return, I saw him sitting with his goods.  The moment he saw me, he tried not smiling, but ah a pure heart-- how could a pure heart not smile?

'See I told you, I will buy something from you, but not until you smile for me.'

'Yes, yes, smile for me, a bigger one...'  

He gave me an ear to ear smile....and that is when my camera went, 'Click'.