How many times you have answered the following questionnaire while completing a regular survey in your lifetime without even thinking much about it? I recently came across the following comment while working with a survey related to student learning:
“I am an American, Goddammit!“
It was a response for an ordinary survey question:
Are you a:
We all know Hitler caused the biggest genocide on earth; he eliminated approximately six million Jews and half a million Gypsies. The Holocaust is the most widely known and despised event in world history. I argue that during World War II in India, the undivided Bengal witnessed the greatest passive-Holocaust in the world and it was all courtesy of the British who were “administering” India at the time.
I am sure the word “clever” is insulting and derogatory to some people — they would “rather be good“ than be clever. I was one of them until I read this, mostly because “being good” sounded more pleasant than “being clever” and there is no one on this earth who would like to be known as “nice” than “shrewd. It’s not even possible to use the word “clever” as simple praise without being sarcastic or down right abusive.
I grew up in India reading Tintin. If you are a die hard fan of Tintin like me, you probably started scratching your head — when on earth “Tintin” was in India? He wasn’t. The closest Tintin came to India was Tibet but I was still able to find him! 
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Amarnath temple is one of the most popular pilgrimage destinations in India and also incredibly picturesque. The beauty is breathtaking but the five days journey of approximately 40 miles back and forth is extremely strenuous. Well, there are countless temples in India with millions of visitors everyday — what’s so special about Amarnath?
I was pretty confident about my language skill when I came to the USA in 2004 from India, but it took a nose-dive within 20 minutes of my landing there. It was amazing to hear the responses for all the “thank yous” I offered. From the regular “no problem at all, and my pleasure etc.” to a slightly unusual “no probs and you bet” to a stunningly musical “hmm…hmm” almost swept me off my feet.
I witnessed “Durgapuja” aka “Puja” in Kolkata last October straight after 4 years. Puja, for those who are not familiar with the term, is the biggest Hindu festival of Eastern part of India, Kolkata being the center of attraction. As an absolute non-religious person, Puja was never really of any significance but even a die-hard atheist like me couldn’t really deny the effect of nostalgia and memory it used to bring along.
Last night I was watching “Eight Below” again – probably for the eighth time in last two years. Paul Walker rightly summed up “Eight Below” by saying, “If you’re a dog lover, you’ll get it. If not, you won’t.”
These hands. Strong and powerful. Soothing and gentle. As if these embody a complete character, the whole persona. A person engrossed in her life, fulfilling its duties religiously. Duties as a daughter, as a wife, as a mother, as a homemaker — as an epitome of tolerance, patience and acceptance as life comes.
Her hands do not have manicured fingers as an epitome of fashion; her hands are age ridden, filled with lines, time-worn yet experienced and comforting. You are seeing the hands of my 79 year old grandmother. Her hands are diligently working on an Indian cutting utensil.
On 14th. Sep’08, Delhi was hit by a serial blast killing 30 people and injuring 90 others. On 26th. July’08, Ahmedabad was hit by a similar kind of serial blasts, taking lives of 60 people and leaving more than 200 people injured.
Before that it was Bangalore, before Bangalore it was Jaipur – the list is endless.
Planting of these low intensity bombs in different places has become repulsively regular in India. It is believed that the Indian Mujahedeen group is responsible for all these blasts, they demonstrate their “jihad” by all these.
I understand the need of a protest but not by killing people in the name of religion – that’s just atrocious.
I almost forgot how it felt to get completely drenched in a downpour after suffering in a scorching heat for three months. I remembered it yesterday as I got soaked in an early June thunderstorm last night – when you do you know much long waited monsoon has finally arrived. It feels divine.
The rainstorm last night brought back my own childhood memory when “monsoon” used to mean enjoying “rainy days” (staying back home as life comes to a complete stop because of the super heavy shower), it meant snuggling in the bed with a story book and listening the drizzle or thunder outside, it meant making paper boats and trying them to keep steadily floating the water logged backyard, it meant the smell of steaming hot tea or coffee and various fried snacks in the kitchen…
How white are your lies? Do you ever tell any?
Do you think you are unbeatable with them — those tiny fibs you need to sail through so-called civilized society — but do they harm anyone given life from your lips?
My roommate called me on a Monday afternoon once.
“Hey Katha, are you home?”
I was pleasantly surprised while watching movie “Inside Man” as it started with a famous Bollywood song directed by A R Rahman.
I found this phenomenon pretty interesting and believed that “music” has no specific language or culture barrier. As long as it sounds nice it appeals people – regardless of the global boundary.
I was even more startled while watching Lords of War last week which has another theme music composed by A R Rahman again, from a famous bollywood movie called Bombay.
The recent race feud between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, and Bill Clinton basically calling Obama a “boy” and the Senator Macaca mess — all reminded me of the Indian cricketer being accused for racism as he called names while playing a test cricket series in Australia last month. The Indian bowler Harbhajan Singh was accused of calling Andrew Symonds “a monkey” in the Sydney test cricket in Australia and was subsequently banned for next three matches. Here is Symonds in play:
An Indian cricketer calling names of the host is supposed to be the eighth wonder of the world. Or, I think this is a time for brutal directness – calling a spade a spade.
