Friday, June 15, 2007

(2B) || ( ! 2B)

If you are computer programmer by profession or have a knack of some C-like programming languages, you will not need my translation to read the topic. For everyone else, in English it reads: to be or not to be. I didn't write the topic like that to appear cool or hip; nor was my intention to sound confusing and thus profoundly knowledgeable; neither to chew my words. With this topic alone I want to illustrate the impression that I am getting reading the Nepali blogs so far - that it has a targetted readership and their topics are very subjective. Nothing wrong with that. Like I said, I am only thinking aloud. Really, nothing wrong in being subjective. But our Nepali blogshpere seems to have become constrictive, and this my friends, is quite counter intiutive.

There are numerous blogs that I visit that specialize in ONE topic and I like them very much - mostly on my work related topics like BPM, C#/.NET technologies and IT system architecture and performance stuff. I also like some that are purely entertainment - mostly comedy oriented. There are some serious political blogs that I like and really dislike that I visit regularly (applies to both categories). In a week, I think I visit anywhere from 2-30 blogs of varying subjects and origins and styles depending on how much time I do get to spare. I would love to do more of it, but, hey ...someone's gotta pay the bills, hmm??

In the Nepali blogsphere, I visit most of the regularly updated ones (and really, there aren't that many that are regular). Most of the regular ones are run by journalists and naturally provide extensions to their regular work in writing/reporting . I'll come back to these later in this article. I also visit many other blogs run by non-jurnos, most of them are not regular or lack any depth in writing - just like mine, I guess. I like some of the funny ones but they are not at all regularly updated - again, just like mine. Topicwise, I would love to see fewer political and more social ones. I can mostly do without personal day-to-day diaries. I have enough of my worries to care about, who gives a rat's behind about yours? I think I have to criticize myself for this - I too have diverged to personal ramblings quite too many times and let the purpose of this blog go haywire. Probably you can do without those from me too - sorry! Ok, agreed...never again.
Like a grumbling old man, who has nothing to do but complain, I've come up with some labels that can be applied to all Nepali bloggers, myself not excluding. Here is are some worth looking at:

Don Quixote
Anybody with enough calibre of composing a sentence or two seem to act as pundits on political issues and start pronouncing, denouncing, announcing their theories, judegements, allegations, accusations or what have you. People living outside Nepal are more akin to act like this. I have seen and met ample of these folks going nuts over things that they happen to read in online news. Out of sheer boredom or too much time in hand or both, these folks resort to fancy thinking...like acting important, saying things like "I know so and so leader", "So and so and I are good friends"; or theorizing national policies when they themselves have non-existing careers; preaching right, wrong, democracy and what not. By the way, a friend of mine in England also complains of the same things there. He gets back from brutal hospital hours and sometimes accompanies his wife, also back from brutal hospital hours, to a Nepali get-together. I can only imagine their rage when they hear people there say things like - "Dactar saab, maile ta Girija lai bhani diye - esto taal le desh chaldaina." and to know that the speakers of these enlightening sentences are barely running their own lives doing menial and odd jobs. The problem is, these folks have gone online - they discovered BLOG !! I have nothing against their lifestyle or their not-so-impressive careers - just stay off the preaching part, thank you. Now, having said that, there are some who have been making quite an effort in blogging and have been doing so for quite some time. But their intent and calibre is lacklustre at best as demonstrated by the content of their writings, doings( sending spam emails) and quixotic acts like "writing a constitution", "proposing a federal structure for Nepal" and so on. Again, too much time in hand and a desire to be seen as IMPORTANT. Frankly, who doesn't want to be important? What these Don Quixote's reincarnations lack is ...well, a punch of reality perhaps.

Gyani and Mahagyani
Back to the blogs by jurnos now. Very informative if you don't read the news first. Sometimes, there are "extras" on the news already published. The only new aspect of these is the discussions part. I am sorry to say, but most of the discussions lead no where. Of all the current-events like blogs, I like My Sansar . I also like the fact that the blogger has gone pro with it - qudos to the blogger for the guts and leading the pack. I like UWB when it comes to political content. These guys may already be past their prime now that media is not restricted any more. But, I still like this site as a forum for politiking. Not by a jurno, (I think) I also like Blogdai for the blogger's out-of-the-box analysis and cut-the-chase remarks. But, honestly "blogdai" doesn't seem to be living in the real world; and the same goes for the "active" participants on his site. On the other hand, some of the bloggers that fall into this label have told me (in their comment sections) that they really don't care what other think of their writing. I say that because more than once I have been given that same line when they hear something they don't like...they say "what I write in my blog is my opinion and (you should not be bothered about it) or (I don't care what you think of it)". For example: read the blog and my conversation there after with one blogger HERE. I say, why put it up in blog in the first place if you don't care about other's opinion? Or, it should have been much more comfortable to not allow any comments. Anyways, I read them becoz regularly updated ones are seriously lacking otherwise.

Groupie
Ever seen a logo "A proud member of BLOGAN" or something similar "proudly" displayed on the blog? Well, there you go - you found yourself a groupie. First, I don't like the idea of belonging to a group that has a label attached to it (ironical ! I hear you say... since I am the one who is labelling here). Being called a blogger is a label enough as far as I am concerned. I hear that BLOGAN has even thought of formally registering itself as an non-profit organisation of some sort. It is a quite an effort..but, IMHO, futile all the same. As soon as one is attached to a group or an organization, it always comes with a bag of creepy worms, viz. agenda, prioritization and a collective purpose - all of which I, for one, can do without when blogging. Quite a nice way of belonging to a flock and bleating for a cacophonous symphony. Congratulations !!

Wannabees
These are novices, procrastinators, amatures, with virtually no skill of writing and mostly without a topic either ....in short, the rest of us (almost !!!) . I know, I know, I surely did ruffle some sensitive feathers and thus inspired you to curse me with words unfit to write here - but, hey, I'm one of you, if that is any consolation; if it is not - who cares? It's the truth, deal with it. Some of us are even trying to butress our ego and self-confidence by somehow transforming ourself into a cool blogger. A buddy of mine who is a very successful photographer/graphical designer recently came up with an idea to start a new blog on photography and tourism as it pertains to Nepal, only that he wanted to focus on good aspects than bitching about the problems. His brian child is still in the making and will probably take some more months of prep before he goes public. I can only say, it will be grand and one of the best in our blogsphere. Until then, he too is a wannabee - sorry pal! And then, there are folks like me who would like to blog on anything/everything APOLOTICAL, but never seem to find time (an excuse for procrastination!) or topic (an excuse for stupidity) or both ( thus, a reason to procrastinate) !!!

Dummies
Did you feel that your blog doesn't belong to any of the aforementioned categories? Well then, welcome home ! This is where you belong. I do have one more label that I don't yet know who to attach to (see below); but, until then most of you are here to stay. Amazingly enough, few of you who will eventually grow out of this label are probably the only ones to get to my last category.

Goodies
{ Intentionally left blank !! }

Is there more to say? By the way, the reason for the Hamletian dilemma as the title of this post is becoz I am not sure if I want to continue to belong to the "wannabees". If not, do I grow above it or out of it? That is the question ! Amen.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Reading here and there

Looks like it is the season to read. I have quite a list and quite an appetite. It's been sometime that I've read as much as I used to. Well, after I return home from work, a baby in one hand and a book in another seems to be working quite well for me. Let's see how it keeps up. In the mean time, I'am all ears for good books - please suggest some that you have read. My focus of the month is south-asian writers, no language barriers as long as it is in Eglish, Nepali, Hindi, Bengali or translation into aforementioned ones of any.

For now, here is my reading of this week...
I started reading Jhumpa Lahiri's "Interpreter of Maladies" last night. So far so good. I will hold my opinion on it until I finish reading it, hopefully tonight. In the mean time, the last two books that I read were Herman Hesse's "Siddhartha" and Samrat Upadhyay's "Royal Ghosts". Both authors were the first time for me so I had no preconceived ideas about their approach or the plots. Just prior to these two I had finished reading some Nepali books - Bhupi's poem collection and Paarijaat's "Shirish Ko Phool" and the likes from good ol' days. But, the last one was Narayan Wagle's "Palpasa Cafe".

On Samrat Upadhyay's Royal Ghosts:-
I had heard great many "wah-wah"s and "chi-chi"s, depending on who I spoke to, for Samrat's "Arresting God in Kathmandu" but nothing for this one. So, I decided to read it first - having absolutely no idea about his style and presentation. Let me start with the good part - Royal Ghost is an easy read. There is a vibe of magnetism in the way the stories develop and also in the way the characters come to life. The description of the life and city has a nostalgic aura to it not only to expatriates but also for someone who has been living in Kathmandu. Unfailingly, the stories will make the readers think, smile, fuss and grunt. What more can you ask for, right? However, story after story, one trend seems to emerge - the plots develop well, captivating the reader at each page turn. Then, all of a sudden when one finally feels "okay, we are going somewhere with this," ...bam...he drops it ! The story ends. One feels as if there was more to the story that the author chose not to tell. No, I was not looking for a typical masala-hindi-movie type of ending where everyone hugs and kisses everyone else. Rathar, I got a feeling that the author simply had no more juice flowing at a certain point and just stopped there. While the juice I speak of certainly flows abundantly in Samrat's narratives, I found the endings in his stories not well-rounded. Well, that's the only part I didn't like, and I didn't like it BIG time ! OK read otherwise. Next in line from the author - "Arresting God in Kathmandu".

On Herman Hesse's Siddhartha (Translation by Hilda Rosner) :-
Absolutely mesmerizing way of spinning off the spiritual quest! Such a small book and such a powerful punch ! All the while I was reading it, I was constantly reminded of another book of equally mesmerizing spiritual journey in Paramhansa Yogananda's "Autobiography of a Yogi". I recommend this book to anyone who wants to start an inward quest on spiritualism. I don't want to spoil anyone's intake or experience by my limited capacity to describe this book - just go read it. Next in line from the author - "The Glass Bead Game" (also known as "Magister Ludi")

On Narayan Wagle's Palpasa Cafe :-
It is a very good read. I had a some idea on what kind of plot it was; so, I was not at all looking forward to read it. I now thank my Saasuji for bringing the book along with her from Nepal. I instantly loved it after reading the first few pages. It was the brilliantly refreshing style of his writing that kept me hooked despite the grim and somewhat solemn background. Now that I've read the book, I don't think there is any other way to tell that story. Biggest plus on the book - focus ! There aren't many characters to distract the author from hitting hard on what he intends to say; there aren't complicated and detailed biographies of the characters therein to distract the readers from getting to the centre of the whirlwind, so to speak; and, the author assumes an intelligent reader by not filling in the gaps for her. Speaking in the spirit of the book - it not only presents a canvas but also provides ample of colors and brushes to paint the picture with. Once again, I thank my saasuji. Next in line from the author- whatever he writes in future(in fiction form, that is).

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

ए बा !

बा भईयो ! हप्ता-दिनेक भए होलान । हैन, अलि बढी भएछन । खैर, त्यही हो कारण मेरो मौनताको । New Dad Syndrome ले मलाई पूरै सताएको छ । थकित जिउ, अनिदा आँखा, काँतर मुटु अनि अपत्त्यारिलो पाराले पलाएको जोश - यी सबै भएकाछन् मलाई। एक हप्ताको बिदा लिएर बसेको थिएँ सुत्त्केरी स्यहार्न, कसरी बित्यो केही पत्तो पाईन । एक दिन एकजना मित्रसँग फोनमा कुरा गर्दै थिएँ - भोली शुक्रबारसम्म छुट्टी लिएको छु - भनेँ । शुक्रबार त बितिसकेको रहेछ ! ह्या - क्या ताल पर्‍यो भने !

मलाई धेरैले सोधेको प्रश्न - "कस्तो हुदो रैछ त?" यो प्रश्न सोध्नेहरुसँग मेरो निक्कै गुँनासो छ । प्रथम त सोध्ने साथीहरु प्रायस: आँफै कम्तिमा एकजनाको पिता/माता भैसकेका परे । Mixed Chat को स्वादजस्तै मैले महसुस गरिरहेका उन्माद, संकट, गर्व, चिन्ता, अन्योलता अनि दृढ-संकलपताका मिश्रीत भावनाहरु यी मित्रहरु सबैले पहिलेनै महसुस गरिसकेकाछन । तैपनि मलाई सोधी टोपल्नुको अर्थ कि त मेरा मित्रहरु सार्‍है भुलक्कड रहेछन कि आफुजस्तै यो मोरोलाई पनि पर्‍यो कि परेनछ भनेर यकिन गर्ने चेष्टा गरेकाहुन्, मैले लख काट्न सकिन । अर्का थरि साथीहरु जो आफु पिता/मता भैसकेका छैनन्, तीनलाई यती सजिलै एउटा नयाँ जीवन निम्त्याएको बेलाको अलौकिक बृतान्त किन सुनाउनु? दुबै प्रती मेरो आपत्ति छ । नजानेर, थाहा पाउन मन लागेर सोध्नेहरुलाई चाँही मेरो आपत्ति छैन । तर, चाहेर पनि म त्यो क्षणको विवरण दिन सक्दिन ।

रुँदै-कराऊँदै, कर्कश ध्वनिमा जीवनको पहिलो प्रमाण दिंदै हाम्रो जीवनमा प्रवेश गरेको त्यो नव आगन्तुकलाई मेरी प्यारीले अश्रुधारले स्वागत गरेको म अमुक भई हेरिरहेँ । प्यारी गद-गद भएको म प्रष्ट देखिरहेको थिएँ, म अन्योलमा थिएँ । केही सेकेन्डको त्यो अन्योल अचानक नै वात्त्सल्यमा परिणत भएछ, मैले पत्तै पाइनँ । त्यस पशचातका सबै पलहरु भने कुनै मेशिनका स्वचालित पुर्जाजस्तै आँफै चलिरहे । कहिले सुतायो, कहिले उठायो, कहिले खुवायो, कहिले हगायो - बस्, यती हुन कृया-कलाप । सुन्दा अचम्म लाग्छ - त्यती जाबो गर्नलाई केको पहाड चडेजस्तो कुरा? अहो, सुदुर-पष्चिमी र पष्चिमी नेपालका मैले चडेका गोडा-पचासेक पहाडहरु भन्दा त यी ४ काम निक्कै गार्‍हो हुँदा रैछन गाँठे । सुताउन खोज्यो सुत्दैन, खुवाउन खोज्यो खाँदैन, उठाउन खोज्यो उठ्दैन, हगाउने-मुताउने त कोशीस गर्ने कुरै भएन । धैर्यको पराकाष्टा नाप्ने काम चाँही यो पक्का हो । यो भन्दा बढी अहिले केही नलेखौँ।

मेरा सबै निसन्तान मित्रहरु - परेर मात्र जानिने कुरा यो हो, त्यसैले मेरो भाषणले केही नाप्दैन। बाकी रह्यो मेरो भावनाका कुराहरु - धैर्य गर्नुस्, चाँडै पोष्ट गर्नेछु । अहिलेलाई बिदा है - फेरी घरतिर दगुर्ने बेला भैसकेछ ।

Friday, March 16, 2007

Ramblings on reflections

And here it is again....the dreadful snow storm. To make matters worse I had to drive all the way to the City (NY, in case you are wondering) and back to my office while the storm was going on. What I really wanted to do was head home and make some MOMO and eat them steaming hot for lunch !! My sweetheart would love it too - and my job doesn't actually demand my presence at office (so, why am I here then?). Any way, like you might have guessed by now - I write a lot when it snows !! Here is the product of the lousy, grey weather and ample of time at hand. (A fair warning - a lot of reflection and ramblings..not much of a thoughtfuld entry....)

The storm got worse once I hit the road, and so did the traffic. We, my sweetheart & I, love The City - it has got it's own energy and vibe about it; but I hate driving here. I live in Connecticut and it takes about an hour (give or take 20 mins) to get to JFK from my place. Today, my destination was not JFK and even with the terrible weather, the traffic was the same - horrible. Behind the wheel, there I was in the leftmost lane on I-95, south bound. On my right was a trailer and on left was the safety barrier. I feel "boxed-in" in this type of condition, but there was nothing I could do about it. The trailer that I mentioned was just one among the many others - as far as I could see ahead and in my rear view mirror. So, I decided to stick to my lane and wait for better space to jump lanes or speed well ahead the mile or so of the string of trailers. If I looked to my left and across the north bound traffic lanes of the I-95, I could see the City's infamous skyline through the hazy and grey snow shower. The weather condition did give me an opportunity to see the night-lights in the daytime !! I started to wander off in my thoughts...as I usually do when I am bored behind wheels. It usually starts with one of my favorite songs in my head - "Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel..." by Jim Morrison. And then I drift off....I started thinking - how on earth did I get here ? A लुरे boy from a dusty town in eastern Neapl whom everyone called नसे .... It's hard to understand what roles everyone and everything had in shaping my fate in a way that I am where I am today doing what I am doing - good or bad ! What did my parents do? What did I do? Who did more? Or less? What happens now onwards? If I am not certain of the causality of my current being, who/what do I refere to for future? I am not exagerrating - it is just a sample of my thought. Don't get me wrong - I ponder on good things too and sometimes really useful stuff. Like, I have thought of several neat algorithms to solve my problems at work. Or like, I think about how far I have come from the school in Phidim where we had to paint our black board with wasted batterie's carbon dusts to working in a high tech field in a huge organization.

I feel I have done well and even look forward to doing even more. I feel good about the decisions that I made in shaping my life - some of which got my parents really scared - like walking out of office in well paying job in the middle of a day and never going back to work there. My parents were not only shocked, but thought I had either screwed up really bad or had fought with my boss. Neither was true - my boss would kill to keep me there and I was about half a day away from completing a really important project. I had reasons for leaving but I was sure no one would understand it if I explained it to them, esp. not my parents - in fact nor would any parent. For your reading pleasure, here it is - I just got bored !! Really, it was that simple. I was working 7am-6pm normally and 6:00am-midnight when required. I loved it when there were challenges and critical decisions were to be made - I simply loathed the mundane routine part of the job. Day in and day out, I would sit there writing code, test and deploy. A fix here and a patch there and the process repeated itself again. More than writing code, I enjoyed teaching my colleagues when they needed some help, which was most of my working hours - To think that I was made to work as a "volunteer" for 2 months so as to bring my skills up to par with my colleagues still surprises me. I think I was too naiive then - I accepted it ! As much as liked programming, I hated the lack of creativity in producing the similar looking codes for each projects. I simply couldn't see myself doing that for another day - period. So, I took a hike and never returned.

I have made decisions like that many times in my life and they may look to be very irrational and done at a whim. However, I don't think they were hasty decisions. If you know about Myers-Briggs test, my personality type is INTJ (Introvert, Intuitive, Thiking and Judging). When the "world" sees me making a decision, it is actually a result of a culmination of at least few weeks of silent contemplation, calculation, reflection and analysis. If the decision happens to be a big one, others only see the act of my making a decision and term it as a light-handedness. No wonder everyone, including my sweetheart, were astounded, to say the least, when I declared that I was getting out of school - just a dissertaion away from getting my PhD. No, I'm not blaming anyone for it. I still want to get that degree, but not without purpose or without meaning. I learned about conducting scientific research, presenting academic papers, publishing in IEEE, teaching classes and digested volumes upon volumes of conference proceedings. I learnt to live like a sage and sometimes live in the lab for the entire week - no shave, no shower, only mouthwash !! But, by the time I quit I realized that I was wasting my time. I wanted to teach but certainly not straight out of school. I wanted to go work in the "industry" before I started teaching and a PhD would in fact be an obstacle in most circumstances than an aid. I wanted to learn about the "science" part in computer science and I believed I had gathered enough understanding of it to conduct a decent conversation with likes of Bjarne Stroustrup, Andrey Markov, Donald Knuth and the other GODs of the science. I simply saw no reason for me to stick around in school and waste any more time - I was not getting any younger !! As much as I wanted that degree, I didn't want it just for the sake of it. No "Dactar saa'b" for me if it has no meaning. Boy, my advisor was confused ! He even asked me to break for some time and come back to school without loosing a semester or credits ! He thought I was simply overworked ! It couldn't be farther from the truth - I was not doing anything for few weeks but thiking. I had few chapters of dissertation going on and was preparing to gather my result sets. Otherwise, I was just keeing a cool head and thinking about it all. Why do I want the degree? Is it not foolish to let go of something that you have worked for so long and so hard? What am I going to do once I leave school? Do I want to really quit school? For few weeks, that was my "song in the head". I think I have a gift of being very focused on my thought, or may be I am very selfish. Whenever I have to make such decisions, I never think of the effects my decision would have on others. Like, what will my parents think? What will my wife think? What will others think of me? I believe, it is because I don't worry about others in my decision making process that I can analyze what is best for me. I am certain I would not be happier now if I were teaching and not working in the market. I am certain I would never know how the real-world actually works had I started teaching - after all, IT field in Nepal is not a real-world per se. I understand that I let go of something that I was very close to getting but the only thing I probably missed is lengthening my name by few letters. I don't hate my name, so I don't really intend to complain about that "missed" opportunity !!

No regrets, dear friends - life is good. I had a joy ride all the way from primary school to school here in the US. Never stopped learning and never stopped making friends. Speaking of friends, I dont' make many but tend to stick to the ones I make. My best friend is still the one that I made in my eighth grade - and we never studied together after 10th !! How things turn out in life ! Can you believe it - we used to write letters to each other, the old fashioned way! In fact, when I was in Idia for my bachelor degree, I was among the ones who got the most letters ! The postman loved me for the tips he got delivering the letters and the maganizes that I used to subscribe to. I also wrote letters to my other friends, my parents and also my brothers who studied somewhere else in India. How fast the world changes ! Right after I returned from India (1998), Email got HUGE in KTM! Well, it took me one more year to getting around buying a computer and another 2 years to getting an Email account at home. How different it is now and we all take it for granted. With so much going around in Nepal, each day seemingly hopeless than the earlier, I try to find solace in the good things of life, good people we meet and the good things we do. We are simple human beings but we do act in very COMPLEX ways - but this is a different post altogether. Regardless, good things happen to us and we make good things happen to someone else - what a warm feeling this is, isn't it?

Dear me !! what did I write? Pardon me, my dears ! I do get carried away. What can I say - I am one heck of a talkative introvert - an oxymoron? or just an ox and and a moron? Take your pick !!

PS: I won't be reading much for some time. Trying to enjoy being a dad. I'm not one yet - but, I intend to enjoy each moment of the preparation and thereafter. So, more time and energy required on something else. However, I'm still open for your suggestions for good books that you have read (not the ones you've heard) !!

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Excuses ...

Sorry friends, I didn't write for some days. To be precise, I didn't POST for some time - I did write. That I can not stop. There are plenty of reasons (read excuses) for my not writing - yada yada yada - and so on; naturally, you are least interested in any of those. Regardless, mostly I've been busy at ("pretending to") work, reading, cleaning, cooking (to entertain others),shopping and taking care of my lovely (and very,very,very pregnant) wife. If you are not familiar with it already, it is tax filing time in the US. In that spirit, here is the itemized description of my activities mentioned above:-
1. ("Pretending to") Work :- Yes, I am punctual and regular. I would like to think that I am good at what I do. Updating and honing of skill are obviously not entirely un-necessary, I agree. I don't lack enthusiasm or uplifted moral; in fact, I do have a plenty of it. It is simply that this past month has been a disastrously slow month at work. No new assignments. Like a typical proactive immigrant "Deshi" (a term coined by the real Deshis in the US to refer to themselves and anyone hailing from Indian sub-continent), I even asked for new assignments ...but, to no avail. I patiently sit down in my little cubicle 8-5 doing nothing but solving Sudoku or writing. I am getting very good at the former and have no idea about the later. I am begining to wonder if my work has already been assigned to a real Deshi in the actual Desh ! I doubt it since my company simply can not do that. But, the lethargic pace is just killing me. The nature of job(employment term) prohibits me from starting a new project on my own - so, there is nothing I can do about it. Either get paid to solve Sudoku until work is assigned or look for another job. I chose the former for the time being.

2. Reading: Just to make it clear - newspapers, magazines, blogs, websites don't count ! They are like brushing teeth or taking shower or eating - essentials and cannot be done without. During this period of silence my reading too was very limited. I read some, attempted some and gave up completely on some. One that has been on my reading list for quite some time is "Lincoln" by David Herbert Donald. For some reason, I never seem to complete this book. I have already tried twice. While I was at it this time, I finished two others (1984 by G.Orwell and Atlas shrugged by Ayn Rand). Lincoln remains unfished. I am reading more and more non-fiction these days. "Work Hard, Study...and Keep Out of Politics!" by James Baker, II and "The Mighty & The Almighty" by Madeleine Albright are the last two that I read on non-fiction...also during my period of silence. I am thinking of reading some asian (Deshi !!) writers on fiction.<b> I am all ears to your suggestions of some contemporary ones</b>.

3. Cooking: We are new to the city that we are living in. It's just been about a year here. Where as, in the earlier city our social circle was huge and kept us quite busy just attending get-togethers, this city has been a blessing in disguise. We didn't entertain anyone or were entertained by anyone since we came to this city. Constact bickering, back-stabbing, फाल्तु -politicking, political गफ of the know-it-alls - those were the only things that we missed by not socializing with our countrymen. And, we were so pleased with it. But, we were cautiously searching for Nepalese people that we could socialize with. This time around, we intended not to invest too much emotion in these kinds of social network. So, even though we knew there were plenty of Nepalese about 40 miles from our place, we decided that it was not worth the travel. We would end up investing too much in something that is not worth it. As luck would have it, we came across a Nepali family in a Deshi store. They too are new to the city and were cautiously searching for others, just like us ! What are the odds? Best part of it ? They live only about 10 mins walk from our place !!! SO, there it was - a perfect match ..just waiting around the corner. We went to their place for an afternoon snack and dinner. Of course, we reciprocated with the same. It was fun and their two kids were fun too. That naturally meant a lot of cooking ! I just hope we continue cooking for this family and not too many others. Too much of sugar is bitter, isn't it? So is the company of Nepalese !! Keep it small & keep it cordial, I learnt it the hard way.

4,5 and 6. Cleaning, Shopping ,and Taking care: In case you don't know already, I am going to be a dad very soon. I had posted something about it earlier - here - too. During this silence, I was preparing for it too. I think we have done all the shopping - only a car-seat remains now. Just yesterday I fixed some furnitures, re-arranged the apartment, assembled a bed for the guests and the soon-to-be-grandparents arriving from Nepal. The carpet has already been steam-cleaned. Kitchen and bath remains to be disinfected - that's for this weekends "to-do" list. Since my wife is getting more and more uncomfortable each day , I intend to keep her away from the kitchen and any chores. The poor darling feels even more troubled for having to "just-sit-and-look" (in her words) at me huffing, panting, cursing and more cursing while I attend to the chores. I can't help the huff-n-puff but the cursing part I am doing just to keep her attention on me ! She does warn me from time to time that those words could be the first ones that our child actually says if I keep my habit ! I doubt it, though - not becoz I am confident of my parenting skills, but being a ज्वाँई doesn't permit you to speak those words in front of your in-laws ! Quite unlike our beloved माओवादी कमरेड lawmaker who gets to carry a weapon and curse as well. I protest - It's not fair !??&*&&!!? I should be allowed to do the same in my "house." :-D
Let me sum it all up by quoting another politician, of entirely different calibre and traits -- "I'll be back."

Saturday, February 17, 2007

पर्खाई

धेरैपछि नेपालीमा लेख्ने चेष्टा गर्दैछु । भूल-चुक माफ गर्नुहोला । शुक्रबारको दिन, अफिसमा बसी रहेको थिएँ । काम धेरै नभएपछी सार्‍है पट्यार लागेर आऊछ । त्यसमाथि पनि, बाहिर हिँऊ परिरहेकोथियो । बिहीवारको हिँऊ सफा गर्दा गर्दा सारा जिउ दुखिरहेको थियो । फेरी पनि दु:ख पाउने भैयो भनेर दिक्क लाग्ने भैहाल्यो ।कतिबेला घर गएर बुढीसँग मिलेर म:म बनाएर खानुजस्तो भैइरहेको थियो । अनि हेडफोनमा नारायण दाईको गाना बजिरहेको थियो । अनि त मलाई के चाहियो - म त नेपाल नै पुगेछु । दस मिनेट समय अनि Unicode मा Nepali Typing को नतिजा - यी तलका हरफहरु :
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पर्खाई

हिउँ हेर्दै, टोल्हाएर बसेको छु
अनन्त देखिको पर्खाईजस्तो
न त पाउने आश छ, न त आउने
किन, केको पर्खाई हो टुङ्गो लाउन बसेको छु ।

मेरा ईच्छाका बिम्बहरु प्रत्यक्ष भैदिए
सुम्सुम्याएर, जतन गरी स्याहार्ने थिएँ
आकांक्षाका ती दुर्लभ जिनीशहरु
कति स्नेहसहित हुर्काउने थिएँ
तर, मेरा रहर कुनै नवबिबाहिता जस्तो
मानसपटलको कुहिरो भित्र नै लुकिरहेछन
सैयौँ खोजहरुका बाबजुत पनि
लुकामारी मात्रै खेलिरहन्छ
यही लुकामारीको दोष हो
या त मेरो प्रयासको
म खोजी रहेछु, तर
मेर ईच्छाहरु लुकिरहेछन ।


मेरो खोजी ...
फेरी उहि अनन्त देखिको जस्तो,
चली रहेछन ....
केही गुमाएकोछु, न केही कमाएको
लेखा-जोखा गर्ने तराजु पनि
शायद मैले कहीँ हराएको छु
म भन्न सक्दिन मैले कहाँ, कति, कहिले गुमाएँ
बनाएकाहरु पनि जब म चिन्न सक्दिन
सबै प्रश्नहरुको भुमरीभित्र पनि
मलाई थाहा छ, तर
मेरो खोजी . . म रोक्न सक्दिन ।

तिमीले देख्यौ? तिम्ले भेट्यौ?
होइन .. के भनि नसोध मलाई
म प्रश्नहरुदेखि भागी हिंडेकोछु
मैले खोजी हिंडेको बस्तु भेट्यौ भने
तिमीनै आफ्नो बनाऊ त्यसलाई
हुनसक्छ, म त्यसलाई नै नचिनेर हिंडेकोछु
मलाई चिनाउन नखोज केही, कोहि पनि
भ्रमहरु नै सार्थक लाग्छन मलाई
अर्थ-अनर्थ नकेलाऊ मेरालागि
हुनसक्छ, सामर्थ्यको परिधी बिर्सिसकेकोछु ।

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यती लेखिसकेपछि मलाई meeting मा जानु पर्‍यो ।
Even I wanted to continue it and probably give a better completion, but the next time I tried to do so, the juice was just not there any more. I thought - so be it.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Laxmi, Saraswati and I: A short story

"How is your tuition going on?" demanded Mr. Sharma. He was a prominent figure in the community we lived in. I must have been thirteen then. I am not certain now whether we, my brothers and I, liked Sharma-uncle, as we used to call him, or not. He was senior to my dad in the government service. My dad was posted in a Terai district then. During our winter vacation from school in Kathmandu, it was a routine for us to go and visit dad and mom there. It was kind of bliss for us to be there during the harsh winter months of Kathmandu. With abundant guava to be plucked, variety of sweets to be devoured and sugarcane sticks to munch on throughout the day, all of us children were too occupied to notice anything else. Somehow, this Sharma-uncle always stood out among the social circle that naturally forms in all the district headquarters among civil service officers. For us, he was one of those grown-ups who just never lets go and insists on having a conversation in English so as to test what we have learnt in school in the year past. I have no way of telling now if he spoke well or not. Then, he was the only other person, besides my dad, who seemed to speak in English.

"Jolly good" - that was our standard answer, and we ran off as quickly as possible so that Sharma-uncle didn't have any opportunity to inquire more. All of us savored the coffee flavored toffees that he gave us as a reward for each sentence spoken without error. But, somehow we all dreaded the questions. With strategic calculations, we simply sacrificed that delicious treat in favor of saving ourselves from the humiliations that would come for not being able to answer the questions that were inevitable to follow the "How is your tuition going on?" one. That day, he let us be and called for my dad. "Hakim sa'b...," He hailed and off we ran. I knew of his reason for visit. Saraswati puja was near by and so was the time for another round of festivities. He was here to plan the planning events!

Living in districts outside Kathmandu (Jilla, as everyone calls them) is a life on its own. For the officer's children, like us, visiting for vacation, it was a special treat - a time to play hard and dirty, meet many uncles and aunties who just never seemed to get enough of our naughty tricks, almost no studies besides few hours of home-tuition in the mornings and evenings and vast array of food. Add festivals to it and you got yourself a lot of opportunities for mischief even more. All of us were making the best of it. There were lengthy plans of the upcoming puja day. My dad and all the uncles had elaborate discussions about it during their "Paplu" and "Twenty-nine" games for weeks. Sharma-uncle was, as usual, in the center of all the events and planning. One of his office staffs was a semi-pro idol-maker. No, he was not a sculptor. Shyam dai had been making idols for Dashain, Ramnawami and Saraswati puja for few years before that year. As the norm called it, he was to make ample use of the resources in Sharma-uncle's quarter. Other details were planned too – puja procession was to commence and conclude in the chowk near which most of the officers were quartered, the event was to be open for all, proceeds from the offerings were to go mostly to Shyam dai, and so on.

I was excited at the prospects ahead. Unlike the year before, Shyam Dai offered to make more than twenty statues, of several stances and sizes, and have them displayed in the chowk. That meant I could treat myself with even more hours of un-interrupted statue-making spectacle everyday, for a couple of weeks. Shyam dai secretly admitted to me, with a satisfied grin, that he would make some extra Laxmi by selling some of his statues. I was not sure then why he emphasized Laxmi. I took it as a funny-sounding manner of speaking Nepali like other Maithili or Bhojpuri speakers do. But I was excited all the same. For those couple of weeks, I was the only devoted audience that Shyam dai had. Out of sheer respect and awe to his craft, I sometimes even offered to be his help. Shyam dai was no fool. He didn't want to offend my dad or Sharma-uncle by asking me to do some menial chores. I am sure my dad wouldn't have cared since he used to make us wash our plates after meals and to make our beds in the morning – it was his way of teaching us responsibilities. I had no idea what Sharma-uncle would think, so I simply took Shyam dai's answer of "No" as my guru's command. I was glued to his every move during his idol-building process. He made a support bases out of a flat wooden plank about two inches thick. In the dead center of each support base, he erected a wooden column, each different in height from the others. He nailed and tied some more wooden sticks at about shoulder and hip level of each statue, across the center column. He then wrapped the wooden skeleton with ropes made of straw. He would wrap the ropes snugly and with precision, thus creating bulges of varying curvature and size at different places. To my utter dismay, they already started to look like ghostly headless creatures. I couldn't wait for another morning meal to be served so as to join Shyam dai's rituals. It never failed to amaze me how, in the next step, he would transform a figure that resembled a scarecrow into a human like form.

True to his word, Sharma-uncle provided a room in his quarter for Shyam dai to live during his project. He allowed Shyam dai to dump-store the molding-clay inside the quarter premise and even let him build fires when needed. It was no small sacrifice. Shyam dai confessed to me once that he had never met so lenient "haakim sa'b" in his life! I agreed - after all, he never failed to give us that wonderful candy after answering his questions. On rare occasions, Shyam dai did ask me to fetch a tool or a utensil or something very minute from his room in the quarter. He did it for a reason - once he started plastering the straw-wrapped figures with molded clay, he had to work un-interrupted and fast, otherwise the clay would dry out. There was no time to wash up and go inside the building just to fetch a matchbox for his bidi. I was too happy and eager to help and Shyam dai succumbed to the convenience once in a while. In any case, the chore was not at all so. All I had to do was go inside the house, find someone in house to ask for what Shyam dai needed and fetch it to him. The only problem was finding someone in that house.

Sharma-uncle was a widower, his son off to college somewhere in India. An elderly lady who lived next door did all of his cooking and cleaning. Mai, as we called her, probably didn't like me, for I always seem to irritate her with constant nagging. But, I liked this younger lady who attended to some of Sharma-uncle's finer needs like, ironing his clothes, seeing to the grocery needs, supplying his medications and prepping special foods and the quarter for parties. I simply called her Didi because I didn’t know she had a name. She was often seen in the quarter during the frequent parties, prepping food and serving it. I remember her being kind looking and mild mannered. She walked silently but swiftly and seemed to care for everyone who asked for her service. Didi’s visits were not limited to parties since Sharma-uncle seemed to have plenty of things for her to do. I know Mai was no good; I despised her – that foul-mouthed old hag.

Didi was quite another creature; and besides, she was not just a domestic help. She was one of the staffers in the office as well. She had her own desk and chair and I had seen her read magazines sitting there. I knew she lived near by but I was not sure why she lived alone. I had heard some grown-ups say that her husband had run away with another woman. That is all I can recall of her private affairs. Regardless, I didn’t care as long as it was Didi and not Mai that I ran into. I always made my intentions clear as to whom I preferred to see. As soon as I entered that house I would invariably holler “Didi….”. She was the safest bet – she didn’t make faces like Mai and she didn’t start conversations in English like Sharma-uncle. She usually responded aloud “Wait there, babu. I’ll be there right away.” She would then take a peek from inside a room and would either come out to help me or would call me inside if she were busy. She must have been quite a skillful worker, and a silent one at that for, many times, I had seen Sharma-uncle soundly asleep in the same room while she kept busy dusting the furniture, or ironing his clothes or even cleaning his gun. Nevertheless, she always helped me with my chores and dutifully returned to hers.

Shyam dai’s idols were taking shape and becoming more human-like, albeit without heads. Shyam dai had already completed plastering the straw figures. He had started giving more definition to the anatomy of each figure – adding more clay to some parts, removing excess from other – constantly wetting his hands in water and running his hands over the surface over and over again. I sat there, bewildered, watching this man constantly sucking his bidi and creating amazing shapes out of as trivial things as straw and mud. I knew it had to be his bidi that provided him the skill and the energy to be doing what he was doing. By the way he moved his hands over the idol’s surface, it seemed like he was spreading creamy lotion over a sun-soaking body. In a few days, he declared the figures were complete and needed dressing up and accessorizing. I couldn’t believe it – had this man gone haywire? Must be ! Those things didn’t even have heads on them; sticks and straw ropes were sticking out where goddess Saraswati’s four palms and two feet were supposed to be. Where were the Bina, and the Swan (goddess’ ride) and the Lotus? I had never seen Shyam dai complete the whole idol before; but I sure was not going to take this travesty as a “done” one. Apparently, everything that I saw missing in the idols would be installed during accessorizing – even the head, hands and feet and the tools and so on. Once the idol was plastered and a thin cloth of sort was wrapped over, the figures were ready for a makeover of a different kind.

Significantly different kind of process was involved in the later phases of idol building, which I didn’t care much for. All Shyam dai did was made a dough and cast it in molds, took the formed shapes out and set it out to Sun-dry. He did it over and over with different kinds of molds. I didn’t think much of it. I did take a note when he would twist a finger or bend a foot or align something or the other right after the shapes were taken out of the molds. Other than those modifications, I was not hugely impressed with Shyam dai anymore. Nevertheless, I was watching.

There was a pond in the quarter compound that Sharma-uncle took great pride in. He had built it out of the excess office budget and made sure it was well tended. Sometimes, he would shoot a duck swimming in the pond and send his dog to retrieve it. I had seen him fish in it too. While Shyam dai was busy with his casting, I would wander off towards this pond to see if I could hit any fish with a pebble or two. That day, I came to the ponds to try my luck with some pebbles and the few remaining fish. I threw a couple but did not seem to disturb the fish enough to make them run about. I didn’t see a single one; may be Sharma-uncle had already netted the pond to make it ready for another season. Besides, the water was already too murky owing to low water level in the dry winter months. Then I saw a duck in the other corner of the pond. It was not in the water, but seemed to be trying to hide in a bush near by. I thought to myself “Well, if not the fish, let it be duck.” I aimed and fired the largest pebble I had with me. By God! I hit it! I used to be a lousy “Khoppi” player and this marksmanship was indeed something to be bragged about. Too bad, none of my buddies were there to witness the incident. With hesitation, I moved closer to the duck so as not to scare it off. I held my breath and moved my hand ever so slightly closer to it. When I thought I was near enough, I grabbed the duck with my bare hands! How amazing is that? Another bragging right lost sans witnesses. I was beginning to doubt my luck when I realized the duck was bleeding badly. It had been shot but had not yet died. I thought to myself “What I caught is mine to keep.” Dad would not hear any of it unless I asked Sharma-uncle first. I knew he would agree to it if only I could ask in English. He was usually home few hours earlier than my dad, probably because he was the senior-most officer.

I started to walk towards the house, with the duck in my hands, still bleeding but alive. I was practicing my lines of conversation with Sharma-uncle. I was not sure what I was to do with the duck but I knew what I had to say when Sharma-uncle asked about it. “I want to eat it,” I would answer. Yes, that was very short and a correct sentence too. “Now, if only I could get my starting sentences correct there was nothing to stop me from having this duck,” I thought to myself. I was sure Mai was not there since I had seen her leaving earlier. Good, one less trouble. The moment I was inside the house, I hollered: “Didi.” Oh, yes, I could probably even get away by asking Didi instead of Sharma-uncle. Yes, that was a fine idea. After all, she never said no to what ever I asked of her. “Babu, wait there,” I heard her scream back from inside a room, as usual. She came out a few moments later – her face somewhat red and eyes wide open – excited to see me carrying a bleeding duck, I assumed. She must have been very excited for she dropped the shoulder end (Pallu) of her sari more than once and she was fumbling her hair unusually. I told her I wanted to ask Sharma-uncle if I could keep the dying duck. To my delight, she told me to not bother asking him and that he would not mind. She also asked me to be quite on the way out so as not to disturb Sharma-uncle, who was sleeping inside. I ran off victorious.

Shyam dai finished his idols a few days before the puja. After his mechanized process of casting molds was over, I enjoyed his putting together of pieces once again. He would skillfully place the manufactured limbs and heads at appropriate places and glue them together with clay. He painted the idol when they were dry and wrapped saris of different colors around the idols. With the wigs, crown, ornaments and eyes painted lifelike, it was a scene to behold. I tried my best to find fault in any one of them but failed. To me, they were not idols anymore – they were the goddess Saraswati in her several forms. I could almost hear them wisher wisdom into my ears as I scurried along the farm of idols. I counted them once more, knowing exactly what to expect but somehow doubting it – twenty-four. Shyam dai had indeed spelled some magic when I was not looking. I had learned my lesson not to doubt so skilled a craftsman as Shyam dai, even when he was casting molds. One by one, prospective buyers of these beautiful idols started to come by. I would not sale any of them but he had other ideas. He told me that he would sell all but two a few days before the puja. I was determined to enjoy the company of so many Saraswati goddesses while I still could.

A few days later, my dad brought us back from a tour of an Indian town nearby. I got sweets and toys and my dad bought some tapes of Anup Jalota bhajans. That day, I was less interested in sweets or toys. I was more eager to go and see the idols since I knew it would all be over in a day or two now. I rushed off to Sharma-uncle’s quarter. It was almost dusk but not dark yet. Unlike the days past, Shyam dai was not soaking up the warmth from his dhuni – enjoying the fire and his ever present bidi. I could hear his voice inside the house. I followed it and went straight to his room. He was visibly drunk and speaking the words that I had no idea what they meant. I turned back to go back to our own quarter, feeling confused about what had happened. As I walked back home, the only scene that reamined clear in my mind was of Shyam dai waving a bundle of money in his hands with a wide grin and a bidi in his mouth. He seemed to be mumbling: “Laxmi…Laxmi…” None but two idols remained in the backyard.

Next day was the puja. After all the morning prayers were over and sweets were distributed, we returned home from the chowk where the two remaining idols were kept. We were to attend a party at Sharma-uncle’s place that evening. After a small snack, I went to my backyard to check on my ill friend – the duck. I had been trying to feed it earthworms and milk since I knew ducks like both. Despite all my efforts, it never ate or drank. I was keeping it warm in a used jute-sack in the storage area where firewood were usually kept. I tried hard to listen to its quack-like grunts as I walked towards it. I had a few spoons of milk with me, just in case the duck decided to drink that day. It was sleeping. I tried to wake it up but it wouldn’t. I called Narayan dai, our cook, to help me wake the duck up. He came running to see what was wrong – with me, not the duck. After I told him what was wrong; he simply turned to walk away. “It’s dead,” he declared without even bothering to look.

Since I had lost my duck, I decided I could ask Shyam dai to make me one of clay, just like the swans that he had made for all those Saraswati idols. I looked for him in Sharma-uncle’s quarter and the backyard. He was nowhere to be found. Surely, he must not have left already. After all, there was to be a feast of sort in that place that night. I made up my mind to ask Didi about his whereabouts. She was sure to be there preparing for the party. For some reason unknown, I didn’t holler for her that day. I went towards the room where she usually seemed to answer from. I pushed the door ajar and couldn’t believe what I saw. Sharma-uncle must have been in a trance of some sort for he was reciting “Saraswati! Saraswati!” from under his blanket.

I had a duck to replace and no interest in other matters. I surely didn't want to be practicing my English skill with Sharma-uncle. I decided it best to stick to my plan and find Didi first. I looked for her everywhere, but strangely she was nowhere. She was sure to be there on a party day. I must have skipped some place. So, I tried my usual method. “Didi,” I hollered. Silence. I went to the kitchen. “Didi,” I tried again. “Babu, wait there. I’ll be there right away,” came the usual answer at last, from the usual room. I was relieved. I was even happier when I saw her face – she looked even more jubilant and radiant than I had seen her before. I made nothing of her unkempt hair. I explained her my woes and she seems to care. She did care, I am sure, for she even asked me if I had given the duck any name. I laughed at her stupidity. I said, “Not everyone has names. Umm, like you. You don’t have a name too. You are Didi.” To that she simply smiled warmly and said, “No silly, I have a name too. My name is Saraswati.”

Friday, February 9, 2007

Buff ? Beef? B(r)oth?

Recently, I read somewhere (Nepal Weekly?) about a journo's US visit and his fear of eating beef. Then afterwards, saw the same post in Ajay's blog. Some of the comments to the post were funny, some where ridiculous and some outright stupid. When it comes to food (like many other things), we Nepalese tend to be very narrow minded and limited to very few variety. Very few of us have developed our taste buds beyond Daal-bhaat-masu and Roti-sabji-mithai. Granted that our food does have some variety to it and tends to be closer to Indian food (thus, spicy), but it is common to find too many of us, living abroad, not venturing beyond sandwiches and pizzas or an occasional pasta of some sort. Let's keep it aside for now...it is topic that I think I'll post something about on its own.

Double standards (read, hypocrisy) is what I see in what to eat or what not to eat norms that we follow. We do enjoy Everest momo to a great extent and don't eat buffalo meat at home. We eat Badel (boar) but don't eat Bangoor. We eat goat but don't eat chicken. So on goes our way of belonging to a "higher" sect or the "aaadambar" of it. Being a disciple of science, the only observation that I could make is that we label ourselves as belonging to a higher sect if we eat something that has less meat and more bones. Just think about it: pig then buffalo then goat, so goes our order (untimately, no meat at all :D ) . If all of them are farm raised, what makes one better or worse than the other? Given the free will, a pig tends to bathe more than a goat(which doesn't at all!). Or, may be I am not theorizing properly. May be it is this..less availability means more valuable, like gold, and so the higher status. If so, I have nothing to say..ignore my gan-gan and just enjoy your food.

I remember one funny incident. I brought some dry meat (buff, of course) from KTM during one of my trips home. At the port of entry, the custom inspection guy asked me if I had any meat product. I said I do. He asked me if it was beef. I knew that one couldn't bring beef unless it was inspected/approved by USDA as safe, owing to Mad-cow disease. Anyways, I said "No, I only know that it is a jerky (sukuti) of some sort". At that time, he produced a tissue analyzer and tested a piece of my sukuti with it. There it was -- in my plain sight -- the result read "BEEF". It was tossed off to garbage for disposal !! :-( Was I duped by the Bhatbhateni dept. store? No, I don't think so. It was what it was - it was buffalo, alright. But, it apparently falls into Beef category. Just like "Badel-ko-masu" falls in rest of the Pork category. Tilapia, Salmon, Rahu, Hile, Shrimp - what ever - it's all Fish. My friends, there you go...if you ever ate buff-momo, you ate beef ! Oooooops . :D

As for me, I don't care. I tasted my first beef before coming to the US..in India. I didn't know until a month later that the hot-sukuti that my Bhutanese friend gave me was a beef. To me, it was a sukuti that I was so used to in KTM. Well that was that. I still enjoy beef - but only eating out. I like brisket, meat loaf and BBQ. I am crazy about steak, medium to well-done , thank you ! Why only eat out, you ask? Because I don't know how to cook it properly. I can roast/grill/BBQ pork (chops or ribs) , leg of lamb, turkey and chicken very well; also, fry and stew almost anything. All my friends have enjoyed my cooking to a great degree. For some reason I never did any good with beef - but, never without trying.

Scientifically speaking, we are loosing a great source of protein by being so uptight, attaching social classification with meat types. Don't eat cows if you so believe....but eat something that has more meat on it than bones...for your own sake. My answer to it is : Buffalo !
Even Ted Turner (Yeah, that tycoon guy. Don't know of him? Google him - it's worth the trouble) has turned to buffalo in his chain of steak-houses Ted's Montana Grill . In case you don't know, he started this after "retirement" so that he could eat great steaks. They have started using Bison (wild buffalo), why? here is what Ted said "The taste is much the same as beef, but bison is highest of all meat in iron and is leaner."

Oh, all this talk of food has made me hungry...in mood of a hickory-smoked rare rib-eye, anyone?
Bon apetite :D

Thursday, February 8, 2007

Looking back...

Birthday:
It so happens that it was my birthday yesterday. I don't make a big deal of it let alone celebrate it. There are many years that I didn't even realize that my birthday had passed me by. During and after my college years I used to go to Pashupatinath or a nearby temple as a way of thanking the Almighty for all the privileges that I enjoyed. In the more recent years, it is only because of my darling wife's insistence that we started having a few friends over for a dinner. Even so, we never tell them what it is for until we are half way through our food, lest they worry about gifts and cards and the likes. I have managed to make that guest list smaller by the year and this year, it was the ultimate - we were on our own ! I, sort of, tricked her by offering to take her to a nice dinner. And I'm hoping that our attentions will be diverted to our child's birthdays next year on.

Adulthood:
One funny thing about birthdays is that they tend to make me nostalgic. I unfailingly look at my life in retrospect and find myself still searching...for countless things. Last few years, I have been searching for something that would define me and my life. Yeah, yeah...I am getting paid (and getting paid well at that) to work in the field that I chose to work in. But, is that all? My wife thinks I have an inherently restless soul and get easily bored with mundane routine. She probably means to say that I am lazy. I would like to think otherwise, but can I really? Over the years, I have changed my objectives and point of views far too many times. I changed to Physics from Biology in my early college years. I changed from one engineering branch to other. I started my job in software, a different field than what I graduated in. I changed my academic focus again and joined a grad school in Computer Science. Only this time it was what I wanted to do and teach afterwards. I think I thrived in it then. I did a lot of research, taught classes and even got published. No, it didn't stop there - after four years in grad school, to my professors' dismay, I threw my thesis to trash and dropped out of school - probably one year away from PhD. I changed my mind and started working in software industry again. I still want to go back to school to complete that thesis and get my degree and at some point start teaching. My professors are more than willing to have me back - probably more than me. I don't know if I will actually come about doing it though. Cliche - nothing in life is certain but uncertainty. However, weren't I wavering rather than searching all the way through?

I believe most of us are like that. Do we really know, early on, what we want to do in life? During my teenage days I don't remember any of my friends saying anything but wanting to become a doctor or an engineer. It is just a social custom and what others expect you to become than our own choices that led us to our respective fields. And sure, almost my whole friend circle became what was expected of us. But,do we love it? How good are we in what we do? Who measures it? Does anyone actually tell you the bad news if you are not good enough? I've seen so many of my friends do wonders in standard tests and yet remain average or below average in practice - even at professional levels. USMLE/GRE/GMAT/PE you name it and I've seen my buddies shoot the charts and set the competitive bars very high for others. But that doesn't mean they were destined to write those tests. Just like my buddies, I did everything (minus my PhD drop-out time) that made my parents proud and the observers elate with appreciation. Does that mean I continue to do what I am doing and I'll be fine? Looking at my track record, there is much evidence that I probably will not settle down doing one thing for a long time. what I have observed is that once the initial excitement is over and the dust of novelty factor in my involvement settles down, I start getting bored. I don't see any reason to continue doing the same thing once I have mastered the required skill, and some. The perfect thing for me to do is probably something that constantly provokes me, gives me challenges in small doses and of increasing difficulty, and most of all lets me have my own hours. So, what am I to do? I don't know. There are far too many things that I would like to do. I'd like to get an MBA. I'd like to go to law school. I'd like to do a bit of research in social science. I'd like to start a business and grow it big. Join a volunteer organization; paint for a living; go for a hike for months on end; join political organization...you name it and I've thought about doing it in detail. Like a kid in a toy store, I still can't control my urges when it comes to my desires of becoming (something/someone). No matter what I am doing, one question always comes to haunt me back - "what now/next?"

Tender years:
Strangely enough, I don't remember much about my early childhood days. The earliest recollection that I have is of Dhankuta. My dad started his employment there. There were no motor-roads then. We used to live in a rented apartment. DO you know what kind of house I am talking about? If you have seen wooden houses in eastern regions, you'll know. Basically, 8-10 tree trunks act as columns to raise the platform. The planks make up the walls and ceilings. Tile or tin roof and mud-packed floors. Well to do families painted their exteriors with different bright colors. Anyways, there was a veranda outside but it had a swing to it, owing to loose connections or overuse. I was scared to go to the toilet about 20-30 meters away from home during the evenings. I always used the veranda and tried to pee as far away from the house as possible. To discourage me from doing that, I remember some of my neighbors telling me horror stories; like, this giant monster coming to check on kids peeing off veranda and pulling their pricks (toori) out. Every time I peed off the veranda and it swayed in one direction, I used to get scared. But, I remember thinking to myself.."the monster must be busy checking other neighborhood kids". I remember going to pluck Amala, Tittiri (Imli), oranges and guavas with other kids. During winter, mom and her friends used to have sessions of Sun-soaking and eating "saadeko" citrus-fruits. I took part in a horse racing event during King's birthday. I was barely 5, I think, and I was more interested in keeping my grams (Channa) falling off my pockets than riding to win. I used to ride good and I won the race but I was crying very hard...of course, for all the Channa had fallen off during the ride. I remember being punished by getting locked in a cupboard of sorts in Illam. Also in Illam, a white dog (small, hairy type) chasing us every time on our way to home. I also remember Panchthar, Phidim. I think I used to go to school there. If I did, it must have been for first grade. But, you need not have joined the school to attend classes then - it was much simpler times. Here again, no motor vehicles. I remember riding horses there too. Once or twice, the horses had slipped on icy rocks and nearly crushed my brother and I. I remember wild stories told by the horse handlers during our 1-2 (or 2-3?) days journey to/from Phidim. I remember one place they showed us and told us a story that I remember to this day - a revolutionary of some sort jumped off a cliff to escape being shot/captured...and he lived and ran away ! Anyone from that area of Phidim will tell you his name; unfortunately I don't remember. I have many incoherent memories of this place. Going to school, painting the blackboard with used battery's carbons, my brother and I floating our shoes in the open drain/canal and following it home, going to play with neighbor's daughter. I think we used to call her Kaali or Nepti. Oh, I had quite a crush on her - I was smitten. I remember always taking her with me to hide during our hide and seek games. We used to hide really well, inside haystacks. She must have been afraid of dark and used to sob. To appease her, I then used to recite rhymes and fairy tales. We enjoyed each other so much that I remember others getting angry at us for not showing up for quite some time even after the "seekers" gave up looking for us. Our office peon/cook used to come and fetch us home every evening after play time. I still remember painful grip of his hands, lest we run away and thus more work for him. This same guy taking us on a tour to his village, feeding us with dahi-chiuraa and felling Kattus and Walnuts from trees on the way back.

Growing up:
I started formal schooling in Dharan in second grade. Even though I was there for two years, I hardly remember anything at all. One thing I do remember is going to school with a neighborhood friend Fuchhe. Fuchhe and I used to skip school quite a lot, probably because it was too far away and there was no other means to go than walk. I remember spending entire day on many ocassions by the riverside (Khahare)...making a nest like enclosure in a bush. We ate out of our tiffin-boxes and slept in our nest after a tiresome game. It feels so strange now - how could so small kids do things like that? Why didn't anyone notice or care about our roaming about? I think it was a social structure -- my parents were away, I living with grand parents. Fuchhe's dad was a lahure, never home and his mom never noticed our adventures. One thing I was never short of was the stories - I was quick to make up one and tell in detail about school and other kids and teachers even if it had been a week since I set a foot in school. I remember making a bird out of clay for final test of our so called "handwork" class. I got a second prize but was taunted at home all the same - by a cousin.."second...second...booooo". There was (I think there still is) a slang-like word in Dharan - "Sekkken" - meaning hopelessly surprised or realization of a failure. Other than that, I don't remember anything of this period. I changed school for 4th grade (Jhapa this time) and I remember most of it after that - both good and bad times and several places, best of which were in Kalaiya (Bara) and Birgunj during winter breaks.

I was in Kathmandu after 5th grade and ever since, practically speaking. My tender years were good but I don't consider my school days between 5-8th grade as jolly ones. No, nothing bad happened but I think I saw too many bad taking place around me. Lousy teachers, unruly and belligerent kids, dismal environment, exposure to hazards, lack of guidance ...it is not expected of a private "boarding" school but it was all of those. My parents probably had no idea how bad it was. But, considering the reality of the country, I was probably one of the lucky few. I did go to an English Boarding school, didn't I? I wonder if Banasthali is/ever was one? Forturnately, I made two very good friends in my 8th grade and life took a very good turn thence. One of them is still in regular touch and the other one rarely. But, I guess being in 3 different countries (US, UK and Australia) doesn't help much either.

As the crow flies...:
As you can see, most of my childhood memories are limited to few incidents. The ones that I described pretty much sums it all up. As few as they are, I intend to cherish them all. At this juncture in life when I am about to become a dad, I try to think of those days and wonder what my child will remember at my age. Nostalgia is a funny thing - it can be heart warming and full of discomfort at the same time. I have to quote one of my seniors who quoted Khaptad Baba - "Chitra, mitra, shahitya" - that is what one needs to keep in plenty and of quality. I try to follow this simple mantra to the word.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

ConstitWiki - Constitution in a Wiki

Web 2.0 provides a solution to Nepali woes!!!
I sprang up in an epiphany ! Eureka !! I have it figured out once and for all. It is the perfect solution to all the bickering and finger-pointing going on in our political arena. With any luck, we can soon say adieu to the violence in the terai.
I am surprised why it never occurred to me before. After all, working in the leading edge of software technologies is what I do for a living. Besides, day in and day out I've been using the today's stuff actively and all with proper choices.So much so that I suffer from Carpal Tunnel developed by over-indulging in blackberry; I gave up keeping a physical photo album in lieu of a flickr account; I get most of my news from pod casts; my current event talk shows are limited to Comedy Central's The Daily Show and The Colbert Report ; I refer to wikipedia like a religion and I am proud to say that I too have contributed to the wealth of knowledge there; and oh, did I tell you that I blog too? Well, one way or the other, this particular solution never occurred to me before. I have it now.
Consider this - create a wiki for all the leaders of all the political parties and ask them to work their butts off in producing a constitution that everyone agrees upon. No more finger-pointing and crying fowl over missed opportunities.No more complaints about not being all-inclusive. If you mess up something - it's your behind that will get kicked not anyone else's. You all can consent to each other, erase each others articles, delete it, amend it, do it over and all of it as many times as you like without having to call strikes, bandhas and riots. It will suite your attitudes too since being lazy heads as you are, you won't need to get your butts off the chair too. As for the rest of us, we all can participate by being passionate observers. Besides, for the rest of the folks like us, our butts are already taken, thank you, either by schools or work or in search of one. If they promise to spare us from all that is going on, I am willing to set it up myself. Heck, I'm upping the ante - I'll even buy them a domain and host it for them. Armed with a 21st century ConstiWiki, who dare say we are still in the stone ages?
But,that's one area our dear leaders don't lead anyone of us in - they actually lag. Ironical as it is, this reminds of one country that beat all the odds and has made it big beyond imagination in the span of a little over a decade. Estonia. Starting off with more than 30% unemployment and bankrupt economy in 1991 after the fall of the soviet empire, this country has had quite a metamorphosis. It was mostly thanks to, IMHO, the leadership of a young (he was only 32 when he took office) prime-minister Mart Laar. This is one path that I would like to see being followed by our pyaaaro-desh too. Ready for PM Gagan Thapa folks? If not, brace yourself for the ride.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Dad-to-be but a Nepali - to be or not to be !

I am going to be a dad soon!
Soon enough, I will hold a new creature in my hands - a creature that will change the course of my life in more ways than I can fathom. To some degree, my life has already changed. My vocabulary is increasing everyday with words like crib, bouncer, stroller, bib, diaper and pacifier; I am familiar with the vast variety of toys ranging from crib-toys to the ones boasting microprocessors; I already know the characters in "Sesame Street", "Clifford, the big red dog" and dozen other animated or screen stories. My bedroom is already child friendly with all power plugs sealed, hanging decors removed, sharp corners padded and carpet steam cleaned and disinfected. I would have painted the room and built a proper nursery had it not been a rental home. Nevertheless, I already have a rocking chair in place for the mother-to-be and the kid to enjoy the moments of bliss together and I am sure I will have my share of the pleasure too. The list of preparation and anticipation goes on; but so does the anxiety. What am I forgetting? Am I prepared to be a dad? Do I know enough to take care of an infant? Heck, I don't even know how much water a baby that small drinks in a day! I am sure I can do the diaper work (ahem!), but how do I stop the ungrateful little brat from wailing when I'm wiping its bottom? How to distinguish between a hunger-cry and a hug-me cry? How do I know the baby is not feeling cold?

For people like us, in a foreign land, childbirth brings deluge of other issues. Even a simple thing like naming the kid demands quite a research. I want the name to be a meaningful, unique, having a "Nepali-pan" all the while being easy to pronounce by the non-Nepalese. I will need to find a priest to perform major rites as Nwaran and Paasni, which soon follow the birth. This is one of the rare times I am thankful that there are Indians everywhere in the world! There are parties to arrange; schedules to make for hospital and doctor appointments; changes to make in health insurance, life insurance, and investment plans. Then comes the uneasy issue of citizenship. Owing to the birthright, my child can enjoy so many things in the future that I only wish I could. Being a Nepali has been quite a ride for me - many job opportunities missed, visa hassles for every travel, extra struggle to maintain legal visa status, discriminatory pay, lack of freedom to change jobs for more promising opportunities and so on. Do I want my kid to be a Nepali and go through all this? But bigger question is - do I want to stay here for good to start with? If not, when do I go back? Are the same kinds of opportunities available in Nepal that my child can get here? If so, when is it best to bring the kid back to Nepal? I had heard and read about the possibilities of dual citizenship provision - I wonder if that is going to help me make my decision, if it comes to being at all.

Amidst all the worry and the anxiety, I am thankful too. I am thankful that I am here because of the excellent health care facilities available. Even though, health care is very expensive, the doctors will not go on strike or the patients and their relatives on a rampage. Unlike so many of her friends in Nepal, my wife will not be verbally abused by the nurses in the labor room but will be addressed lovingly and with respect. Even though, the government takes away a huge chunk of my income as taxes, I am thankful for the services I get for it. Tthe emergency response will be at my doorstep within minutes when I need it. When I drive my laboring wife to the hospital there will be no potholes on the road nor the burning tires, nor the chakka-jams. I shall rest assured that toys that my child is going to play with is non-toxic and child-safe and the baby foods nutritious. Unlike my niece, my kid will not have to wait long shivering hours of load shedding during freezing evenings to switch on the heater. Also, my child will get a quality education in a public school for free unlike thousand of kids back home. Indeed, I have plenty to be thankful for.

I am not unaware of many issues like family values, respect for resources and humility that all of us back home see lacking in the foreigners or even Nepali children brought up in the west. But, I have seen my share of kids lacking the same morals in Nepal too. Those virtues are not "pewa" of Nepal-born kids. Much rests on the hands of the parents and the environment the kids get exposed to. Talking of child rearing environment in Kathmandu - I have not forgotten infestation of drugs and khukuri in my school or the humiliations by the teachers or the over-crowded and suffocating school bus or the toilets in school so horrible that it stinks even now. After SLC, there were gang-fights among students almost everyday and in almost every college under varying pretexts. What worries me most is that I was among the most fortunate students from one of the better “boarding” schools and private colleges in Kathmandu. We all know how it is for the rest of the country. The last time I checked, nothing has changed. Thanks only to my parents and my circle of friends I made it through unscathed.

I know that child rearing depends on much more than the place of doing so. As for me, I have some months of diaper changing and sleep deprivation to look forward to and keep me from making any hasty decisions. There goes my “coming back to Nepal” thought - sorry dad!