Aplomb

You must always be

The love of your life

Look at the mirror back there

And say: you look great my dear! 

Don't wait for anyone to say

How pretty you are

Know that you are beautiful;

Whoever you are

That nose may be crooked

Your skin may not be peachy

Some think you're lanky

Others call you shorty

But why judge yourself

On someone else's bar

Take a bow, dazzle yourself

Shine your own star

Know that you are appealing;

Whoever you are

It is okay to not have 

Perfect eyebrows, full lips

It is fine to stop chasing 

Those unending makeup tips 

Be happy and be healthy 

For that will take you far

Know that you are alluring;

Whoever you are

So what if you don't

Have that pretty dress

A comfortable hoodie and jeans

Don't make you any less

These don't mark your value

They are just a layer

On top of your free spirit 

A soul that is pure and fair

Know that you are stunning;

Whoever you are

Believe in yourself; and

Hear all the criticism

Blend into a joyous chorus

Of endless enthusiasm

Let good deeds blossom around

And beam like a fresh sunflower

Your joy, happiness, success 

Is always within your power  

Know that you are amazing;

Whoever you are

Adapted from the original poems posted here: 

http://pushpapai.com/blog/translations/aatma-vishwaas/

The Mountain

(Late-posting a brief memoir of the Mt. Whitney hike from Sep 2016)

X: I don't know if I should write anything about the trip this time. Everyone has already written everything there was to write. 
Y: Yes, a few folks have used your style, you need to write something different.

Different... It was different for sure. It was different, difficult, distinguished, demanding, delightful, delusive, dependable, dark, defiant, deep, daunting, dauntless (yes, it was both). Anything but dull.

A daunting plan
.. "Wake up at 12am and go up the highest peak in continental United States as a day hike". My reaction: "Are you freaking kidding me??" True story.

A difficult prep
.. My standard words almost every weekend in the last two months: "Kunal, what time is your practice/show? We HAVE to do a practice hike today" closely followed by "We need to confirm our accommodations in Lone Pine this weekend" and "When do we get those energy gels, protein bars, and chews for the group?".

A delightful reunion
.. Made a much needed dent in the beer stocked in our fridge. And replaced the cobwebs in my heart and mind with lots of fun (pun?) and laughter.

A deep breath
.. that I needed to take on that first look of the peak from the hostel corridor on that super windy morning.

A dark path
.. that we shivered on at 4am, walking away from what felt like death by cold. No kidding, the water in our hydration pack pipes froze, gels turned into ice candy and a simple banana tasted like a split sundae without the extra sugar.

A distinguished palette
.. with hues of blue, orange and pink. Watching the dawn break faintly on peachy mountain tops reflected in Mirror Lake was a spiritual experience.

A demanding pace
.. with switchbacks threatening to kill it every 5 minutes as fatigue started looming over.

A dependable hope
.. asking me to go on when the body started giving in to the exhuastion of the mind.

A defiant shout 
.. out to Kunal, not seeing him anywhere, but knowing he will answer if I call him. Yes, it sounds stupid, and overly dramatic. And yes, he heard me in the middle of nowhere.

A delusive walk
.. back to Trail Crest from the top where all rocks in the path started looking blurry. Unfortunately timed stomach cramps and altitude nausea work in wonderous ways, making rocks dance around like creatures from Fraggle Rock

A dauntless return
.. as the trail went on endlessly, with the dazzling night sky looking like a million high resolution TV screens pinned together to provide an integrated multi media experience.

It may have felt like some kind of diabolical torture had I not been surrounded by people whom I consider closer than many people I share my genes with. The "You got it" secret call, the methane blasts, the suspiciously squeaky bunk beds, the two critical Bs (beer and biryani), the crazy look-in-the-distance shots made it the amazing adventure it was.

And now that all the excitement has been lived to the fullest, "Dull" is what I am left with..

.. Till the next time that is :)

The Dome

(Late-posting a brief memoir of the Half Dome hike from June 2014)

".. and before starting my hike, my son said to me - 'There is a squirrel on the top. Get me a picture of that squirrel.' Sure enough there was a squirrel at the top. It is always there, telling people that it does not matter how big or small you are, you can get where you want to" Brandon said waving his hands. Brandon is a wonderful gentleman who volunteers in the Yosemite bookstore. He has scaled the Half Dome at Yosemite more than 10 times. For me, it was going to be the first time the very next day.

Many folks had told me that having done Grand Canyon, Half Dome would be a piece of cake. Well, I found out that Half Dome was more like a tough cookie. The figures might not seem much different from our Grand Canyon adventure last summer- an elevation gain and loss of 4800 ft in around 17 miles. But like many other things in life, figures are not indicative of the experience.

I cannot put a number on how the cold mist from Vernal falls engulfed me, or how it made the rocky trail path so much more treacherous. Neither can I put a number on the beautiful sound of the gushing Merced river, or on the really steep path that it had carved out for us to traverse. I cannot count the number of times I had to stop completely exhausted, my heart beating like drums in my ears, or the number of times I willed myself to continue. Neither can I capture in figures the spirit of exploration among passing hikers, seen alike in a boy all of 10 years and a lady all of 65 years.

I also crunched some numbers, just for the sake of statistics. After all, we live in a world that is obsessed with data and figures..

The number of animals (deers, coyote, bear included) we sighted was more than the number water stations we encountered (just 1!). 5 was the number of liters of water each one of us carried.

The number of seconds for which I was frozen with fear on steps-less sub dome was a little more than 80, which was the temperature in degrees Fahrenheit that day. 90 is what it felt like.

My pulse rate as I started at the bottom of the cables was MUCH higher than 70, which was the angle at which the cables sloped up the dome. 400 feet was the distance to the top.

The number of complete strangers who were kind to me was 12, which was also the number of hours I climbed and walked. And then there was Kathie. I am sorry I did not ask for your full name Kathie, but the harness that you gave away to me without a second thought was probably what strengthened my resolve to go up the cables.

The number of times I smiled at the top of the dome was way more than 37, which is the number of photographs that I took at the summit. 300 is the total number of photographs that I took through the trip.

If that's not enough here are some more figures:

Number of people we were: 6

Number of hours we barely managed to sleep: 5

Number of funny movie reviews and parodies we watched repeatedly: 4

Number of songs we sang late into the night: 3 

Number of cuisines we sampled: 2

Number of things I checked-off my wishlist: 1

Number of memories I made: countless.

This trip was like a contradiction in itself. The awesome live music performance at Southgate Brewery (which by the way, serves the best oil-dipped garlic fries and fig desert pizza :-D) was equally matched by the delicious food at Taste of China, mismatched completely by the disastrous late night trip to Denny's. It was almost like a combination of Yo Yo Honey Singh's senseless rap, Irshad Kamil's philosophical poetry and foot tapping country music. It was silly, challenging and fun. Most importantly, it was test of mental strength at more than one level. And I daresay, we passed with flying colors.

Oh, I did see the squirrel, right there, at the top of Half Dome. I was where I wanted to be.

The Canyon

(Late-posting a brief memoir of the Grand Canyon hike from Aug 2013)

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone"

The quote on refrigerator magnet I got from Grand Canyon stares at me. I had always liked this quote by Neale Donald Walsch. My recent Labor day weekend vacation made me live it.

Looking back, I would not blame all the well-intentioned people who forbade us against hiking down and up the Grand Canyon in one day. It is not child's play and no, it is certainly NOT recommended. It is one of those things which have that ominous tagline: "Acts are performed by professionals. Do not try this at home".

But then, what would life be without the quintessential sense of adventure..!

For how else could we have seen the 360 degree view of the canyon bathed in sunrise colors that put photo filters to shame..

How else could we have listened to the childishly delightful echoes of our voices, bouncing off the ancient, silent walls..

How else could we have witnessed hot coexist with cold if it wasn't for the sun burning down at 90 degrees, with our feet in the freezing water of the Colorado river..

How else could we have discovered that potato bread with cheese slices and mayo could taste better than a seven course meal..

How else could we have realized the importance of a "dot" and the amount of hope it can give when it turns 3 miles into .3 miles..

How else could we have discovered that they have a jail (yes, a jail!) in the middle of the Grand Canyon, but no trash cans..

How else could we have been in awe for insects 10 times smaller than us, especially when those insects are large spiders and fire ants bustling around on the ground which we sought to sit on during breaks..

How else could we have known what countless means, as those many stars brightly twinkled down on us from a dressed-to-dazzle night sky.. I swear I could see the Milky Way that night as we hiked up the inner canyon in pitch dark.

How else could we have experienced the true essence of camaraderie as we unknowingly transitioned from nice-to-meet-you to i-know-you-can-do-it in just 30 hours..

At the end of it all, we weren't exactly dancing with joy. In fact we were barely able to walk, having gone down 5000ft and then come back up, 16.3 miles in 15 hours. And all I know is that we would not have had it any other way.

Whether it was driving through dense fog from Phoenix to the Canyon, or through three lightening-rich thunderstorms on the way to Page. The aerial fight sequences and deep dives on the shore of Lake Powell overshadowed the momentary disappointment of not being able to visit Antelope canyon. The past-midnight bites from McDonalds were as sumptuous as the delicious Pizza at the Wahweap Grill. The adrenaline pumping through our veins as we rushed to catch our flights as the gates were closing was so overpowering that it would have challenged a 12 year old scotch.

I am thinking that the next time I find myself snuggling in too deep in that "comfort" zone, I am going to call up this gang of guys and have them pull me out for another uber-ambitious expedition. BRING IT ON!!

A Lesson In Tolerance

in-tol-er-ance

   unwillingness to accept views, beliefs, or behavior that differ from one's own

 synonyms: bigotry, narrow-mindedness, small-mindedness, illiberality, parochialism, provincialism

It's not as much about unwillingness to accept different views or beliefs, it is more about unwillingness to understand before judging. And for all the fuss about intolerance, I think FB is a great teacher for tolerance: it patiently teaches one to be tolerant of all this exhausting drama and debate about it. 

Earlier this year, I penned a pretty sarcastic post when I saw an upsetting excerpt of the documentary covering the infamous Delhi rape case convict. When I wrote that, I assumed that for anyone with a fair understanding of the English language, it would be clear that the note called out the fakes who use culture and religion to defend their own twisted version of it. 

As it turned out, I couldn't have been more wrong. Most of my FB "friends" read it very selectively - like all other words blurred out, and they saw only "religion", "culture", "bad" (oh, and "aamir khan"?) pop up at them, and in their mind the equation was simple: "this note == insulting indian culture and heritage". And I was called out for disrespecting a great nation and its cultural values. 

That was my first taste of my take on "intolerance" on social media, although given the reactions I have seen elsewhere, I must say that I got off easy! I mean, really now- I could have been called "a liberal", "a feminist" (did you notice that these were not considered insults for the longest time!). Or worse - I  may have been asked to go be a citizen of countries that don't offer as much liberty of freedom and opinion. 

So now, I prefer not airing my views on social media, because I simply don't think most people reading my comments or posts have the maturity to entertain a thought other than theirs - they have already decided not to agree with it actually. No point inadvertently exposing myself to people who believe that being on social media automatically gives them the (birth)right to judge everyone and everything around. 

This constant propaganda for or against political/movie celebrities is tiresome. Mind you, I have no sympathy for shrewd "businessmen" who make the most of a sensitive topic simply for the sake of trending. But I am just plain bored of this repeated bombardment of similar, heavily opinionated forwards and posts. I am in half mind to just go off FB because my news feed just keeps getting more and more annoying, but I stay here to keep in touch with those 10 people who I know are worth the drama of the rest of the 90, and I am secretly hoping that the capacity of those 90 people for drama is not as much as what it seems like right now. 

It is not really the country that's becoming intolerant, is it? It is us - you and I and everyone else. Please let's stop blaming the "country" as if it is a nameless bystander who can be conveniently blamed for everything that is not going the way that "we" would like to go. 

And I admit that I, too, am intolerant - intolerant of all this unnecessary and cyclic debate. 

PS: The image above is a real screenshot that I took of Google as I searched for the word "intolerance" .. 

Artsy

"We live in a world that fosters the technical rather than the artistic, the mechanical rather than the organic and a financial rather than a mechanistic approach. Art goes against all of that. While it can have a technical aspect, such as digital photography has, art is eventually about expressing yourself, about what inspires you, about sharing your view of the world with others. What medium you use, as well as all the technical intricacies of this medium, eventually fade away when compared with the message expressed in your work. Who knows the size of the chisels used by Michael Angelo and whether they were made of hardened steel, Damascus steel, or some other metal." 

~ Alain Briot, Being an Artist

Borrowing from Alains words- the freedom to create is a precursor to being creative, being an artist. A wonderful thought at the end of a busy day. Thank you Mike Chowla, for sharing the original article with me.

Serendipity

तुला मला ही जाणीव नसता

अशी अचानक गाठ पडावी

अन दडलेली रात्र मनातिल

चांदण्यात निखळता बुडावी

जपला तरीही उडून जावा

पाऱ्याचा क्षण क्षणभर खळबळ

आणी लवावी शांत पापणी

हलके स्पर्शित काळे वर्तुळ

तुला मला ही जाणीव नसता

उडून मनातिल रानकबूतर 

प्रश्नांच्या डोहात शिरावे

शोधाया दडलेले उत्तर

तुला मला ही जाणीव नसता

अशी अचानक गाठ पडावी …

- कवी 'बी'

I heard the first two lines of this beautiful poem from Kunal when he was reminiscing about one of their performances almost 12 years ago at Kalyani, the intercollegiate musical competition in Pune. I was so taken by the lines, that I wanted to know the entire poem and luckily for me, Kunal remembered it. He and I don't know if he remembers it accurately - I wrote it down as he recited it, and must have read it multiple times since then. It reminds me of this quote:

"In your life, you meet people. Some you never think about again. Some, you wonder what happened to them. There are some that you wonder if they ever think about you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do." 

~ C. S. Lewis

Addiction Awareness

H: I wonder if there is a program called Impulsive Anonymous, you know?

M: Yeah sure there is. It is called growing up. 

H: But what if I have the Peter Pan syndrome?

M: You don't. You just wish you did, for then you would be able to justify all that craziness that I have to curb.

Most dictionaries consider "uninhibited" a synonym of "impulsive". And yet, one is more positive than the other- maybe because the former is what it seems like in the present, and the latter is what it seems like in hindsight.

Unbidden

I don't think I have encountered a bigger oxymoron in terms of conflicting emotions than the one expressed in this snippet. Love, when platonic, is sans lust. And yet these words irreversibly mix the two. Although the final representation is worthy of literary respect, it leaves a strong after taste, almost like shooting a really dark scotch- you do feel high, but without really experiencing the flavor. But would you even want to experience a flavor you don't really like? 

Oxymoron or irony? 

Terminally Prompt

You are to me, what /dev/null would be to a verbose program. You keep the output free of unnecessary information. No wonder I am still kept running, no one knowing how much they do not see. 

Oh wait, that went to /dev/null too ..

The I in NRI

I think it all started with the Indian Independence Day when some folks in my FB list called out pseudo-patriotism, especially amongst "NRIs". For my non-Indian friends, NRI stands for Non Resident Indian. While it refers to Indians who reside in any country other than India, it has over time become synonymous with Indians residing in the United States of America. It does not matter whether they are yet citizens of USA or even if they are still citizens of India. All that matters is that their current address has a state and zip code that is not Indian.

It apparently upset some of these folks that many of us proclaim love for India via social media on Independence Day - "Who are you to say you love your country? What are you doing for your country sitting oceans away, earning in USD in a fully equipped residence with modern amenities, lightening fast Internet and no looming power cuts? Do you think you are a patriot by updating your profile picture to the Indian flag or by using hastags like #iloveindia? Patriotism is not a one
day activity. So stop your pretense"

With some others amongst these folks, NRIs expressing their love for India is a constant source of amazement and consternation: "Why bother to feel emotional for a moment, when you know that you are going to be back to normal the next day, just to feel emotional again after a while. You have made a choice to not be in your country, just stick to it and be happy in feeling 'Indian' on festivals and continue your wholehearted attempts to be American the rest of the time. Don't torture yourself (and bore us) by being sentimental over some random ad or song or movie"

All of this sometimes-direct and sometimes-sarcasm-laced and poorly-disguised venom made me go back to the source of it all, the word itself: Patriotism. The dictionary defines "Patriotism" as devoted love, support, and defense of one's country or national loyalty.

Here's an analogy for all of you who subscribe to either or both of the opinions I mentioned above.

I love my Mom. I don't live in the same house as her, but clearly that has never reduced my love for her. I may not be an ideal daughter in any sense of the word, in fact I may have been a really bad daughter at times, which is not something I am proud of and I admit it and try to be better. But none of this ever makes anyone question my love for my Mom. When I post a heartfelt message to her on her birthday or simply some day when I am missing her, no one questions the integrity of my emotions. No one tells me how hypocritical I am not to live with her and yet claim to love her. No one snorts at the fact that I am just reminded of my love on some random day and will forget all about her the next day. No one calls me an emotional fool when I feel tears of happiness and pride sting my eyes on hearing that my Mom has gotten out of a serious illness.

For me, loving my country is the same. Am I an ideal citizen? No and I am not proud of it. Am I serving the country as much as I would want to? No, far from it. Am I complaining about any perceived bad state of affairs in India? No. I am not, because unless I can do something to help, I don't think I have a right to complain at all. And I will help. I know what I want to do and how I want to do it. I have plans for my life, like everyone else, and my country is a big part of my plans for my life.

So, I have some requests to make of all of you mentioned-thought-subscribers.

I would request that you stop making assumptions about my state of mind and sentiments and telling me and the world that my emotions cannot be permanent enough to matter or make a difference. You are not an NRI. So I am sure you do not have any experience to be able to associate meanings to my words when I express love for my country.

I would also request that you stop taking that condescending tone with me while telling me exactly how NRIs feel and how they should feel. I would like to pull the "you are not an NRI" card here as well. You simply cannot know how I feel. When you make comments about me trying to be more Indian than ever in a foreign land, you do not know that I do so cautiously because I do not want to antagonize the folks here who have welcomed me in their country. When you joke about me trying to be an American, you do not know that I do so because I want make an effort to understand their culture, which is a very small token of appreciation for their openness to my traditions. I understand that you just want to engage in "harmless" humor. Which is fine, because you don't really know what it's like. So it would be great if you can stop claiming to know at all.

Finally, I would request that you stop assuming that your public commentary will not be taken personally. You may disguise it as advice, but no one is really naive enough to believe that you don't have an opinion about NRIs. I mean, really now. We may be "emotional fools" but we clearly are not foolish :)

Now may be the time when you go down the "you are not taking it sportingly" route. But believe me, there are many of you, and there have been many posts from all of you over time. So if you have survived reading through the end of this, I hope that this gives you a chance to ponder over my side things and my side of the world. I would like for you to come experience it once so that you can see for yourself why some things become personal, and why I sometimes feel more welcomed in a group of "foreigners" rather than in a group of  fellow countrymen who judge me for my choices.

Crooner

"I won't be able to talk much, I cannot talk. I know only one thing and that is to sing"

I laughed as you said that Arijit, because talk is superfluous when you sing! You made thousands of people scream and go ballistic with excitement as you crooned one song after another, non stop, seamlessly blending your own songs with others', across genres. You had my complete attention from the moment you made an entrance on that stage till the time you said goodbye over two hours later. And I felt like a pendulum going between goosebumps and warmth, surprised by your innate skill and overwhelmed with the natural romance in your voice that makes silly, mundane lyrics sound like beautiful poetry. No wonder "Tum hi ho, ab tum hi ho..".

Ladies and gentlemen- the one and only Arijit Singh, Live in concert!