Desicritics Author: smallsquirrel

The Blizzard of 2010

smallsquirrel — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 11:54:38 EST

I have not been out of the house since last Friday.

OK, so that is not exactly correct. I have gone to shovel out the car. I have helped neighbors shovel out their cars. And finally the other day we had to venture out and walk to the grocery store to stock up for round 2 of the storm. But honestly, I have not been able to get to work since last week, and there is little hope in sight of me reaching my office any time soon.

The entire Washington DC metropolitan area has been slammed with a winter storm that most people here have never seen in their lifetime. I grew up in a place much, much colder and snowier than this, so it doesn't faze me much. The problem with contending with the weather here is that the area is not suited for it. There are not enough snow plows, not enough salt and sand for the roads, and the infrastructure cannot handle it. There are literally thousands and thousands of people without power here. And while that might not be a huge deal for most desis, in the US when you do not have a generator and the snow is piled 4 feet high, having no power for more than an hour or two becomes a dire condition.

The other issue is that after 1-2 days, being stuck inside stops being quaint and starts being just plain annoying. There are only so many cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows and on-demand movies one can take in. I have cooked pots of chili, pans of cornbread, fluffy biscuits and lovely omelettes. We have had too many cups of tea (if there is such a thing), and every toy has been played with a million times over, in hundreds of permutations. Actually, the only plus of the snowstorm is that it has allowed us 6 days in a row during which we have almost completed potty training our daughter.

It would be nicer if we lived in the city. Last Saturday there was a snowball fight that drew crowds of thousands of bored people. My friends who live in the city are telling tales of lounging in quaint coffee shops and strolling down snowy and deserted streets. Me? I am looking out from our 3rd story balcony at white-out conditions and wishing that my daughter had a playmate that lived in walking distance. Hell, I wish I had a playmate within walking distance! (after being stuck in the house with one's spouse for a week, they no longer qualify. No offense, as I am sure he feels the same way.)

So there it is. I am going a bit mad. Time to make lunch and plan the afternoon's activities. Or maybe I will just relent and let my daughter watch Kung Fu Panda for the 4,000th time.

Hope For Haiti

smallsquirrel — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 20:41:08 EST

Tonight on all the major television networks in the US are carrying the Hope for Haiti telethon. Simulcast in New York and Los Angeles with correspondents in Port-au-Prince, Hollywood, the music and fashion industries and much of the country has banded together to raise money for the victims of the earthquake in Haiti.

Many celebrities are answering phones to take donations, while others are performing or giving short monologues. In between performances, short clips of real peoples' stories from Haiti are being shown. Everyone from Jon Stewart to Shakira is on hand to help.

Anyway, if you are in the US please call 1-877-99-HAITI, and if you are overseas please visit www.hopeforhaitinow.org. Give what you can. Donations will be given to many organizations including Oxfam, Partners in Health, Yele Haiti and the Red Cross.

It is times like this that I can feel proud of the United States and the rest of the world. How we help our brothers and sisters in need is truly a measure of our worth.

New Indian Visa Regulations Impact Tourists

smallsquirrel — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 10:32:56 EST

Within the past few months, the Government of India has implemented new regulations which severely restrict the movements of people wishing to complete multiple entries into India on a Tourist visa.

According to a Warden Message from the US Government:

Initial information from the Government of India indicated that revised visa regulations would primarily affect travelers with tourist visas who had been in India for more than 90 days before travel abroad or more than 180 days in the past year. However, the U.S. Mission has received confirmation that foreign passports are now stamped on exit to indicate that the bearer cannot re-enter India within two months of exit unless special permission is obtained from an Indian Embassy, Consulate, or High Commission abroad, regardless of the validity of visa or length of stay in India. Travelers have reported being denied re-entry after exiting India for business or family emergencies, or for tourist travel to nearby countries, even if their initial visit to India was for only a few days. Prior guidance and procedures that allowed re-entry to India after stays of up to 180 days are no longer in effect.

Apparently now these regulations are being inconsistently applied, and people with various kinds of visas, including business visas, are having serious issues. The same Warden's message relates the story of a woman who tried to depart India on her tourist visa after a one week stay. She was told to go to the Foreigner's Registration Office and register, even though her passport had been clearly stamped on entry: “Registration not required if stay is less than 14 days.” There are other stories of other families and individuals being refused re-entry on shaky grounds.

I can see where the Indian government might want to close a loophole which would allow tourists who posses long term, multiple entry tourist visas from essentially living in India by simply leaving the country every 180 days. But this kind of haphazard and ham-handed approach to implementing new regulations does not help anyone.

I would encourage anyone planning to visit India on any kind of visa to plan your trip carefully, and not make any side trips outside the country during the duration of your stay. People currently inside India, whether on Business, X, or Tourist visas should contact their nearest High Commission or Consulate overseas or their local FRO before exiting India to try to ensure that you will be let back in.

Belonging

smallsquirrel — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 09:18:18 EST

I was dressed to go out dancing. It was me and the girls and it was a rare night out for me. Last minute plans, and my husband was having some batch mates over for beer and take away, so it all worked out well. Next thing I know I am on the back of a bike, silk scarf trailing out behind with heads turning in the traffic. A chestnut-haired firang with giant eyes and a small shirt out for a night of fun.

I arrived at the club, and we all went upstairs, ordered drinks and sat down. Where was everyone? It seemed dead to me, with the throbbing base bouncing off unobstructed walls. I knew nothing about clubs in Bangalore. Up until then, I usually went out to dinner or hung out at friends' homes, so I did not know what to expect.

Shilpa got up and hugged a girl who walked in through a side door. It was one of her friends that I had met a week or two earlier at a cozy weekend lunch. I had forgotten her name, but I remembered that she was Marwari. I was jealous of her long, black gold locks and fluid movements. They exchanged a few words and Shilpa told Aparna something I could not hear. They waved me on with them, and we all passed through the aide door and out onto an outdoor deck. We were on the roof of a very tall building, torches surrounding a swimming pool, with lights strung up all around. The reflection of the torch fire danced in the water, while people mingled and chatted in small groups. There was a warm, dry wind and sky was clear. I remember feeling like something big was happening.

Shilpa told me that we had luckily stumbled upon her friend's private birthday party, and that there would be a big surprise in a few minutes. We grabbed a drink and took seats at the other end of the pool on a wooden bench. I spotted a few other friends and waved shyly. They grinned at my daring outfit while showing off their own, but suddenly my eyes were drawn to a makeshift stage where a man walked out and everyone became absolutely silent.

The friend walked out with a microphone and thanked everyone for coming to her birthday party, and while nodding her head toward the man, said that they had been friends for a long time and he had graciously offered to come help her celebrate in style. Everyone burst into applause, and I was straining to pinpoint exactly who he was. The face was familiar, yet...

Then he began singing. It was like I could see the music.

preet ki lath mohe aaisi laagi
ho gayi main matwaali
bal bal jaaun apane piya ko
he main jaaun vaari vaari
mohe sudh budh naa rahi tan mann ki
yeh toh jaane duniya saari
bebas aur laachar phiru main
haari main dil haari

I literally felt transported. Everything else faded away except the music, the hot wind and the dancing fire in the water. I came back to the moment and looked around me, and everyone was similarly transfixed. I realized I was singing along, softly, and Shilpa reached over and grabbed my hand.

Toota toota ek parinda aise toota
Ke phir jud naa paaya
Loota loota kisne usko aise loota
Ke phir ud naa paaya
O o o o toota toota ek parinda aise toota
Ke phir jud naa paaya
Loota loota kisne usko aise loota
Ke phir ud naa paaya
Girta hua woh asma se
Aakar gira zameen par
Khwabon mein phir bhi badal hi the
Woh kehta raha magar
Ke allah ke bande hasde allah ke bande
Allah ke bande hasde jo bhi ho kal phir aayega
Allah ke bande hasde allah ke bande
Allah ke bande hasde jo bhi ho kal phir aayega

This is when I knew I knew it for sure. This is when I finally belonged in India. I was no longer a stranger in a strange land. I was not an awkward girl in a salwaar suit being stared at while eating her banana leaf lunch. I was simply one in a group, transformed, transfixed, transported by music.

Easy and Nutritious Spinach "Pesto" Pasta

smallsquirrel — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 08:30:30 EDT

This is a very simple recipe for a pasta dish that is chock full of iron and other good-for you things. It is a take on traditional pesto, but it does not contain basil. To increase the nutritional value, use whole grain pasta (I highly recommend Barilla brand, which is available at Namdhari and Food World in India).

What you will need:

large bunch of spinach, washed well and drained
garlic (2-3 cloves)
extra virgin olive oil
2-3 tomatoes (roughly chopped)
parmesan cheese
roasted slivered almonds (unsalted)
salt
black pepper
chili powder

1 box pasta (rotini or penne works best)

Directions:
Set salted water to boil in large pot for pasta. Do not add pasta until the water reaches a rolling boil.

In large frying pan, put a small amount of olive oil and wilt the spinach. Cook it on medium heat until it is completely wilted, but not overcooked. It should not be mush and should still retain its bright green color. Add a bit of salt while cooking.

In your mixi, put the garlic, the tomatoes, a small handful of almonds, the warm wilted spinach, a generous amount of the parmesan cheese, more olive oil, and the salt, pepper and chili powder to taste. Mix on high until the ingredients are well combined and there are no chunks. Do not over mix as the spinach will turn bitter.

When the pasta is al dente (meaning it should still be quite firm... for whole grain rotini this will be about 10 minutes) drain well (do NOT rinse!) and mix with the sauce. Plate and top with a bit more parmesan to taste.

This recipe is quite flexible, as you can add whole cherry tomatoes for color and texture at the end, just before serving. Or you can drain a tin of tuna and mix it in at the end for a bit more protein, if you wish. This dish is also great served cold as a pasta salad.

The Issue of Rifqa Bary

smallsquirrel — Thu, 3 Sep 2009 08:15:21 EDT

For the past few days I have been eagerly following the story of Fathima Rifqa Bary, an Ohio teen who fled to Florida to escape her family. What makes this story so special? Well, Rifqa's family is Muslim and she fled to Florida to join a Christian evangelical church. And this seventeen year old has begged authorities to block her return to her parents, as she claims that her father has threatened to kill her as retribution for her conversion.

There is a lot going on here, and it is hard to know who is telling the truth. The father has publicly stated that while he would certainly prefer his daughter remain a Muslim, he has no issue with her conversion. Rifqa claims he outright threatened to murder her. And typical to anything of this sort, the media is rife with speculation.

We've all heard of these so-called "honor killings" and no one wants to return a child to such a fate. I saw a story recently of a man who killed both his daughters because he feared they were becoming too americanized. But the smarter among us also know that the media loves to demonize Islam and paint every Muslim as a stark-raving fanatic, one second away from donning the suicide vest and ending it all. Who to believe?

Not only that, but these evangelical churches have quite a history of brainwash themselves. They commonly dupe people out of money, goad people into conversions, and promise healing from everything to blindness to homosexuality. If this girl was having "normal" teenage problems with her parents, she might have found these welcoming arms a fitting respite. We all know teens who've turned a disagreement with their parents into something that appears to need NATO help to resolve.

Rifqua has since been placed into foster care while the matter is being sorted out. This kind of thing breaks my heart, because the media is really confusing the issue beyond belief. I also do not know what to think. I would hate to demonize an entire family based simply on overplayed stereotypes that this country drinks down with the relish of a gin and tonic on a hot summer day. But I also think we have to be careful and take any child's claims of abuse seriously.

So who to believe? A devout Muslim, an evangelical Christian or a teenager? I am holding my bets. I don't see a clear winner at all.

Terrorist Freed on "Humanitarian" Grounds

smallsquirrel — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 10:11:16 EDT

According to various news agencies, the man responsible for the 1988 explosion of Pan Am Flight 103, which murdered 270 people, has been released from prison.

Abdelbeset Ali Mohmed al Megrahi was released from prison on humanitarian grounds by the Scottish government because he is terminally ill with prostate cancer and has been given three months to live.

I, personally, have a very hard time swallowing this news. This man showed no compassion to the innocent victims of his terrorist activities. He also showed no remorse for their deaths as he stood trial. I have no idea why he should be released from prison, allowed to return back to Libya, and die happily when his victims were allowed no such luxury.

I agree that he should be given palliative care and be made as comfortable as possible while he awaits death. He is still a human being, and as such he deserves to given appropriate medical treatment. But the Scottish government has gone way too far in allowing this man the kind of mercy he never once showed in his actions. He should die in prison as his sentence indicates, as he was sentenced to life in prison.

Or shall we just change all life sentences to read "...or as long as it is comfortable and nice to remain incarcerated."

Travel Review: Aruba

smallsquirrel — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 08:08:58 EDT

I'll just go ahead and admit it. I am not usually one for a beach vacation. It is just not my thing. I love to travel, which is really an understatement in and of itself. Before I had my daughter I used to live to travel, with no less than 3-4 international trips each year. And that's not counting my couple days here and there visits to my family in Italy.

This year was different. We had no vacation last year. Actually, we really did not even have one the year before, unless you count wandering around Delhi and Agra in 114 degree heat while six months pregnant as a vacation. I don't. Plus we simply tacked some sightseeing onto a schlep to the US Embassy. If we did not have to go then, I would not have set foot on a plane. But other than than, aside from visits to my parents in Boston and a wedding in Maine, we've done nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

What I actually mean is that my husband and I have had no free time without the baby. We've done plenty. We color, we guide tricycles, we assemble Legos and Clippos. We play hide and seek, and we pretend to be asleep and then startled awake by hiding lions, zebras and tigers. We make endless nutritionally balanced meals and then spend more time cleaning them up than we did actually eating them. And then there is the potty training.

So when I finally declared that I could not survive one more month, and that I was in desperate need of a vacation, I got not one peep of dissent from my husband. And when I declared that I wanted to do nothing more than lie face down in the warm sand on some Caribbean beach, I only got a puzzled look followed by a nod of agreement. And so that is how we ended up choosing Aruba.

OK, so really we chose Aruba because it is hurricane season, and only three islands in the Caribbean are outside the hurricane belt.

After a nightmare booking session, foiled travel plans in which USAirways nearly ruined our already short four day vacation by canceling our flight and not being able to get us out until the next day, we finally arrived in Aruba. We had booked at the Tamarijn Aruba, which is part of the larger Divi chain of resorts, and I was not disappointed. We had briefly considered staying at the Riu Palace, but when I saw all the photos of the people dressed to the nines, I declined. I wanted shorts, t-shirts and sundresses, not evening wear and pressed pants.

Plus I really somehow doubt that the Riu would have effortlessly accommodated our wild last minute request to move our reservation out by a day due to airline issues.

The Tamarijn turned out to be wonderful. The rooms are all on the beach. "Well," you say, "everything is on the beach in Aruba." True, but I could get out of my bed, walk out onto my patio, onto the beach and into the water in about 20 steps. Did I mention the sand was white? How about the crystal clear turquoise waters? The view from our room was amazing. A long line of palm-thatch roofed palapas, and lounge chairs for as far as the eye could see. OK so if you looked to the left you could also see the dock for cargo and cruise ships. But since those ships are pretty silent, it did nothing to mar the idyllic surroundings.

Was everything perfect? No. The bathroom was in need of an upgrade. It was dated and sad. But who spends a lot of time in there anyway. My biggest gripe was the food. All-inclusives are not noted for fine dining, and this was no exception. Ugh. The buffet was pretty abysmal, and reservations at the a la carte restaurants were very hard to come by. After my 14th rum punch of the day, however, I found I no longer cared.

There seems to be a lot to do on Aruba. We only took one side trip, as we did not want to overschedule ourselves. We went on a sailing trip on a catamaran that took us snorkeling. My husband was awed by the abundance of tropical fish, including huge electric blue parrot fish. We also visited the wreck of the Antilla, a 400 foot WWII German warship. It was eerie and beautiful, and I only told him when we were back aboard the catamaran that we had managed to swim through a school of barracuda with all appendages in tact.

So now I am sitting here at my desk wondering how I was so easily converted from a girl who loved adventure to someone who is already planning her return to Aruba.

Racially Motivated Shooting at US Holocaust Museum

smallsquirrel — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 14:39:50 EDT

According to multiple sources, a man armed with a shotgun entered the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C this afternoon. The suspect opened fire and struck a security guard at the museum before being shot and wounded by other security guards at the scene. The Washington Post is reporting that the suspect, James W. vonBrunn, who is now hospitalized with life-threatening injuries, has strong ties to white supremacist groups.

The gunman was identified by several news agencies as James W. von Brunn, a man in his late 80s. According to a Web site maintained by Mr. von Brunn, he embraces a far-reaching conspiracy theory involving Jews, blacks and other minority groups. Early reports indicated that he lives in eastern Maryland. NYT

The injured guard has also been hospitalized with serious injuries. A third person was also involved, but apparently only with minor injuries.

This kind of incident is completely unheard of in Washington DC. While the city itself is known for issues surrounding violence, those incidents generally do not happen in tourist centers.

Bad Motherhood

smallsquirrel — Tue, 5 May 2009 09:42:44 EDT

A few years back, Harvard Law graduate Ayelet Waldman wrote a very controversial article about her views and experiences with motherhood. I remember reading it and being shocked. I also remember joining the ranks of people who thought that Ayelet Waldman was, in fact, a bad mother.

That was before I became a mother.

Back before I was a mother, I truly believed that one need not be a parent to understand the basics of parenting. After all, I had been a nanny of sorts, and I had done much more than my fair share of babysitting. There was not a child in the world I could not wrangle. So I looked at my friends and others who had kids and wondered if they knew the mistakes they were making. Surely some truths were more or less applicable even if one had not gone through nine months of pregnancy, right?

Very, very wrong.

Yes, you've gotten my point I see. I truly believe now that until you've actually had your own child, you just won't get it. Not fully, anyway. So there, its out in the open now, and we can get back to Ayelet, whose new book, entitled Bad Mother, will be released today. The book draws on themes from her earlier article.

The thing that Ayelet says that really raises the ire of seemingly millions of folks is this plain and simple truth: she loves her husband more than she loves her children. This very thought turned both women and men the nation over into rabid, blood-thirsty animals waiting for a go at Ms. Waldman's jugular.

Now, let's be clear. I still do not agree with all that she said in her article, and I have no idea what she might posit in her book. But I can sympathize with what happens when you do have a child. All the love and passion that was once focused on your relationship with your spouse is now channeled in some way or another into your child. And you are, by God, supposed to love every single go-go-go moment. And may Heaven help you if you don't. Because if you are not sent into paroxysms of joy over every shit-filled nappy and inventing game after tireless game, you are.... a bad mother.

The expectation is that simply because you are a woman that you should be enthralled to the point of near rapture with all things motherly. And there are other enraptured mothers handy to reinforce that stereotype. So god help you, if, like me, you simply love your child but are not some crazed Stepford-mom. That's it.

I love my daughter madly, and I would not give up this experience for anything. But am I over the moon with each day? No. There are days when all I want is to lounge happily on the couch without, for crissake, hearing the interrupting screams of "Elmo time! Elmo time!" And honestly, I would be a crappy stay-at-home mom. Not because I do not love my child, but because it is not my forte. I am not creative for long periods of time. Sure, I can think of 3-4 activities for my child, but after that I am worn out. I need "me time". I am not energized by playing round after round of peek-a-boo or hide and seek. Honestly, it wears me out. Do I show that to my child, obviously not. But it remains the truth never-the-less.

It is often said that men get credit for just showing up when it comes to parenting, and for the most part I agree. They are not expected to plan nutritious meals and understand the nuances of weather-appropriate clothing. They get to do the fun stuff, and then retreat to the outside edges for the rest. Thankfully many fathers engage much more than the minimum. I am lucky because my husband does the maximum, and for all intents and purposes is the alpha parent in almost every way.

Which leads me here: sometimes when I am playing with my daughter, I am (gasp!) fantasizing about those lazy days when it was just me and my husband. Oh the freedom! We could go anywhere, do anything. There were no diaper bags, no schedules, no day-ruining 1 PM nap times. No meltdowns of epic proportions over wanting apple juice when there is none in the house.

Does it mean that I regret being a mother? By no means! It just means that it is difficult, and I am juggling a lot at once... motherhood, a career, a home, and the myriad things that come with daily life in a suburb of a large American city. But to be completely truthful, I am not a perfect mother. I am a loving mother. I am an attentive mother, and I am a vigilant mother. But I am fallible, and sometimes I am selfish.

So while I might not fully agree with Ayelet that the "relationship between a husband and wife is the core to any family... and the children are satellites, beloved but tangential." I can certainly understand the sentiment.