margin_fades

Based on how Ike has moved in the last 12-14 hours, we've made the final decision this morning to shelter-in-place. This means that we are boarded up, and remaining at home.

( There are good reasons for this decision. )

The local media has been diligent about keeping the reports in proportion to the gravity of the situation, while more national media outlets are not. This has preserved a sense of calm in the metro area, while keeping a focus on the sense of urgency to prepare for the coming storm, and evacuating versus sheltering in place. You will see headlines predicting destruction, death, and doom. This is at best annoying and at worst irresonsible, because it is selling ad-time, and not reporting facts helpful to those locally. If you need good info, I've linked to various storm resources from credible sources below which we have been actively using to help guide our decision. I would watch check KPRC Local 2 Houston's website and streaming video (linked below) over national outlets. Again, we are far removed from the areas that will experience serious storm surge.

Links:
The National Hurricane Center / NOAA - specifically, Ike's 3-day cone and the advisory archives (scroll to bottom for newest one)
SciGuy (Houston Chronicle reporter's blog). Good, succinct non-technical interpretation of various meteorological resources
The Houston Chronicle's summary of evacuations for the past couple of days.
Brazoria County website with Ike info
Weather Underground's series of maps tracking Ike.
KPRC Local 2 - (streaming video)
Houston-Galveston area evacuation zones by zip-code.
Houston area traffic (has been "green" - ie. roads clear, no traffic slowdowns - for the past 36 hours)
***

Having stated all of this: the weather at the moment is normal, and conditions will remain as such for a good part of the day today - ie. will be no worse than a windy day in Oklahoma until approximately dusk. If we get new, serious information about this storm that compels us to leave, we will do so. In addition to the alternative of joining our friends in Spring, TX (close to IAH airport), we also have hotel rooms as backup in the Fort Bend County (Sugarland), courtesy of Julio's employer, located just outside of Beltway 8 along Highway 59.

We'll keep you informed, as we've been doing.

Edit - the pre-emptive strike required to allay parental fears (further frothed up by media frenzy) takes more effort than just packing up and leaving. (!)

I don't post often enough.

But then, as I said, I'm a terrible blogger.

It's been difficult to find my blogging voice.

Still trying.

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

I make a terrible blogger; it comes from not wanting to link to events or organizations that don't deserve extraordinary or immediate attention.

Which begs the question: what about the less-sung heroines who do deserve the attention, but never get it? Writing days or weeks after an event or introduction can be greater coin in the long term than immediate hype. They should have their advocate.

Slow and steady...

Delightful ditties renew my energy.

"I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."
Oppenheimer, quoting Lord Shiva.

In spite of having been emotionally raped. 

...to contemplate an alternate reality in which Mike Huckabee is a fundamentalist Hindu (via SM, Huckabee is totally Cobra Kai material)

Ted Rall's cartoon is fleetingly funny (as it should be, political cartoons are no more or no less) - but here we go again; I award a boot-to-the-head to the first person who asks me about monkey brains, fava beans, and a nice Chianti.

What's funny (hmmm, not hah-hah or uh-oh) about the cartoon to me, as a Hindu, is that I can't think of a single Hindu fundamentalist (leave alone the average Hindu) who believes in any sacred Hindu text.

That's the key difference between Hindu beliefs and Christianity, as I see it. I can't think of too many Hindus who believe in any of the puranas or vedas literally - including religous scholars and leaders - whereas the Bibles' writings are foremost and final for Christians.

Let's review: Hindu fundamentalism is Indian nationalism without any specific religous or moral belief, whereas Christian fundamentalism in the U.S. is united in promoting a single religous and moral belief. (Both have fear of Islamic influence, one past, one present - but that's another story.)

So Rall's cartoon just comes across as mistaken, at best; at worst, he's embarrassingly imperceptive. He would made a more enduring point by choosing any non-religous candidate to utter patriotic oaths (lace with anti-Islamic overtones) from frame to frame.

But I digress; there's not a single U.S. Presidental candidate who can be non-religous. So Rall did the next best thing - he made a brief funny. That's his job. So, now let me tell you about the many ways in which to prepare monkey brains - oh and do you know, fish brains are good, too...

I would have never survived making the discovery and filing the police report without the support of hubby and my longtime friends/neighbors. I would have never survived the ensuing days without the cheerful chatter of friends-who-are-as-family-to-me in the deepening gloom of the evenings.

What sustained me just after the police left, after realizing that this case is cold from day one, was hearing Abhi and Amardeep's voices live. (It's odd what you remember to do under duress and stress - somehow, I couldn't forget the Border Crossings broadcast.)

Their virtual lack of awareness was somehow of vast comfort. There was something right, positive going on in the world by two people who would immediately appreciate my loss, even if their feelings on the topic of loss might differ from mine.

I'm still reaching for the smaller pieces I insisted that my parents make, given that heavy pieces are just not me. My heart clenches every time I realize they are gone. I wore some of those pieces always, every day.

What is old-fashioned, antiqued metal, after all? It is no longer the mainstay of dowery dowering a daughter to hold her own against the world - education is should be. It has no currency, of its own or as status among my contemporaries. And yet in my family, it remained as a tradition, as a symbol of parents' love for their daughters.

I sense behind-the-hand snickers from peers for not knowing (not caring, really) that gold is so over the top, so passé when I do did wear my jewellry ("ornaments" corrects Thakuma, with affection) with pride...and indulgent/envious looks from older matrons who think I'm still playing up being a relatively new bride, that I will soon put it away permanently in a 'locker,' that I'm a holdout amongst "the kids," and my desi-ness will last only a bit longer than their own kids.'

I have a *&(# Blackberry already. I can get it replaced anytime.
Where will I ever get my grandmother's "locket" set again? Or the joroa made for me as a baby, which is so old-fashioned and so really bling?

if only I had locked it away right after the Dussehra
if only
if only

I cannot sleep.
There is a hole in my heart, an even larger one in my soul.

I woke up after fitful sleep today, remembering that my personal history, the symbols of my parents' long-cherished love for me, my grandmother's affection, my husband's passion - all of the things that connected me back to India, and my past, and my heritage - it's gone.

All of it gone. Stolen.
For the first time in my life, I am experiencing physical shock.

Kübler-Ross would be puzzled: I seem to be skipping right over denial and bargaining and acceptence, vacillating wildly between anger and depression. Acceptence? I will never be able to accept this hole that is in my heart, this place that was filled with the tangible symbols of my family's love, and that I planned to pass on to my future, my children.

My husband already knows, and keeps holding both both my hands and saying that the most important thing is still right between us. I don't let go, for once not shaking him away with impatience for not understanding implicitly or immediately. The comfort is much too dear to let go. It's his loss, too.

how do I tell my parents
this will kill them
it was their life's effort...
...their joy...
...their sacrifice...
...their legacy to me...

*grief*

Ennis' post yesterday coincided with an article a colleague handed me - Frontline's cover article from March 2005, Advantage China.

While Ennis focuses entirely on India's sad dearth of Olympic gold, the article mentions as an example of a greater problem - that of India's lagging position behind China as an emerging economic power. Konana, Doggett and Balasubramanian compare China and India's GDPs, then their Olympics golds; the example reinforces their statements that India will have to do more and better than just the IT sector success.

Ennis asks the SM readership whether there's a way to increase India's medal count - and should India even try to do so?

The answer just before the K,D and B's closing remarks: "Several of the leaders suggested fundamental change in the education methods starting from primary education since Indian education focuses intensely on conformance to strict guidelines and rote learning." They make this statement in response to the number of innovation incubator campuses being created in China.

If rote learning still prevails over creativity and curiosity in Indian primary and secondary education, then it's no wonder that sports (and other extra curricular activities that imbue team spirit) doesn't rate. I know that Sushmita Sen and Aishwarya Rai's successes have erased Madhu Sapre's almost-Miss Universe status from our awareness...but we would do well to remember the statement that lost her the crown. In the face of the average Indian's plight, her wish to build a sports stadium seemed ludicrious, and especially naive.

Or was it? Which society - forget the GDP - doesn't idolize a strong hero? Or a team of strong heroes? I have heard that during the 1996 World Cup, Calcuttans took the streets in frenzy, each time Brazil won and advanced. Imagine what they would do for a home team...

But that notion - that a sports stadium could be as important, or more important than setting up an orphanage, or a welfare system, or some other institution for public works and benefit - takes imagination. See the possibilities, then dream them into reality.

Nah, oi-rokom hoye na. Paabe na. Ki dorkar?
No, that simply doesnt't happen. You won't find it. And besides, why is it necessary?

***

It's been a while since Madhu's imagination was almost rewarded. And since then, movies like Bend it Like Beckham, and more importantly Lagaan and Chak de India could be taken as indicators that times, in fact, are a-changin'.

I hope, I hope that good practises such as rote memorization of multiplication tables and poetry don't go by the wayside - there are good lessons in learning things by heart. There's the irony...to learn by heart isn't enough...learning with heart, and with the mindset to question that knowledge, to take it forth upon a whim and examine it, play with it, and brainstorm with it - that will lead to sports stadia, and innovation incubator campuses.

self assured
professional
earnest
decisive
she looked me in the eye, unwavering
cool
at ease
and
we discovered our joy for discovering places
and people
and ways of life
she spoke of finding Mozambique
(eyes widening)
I spoke of watching Calcutta
(eyes open wide)
laughing
chatting
plotting
planning
we found an unexpected joy in finding one another

Is it September already? Fall (or what passes for it in balmy Houston) has this way of sneaking up on me, easing through just under my radar, surprising me with Labor Day Weekend. So, in spite of my best efforts, I end up missing Houston's annual summer events (Ballunar, for example...I've lived in the area how many years, without attending!)

One festival I did make this summer is Dance Houston - and what a wonderful extravaganza it was! The piece that moved me the most was Urban Souls' Our Deepest Fears - the choreography was beautiful, controlled, and the choice of set and costumes - some red hue against mostly black and white - conveyed the dualities of fear (beset by uncertainty) and courage (emerging from the shadows of doubt). I credit Urban Souls with the most creative use of the theater - their staging included jumping off of the stage into the orchestra pit, after emerging from behind a 'door,' an effect created by pulling the mid-stage curtains to imitate a door's shape.

I also enjoyed Revolve Dance Company's Consequence of Sound. This presentation used Regina Spektor's song of the same name, and enhanced the syncopation inherent to the song with simple choreography. What made this piece was the ultra-precise technique, the attention to detail in execution. What fun! It was utterly, simply delightful - as dance should be. Since I'm on a percussive kick just now, The Consequence of Sound won my vote for 'Best Performance.'

The amateurs who performed outclassed the professionals in a couple of instances - the kids of FLY Dance Company seem to have no bones or ligature, and the young ladies representing Dance Factory's Tap Beats were in amazing unison throughout the duration of their fancy footwork. Not as impressive was the opening piece - the choreography in ELC Movie Classics (presented by Planet Funk) was incoherent and uncontrolled, without any transitions of style between each movie represented.

There can't be a post to this journal without some desi connection - it's always a treat and surprise to run into folks involved in the local desi arts and culture scene - a treat, because it's neat to see 'kids' my age pursuing their artistic dreams as professions, and a surprise, because I grew up with desi kids whose primary love was athletics, rather than the arts. And I must mention the Anjali Center' entry into Dance Houston: little Daleena Abraham danced on a brass plate in Taranagam. She was marvelous; I wish she'd been there to take her bow at the conclusion of Dance Houston, as each dancer and dance company came out to take their bow.

It was an amazing evening! I look forward to next year's Dance Houston showcase.

...Sutapa Ray's Bengali Cookery page is BongMom's CookBook. BongMom blogs about her cooking experiences; she posts recipes, translating "a pinch of this and just enough of that" into real measurements - and gives a lot of useful detail, besides. She's the only other person I know who uses the apostrophe-r to indicate the Bengali possessive case while writing in English - as in musuri'r dal (yellow split-pea's soup). Ah, delightful woman!

Speaking of musir'r dal - my thanks to my dear freznor; in my quest to validate my own "pinch of this, enough of that" musuri'r dal recipe for him, I found BongMom. :-)

Jaago, jaago Ma... ~ Rise Up ~ Broken English ~ Parker Posey ~ "pancakes, Marty, pancakes"...

...now imagine the Whataburger TV ad's narrator saying "pancakes, Marty, pancakes," instead of Parker Posey...

(I think it's time to get some sleep!)

When I google "cuban food" and "houston," the last hit I expect to turn up is that of a desi chef in Miami (see Lot 8 under 'Openings'). Naturally, I'm intrigued, and another searchg turns up a review of Govind Armstrong's Small Bites Big Nights.

***

Not too long ago, my monthly book club met up at a nice restaurant in the Galleria. It just so happened that the waiter assigned to our private dining room was desi - but I didn't consciously realize it until well into the meal, when I happened to notice the US-India cross-flags friendship pin he wore on his lapel.

Growing up in the time and place that I did, the desis I knew truly fell into the expected categories "doctor-lawyer-engineer" - or "teacher-homemaker," if one was a woman. (The Simpsons, and Apu with them, made their debut about 3 years before any desi businessmen made a foray into the c-store arena - so I was puzzled that pop culture chose to paint Indians with the 'wrong' brush.)

( *** )

It's a long way from knowing that 'we' live life a certain way, that 'we' might be one family's standard, but not that of everyone in the community or diaspora. It's delightful to run into desi who pursue unconventional paths according to desi (immigrant?) standards. It's even more fulfilling to realize that I really don't think of paths as conventional versus unconventional, anymore. The waiter was simply a waiter, and his most important attribute is that he recommended excellent wine pairings.

Berryhill Baja Grill. An awesome alternative to the proliferation of bad Tex-Mex...and they're vegetarian friendly.

Sign paste on Berryhill tip jar: Support Counter Intelligence...second only to the singing staff at your neighborhood ColdStone Creamery.

And this one's for wyvernmoon: Jack the Ripper Table Skirting. I'll admit, I am more than a bit curious as to the inspiration for this enterprise's name.

Adoption has been on my mind lately.

Many friends of mine who are having trouble becoming pregnant are beginning to talk about adoption as the avenue for starting a family. NPR is running a series this week, Adoption in America, and Prime Time aired a story last night on the evolving US adoption culture, where teen mothers' lives do not end - they retain knowledge and contact of their babies' lives, if not whereabouts...and adoptive parents are open with their adopted children about the specifics of their past and parentage, from a very early age.

I have faith that many - most international adoptions are above board. Friends of mine have a beautiful toddler son who is theirs by adoption, from Korea; a desi family friend of my parents has a beautiful daughter, theirs by adoption from India. They are certain, because of myriad careful vetting processes, that their children were truly free to be adopted. ( Then a story like Manjula and Bhagya's (and their birth mother's, and the Smolins') comes along, and I stay awake at night. )

***

If I were unable to conceive or bear children, I would adopt a child from India - no questions asked. ( Read more... )

***

Remind me, when I succumb to angst about having a foot in two often irreconcilable worlds, that I have nothing on these two girls, and that life has an uncanny way of imitating art.

"Margin Fades! Hmmm!"
"Margin Fades!"
"Margin Fades!"


Anna repeated this statement at irregular intervals over the course of the New York meetup, nearly a year ago. An attempt to tease out the meaning and origin of my alias, perhaps - or, it's shades of Mimi Livisay, coaxing Ralph out of invisibility after satisfying her own quest for identity.

By itself, as my own name, it takes on a meaning of its own. I love discovering the unexpected and unusual fusion between facets of my life; I am delighted when my friends, many of them mainstream (though they'd laugh to be named so), perceive intersections that I would delight in:


MF:

I read an Indian tale long ago about the Hindu god of death, who came for a man. His wife begged for his life, but the god was implacable. But the god admired her courage and said he would grant her any gift except the life of her husband. She thought for a moment and asked for many children. The god granted it, but then realized that the woman could not remarry, and so he let her husband live.

I've always liked this tale, for many reasons. This music video (Stay, by Shakespears Sister) puts me in mind of it. I do not know if you will like it or not, but I thought I would pass it along. I think it is quite beautiful.

-- alteredhistory



Ah, one of my favorites from the Mahabharata - the story of Princess Savitri cheating Death to win back her husband's life.

alteredhistory made my day by comparing Stay's music video to Savitri's story - because I saw it too, back when the song first got air time. I sat there in wonder, my nose practically squashed against the TV screen, knowing that the dying man would wake up. And Yama as a woman! It was an incredible parallel...and what a waste, not to be able to share it with anyone. Who could possibly know Hindu epics and mythology, and care about Shakespears Sister as well?

There are few who see beyond boundaries.
Those who do so are blessed.
Those who share them make the world a warmer place.