Meme

Let’s Play 25 Questions

1. Has anyone ever written a poem about you? Yes.

2. Have you ever looked up and found a celebrity staring at you? Yes.

3. Has a member of the opposite sex ever impulsively kissed you? No.

4. What did you do? It didn’t happen, I did nothing.

5. Have you ever written a song? No, there already is enough to fill my whole life.

6. How many partners have you had since you became old enough? Partners? None.

7. What’s the highest amount of money you’ve earned in a year’s time? Enough to make all the trips and job-changes I wanted to make.

8. Have you ever been hit on the head by a falling coconut? No I lived in the plains.

9. Do you have total recall? Regressively…

10. How you ever fallen in love at first sight? Never, because it usually takes the second look to register,  the third to fall in love with…

11. Have you ever eaten a jellyfish? No.

12. If you’re a guy, have you ever kept a spreadsheet on your encounters and rated them? If I were a guy, I would be a decent one, not crass.

13. If you’re a female have you ever learned that one of your encounters listed you on a spreadsheet? Suspected as much.

14. If you answered Yes to Number 13, did you want to know how you were rated? No – had to drop the person fast as I could.

15. What is your favorite city? None.

16. If you could travel back in time, what year would you choose and where would you like to go? When I could watch them build the pyramids…in Egypt.. or when Buddha received enlightenment and started to preach

17. How good are you at math? Lousy.

18. Are you still in touch with your childhood friends? Nope.

19. Would you kill an animal (not a human) and eat it to survive? No, not if I was alone…

20. What is your favorite flower? White fragrant summer flowers.

21. What is the first thing you’d do if you won a $250 million lottery? Retire.

22. Would you serve a year in jail for a million dollars? ‘Fraid not.

23. If eternal life on Earth were possible, would you want it? Nah….just thinking of so many years of eating, shitting, showering, routine makes me tired.

24. Would you spend your life in a wheelchair if the one you love the most could be financially comfortable for the rest of his or her life? No. Not  unless I loved madly, blindly.

25. Would you give your life for a loved one? Can’t say… Probably, if it were my baby, I would.

Art Day sponsored by HSBC

in the central courtyard

Riverside, Ahmedabad, 17 September – Sponsored by HSBC CG Road Branch, Riverside hosted Art Day today at the Hansol campus.

For the first time the entire school came together to sit and draw pastel flowers. When a teacher excitedly commented that she had enjoyed the act very much, Kiran Sethi, the Director smiling, said, “Yes, I painted four! I realize it is wonderful to be able to just sit and engage in something like this – without any agenda, without any rules, without any worries about whether it is good or bad with every body together, can be so wonderful for this space”.

She looked around, raised her eyes appreciatively upwards towards the roof whence hung pink and lime yellow gossamer georgette streamers of lovely pastel shades. The streamers looked like streaks of rainbow linking the green earthy space to the clear autumn blue skies above.

Hordes of corporate honchos including the Branch Manager drove down to witness the event – Tirtha, an officer and a fellow Kolkatan happily declared that this was a first time with HSBC too a promotional campaign he would remember.

When asked what real results they were expecting from this contact, he said, brand promotion was the primary objective, though Riverside being one of the one of a kind schools in Ahmedabad, HSBC thought it would be good to associate with it.

One of the English teachers then briefly outlined the Give India initiative Riverside launched nationwide in August and presented him with a toolkit, indicating that HSBC could touch millions of lives by participating in the initiative by becoming one of the key sponsors.

Here are some drawings of the faculty who revelling in the chance to let go for once, plunged into the hidden recesses of their mind to draw out the colors that characterize their lives.

Sulekha held up her flower and declared this is what I see when I look at the Riverside yard every morning. Priti smiled at hers, “Look, this is us”. Tripti reiterated the feeling saying, “Same form, different colours”. Kiran painted the flames of passion that drive everything she undertakes to do while Veena who leads the KS3 program drew her impression of the space…. enjoy…

the four year olds at K2

in the lawn

Ahmedabad

Sighted early morning as I sat with my morning cup of tea right in my terrace

Tea forgotten am busy with the camera now, look at the lovely early morning light but makes the picture difficult to take

Look at him - isn't he gorgeous?

He flies down to inspect me

Come be my love

Aatih Kya? Khandala?

Dikra, ask me again when am free

Prince's Love Interest

A moment alone together before the before the whole family swoops in

What do you think Mama

Preening, Courting Peacock Family

The Prince Dances – First View August 09

The first morning at my new place am gifte with this gorgeous sight. First time ever in my life I spot a peacock outside a zoo znd watch it dance! Very happy, very excited, wonderfilled with nature’s welcome to me…ran inside to grab the camera…my first video shoot too with a Nikon 5.0 megapixel digital, the distance is too great I think. Don’t have the software to render – so just wanted to share the rush with the world for those like me – that have never seen a peacock dance. Hope you like it.

One curious thing is Prince calls me when he comes in on that roof. Then when I come out he begins. The first day there was no pea hen in sight – so I presume he danced for ME! Now, when he calls to wake me up, I go out say “Hi” and feed him a banana or bread.He prefers the fruit. Other members in the family are not that friendly. They fly about – I didnt know peacocks couldfly that much!

A moment alone together before the family flies in

Prince Preening

Gottacha: a moment alone together before the family flies in

Foursome – Peacock Style September 09

Here is the whole family. They come together for their family time only once,  early morning, on the roof of the pumphouse across from my building. My room is on the terrace, so I get a good view

Notnowbaby – Peacock Dance September 09

He has been trying for over four weeks with her now. Perseverence, my boy, Prince needs to keep at it I guess, he really likes her a lot, won’t even look at any other – there are three females in our compound.

Prince’s love: this is the one he fancies

Fear of the Singles 2

I was relooking at all factors with regard to the single women’s help group I wanted to start to support single women in India live a decent life – to empower and scaffold them socially, when they want to pursue their dreams. When I suddenly realized it is not just women, society seems to feel threatened by Singledom itself, as a rule. Even men are not exactly that comfortable, although,  compared to women they get along better.

But when it comes to adoption rights, finding a good place to live in, especially in India, it nearly is the same for both men and women: society is suspicious of single people.

Why do they stay single?

Snippets from ten people I interviewed here in India and abroad.

W1 (Gujarat India): I was the only child. My parents were only children too, so there never was an extended family I could look to. So, when my parents died, and I still hadn’t found a suitable match for me, I  ended up being alone.

W2 (Kolkata, India): Well, I do not consider me ‘alone’ although yes, I am single. I loved someone, we had a relationship too, only when he went away abroad, it came apart. I could not leave my career behind. I find it difficult to accept anyone else in his place… so…

W3 (USA): I became single and alone when my husband died of a car crash a few years ago. I have a small son to take care of. I will marry if the right one comes along.

W4 (India) : I do not know why am single. (Pause) Maybe because I am dark and fat they never could find a match for me? No, that is a joke. I did not like the men they chose for me. So, I decided to stay single. I know what I want, I love my job, my friends like me, I am happy to be travelling and living on my own terms. I feel powerful (smiles).

W5(Mumbai , India): O I love what I do. I have men friends. I do not feel the need to marry but yes, it would be such a help if someone took care of some things in my life (laughs) – but unless they get something out of it – why will they?

W6 (Pune, India): I didn’t marry so I could take care of my parents. Yes, I do feel lonely,but I do not mind being single. I enjoy my nephews nad nieces and do not miss not having children of my own. As you cna see our business is thriving and am happily single (smiles).

W7 (Gujarat, India): O I had been in an arrnged marriage, he was in a relationship that his family did not approve of so when he confessed we agreed to a mutual divorce nd parted amicbaly. I have been single since then, I am happy the way I am, I do not complain except the singleness does bring in bouts of loneliness, especially when people around you are planning holidays during festive season. If I do find someone that understands me, can be a friend – would marry but otherwise I would rather not. yes, social support would be welcome.

W8 (India): yes, fear of the singles is real. Everytime in a praty I ms smiling or enjoying a hearty conversation with a man friend, I cna sense his wife tensing up. Yes, they even go to the extent of trying to malign you behind your bcak nad spread ugly tales. These are unhappy insecure women. But I have also met wonderful grcaious ldies that have welcomed me into their family circles. I enjoy being the way I am. I do not wish to have children.

W9 (India): I cannot conceive, so I decided not to marry. I like being single. It gives me a chance to do more with my life than if I had to schedule it according to the routine of another few lives (husband, children, in-laws etc). But yes, I have faced problems because of being single, and yes, a support group that helps me with buying selling of property, does not try to take advantage because I am a woman, would be good.

W10 (UK): O I like being single. I am not averse to marriage. But it didn’t happen. I go about life living it till it happens (laughs). In the UK, it isn’t really the system that hurts, no one minds singles – unless you happen to be close to the husband of a married woman that is not too sure of herself. I love my job as corporate trainer, and I travel all the time, so I hardly miss not having a mate as such. Yes, people do make a pass ta you if they know you are single. But it isn’t like it is in India. There is a certain system in place that is designed toprotect the interest of a single woman.

What is significant here is, none of these women are complaining – they definitely are not unhappy. They are perfectly fine being who they are.

Is Single a problem in your culture or country? Gender is a problem, right? Sex of a human too I guess?  Why -  in what sort of spaces in your country?  In what ways do being single, one’s sex, one’s gender become a problem?

Obviously biodesign of humans suggests we were meant to exist in a set of double. But isn’t there some kind ofexistential intelligence that says that humans are allowed to CHOOSE.

Why does society feel threatened by its singles?

Tell me how single people are thought of and treated in your culture. Tell me how single people live in your culture. What are the myths associated with singledom?

Are they looked upon with pity? O, poor thing, not taken! Something must be seriously wrong?

I would like to read literature from around the world about the lives of single people – men or women, especially of course, women.

Yet, the most important question that bothers me is why the fear of the singles?

Currently in my effort to understand the nature of bias and discrimination, I am reading a book called Equal Opportunities and Diversity written by Barbara Bagilhole.

Recommendations on not so pedantic, but thorough studies exploring ‘bias’ generally, and then with regard to the impossible Indian Gender Divide would be welcome

If there is none, I would be glad to have a collaborator to go on with this.

Before I end this, I would like to share an interesting observation I made while using my toaster this morning. Every single device that has been invented to make life easier in the home and the kitchen happened in the West. Whether it is the washer, grinder, the crusher, the sewing machine or the grill or even the hand held batter beater, it was all done by men in the West.

I guess this itself indicates some level of concern and affection for the woman in that region. There is not a single kitchen device except perhaps the roti maker that India invented. I do feel sad when I think of what this means really.

The West I think is still the best place where individual’s rights and welfare is concerned. We are still far behind. I am so sorry about that.

So I thought it makes better sense to have a SPEG* instead of a SWEG, (*Single Person’s Empowerment Group). That way men and women can together work towards bettering their lives, ensure respect for choices they make as individuals and dignity in their lives. They become stakeholders together in this thing if I look at SPEG as an idea. What is becoming a quest for me now is exploring this strange inexplicable fear of the singles in nearly every society, apparently every culture.

But then my contact with other cultures is through the written word. The internet, I realize can become this wonderful space to share views, exchange facts and information. Do share your view here, if you care

* The links would open in a separate window, so you can continue to read the post plus peruse the articles linked here.

PN : “of the 57 million American women 45 and up, nearly half—25 million—are unmarried (outnumbering entire populations of countries such as North Korea, Taiwan, and Australia)“

PN: “Although 92 percent have a network of friends and family that they can rely on, particularly in a time of crisis, many worry about what might happen to them as they age If they were alone”

PN: Published in India, written in the West,  “Latest news, breaking news – Single women prefer dogs to men.”

PN: “A growing number of single women are interested in having a baby through artificial insemination, but are still banned from doing so, according to Chinese”

PN:  “14 Jul 2009 … We received reports from various states that single women were not recognized as an independent household. Women also suffer…”

PN:  “A global network of single women reveling in life’s magic and feeling truly fulfilled – She started this blog to combat the treatment of singles as second-class citizens. Single-headed homes now tip the scales at 50.3% of the population”

Good useful blog for Singles (American): http://singletude.blogspot.com/

Another one: http://specialktreatment.blogspot.com/

If you care deeply about discrimination based on gender and the marital status of people, if you wish to see the world become a little less acrimonious then do get in touch.

Help me find out more, by naming books, studies, journals that can be accessed online, if you know of organizations that are doing commendable work to reduce stress in single people’s lives, you might send me their link or help me connect to them perhaps? You could use this email: triisha6@gmail dot com

Fear of the Singles

An Indian woman’s problem

is not about money or access or even men. an Indian woman’s problem is other Indian women. Their resistance to and fear of being complete women.

I think this is true for most repressive societies.

Their ignorance, misguided notions about what is right and what is wrong, about womanhood, seems to be the root cause of misery in other women’s lives.

Women that have never tasted success, women that never got to do any of the things she wanted to, women that have always been repressed, women brought up to fear and keep quiet and give in and be tortured and insulted and beaten.

women that are never allowed to go out and play. or go outside and eat as much as they want to, or love who they want to.

women that can never buy books or study as much as she wants to.

women that practically are never loved: not as children, not as women, not as daughters or even as mothers

women that are never loved by their fathers – but thought of as a burden to the family,additional expense, that would bring no returns as she would be married off and move away to some other family. she is popularly called ‘paraya dhan’ (sic) or  ‘somebody else’s wealth’.

she is not a person. she is resource, flesh, a womb, a set of useful hands that is meant to wash, clothe, feed, clean, serve, tend (to) other people’s bodies, lives.

people use them, depend on them,  the way you depend upon your washing machine (or get used to it?)

when someone from a ‘good’ middle class family says, “my daughter is well brought up”, it usually, means the daughter was brought up to be an A class, high quality, excellent SERVANT fit for a king. a servant,  nevertheless. the exceptions are rare, they are there of course.

unlike in the West, it rarely means she is capable of independent thought, of defending her rights, protecting others that need or seek her help.

she is never allowed to know what being her self, is; or nurture  the  ability to appreciate the quality of life brought about by self actualization. she has no clue about what responsibilities and duties and support system this kind of life requires,  to sustain itself or to flourish. since she does not know it herself, most of the time, she fails to give it to her own children.

all their lives, their mother teaches them to do what other people expect them to do, to “cater to”, as that, she figures, is the shortest route to “success”.  “Give the world what it wants” is what she teaches him. Rarely ever, “Follow your heart,  be different, lead the change”.

Irony

Indian myths dreamed of a powerful,  nurturing, strong, intelligent woman that could be summoned to destroy ‘asuras‘ or the power of evil, when required.

however, some intelligent, impotent  man  had, at some point,  realized, that if this woman was allowed to rise, he would be in serious trouble.

so, they created practices to repress, curb the growth of women from that time. what happens when practices continue for a score and twenty years? it becomes a ‘tradition’. and then,  suddenly, soon as a generation passes, it rises to the status of  ‘unquestionable’ laws. norms.

this is how the thousand year old ‘tradition’ of women repression in India began perhaps.

this is significant in context, because Indian civilization has epics, Vedic literature that would show you  a society where women BEGAN by being free.

a woman enjoyed freedom of choice, regarding her mate, her sex life, her vocation, pleasure, sports, pursuits in life. she could renounce domestic life to go study, live in forests or perform severe meditation routines to achieve her personal goals.

they studied maths, astronomy – in fact,  one of our satellites is named after such a woman mathematician called Rohini.

eventually, the woman became dhan,  ‘resource’ to be exchanged like cows. looks like this culture emanated from the part of the country I reside in, now. Lord Krishna (who is the principle character in our epic Mahabharata, the principle voice in the Bhagvad Gita, that is a discourse on war, right and wrong and power and prayer and karma) was born and raised here,  in Saurashtra.

he belonged to a family of milkmen, cowherds, rich, landed, powerful families that inter-married and grew powerful.

so then, women learned that to be beautiful is to be silent, to look good, to have nice breasts, to have to pretend to be ignorant, to be quiet no bloody matter what.

most importantly,  they learned to assist men in repressing other women consistently, continuously in exchange for a life of easy meals, never having to step down there in the muck and toil with them in the field (social security: nobody asked questions about what she is upto, if there is a veneer, a male presence in some form in her life).

in return for comfort and sure sex (even if it be bad sex), and the tiny sphere of power within the family  she married into (once she gives birth to a son), she sold her soul. and never ever tried to reclaim it.

so, when she finds her sisters trying to, it frightens her. she tries her best to suppress the uprising.  for, if it continued, she would have to move her inert self and do something. and she has hardly done any thinking for hundreds of thousands of years. it is so tiresome! thinking, doing, standing up for people’s rights.

to be handmaidens is easier.

to be queen requires a 24/7 on the toes vigilant lifestyle and strength and sacrifices and muscles.

it bores her, tires her just to think of it. so she becomes vicious when she sees signs of uprising to break status quo.

when a woman of dreams, comes along within their ambit, they smile sweetly and say, “why do you do this?” “be like me” “you are going against the norm, so you must suffer” “you deserve to suffer because you broke the rules” “you should smile and guile and say things that please, never, what you think”, “that is bad PR”, carelessly  hand  you some phone numbers and walk away leaving you to fend for yourself in the dark streets.

the woman with a dream with enough imagination and integrity to make  her life feel good,  contributing to the community in her own little insignificant ways,  stands alone,  for her crime of daring to stand up for her self.

she needs to live with dignity, with her self respect intact.  on her own terms.

this woman deserves a roof over her head without having to beg for it. she pays  for it? she deserves safety and security, to go live in whichever city within her country she wishes to, without having to justify her decision at every table or being persecuted cleverly but openly everytime she crosses State borders.

any attempt at helping  yourself would be crushed with “you do not know how to speak”  which translates as, “you must pretend to not know anything, you must not reason, you must accept bullying, expect to pander to people that matter”.

the rules are:

• you cannot tell anyone you were mistreated
• that you came home at the PG dig and found your cupboard has been broken into
• you cannot complain or call anyone you know, when you discover your debit card, PAN, youth hostel membership cards etc are missing, they would not pick up anyway
• you cannot ask for address proof (so no ph connection) of people you pay rent to
• you pay rent, do not expect receipt or proof
• you pay deposit money – do not expect receipt
• accept verbal agreements
• do not expect that to be honoured
• you cannot ask for Agreement or your land lord’s phone number
• do not expect the money back if you decide to vacate
• you have to supply all your details including where you are from
• you cannot tell anyone that your kitchen sink is overflowing and the water is about to sweep in, in the only ‘bed’room you got
• expect no support from organization you work for, your safety, housing etc is your concern,  not the organization’s, they did not, you invited yourself
• do not expect society to stand by you, if something goes wrong or if you are in danger, you decided to leave your comfort zone and venture out
• accept that you brought it all upon yourself the moment you decided to choose to follow your dreams
• when you chase dreams, you are on your own – no community
• be prepared to be cheated, swindled in your own country
• don’t expect help for people that are perceived to be different

women that are not owned by a man, women that are not servile, women that are not chaperoned, women that do not cower,  women that know what they want, women that want a good life – should be prepared to make it on their own.

no organization, no government, no body would help. you chose to be who you are. unless you decide to be what “we want you to be”.

“what does it matter if you bend a little to get work done?” but that “little” is becoming a pattern, a constant expectation! one little, two little… adds up to big littles!!! and then, one day you cannot look yourself in the eye any more I guess….your back will have bent so much….it may not be possible to straighten it again ever.

I wish I could have refused help from people that pretend to ‘understand’, or sympathize making you feel weak, every word they utter, every gesture they undertake pointedly designed to say, “you are inept, you attracted this to yourself, this would never happen to us – we are better than you are”. Hurting, degrading, and trampling upon your self-respect.

but I didn’t have the courage to say “no”. it would have meant more storm, opening another front in this battle between stupidity and insanity.

if there were equals that could stand up for women like me , out of respect for us,  and empower us do something for ourselves, that would help all of us, I would not be ashamed of taking help then.

there is no simple over the counter solution to what is happening to me as I move from State to State. true. the problem is not out there, it is within our culture, our value system, our minds.  true. besides, we cannot be bothered with the trials and tribulations of a maverick teacher that chose to embrace a life out of her comfort zone,  when we have other more pressing problems to deal with like hunger, illness, debts….true.

but, I really refuse to understand and I refuse to smile and be silent

“Speech which promotes acceptance and equality is a form of action, especially when spoken in the presence of folks benighted by hate and ignorance, and who act out the role of oppressor.”

To Improve the life of Indian Women

It would help improve the quality of life of an educated, modern urban Indian woman if these things were in place:

• Right to live alone, unchaperoned by a female relative or male presence in her life.

• Right to not answer questions about whether  she is alone or single while she rents a place (her safety, security should be important from the very start.  What does it bloody matter as long as she pays rent and is from a decent family background: which should be evident with the way she carries herself, the way she dresses, uses words, her gesture, posture, demeanour. Most women colleague do not even get it that this is a trick question to gauge how much leverage the strangers would have on the woman’s life.   Women must understand that it is not necessary to determine rent or payment at all. You are renting the whole space paying for it, so what  does it matter to the landlord whether you are alone or single? If they are bad people though, this is exactly what they are looking for to arm twist for money or advantages.

• Right not to give too much sensitive information like where she works, where her family is, how many members are there in her family, whether she is married or has a boy friend – especially this question bugsme like hell: how much she earns! She knows what she can afford, to guard against non payment of rent, she is paying a deposit that is advance rent, right?

• Right to refuse her photograph / copy of appointment letter (the audacity of asking for something so personal as that! experience in Pune, Maharashtra) or give identity card / passport/ copies of PAN (permanent account number) / driving license to people that are practically strangers (the landlord/ broker)!

• Right to have a receipt for money paid as rent/deposit for accommodation

• Right to get a title / deed to property she rents/ buys, in a language she reads or speaks

• Right to assistance by social self help groups if she loses important documents

• Right to lodge an FIR in case of loss or theft of important documents like debit card or phone in the local outstation police station in the National language or in one she can speak/read.

• Right to membership and stay in local YWCA even though she may be working and not a student or a Christian. And that withdue respect. She should not be treated like a scumbag that the YWCA is doing a favour to (Pune YWCA is horribly rude, refuses to allow electric points in rooms, and tries to rule ladies like ten year old kids: come back before 8 p.m., lights off after 9 p.m. , refusing address proof which is required to get a new telephone SIM in the new city as the other one would be on roaming charges now), asking for LOCAL references when they know you are from outside! New Delhi and Kolkata YWCA charges are exorbitantly high that only very high end corporate salaries can afford.

• Better conditions and reasonable rates within means of non corporate women employees at private working women’s hostels

• Better conditions (like electric points inside rooms so one can plug in a computer or light a mosquito repellent) at government ladies’ hostels.

• Single room PG accommodation within reasonable rates : a working woman like a teacher would be carrying documents, work home – she would need privacy and safety of her stuff. In Ahmedabad and Pune they think you are a monster if you ask for single rooms and charge you INR 7000 (seven thousand). If you pay 4500 rupees you would get a reasonably decent house in a decent locality – only of course if you are married or have someone with you to share it. They do not give ‘nice’ houses on rent in ‘nice’ neighborhoods to single outstation ladies.

• Women stop treating single women rudely, with mistrust, callously. “Why don’t you go back to your own city?” Halo! Why can’t she be where she chooses to be??? When you go to the US for your job, do they tell you to do that, “Hey why don’t you go back to India?” (makes me sick). Every city in my country is MY city. It is my birthright to be where I please, work where I please, choose to settle down where I like. I work hard. I pay my taxes.

• Working women with PAN registration from one State should be able to file their Income tax returns from whichever city she might be in. I may not have address proof at the new city to be able to change my mailing address to get the address on PAN changed soon. Or I could be on a transferable job, travelling continuously, should be able to file the return from wherever I might be. I am trying to pay the government, TAKE the bloody money!

• Address proof or employer’s certificate as soon as an employee steps into the company: from day 1 so she can get a house easily, get her new phone connection, gas, internet.

• Right to the standard government tax rebate meant for women in India from employers. Some deduct 11% tax from salary that is way below the government taxable salary limits (I faced it in Ahmedabad itself, if you raise questions, they ask you to quit). Money can be very important when you have to pay rent and live on single income in an expensive city: please do not make it difficult by doing those other things that are not done anyway.

• Right to appointment letters, salary certificates, Form 16*  from day1 of employment. (*necessary to file your IT returns – although I worked in some of the best schools here,  have not been able to file my return for the past three years I have been in this State). It is not feasible to go home and do it as we get holiday only during holidays when these offices also remain closed!
  

• Employers with outstation women employees, maintain a database of (NOT reputable but) TRUSTWORHTY brokers, house lease information, tax return filing agents or simply a helpful and polite helpdesk that can help women with these small things that mean a lot of hassle when you are alone.

• Right to adopt a child if she has a decent job even if she be single. Do not deny a child a healthy, capable mother she/he  might have or a safe home!

• Right to have guests in the house: even though it be rented, it is still my home, I should be able to invite people home and I should be the one to judge who is safe for me and who is not.

• Reservations in AC compartments when women are travelling overnight alone as it is unsafe for her in open-door-all-night sleeper coaches, especially going to the washroom at night alone, leaving her luggage.  Preference to a single woman over a single man in the Indian context especially would be in order (a large gang probably liquor movers that  boarded from Surat nearly threw me off the train during last Diwali because they claimed my seat, at midnight when I requested them to please vacate it).

If I had a support group for women, these are things I would be looking at to change. Sensitivity and good taste is all it takes and a sense of the realities of a single woman’s life.

15 August 2009

63 years of Independence: India celebrates its I-Day today, August 15

Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we will redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance …. We end today a period of ill fortune, and India discovers herself again.”

From the historic All India Radio broadcast Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first Prime Minister, had made….

We have come a long way since then. What remains of what India was and what I wish for in the days ahead, to retain as Indian, is what this post about.

What remains are some of the things I would work to cherish and ‘retain’.

The essence of Indianness: the willingness to accept, working from the abundance mentality, “jodi hao shujon, tentul pataey nau jon” (translated from Bangla, it means, ‘if you are good neighbours, if you are good people, nine of you can easily fit onto a single leaf from the tamarind tree’ I love that. About my country.

Since ancient times, for years there has been a constant influx of people from different parts of the world, from different cultures – they came, brought their horses, clothes, food, religion, books, art, philosophy, technology, wisdom – blending into the melting pot called India.

Persians became Parsis, set up their fire temples, their businesses;  the wild war like pardesis from the middle east of Asia;  the Greeks came with Alexander and settled in Kashmir;  the Sindhis, the Afghans crossed the silk route across the Kyber pass in the northern frontier;  the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the French crossed the Indian ocean;  the Turks, the Armenians, the Chinese (you have Chinatown in Kolkata);  the displaced Tibetans, Nepalis, Bangladeshis, Pakistanis.

There has been only one kind of discrimination ever in this country : the Hindus vs Muslims.

It flamed into devastating riots breaking the country into three parts, (Bangladesh, Pakistan, India) only after the Brits lit the fire under the bomb before they left India. The LoC is one of their legacies too. The Koh-i-Noor sailed away to England as did numerous priceless paintings, documents,  with the last English ship leaving India at last to its own fate. They had left the famous muslin industry crushed, having cut off the thumbs of muslin weavers  to sustain the textile of Manchester. That I would never ever see a genuine piece of muslin silk  is thanks to the Brits.

And yet – irony is we learned our first lessons of Nationality from them!

And this is what is the typical Indianness I admire about my country, every single Englishman, Scotsman, Irishman,  Germans, every single philosopher, missionary, teacher, doctors, musician, nurse, soldier, benevolent tea planter, wives, husbands – were welcomed with open arms. Not one of them would have a single tale of woe to tell of discrimination on grounds of colour or creed to recount to grandchildren.

We let them be even as we studied them, learned from them, explained to them gently our ways (India never has been an aggressor), waited patiently till they learned to value what was our age old customs and traditions and we were rewarded at some point with their excited discovery and ’show the world India’ enterprises.

We are proud of these Europeans that made our country their home. Mother Teresa (a Macedonian),  Sister Nivedita (an American) assisting Vivekananda at the RK Missions, the Mother (French) with Sri Aurobindo in Pondicherry, numerous others working with Rabindranath Tagore at Shantiniketan. William Hiki’s Gazette is still revered, remembered.

Back home in Kolkata, we still like to call New Market ‘Firpos’ because we feel sentimental about the foreigners that we loved and that loved us

I remember with respect today the numerous European, Scandinavian, Italian nuns and priests, Mother Provincials,  that taught us who we were, when we were young and in school.

We proudly named our roads after these foreigners ( ‘aliens’ as they are called in the US) awards, grants, schools, colleges too. Annie Beasant was the first to set up her Theosophical society where Bengalis from different communities and religious backgrounds got together to study ‘planchet’ and theories related to the spiritual legacy of the dead.

Bethune College is where  fellow OS er Traveler1 studied, one of the best girl’s collegiate schools in India,  not forgetting the Lady Brabourne College for Women in Kolkata or the St Xavier’s or the La Mratiniere or the Scottish Church College or the Loretos.

Then there is the German that  India loves, Karl Marx,  (Max Mueller Bhavan is looked upon as an important cultural hubs in cities like Kolkata and Pune) that in a way ‘presented’ India to the world as it were, for the first time, translating our ancient Sanskrit texts into modern world languages for us, proving how nearly 80% of world languages were born out of it, initiating India studies, causing the Asiatic Society to be formed.

Through him we learned that Sanskrit has the world’s first documented grammar! If it wasn’t for him, it would surely have taken another hundred years.

Religious bigotry is a pain in the ass, oppression of women is a headache, social development is dragging, economy is struggling to keep up with pressures from within and without – terrorism is ripping the tapestry of our psyche  – and yet, every time I attempt to – I can still find my self, untarnished, the spirit in pieces, chipped, but mended with the cellotape of the slightest support it managed to glean from all over the geographical space inside the earth.

We have been attacked, plundered, devastated by invasion – yes – but I would like to remember today, how without these ‘encounters’ as it were, we would not have been what we are today.

We have a history of living with Strangers that came and became one of us. We welcomed them in our space even when we didn’t have enough. And at the time when we were one of the richest worlds of the ancient times.

I am proud that we are culturally not scared of strangers. I do not feel threatened to expose myself to alien cultures. Or communities. That is being Indian for me.

On the occasion of our Independence Day, I salute the legacies that thousands of pardesis have left behind as their loving tribute to India.

Sabarmati Sunset

Sunset from my Balcony on River Sabarmati

Amalendu Nag

Phoolda to the entire family of Nags from the little town of Barodi in erstwhile East Bengal, grew up in Rajshahi, was proud of his teacher P.K. De Sircar.

I have no idea why today is designated as Fathers’ Day, but as I loved mine and he loved me like nobody ever has, I wanted to write this post.

He liked to be up to date. He never was late for anything, if it was due to start at 8 a.m., he would be there by 7:45 a.m. Ready for life at all times – that was who my daddy was. No, I did not inherit this quality, merely the feeling that I should be like that and every time am late I feel disturbed, thinking am failing him in some way…

He liked to do what he did, well. “I don’t care if you choose not to do it, but if you must, then do it well or not at all”. He detested shoddiness. I do too. In this sense am his daughter.

Sometimes – no,  in fact, a lot of times before I became old, when I was a girl, he made me feel embarrassed – he seemed impossibly like an incorrigible little boy. He was always doing things I had to ‘fix’ I would feel. He never seemed to be serious about anything at all! Always laughing, always joking when we felt he should be angry and protesting.

The taxi driver comes late, daddy misses his  flight, his explanation: “He (the taximn) probably doesn’t know that watches need winding every day”. The paperman leaves the garden gate open, the neighbour’s goat eats all our blooming marigolds from the head,  buds and all. “That goat (paperman) is hard of hearing and his brother (the real goat) is smart, so what do you expect (you cant blame one because he is deaf, the other one did what any intelligent being would, so why fret) ?”

He made us laugh – but we would quickly stop  so we could sulk some more when things turned out wrong. This Pieces however was never shaken.

When the rain flooded the garden he would make us fishing rods, and we would be seen in the back steps using them – full of hope of catching something, while he coolly shut his eyes soaking in the glorious sound of  Sachin Dev Barman’s   inimitable voice belting out Bengali folk songs on our Panasonic stereo that the family used to be so proud of. I still have it, it was the latest model then.

Daddy liked to dress well, he was stylish, never looked unkempt (the way I tend to do), had fifty pairs of shoes. His shoes irritated mum when she had to clean the closet. I loved them.

He liked beauty and harmony around him, he hated it when I left home without brushing my shoes. I did it often, so,  he would sit on many Sunday afternoons while I slept,  tired from play or studying or grading classwork, cleaning all our shoes – my brother’s, mum’s, mine, his own. It was a ritual.

Some days I would also sit down to it with him.  It was a sight to see with the two of us sitting on the front or back porch, depending on what season it was, with the shoes arranged in a neat semi circle in front of us. Then when it was 4:30 p.m. mum would wake up from her siesta or just leave her paper (we read the newspaper in the morning before leaving for school or work, since mum stayed home, she read the paper, later) or her book, make tea and carry it out, to us,  where we sat.  She would pull a cane stool called “mora” and sit down to watch us. I would show her her shoes, ask her if she could ever shine it the way I or daddy could. She would laugh, “Nope” and shake her head – “that is why I got you”.

“What?!”

I would throw the brush and stomp off  inside to wash. “Put these away and go, Mithi”, my daddy would call after me. I would come back and pick stuff  up then – what was left that is, most of it he would already have put away.

My daddy recited poems when he had fever. When he fell sick, became bedridden, he would start reciting poems aloud one after the other – he never recited them when he was well. I thought he only could remember them when daddy had fever. And my daddy hated going out on his holidays. You could not drag him out for anything. We used to fight so much about this, “When we grow up,  there would be no ‘we-went-here-with-our-father’  stories for our children!”  Well, I  didnt get children. So it is fine I guess.

Daddy loved sweets, never complained if food got burned but he exploded if his rice stuck to the pan – after he retired,  he had taken it upon himself to cook  rice  when he was at home. Perfect it wouldbe,  everytime.  During exams,  when we had to wake up early,  to study, it would be my daddy that would get up before all of us to make coffee for me. All my life – till the time he passed away, I never got a chance to beat him at it. Ever.

And during his exams we had to read his stuff out for him, that is the only way he could remember. I picked up this habit.

There was not much I could ever do for my daddy except buy him stuff.  All that love, thought, that he showered upon us, I now try to give back to my children and all that I interact with – he loved people, had a kind word for everyone, people loved to do things for him, and they had flocked to the house when they heard he was gone.

Everyone came,  from the rickshaw-wallah to his eighty year old walking pratner and the dog he fed, didnt eat or leave its place in front of the front door for three days. It just sat there with his head burried in his paws waiting for daddy to call him for a game or his meal…one rainy day daddy had carried his mother in his pocket, when she was a tiny pup shivering in the sand pit near our house. He had said later to us that when he saw her, he had stopped, the little pup had slowly walked up to him and he had asked if she wanted to come home, she had wagged her little tail so he had put his hand out for her and when she had climbed up on it, he had put her in his great rain coat pocket and brought her home. Chickoo is her son. They are street dogs. They are family and mum always counted them for all meals.  She still does.

Life feels a little off centered with this man gone, who was really like a little boy.  Playing with us while making the bed. We pretended we were birds when we jumped off the bed and dived into the heavy quilt on the floor. We would hide mummy’s stuff together and tease her.  When he lost all his life’s savings at one stage,  in a chit fund, he had grinned and tried to console mummy with, “O but see how everybody’s house is getting robbed, so much money gone is so much percent of your worries diminished too, you could sleep with your windows open now “. It didn’t convince mum of course….

He never did seem like a father until he died and left this huge void in our sky, it either rains all the time now or heats up with the blazing sun.

The house became so very quiet that it feels eerie there.  Anyway, I try to trust, be nice to people because that is what he wanted us to be – nice people that were nice to people. It is hard being daddy’s girl, but  I try.

Audacious Thinking

“Let us Teach them to be Audacious” Kiranbir Sethi

Why we teach our children to be audacious thinkers? Because a look at human history reveals how it has always been the outrageously audacious thinking that made all the difference.

Gandhi, who believed he could topple, defeat the most powerful empire with the power of persuasion and love! They overpowered the Mighty British forcing them  to retreat with just what?  Words and the  power of non-violent resistence.

Look at the audacity of thought and determination and faith in the idea, a legacy that the whole world recognized as valuable and worth preserving.

What about that first explorer that defied resistance of conventional knowledge, audaciously set off to find the Indies,  discovered the shores of the America?

Or that man who decided to wipe off six million people just because he thought he was right? The population of the neighbouring country Bhutan is about a million…so effectively, this man kills the Bhutanese population six times over, so to speak… offsetting massive,  lasting changes in the political, social, economic history of the world as we know today.

Then this man that had been telling everyone that would listen how plants breathe, have life of their won – and how people laughed from the inside of their jail-celled  existence. Bose.

And this other one told the world, “O but it is all relative, depends on where you stand”, sweeping whole philosophies onto a different course altogether.  Einstein.

The Bard of England showed the world what it meant to have grammar serve hands and foot at your service, turning every idea of right or wrong about language use on its head. It is a tool, for God’s sake, make it serve art and stop being a slave to Rules, Shakespeare  seemed to say with his writings.

We realize that Robinson Crusoe and numerous others that may be called survivors in the true sense, all learned to live audaciously, thinking in ways that nobody dared, is why they lived in the end.

Creative thinking is at the root of all successful problem solving strategies.

Every single idea that rocked the world, whether in good or bad ways, was audacious, outrageous aspirations of the human capacity to think beyond – imaginatively reach out over the lines and boundaries of convention, established norms.

It makes good sense to rewrite curriculum after all that India has experienced in the past two decades and change teaching learning focus. I am glad we are doing it finally. We are awake and responding to changes in the world around us.

This post is a celebration of the difficult and exciting journey we have embarked upon.

Hope we do the best by our children, that they are less helpless, more empowered,  by the time they step into the world of adults.

Post Script: On the eve of launching into the Give India Design Thinking Contest, the children were at a circle time closing loop with their campaign plan. Ideas of Giving flew back and forth. Suddenly, Simran, spit out, “O but giving this and giving that and what we do not use is so cliched, why can’t we think beyond? Giving can be other ways too, if we do something like teaching or…Let us think of an audacious idea of giving!”

Coming from a Grade 9 child… it is working already!

my father

I watched my father die in my dream this morning. I experienced his death all over again  – woke up scared, disturbed.

I saw him lying on his side, his face very dark. He was alive at this moment. The way he lay, the way his face looked  made me weep in my dream.  I saw me talking, heard me say, “Why is his face like this, Maa, my father’s face  was so beautiful, how did it become like this?”

He was alive when I spoke. Next minute he was gone. He hadn’t answered.

And then I saw the empty house, my mother changing into a white saree.

It was very vivid. I woke up. Could not think, or do anything. I turned picked up the phone, sms-ed a person I hadn’t thought of in months or met ever.

I sms-ed what I had seen, how I felt. Then came the tears and I found me crying like I just lost him.

I have just shifted to a new house. all my colleagues came to visit me – they said it is such a happy place, please stay here, do not change. and I had a good day at school this morning. am not ill or hungry.

I don’t understand why I saw my father again this way. I didn’t know dreams could be a “all-five-senses” experience. Wish I could do something to reach out.

I don’t really know why I wrote reach out. I know my father is just not there anymore. Maybe my mind is debilitating, disintegrating. I am aging, or going mad.

At school this morning I had said the more we know about our past, our heritage, legacy, the history of how conflicts were resolved, the more we know about how we became who we are today, the stronger we become, the easier it would be for our children to cope with forces that mangle their tender, clean trusting minds later.

I am not thinking of, but  living experiences, trying to connect with people that are just not there. Things inside my mind are probably coming apart. Life is slipping away I think.

I cannot sleep anymore.

It never hurt so very much to see the night end And watch the morning seep in through the chinks in the doors aand ventillators. And I do not wish to understand or rationalize, pretend to be allright, or normal – right now it seems dirty, ugly, unclean and dishonest and unbecoming of my father’s daughter to be so.

Strategies to Slow Down Population Explosion

Recently,  in this forum  here this headline caught my attention:

^{Billionaires Meet in Secret to Discuss Population Reduction Strategies – “Don’t Want to be Seen as a Global Cabal”}

The report said that Bill Gates initiated a meeting between billionaires like David Rockefeller Jr, Warren Buffett, George Soros, Ted Turner, Oprah Winfrey,  Sir Paul  Nurse, a British Nobel Laureate (Bio Chemist) and Michael Bloomberg to discuss strategies to  slow down population growth.

aldhelm 1 pointif(reddit) reddit.vl['t1_c09tifo'] = ['0 points', '1 point', '2 points' ]; 5 minutes ago[+] (0 children)

Numbers do matter. Affects every aspect of life, distribution to welfare to governance to nurture to sustenance.

The key to it all probably is education and awareness and empowerment of women.

If this news be true and these guys are really interested in doing something about SLOWING down the population growth, I wish they would:

CHANGE NATURE OF FUNDING. FUND EMPOWERMENT. STOP CHARITY.

It pushes a country  deeper into hell of  shit: never ending debt and corruption.

• Stop rural funding in countries like India. It has led to severe  corruption and scams.  Where it  benefitted, it has benefitted only a very few in superficial ways.

• Fund and nurture private enterprise.

• Start funding education in countries like India, China, Africa systematically.

• Fund private curriculum development projects that would empower its citizens to get actively involved in developmental work.

• AggressivelyMonitor Progress, audit fund management at the receiver’s end.  Get involved.  The Bill Gates Foundation had funded computer literacy in a school in Kolkata 7 years back.  Did anyone go check what happened and why?

• Fund projects that initiate Women’s empowerment, her social rights to Health, to Reproductive choices, to Financial independence, to Wage equality and Resistance to abuse. Often a woman in India is forced to continue until she produces a male child

• Fund support groups to engage women in developmental work.

• Help build/ sustain Women Empowerment bodies that would help protect women that choose to stay single in countries like India Indian situation was just not designed to sustain single women  or even single men.

The real drivers of social developement are WOMEN.  Let’s face this : these  creatures  create and then  rear children that run the country one day.  No matter how good a school is,  if the child has been mothered badly, there usually is little hope of getting a high quality man with high quality brains and a heart to run things well.

In  countries like India  it is the mother that does most of the critical parenting – she is the one that instills  and builds the value system that would run the individual’s learning, development from then on. What the mum did would have become the primary operating system. Scripting.

Men rarely participate in child rearing in ordinary middle class homes.  They merely are content to play the supervisory  and the role  of principal bread earner.

Educating and empowering  one half- educated,  resistant urban Indian housewife  would help 2o women through her and  5 men and  2 future citizens.  Roughly  27 people.

Fund  one  Teacher and -  you help 200 future decision makers through him/her.

• Support Gay Marriage. Gay marriage would lead to lifestyle changes that might curb rate of reproduction, cause more adoptions, bring down divorce rates.

• Support single parenthood.   Support adoption.

• Fund initiative to curb teenage pregnancy in developed countries.

• Fund literacy programs, language teaching enterprise  (that is the key to inseminating  information about rights, know hows to stoke population control behavior) R&D in this field,  content creation.

More than money, in countries like India, what is more essential is skill-building efforts:  Management skills,  project development skills, entrepreneurship skills,  campaigning skills,  outreach program manning  skills,  administrating skills.

Here in India,  half the  brainy middle class able population is left out of quality skill building education systems because every selection here is marks/score based.  Most failing in academic examinations have no other way but to drop out of every training, education program forever.

One  could continue to  make money:  NOT through drug or weapon sale  or scams and engineering economic disasters.

If the quality of population improves  and the numbers  stabilize,  one could make money  through sale of  SAFER  stuff – that are safer for the rich and the poor alike.

See, everyone knows and has seen that  if the rich sell a gun, the poor  might use it to destroy them.

Instead, if they had enough and were less angry,  they might want to buy more  cars or iPods or software or services perhaps and land in the moon too.

But of course  this is far more complex and  till the time the idea of “resource” is equated to power and control,  development  would always be about money.  Never about people or real social development perhaps.

Behalaey shedin

A Lazy Weekend at Home

this is particularly about nothing in particular. just a journal entry about a lazy summer afternoon spent at home.

family gathering at Thakurpukur

I met a long lost sister and brother in law on Friday. I cried the previous night before I actually met them, when I did, it was a happy tearless union. Bro-in-law cooked a delectable lunch and we ate together with another friend called Nini, on the bed with rain drenched afternoon sunlight bathing the space with light and good cheer. Maybe the good cheer and light actually flowed from our hearts. But then the other half of the great room looked so dark, we had to arrange to eat near the window on the bed. No Bengali in their right minds would ever allow rice to be eaten on the bed.

But we decided to break some rules that day. Like everybody started drinking right after 11 a.m. I was given my pineapple sherbet. But I put it back in the fridge as I was talking so much. I had it later with lunch while they had by then switched to rum.   After they have had vodka, which is what didi prefers. (Me, my mum and Anupam do not drink, most others in the family do).

That, and chilled sweet fresh summer Himshagor mangoes. I like to have sweet fruits with my rice and dal and fish curry. As usual Bapida’s dal was fragrant – I nearly always manage to kill the fragrance of the masala (spices while saute-ing, he always does it right). Many of their twenty six cats and kittens are dead.

There are seventeen now excluding the two tiny ones that are minuscule in size and doesn’t leave the wedge in the sofa where their mum hides them from the house-tease Khatash. They are about five days old. The house filled up with nauseating fish smell when five kilos of fish got cooked in large pressure cookers that are used only to cook their meal. And then Bapida had the bright idea to lift the lid to let it cool so the army could eat first.

This is the only household I know where cats get preference over human guests. Bapida Sutapadidi rock, Nini…

It has been a long time. Everybody said it at least twice. Including Nini who is otherwise Prof  Nivedita in her college where she teaches Bangla with one of my nephews. She said she had heard all the stories about me in the course of the morning, before I arrived around mid-day. How long now? Four and a half years since I left town.

Later, they filled me up with news about how Abraham Majumdar and Ranjan Ghoshal organized the Mohin after Thirty Three Years show without Bapida who used to be the singer in all of their old EPs and one the very first three original members of the group. He is very hurt. While we were eating this girl from the TOI called and he almost turned her down. We frowned in unison.

I suggested he follow his friends’ advise and meet The Times of India girl to clear things up. He finally relented and the appointment was fixed up.

Stuck

The whole morning I spent hours on the net trying to figure out a way to get out of Kolkata to my workplace. All trains are booked to limit till June 6th! I looked up all possible break journey routes: via New Delhi, Jaipur, Mumbai. No luck.

The Director called up and said, fly out, she would loan me the money. Well, wish I could. But I have too much baggage. I wish to carry some of my stuff this time, books, utensils, clothes. And a stove. When I went there, I had gone there with a backpack. And stayed on for over two years. Cant come again soon as it takes two nights and a day for a one way trip in an express train. Nearly four hours on a plane. Agents are no help.

Partha suggested I but some ticket and later he would see if he can get it approved under the VIP quota, provided no VIP is travelling that day. Am not sure I like the idea. What if someone does? I will not be allowed to board and I forfeit refund, lose money, as it is one cannot cancel a Tatkal ticket. The extra 300 bucks you pay for that would also be wasted….. would try again tomorrow…..

Missing Link and Prachir

Tonight I watched young Shubho of Lokkhichhara interview these two bands on his Star Jalsha Gaan Bhalobeshey Gaan. The title by the way is a line from an album of the band Chandrabindoo. I had known Missing Link in it’s formative stage five years back. Later, they made waves winning the Bandemataram contest. This evening listening to the rendition of their songs I could not make out why they had won back then, the songs were that vague and sugar sweet and so totally unlike what they are known to do on stage.

Prachir surprisingly seemed more open to ideas and all the three songs including Bharatbarsho indicated considerable thought. I liked the sound of and lyrics of the song “Deher khonjey, Dhangshostoopey, Raatri naamey“.

However,  rolling the R too much isn’t the way Bengalis speak. Also, as they spoke while answering Shubho’’s questions,  their English influenced stilted, corrupted,  broken Bangla shocked me.

Shoumya Prachir in Star Jalsha with Shubho in blue in the BG

A song is never truly of a language and culture unless you also capture the cadence of that language and stay true to the typical diction in your verses. If you wish to be angry you cannot use the English diction and mixx it up with Bangla.

Speak Bangla the way Bongs do for Gossake! What the kids ought to realize is Bongs do get angry and they laugh and cry. It all can be done in Bangla using the rhythm and tone and pitch and modulation that Bongs would typically use.

Till that happens,  you are not rocking in Bangla, kidos. But good to know Star is now interested. Bangla alternative music is at last getting the attention that has been long due to it, I guess.

raining here in Kolkata

summer rain, vacation time, am at my own table, with my favourite old computer blogsurfing. the window was open so the wet wind could play with my hair and I could see the trees swaying lightly and the street below

here it is

Summer Rain in Kolkata - beginnning

Rains harder now, the street lights are on

Thats on my right side

While I waited for the pictures to upload, this is what I was reading:

3. Marc S. Lewis, clinical psychology professor, University of Texas Austin, 2000.

There are times when you are going to do well, and times when you’re going to fail. But neither the doing well, nor the failure is the measure of success. The measure of success is what you think about what you’ve done. Let me put that another way: The way to be happy is to like yourself and the way to like yourself is to do only things that make you proud.

I thought you might like it.