Respect Begins With Awareness

Published in the Centre Daily Times, Feb 4, 2011

In the United States, we are very sensitive in accommodating different abilities and individual styles of learning and functioning in our schools, workplaces and public spaces.

Differentiated teaching, accessible buildings and parking spaces and laws that protect against discrimination are examples of accepting the equality of and the differences among people.

Yet our current national focus on preventing bullying points to the existence of subtler hurdles that prevent the complete inclusion of everyone.

“No Name Calling Week,” celebrated annually in January, is an anti-bullying awareness-raising program aimed at schools.

This year, Barnes and Noble, which is one of the corporate sponsors, put together a compilation of short videos on its website of children’s book authors taking a stand against bullying.

The authors use their books and lives to share anecdotes and strategies, reminding us that we can all be bullies or be bullied, depending on the situation.

Name calling and bullying are not limited to children. Adults sometimes resort to name calling instead of offering specific criticism of a particular action.

It is much easier to ask someone, “Why are you acting so American, Indian, Chinese or like some other nationality or Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Jew or other religion or so conservative or liberal, or like a girl, boy or any other random group?” than to offer specifics of a disagreement.

Such statements stereotype people and assume that some groups and ways of thinking are superior to others.

Bullying is an international phenomenon, and people use many excuses for bullying: They are bigger, older, traditional or modern or know better. They are richer, more or less educated, very skilled or unskilled, closer to God, or pray to the right God or belong to the correct political party. They have the “right” kinds of names, and those they are bullying don’t.

I grew up in India, and bullying there had its own cultural specificity. Because age and seniority are respected, birth order and superior hierarchy can give people the ability to bully. Because education and money are respected, professionals and

the rich can appear all knowing, and bully by withholding information and access.

This by no means implies that everyone who can misuse their power does so.

However, when awareness of these actions as “bullying” does not exist, such behavior can be deemed normal, and those who stand up against it labeled deviants. Now that I have spent more years abroad than in India, I may take offense at things many Indians take in stride, and they may take offense at things I take in stride.

Some people hide their bullying behind humor to make it acceptable. And when there is no awareness that this is still bullying, anyone who reacts to this could be portrayed as being too sensitive and can be further bullied.

At Park Forest Middle School, where my daughter attends school, programs like P.R.I.D.E., or Park Forest Respects Individual Differences Every Day, are helping students get a better handle on the multiple facets of bullying. They are lucky to get an early start at learning lessons on respect that some adults are yet to comprehend.

These awareness campaigns are laudable steps toward a common language of respect.

Of course, the more sensitive we are, the more work we have to do to stand up against bullying and to make sure that we, ourselves, do not bully others.

Multicultural “Trip” Offers Opportunities for Dialogue with Child

Published in Centre Daily Times, State College, PA (March 6, 2004)

I embarked on an eye-opening journey two Decembers ago, when my daughter’s preschool celebrated cultures from all around the world. It was a wonderful month for the kids as they “traveled” around the world. It was a great opportunity for parents to build positive attitudes towards the diverse cultures in the USA – I loved to imagine that these would one day get us closer to true liberty and justice for all.

My family dutifully signed up for India, and began our preparations. On the big day, my daughter dressed up in Indian clothes, I packed up my presentation material and hands on activity, my snacks, and was just about ready, when my daughter burst out with questions, “Amma, who is an Indian? Are you an Indian? Am I an Indian? Are people who live in India Indian?”

It was a watershed event in our family. My husband and I had been conducting an experiment, where we had talked about different countries, but not used any adjectives to describe the people who lived in them.

We had talked about India, China, Korea and USA (four countries that we have been to with our daughter) and the “people” who live there without using any adjectives. We used “people” to describe all of humanity, and had been waiting to see if our child would classify people, and if so, at what age, and based on what? Would it be based on differences in physical features like skin color/ eye shape/ hair texture or language /customs/ religion/ geography/ something/ nothing else?

Our daughter’s classification started in response to the external stimulus of the “India day” celebration. We talked that day about who an Indian was and who an American was. The dialogue continued till I dropped her off at school, and continued when I picked her up.

By the end of that “Holiday Season,” she declared that she had “understood. All the children in my school are Americans and all the parents are from different countries. Is that right, Amma?”

“Well, you are almost right…,” and we talked about exceptions to that rule, about grandparents, great grandparents, cultural origins, Columbus and Native Americans.

Our dialogue continued. After a trip to an Asian grocery store around the same time, our daughter announced that there were only four Americans in the store, referring to the three of us, and another person of European origin in the store. All the others were of Chinese origin, and I explained to her that they may be Americans too. And the person of European origin may not be an American.

Then she declared “Some people think that only white people are Americans. They are wrong.” Another step taken in a long journey, and I felt glad that she had the opportunity to understand this truth so young, for I have met so many adults that have not figured this one out yet.

Over the past two years, her journey has continued, as she ties to understand people and things. Her questions have increased over time and last year, when we celebrated Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights, she asked me “if it was an Indian festival.”

“Yes.” “… because Indian people celebrate It?”

“Yes.” “Is it an American festival?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because many Americans celebrate it. Did you know that Christmas is an Indian festival too?”

“Because lots of Indians celebrate it?”

I then told her how I had 10 days of holidays from school in India, for both Diwali and Christmas.

The dialogue then continued with “Is Hannukah an American Festival?” and “Do Native Americans live in State College?”

Our family has had many discussions over the last two years, and my daughter has a better understanding of the complexity of our origins and our world.

Our dialogue on who an American is, was put to test recently.

A new friend walked up to my daughter in a park and said, “Where are you from?” I wondered what she would say. I heard her reply, “I am from here. I am an American.”

Then the other girl talked to her about a visit to England. And they both ran off to play.

So, a big thank you to all our schools that have the “Holiday Month,” or provide opportunities to discuss cultures from around the world. I am sure they have enriched discussions in many of our homes and taken us on some wonderful journeys, while building ethnic and cultural pride in all our children, and humanizing all of us.

What did Harish Iyer do, when the Terrorists attacked Mumbai?

Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times, Dec 9, 2009

Harish Iyer, 29, is an ordinary citizen of Mumbai.

When the terrorists attacked Mumbai on November 26 , Harish felt particularly helpless. He is quoted in a piece in Khaleej Times as saying, "I was near the Taj Mahal hotel when the blasts went off. I couldn't do a thing as the whole place had been cordoned off. My friends, from all over the world, were calling me, asking me to find out if their relatives were safe. I had to something - so I came back home and set up http://mumbaiterrorhelpline.blogspot.com/.”

He posted his mobile number on this blog, http://mumbaiterrorhelpline.blogspot.com/, and offered his services to anyone all over the world, looking for a friend or relative, but who were unable to get to Mumbai.

And the calls came in – he helped however he could - by finding any information he could by calls to hotels, hospitals, cell phones, and even physically going to the hospitals to get more information. He then called back with the information he had found or posted it on his blog.

Harish who has since been profiled on CNN and in many newspaper articles stands out for innovatively using the web to connect us at a time of divisiveness.

Reading Harish’s blog, especially the early entries, had me reeling as I identified with that well known feeling of worrying for the safety of a loved one; I could sense the anxiety of those who were calling in or writing to him, frantic for some way of getting news of their loved ones.

Harish responded to this primal need and offered himself, and his physical proximity to the scene of the terror, to help. He found out information, visited hospitals, and then called all these strangers back with any news that he was able to find.
And sometimes, strangers called him back, to tell him not to check anymore - they had already found out that their friend had died, or that their father had survived.

Harish had become part of their family, and they a part of his.

He reached out to help, and thus become a beacon of hope, amongst all that senseless terror.

Even in the bleakest of times, this one human being had changed the little world around him. He had recognized our common humanity, and had identified with those who were frantic in their sorrow.

And that does offer us some hope for the future.

Comments: Harish Iyer(Aham) here
Submitted by aham on Wed, 2008-12-10 02:41.
Thanks for the appreciation. Cannot deny that any kind of positive energy, helps me go on.
When you rub onto so much of people's sorrows, some rubs onto you as well. Thats when an appreciation brings a smile on your face and helps you in your endeavour.
Thanks
Harish Iyer

Listening - the StoryCorps Gift Idea

Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times, November 18, 2008

I was intrigued when I heard the concept of the National Day of Listening, on NPR.

Thanks to Google, I soon found out about StoryCorps, a nonprofit organization, that has declared November 28, 2008 the first annual National Day of Listening.

StoryCorps was founded to help Americans record their stories, thereby preserving Ourstories - not just the histories of our leaders, but the history of common people. StoryCorps booths have been set up in different geographical locations.

They are also being used to capture the specific history of groups dispersed across the country – some examples of these are of people affected by 9/11, African Americans and even those who are losing their memory to diseases like Alzheimer’s.

As I read about StoryCorps, I thought of their slogan of “Listening is the greatest gift.” Of course, each of us has a story. And that story can be discovered only when someone else takes the time to both ask questions and to listen.

To the grandparent that lived through a recession, or a war, and the one that did not do either. To the parent that had a fairy tale childhood and the one that did not. To the aunt that broke barriers and the one that did not. To the uncle that was scarred by the death of a sibling, and the one that did not live up to his potential.

Each one of us has a story, a story of being defined by the details of the particular cards that are dealt to us. And our lives are but a collection of the memories that make up our story, as we respond to these specific cards.

Our memories can also create and affect the history of the others that wander into our lives, and into whose lives we wander. They can empower them or affect them negatively – but they certainly can teach them about the lessons of possibilities, about forks in the road, about choices made, and journeys undertaken.

More importantly, though, listening to each other’s stories creates bonds, and we are no longer strangers. Both participants gain value to their lives by the act of speaking and listening with empathy. And bit by bit, like “The Little Prince,” we may begin to care, and may even understand - both the meaning of their lives and that of ours.

This National Day of Listening is a good thing. I do not plan to rent the StoryCorps kit, but I certainly like the idea of practicing more listening in my life. More active listening to my daughter and the rest of my family, my friends and my acquaintances – that would be the first step. We all seem to run around in our own little worlds, and I know that even if I have the inclination, making the time for it would be a very hard challenge.

But I plan to try, and once I do more of this, perhaps actively “listening” to strangers would also come more naturally to me – and the precarious world we live in today could certainly use more of the empathy that would come with such interactions.

Calling on Mr. or Ms. Smith to go to Washington

Originally posted on the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, Sept 30, 2008

I do not fully understand the financial mess our country seems to find itself in.

As a layperson, who is slowly gathering information, I am beginning to understand that both Democrats and Republicans share some blame for getting us here.

And that both the Executive branch including President Bush and Treasury Secretary Paulson, and the Legislative branch including the House and the Senate bear some responsibility for getting us into this mess.

Some of those who appear to have had a hand in getting us into a corner, are now calling for drastic action, in the form of a $700 Billion Bailout. And are surprised at not getting our enthusiastic support.

My own feelings about this situation are complex – there is surely anger and frustration at this mismanagement of our economy, but I am also saddened because I do not know which politician, from either party, to trust on this matter.

I feel cynical, and don't expect any of them to tell us exactly what is going on, or to own up to any mistakes, let alone to investigate several options of benefit to the taxpayers.

I keep wishing for a “Mr. or Ms. Smith” amongst our Washington politicians - a real leader, modeled after the Mr. Smith played by Jimmy Stewart, in "Mr. Smith goes to Washington." Preferably, a very Independent Smith, who would not worry about the identity politics of being a Democrat or a Republican.

An Independent Smith, who would simply be American first, would not care about party loyalty or election year party politics, and actually put the interests of American citizens ahead of the interests of other special interests.

But can there be an Independent Smith in Washington, without Independent voters all across the country?

Let us get rid of our partisanship first - not think of ourselves as being either Democrats or Republicans, and find our common thread of being only American. And with that strength, we can surely hold our politicians accountable to all of us Americans.

Enjoying the Summer Break from School?

Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, July 7, 2008

It has been more than two weeks since local schools were let off for summer vacations.

The joy evident on most faces, as the kids rushed out on their last day, at my daughter’s elementary school, had a primal quality to it. A joy of rushing into a world of imagined possibilities, a world without the predictable rhythm of school.

I did see a few tears, and also heard a fifth grader tell another that vacations were nothing to cheer about, because there were still seven more years of this thing to go through!

But mostly I saw a unifying atmosphere of happiness, of being let out into something more wonderful than what they were going through.

Fast forward to more than two weeks later, and the pictures vary from family to family.

Some kids are in structured programs, others are not. Some are looking for things to do, while others occupy themselves in different ways. Some are out of town, and others have family and friends visiting.

Some are already bored with their summer break, and others want it to stretch forever…

At my home, the highlights of my ten year old daughter’s summer break so far have been a two day camp she went to, summer band and orchestra, and the house guests we have had – friends and family who have come to stay in the last several days.

She is also looking forward to some future trips, play dates, going to the pool and so on.

She is still cherishing every day of summer break, but I know that there will be the inevitable occasional letdowns of boredom, and the disappointments when real life does not match up with the expectations that summer vacations held when school let out.

Perhaps that is a hidden value of summer vacations – they teach and remind both kids and parents that even much anticipated change is not all good or bad. That everything, even something as “wonderful” as a break from school has its pluses and minuses. And that very often, the changes we seek could end up bringing us a mixed bag of results.

And it is possible that by September, we may get to hear a primal cheer, though perhaps slightly muted, for another new beginning – of all the imagined possibilities of a new school year.

A Perfect Mother's Day Gift?

Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, May 9, 2008

President Woodrow Wilson officially designated the second Sunday in May as a national observance of Mother's Day, in 1914.

And since then, we have found myriad ways to commemorate it - with flowers, gifts, calls, visits, cards, and special gestures, including taking Mom out to dinner. The National Restaurant Association says that Mother’s Day is the second most popular day to dine out, with about 38% of adults heading to a restaurant (the most popular reason is for a birthday celebration)

My daughter looks forward to eating out when we travel, or when we are busy, or when we go out for some other reason. Unlike me, she would probably like to go out for dinner on Mother’s Day.

But I grew up in India, where my family typically did not eat out, unless they had to. And as an adult, I find that I enjoy eating out sometimes, but usually prefer home cooked meals.

For me, there is something special about food cooked by those who know you, made specifically with you in mind. As when made by people (parents, siblings, uncles, aunts, friends) who know your individual tastes and preferences. As a friend of mine said, “It is made with love for you, and that is hard to find elsewhere.”

Perhaps that is why, when I go back to India to visit my parents and other family, I find myself wanting to only eat at home. I enjoy our family time together, both while creating, and partaking of the food.

Taking my mother out to dinner for any celebration would not work, because she considers food prepared at home supreme to all others.

When I call her to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day, she thanks me graciously, but I know that she believes that a mother is to be valued every single day – that every day should be Mother’s Day (and Father’s Day and Grandparents’ Day and Children’s Day and so on).

And she does not care much for things, so gifts of things are ruled out.
What she does care for are relationships, embodied in connections and time spent together.

So a phone call would be a good gift. And perhaps there can be a gift in the content of the conversation.

Perhaps I could share with her that I do finally “get” some of what she said and did when I was growing up.

I can tell her that I am grateful for her persistence at the daily routines of mothering, for always showing up and being there for me.

That I now realize the extent of the hard work she put into sustaining the daily rhythms of our lives.

That I value the nuggets of wisdom she imparted daily, in the midst of ordinary routines, wisdom gleaned from scriptures, stories, common sense and her own experiences.

I can tell her that these nuggets are the founding steps of my evolving philosophy of life.

I can also tell her that she was right, when she told me that I would eventually understand her words and actions, when I have a child of my own. Because I have begun to understand.

As I think of the possible content of my phone call on Mother's Day, I remember the words of a friend’s adult daughter.

She shared with me that she truly valued her parents now. “But don’t tell them, yet,” she whispered with a mischievous smile.

I hope, though, that she has already told them, on some very special day, or better yet, on an ordinary one.

I know her parents would cherish this knowledge of their value to her.

The knowledge that the phase of “rolling her eyes” has changed into an appreciation of them, and of all the rhythms they created, day in and day out, as they wove the matrix of her life and her memories.

Now that I am a mother, I know that if this was the conversation at any mother’s day dinner, it would certainly constitute the perfect gift.

Give Thanks, Mourn or Find a Middle Way?

Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, November 20, 2007

Twenty years ago, I celebrated my first Thanksgiving as a graduate student at Penn State. I travelled by Greyhound to New York to visit relatives, and made my first trip to the Statue of Liberty.

I spent subsequent Thanksgivings mostly in State College, using the break catch up on work, and other pending matters. I spend the day in the company of friends and family, using it to pause and offer thanks for the circumstances of my life.

When my daughter was in first grade, she began to ask for more. She wanted to know what the menu for Thanksgiving dinner was going to be. We asked her what she thought it should be, and together fashioned a vegetarian menu that we use to this day.

She began to read about the origins of the holiday at school and in books, and we began discussing them. We started reflecting on the many sides of the same story, and how one group’s cause of celebration can be the cause of sadness for another.

The same Thanksgiving that is a national holiday, and occasion to give gratitude for many of us, is also marked by some Native Americans as a National Day of Mourning, and by other Native Americans as a day to focus on healing and going forward.

The Teaching Tolerance website gives two native American viewpoints of this festival, in a module for grades 7-12.

The first viewpoint is a speech written in 1970 by Wamsutta (Frank B.) James, a Wampanoag elder and Native American activist, for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts 350th anniversary celebration of the Pilgrims’ arrival on Wamapanoag American Indian Land.

The speech, which was based on a Pilgrim’s account of the first year, was reviewed by the planners and deemed inappropriate to the tone of the celebration. Wamsutta decided not to attend the celebration and led a protest at Coles Hill, near the statue of Massasoit, leader of the Wampanoag when the Pilgrims landed.

Thus began the First National Day of Mourning, in 1970, and which continues to this day.

The second article, Thanksgiving, a Native American View, is written by Jacqueline Keeler, another Native American, about how she has tried to give meaning to Thanksgiving.

The same day, commemorating the same event in history. And multiple experiences of that reality.

This year, my husband and I plan to take the Thanksgiving celebrations a bit further, by discussing these writings with our nine year old daughter. And understand better what debts we owe to our collective past, and what it is that we are or are not celebrating.

The Seven Wonders of Centre County

Originally Posted on the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, Oct 10, 2007

I like this idea of the CDT poll to find the Seven Wonders of Centre County.

An interesting exercise, to look at the place we call home, from a fresh and positive perspective. A home, which is so familiar to us, that we may take it for granted. And may not appreciate what it has to offer, amidst a search for novel and exciting things.

I remember a moment from a long time ago, when my husband and I had spent a week in San Francisco - enjoying time with family and friends in San Francisco and Yosemite, and the freedom from our daily grind.

How could our life in State College, with its chores and routines, ever compete with that experience?

But the morning after we got back, a beautiful, peaceful scene of the sun rising above corn fields, with mountains in the distance greeted us.

If we had been visitors in San Francisco, we would have stopped to click some photographs, and savored and enjoyed the moment. But on our way to work, as part of our daily routine, it simply became the backdrop for our life.

When guests visit us in State College, my daughter asks to take them to the Creamery and the Nittany Lion statue, to walk around campus, and to spend some time in front of Old Main – all part of her Seven Wonders. We go to Penn’s Cave, or the Arts Fest – and any other places or experiences that catch the visitors’ fancy. Some like to hike, others prefer a visit to the library, or a stroll downtown.

A couple of years ago, my daughter came up with the idea that we should spend a day in State College, pretending to be visitors. We had a great time that Saturday – it felt like we had discovered a magical, peaceful town, which we had the free time to explore. We visited all her Seven Wonders and more… and enjoyed every minute.

I cherish that day - it reminds me of the beauty in our daily lives and landscapes, if we have the time and attitude to appreciate it.

A sentiment verbalized well by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, when he wrote in a poem – that he had travelled all around the world, spending time and money in search of beauty. And finally realized that all the time that he had been wandering the earth, he had missed seeing the splendor that lay just outside his house – the dewdrop glistening on a blade of grass.

Perhaps the seven wonders contest will help us seek and admire our dewdrops and our blades of grass.

An Evening with College Students

Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times, Sept 18, 2009

Yesterday, I attended the National Issues Forum on “The New Challenges of American Immigration: What Should We Do?” at Penn State.

I was curious about the ideas that would come up, and how the discussion amongst strangers would manifest.

I arrived at the room, saw a roomful of about fifty participants – all of them young college students.

And that almost made me leave…

No peers of my age group, no “town” represented in what I thought would be a “town and gown” meeting, and my immediate instinct was to leave.

But then I thought of my previous experiences of being a minority of some kind…
Of studying in a class with only two other female, and forty seven male students, as an undergraduate student in chemical engineering.

Of pursuing a graduate degree in chemical engineering, under fairly similar gender ratios, while also being a foreigner.

Of our family’s experience of being the only Asian Indian Americans in so many situations in State College – right now, my daughter is the only student of Asian Indian origin at her elementary school.

Of traveling in foreign countries, of being an American in India, and an Indian in America.

And I realized that these experiences had been mostly rewarding and joyful, especially as long as I considered the incidental differences, to be besides the point and irrelevant.

And so I decided to stay at the forum and enjoy the journey…and got rewarded..
…by getting to hear respectful comments voiced on legal and illegal immigration, the process and the people, the economy, and our policy options - by the young participants, the moderators and the organizer.

….by being able to voice my opinions and raise questions and contribute to the thought mix.

….by being part of the exercise of finding common ground and identifying tensions, and ideas for improving future forums.

Like students in generations before them, some of the students spoke with conviction and candor, some were willing to voice their opinions strongly, and some were more reticent, representing many shades of thought and belief systems.

As I left the forum, I realized that there is not much opportunity in modern life for a discussion across the generations – since each age group is busy with its own phase of life, and therefore mostly inhabiting different physical spaces.

But chances to interact do come up... like at the Forum - I got to be part of a younger universe; they expanded my horizons, and I hopefully expanded theirs.

So, How's School Going?

Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times, Sept 11, 2007

Another school year has begun –with new challenges and opportunities for a lot of learning, excitement and fun. At least that’s what I am hoping for.

Often, adults ask my daughter how her new school year is going, and I too ask this question of other kids.

And get a one word response.

“Good.”

How is your teacher?

“Fine.”

What did you do in school today?

“Nothing much.”

This uniform answer of “good school days, with fine teachers, and doing nothing much,” puzzles me.

But I have decided that we cannot blame kids for coming up with these standardized responses - when we parents do it so often ourselves.

A casual “So how’s the school year going?” to another adult almost always comes up with a response of “Good,” or “Fine.”

And most of us end the conversation there, not having the time or the interest for the details.

But continue the conversation, and we may find out that all is not “good.”

Someone dislikes a teacher, another has issues with the curriculum, a third with bullying….

And just one parent opening up, and straying beyond the cursory “good,” brings forth new stories from the others.

But sharing these experiences requires the investment of time.

I recall exchanging stories about school, as a child, with family and friends - comparing notes about teachers, and laughing till the tears ran down my cheeks, at a cousin’s or friend’s narration or enacting of a funny incident.

We were able to do this because we visited often with other kids and adults – listening over tea, or board games on a lazy afternoon.

And that kind of time, is in short supply today, as we run from one task or activity to another.

At our house, we try to catch up on each other’s day over dinner. As my husband and I share the highlights of our day, our daughter competes with us to tell us about the “good,” “the bad,” “the ugly,” “the terrible,” and everything in between, and a clearer picture of all our lives emerges.

And I am hopeful that other kids who I know, will describe their school day to me too, in more than one sentence, if I only stayed and listened.

As long as I am willing to spare all that extra time…

Onam in State College

Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, August 29, 2009

Our family celebrated a special festival, called Onam, this past weekend. We wore special Indian clothes, and set out to collect some flowers from our garden, to create a Pookkalam, or a design with flowers, on our front porch.

Just as my daughter was beginning to sketch the outlines of her design, her friend arrived on his bike.

“Nice dress,” he shouted out, “What are you guys doing?”

He came over, along with a lot of questions…

My daughter told him about the special festival.

Is it a neighborhood festival or just at your house?

No, No, No, not that kind of festival, this is a “holiday” festival. You want to stay and watch us?

Sure, this is so cool… Can I bring a friend over?

Moments, later, we were joined by two more kids, a nine year old and a middle schooler.

It smells so nice here, one of them said, perhaps on getting a whiff of fragrance from the incense.

My daughter and I told them about the 10 day celebrations that lead up to Onam in Kerala, a southern state of India, the days off from school that children would be enjoying and so much more.

Is it a festival like Kwanzaa or Hanukkah? Does it have a story behind it?

Yes, but it is a Hindu festival…

The four kids were soon creating the design together. As they finished their handiwork, I told them how my mother would create a different design on each of the ten days, from the flowers in her garden.

I shared pictures of her Pookkalams with them, and was rewarded with cries of “Wow” and more admiration.

Later that evening, I stood outside taking photographs of our Pookkalam – and realized how much we adults could learn from these four children.

My daughter had extended a welcome, and together, the four kids had made a trip across cultures and countries in the span of seconds, with dignity and respect –and without any judgement.

Now if only we adults could be more like them ….

Goodbyes at Dulles Airport

Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog
Centre Daily Times, August 14, 2007

I was at Washington Dulles International Airport yesterday - to see off my parents, who were returning to India.

They had been visiting us over the summer, and had suddenly cut short their trip on hearing that my grandmother, who lives in India, was unwell.

My parents checked in, and had an hour to spare, before they headed out through security and to the gates.

An hour to sit down and take a breath, after the whirlwind of the previous 24 hours leading to this abrupt change in plans and sudden departure.

An hour to reflect on the possibilities of the future, and hold on to the hope that my grandmother would pull through this illness.

An hour to reflect on the good times of the past months we had spent together - and put the interrupted plans of the month ahead in the larger perspective of life.

An hour to tell each other to take care of ourselves.

An hour that led to the time to wave our goodbyes - each of us, especially my mother and my daughter, struggling with the sadness of the moment, and learning to deal with its inevitability.

I waved goodbye till I could no longer see them, and then turned to leave - and saw the face of another woman, also turning, with the same expression of sadness I had, trying not to let the suppressed tears flow out..

I looked ahead, and saw a couple standing together, taking a photograph of themselves with a polaroid camera held out with an extended hand.

I heard someone, asking a child “to be good and take care of mother when I am gone.”

I saw a group of people, craning their heads and trying to get a glimpse of someone who had just gone past the security area.

I heard a woman, checking the departure screen, voicing the thought in our heads, “Should we leave now, or wait till the plane departs?”

And I could not help feeling the common humanity of all our lives - in the intensity of the connections that we all share with those we care about...

Like me, each of these people, no matter what their race, religion, ethnicity, gender or nationality - must have had a story which had brought them to this airport, and this moment of goodbye.

More than six billion people on this earth, and yet at that moment, each of us had eyes and thoughts only for the ones we were being separated from, by circumstances of our individual lives.

And as I finally left the airport, after my parents plane had taken off, I realized that if we could only hang on to the universality of such human experiences, our other “differences” would cease to matter..


Update - Good News
Submitted by Common Threads on Fri, 2007-08-31 10:40.
My thanks to all of you who called, or emailed, or stopped me on the street to ask about my grandmother, and my family.

My thanks to everyone who was touched by this article - thanks for sharing your positive responses, and for being able to relate to the common experiences that link us all.

I want to let you all know that my grandmother is doing well now, and is almost back to her normal routines.

Again, many thanks for your concern and support.

Goodbyes
Submitted by CommonMan on Sat, 2007-08-18 12:09.
Thanks for writing such a beautiful piece. It brought memories back for me. I hope humanity can get connected through the common thread of love, affection and care.

CommonMan

Brands, Fashions and Uniforms

Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times, August 8, 2007

Preschoolers prefer any food, including carrots, that is wrapped in a McDonald’s wrapper and think that the McDonald wrapped food tastes better than identical food wrapped in plain wrapping – this was the finding of a recent study of children’s food preferences by Stanford University researchers.

The study concluded that marketing and brand names are affecting the reactions of even preschoolers - an interesting commentary on the world we live in today, where marketing efforts on electronic and print media, store displays and word of mouth routes get both adults and kids to desire certain products.

My family is lucky that fast food places do not cater much to us vegetarians – so we only have to deal with the occasional requests our daughter makes for “French fries” and “apple pie.”

But we do get to deal with other desires that are created in all of us for fun or cool things, and often struggle with our “needs” and “wants.”

And all the recent “Back to School” advertising that I have seen makes me long for one aspect of my childhood in India.

I did not have to think about brand names or fashions, because shopping till 10th grade meant ordering two or three sets of uniforms from the neighborhood tailor, buying shoes, socks, raincoat, umbrella and a book bag, text books, pencils, pens and erasers.

What a freedom that uniform afforded – every morning, I joined other children walking to school in their uniforms, all with a collective identity of belonging to a particular school. And no one was defined by what they wore – there was no “cool” or “uncool” kid at school, based on attire.

Many schools across the world require uniforms, and it is a growing trend in the US. And there are parents and teachers on both sides of the issue.

Some believe that having uniforms stifles the expression of individuality, or that they are expensive. Others think that uniforms foster a sense of collective identity, discipline, and that it offers a level playing field with respect to clothes.

But then again, can we require that kids wear uniforms, when so many of us grown ups base our identity on what we wear? And can we ask them to be less brand conscious, when so many of us adults define ourselves by what we own?
Perhaps all this back to school shopping is just a “real” training for the real adult world.

Moving, Goodbyes and Lessons

Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog,
Centre Daily Times on July 18, 2007

Life in a university town is marked by the constant cycles of seasons, and also by the cycles of semesters and graduations. Cycles which bring change with them, moving people in and out of town, all to start new lives.

I came to Penn State during one such cycle - after twenty years of living in the same city, amidst family and friends.

The importance of those I left behind became fully visible, only when they were rendered physically invisible by my move.

Now, after 20 years in State College, I am used to friends, acquaintances and others moving away. And the landscape of my routines changes, for the better or the worse, due to these moves.

Some who move keep in touch – some love their new home, others still yearn for State College.

My husband handles several goodbyes each year – a professional hazard in his job as a professor.

Particularly hard for him are the partings with graduate students, whom he has advised for four or five years.

I see him, happy and proud as a "parent," when they land their jobs. And I also see him sad about their inevitable departure from State College.

It is a familiar routine at our house, to have students call, to tell us they are leaving that day – and whether they could stop by, for one last time, sometimes with their families, to say their goodbyes. We bid them farewell, knowing that we may never meet up again.

This summer, he is saying goodbye to four graduate students – and realizes that having experienced it before does not make him a veteran. For each goodbye is different, and a reminder of the relentless passage of time.

My eight year old daughter has lost some friends to such moves. She does better than us - enjoying her friends while they are here, and dealing with their moves with a resilient spirit. She is happy as long as she is not the one moving.

These moves force us to deal with the only constant in all our lives – the constancy of change. They teach us to savor the only guaranteed thing in our lives - the present moment, and all that exists in it. And they remind us to use that present moment well.

The Power of an Ashley Bryan Experience

The Power of an Ashley Bryan Experience
Originally Posted in the Common Threads Blog on July 4th, 2007 .

This past Friday, I was at Schlow library, thanks to a poetry phase my daughter is enjoying.

We went there to listen to award winning poet, illustrator and teacher Ashley Bryan, who transformed the place with the power of his presence and his performance

My parents, daughter and I sat enthralled as Ashley Bryan got the entire audience to repeat Langston Hughes’ poem “My people.” The room resonated with our pride in the beauty of our individual identities.

After that, he introduced many poems – by himself and others like Langston Hughes and Nikki Giovanni.

Some were based on folktales from other lands, and some described moments in ordinary lives. As we repeated the poems, in different beats and rhythms, he guided us to find the poet’s voice, accent and experience. And in doing so, we found our own voices, in the commonality and pride of all our experiences.

I am so thankful for the magic of that hour with Ashley Bryan.

I later researched his work – and discovered a man who had been nourished by the act of storytelling in his family and community. A man who loves books and art. A man whose work fosters pride in the self, supports learning our individual, family and community histories, and creates respect for other people’s histories.

This encounter with Ashley Bryan has reminded me to cherish the ongoing storytelling in my family – to treasure the memories and stories of our family and pass them on. To take pride in our history and culture, while respecting other ways of living.

And summer is usually family time for us, when we visit extended family or they visit us.

We share stories of the past year and create the tapestry of individual and collective memories that makes us who we are; we share our interests and expand our horizons.

A sad moment gets put into perspective, and funny events get shared again and again for more laughs. The stories themselves achieve mythical proportions, defining who we are and where we came from, giving us lessons, experiences and benchmarks for the future.

And as we share stories of the past, our present time together creates new memories for the summers to come