The Organic Indian

Shoes!

2012-01-26T02:40:00.000-08:00

Latest breakthrough in the football program journey, below is an edited email from Virenbhai that tells the story:

Our kids have been loving playing football every day for the last six months. However, most of them do not have shoes and play despite injuring their feet. Earlier Football Action came to the rescue and donated some equipment, but there weren't enough shoes for the growing throng of players. But right on cue, last week a 75-year-old named Mr. Bhallaji from LA walked into MS and was looking for a program to donate to. After showing little interest in project after project, he came across the kids playing soccer and was moved to help. We explained that these kids were passionate for the game but lacked shoes. Seeing their enthusiasm, right then and there he wrote a check to purchase shoes for each and every kid!

The joy and exited spirit of our 50 kids can only be felt by seeing it. Two hours into the tuition class after receiving the shoes, a couple of them told me that they could not focus on anything but that first kick with their new shoes at 5pm! It was a blessing to watch them play with these new shoes. Thank you and God bless you dear Bhallaji.

Muchos Gratitudos

2012-01-23T06:15:00.000-08:00

Life is good right now. There are many reasons why, I wanted to note them down for the record.

I love the weather. Putting aside the legitimately frigid weekend I just experienced in Delhi, I am on cloud 9 with the coolness of wintertime in Ahmedabad. It's nice to feel cool air in a rickshaw, wear a jacket, keep the A/C off in the office, not break into a sweat after bathing, not break into a sweat while standing. In general it is so wonderful to feel the sensation of cold in India, it's so rarefied. I savor every moment as the relentlessly oppressive Heat looms.

I love my roomie. Nimesh is an incredibly inspiring person to me, and living with him is a gift that I cherish. For all of the outward impressions of a humble, grounded, pure-hearted, generous, and compassionate soul, it's only doubly and triply reinforced observing him on a behind-the-scenes mundane day-to-day basis. It's so many little things added up. He goes the extra mile with chores including watering the plants, washing dishes, cleaning common areas. All silently and humbly. One day while I was away, he cleaned out my room which was being used for storage and created an office for both of us to work comfortably in the living room. Another day he set up my mosquito net which subsequently allowed me to get the best night's sleep I had had in a while. He is always on point with his special pumpkin-cinnamon hot cocoa. He is an incredibly disciplined person, especially committed to simplified lifestyle. A couple weeks ago he ended his year-long resolution to not eat out at *any* restaurant. Why? Because it was something he relished and he wanted to master the impulse. We celebrated the ending by grubbing at Taco Fresco, the one and only Mexican restaurant in Ahmedabad (was good!). He has been hand-washing all of his clothes for at least the last year. It's really hardcore. Some time ago Nipun and I were talking about drinking alcohol, and I had mentioned that like with meat-eating, I was planning on letting my craving of alcohol naturally wither so that I don't have to force myself to give it up. I tend to favor a more organic approach where the craving/desire leaves on its own time. But Nipun said something interesting. He said that such attachments provide you an opportunity to cultivate self-restraint and self-discipline, which you can deposit in the bank of merits to serve as a source of mental strength for future life battles. It's an excellent point, and one that Nimo implicitly understands and embodies. His inner strength is inspirational. Buddy, thank you for being who you are.

I love my work. There's so many things to do all the time, it's very busy. But all the todos are worthwhile. I am not sleeping enough but the hours I'm awake are full of purpose and meaning. In the past month or so I've sat with some of the pioneers and superstars of development in Gujarat and beyond. It's a real blessing to learn from and work with people you genuinely admire. Recently Kapilbhai and I took a car together to Gandhinagar to meet with the head of Bhartiya Kisan Sangh ("Indian Farmer's Collective"). We discussed strategy for my meeting about how AD could serve them, and I paused to reflect with a smile, "Man, it doesn't get better than this." Talking about real-deal work we can do with a real-deal national-level organization with one of the most real-deal grassroots workers/thinkers/activists I have had the pleasure of knowing. I'm proud that this is my job.

I love my community. Being in contact with Manav Sadhna provides a richness to daily life that complements regular work in a perfect way. There is always something or other going on; a gathering at Seva Cafe, a volunteer visiting from this place, a group to interact with from that. Last month we hosted Teach for India, a powerful gathering where we heard stories from fellows who spent a day and a night in Ahmedabad with no wallet or cell phone, just Rs.50. Later we hosted Jagriti Yatra, a group of 450 social entrepreneurs. We broke them up into groups and had them interact with specific projects (each group had a name like 'compassion', 'oneness'; Jayeshbhai's group was called 'love'). Nimo and I facilitated one group and it was really wonderful sharing our journeys and about what made MS special. What a privilege to be interfacing and influencing and creating ripples with India's changemakers of tomorrow.

I love my soccer kids. There is an indescribable joy working with these kids. Their smiles, their energy, enthusiasm, their barrage of little hugs and "Neilsir!" greetings, and their effort in trying to get better at football. It is really genuine. Several weeks ago Sunday practice got delayed so we didn't have time for a match, which we usually do at the end. I had to leave, but the kids begged me to stay and ref for them. I couldn't, and as I walked away I saw them picking sides, setting up the goals, and getting started anyway. They were simply playing for themselves and for the love of the game. At that moment this project had past my ultimate test of value.

Working on the soccer program I have questioned why it took me so long to get into coaching soccer. It is a no-brainer, marrying two things I am deeply passionate about (football and mentoring).

Few weeks ago we took about 40 of the kids to IIM-A to have practice on their grass field. Proper pitch, no distractions, real grass, real goals, plenty of space. Despite the uphill battle in getting the kids through a rigid security checkpoint, it was a breathtaking experience. The kids warmed up and then for really the first time got to practice long balls and longer buildup play to goal. We set up two matches in parallel at the end. They were so into it, very competitive play. More than anything these kids excel at defense, so aggressive and fearless. It was such a beautiful thing to watch them going at it. After that session I silently resolved to bring a field like that to the Tekro. Virenbhai has mentioned that we can grow this to be a full-out sports program. A comprehensive project that is anchored by our own grounds, equipment, and funding for nutrition, coaches, and medical aid. Host sports leagues and training in football, basketball, volleyball. Nimo wants to bring in American football. Why not? Sky's the limit. There are so many important life values that real team sports (cricket is a pseudo team sport) teaches: teamwork, inclusiveness, trust, sportsmanship, patience. There is no reason that we shouldn't integrate sports more formally into MS' work.

There are so many possibilities, and they are all exciting and resonate with me. I'm grateful to be in a space, time, and mental/physical state that is unfolding a positive life momentum.

Guest is God

2012-01-16T00:14:00.000-08:00

This weekend Ahmedabad celebrated the bright and energetic holiday called Uttarayan, the festival of kites. Everyone gets up on their roofs, blasts Bollywood music, eats Jalebi and Kachoris and Undhiyu, and flies kites. I was at Virenbhai's house where some MS volunteers gathered and Nimo brought some of the Ekatva girls to fly kites. I mostly watched; there wasn't much wind and thus not very conducive for a novice kite flyer. As it got dark people lit flying lanterns and the night sky was pierced with the mini balloons hovering higher and higher.

At night there were fireworks. One of Virenbhai's neighbors had arranged a spectacular show, which we enjoyed from our rooftop with a front-row view. Afterwards the group of us were appreciative of this neighbor and also curious about his house, which had a unique design. Virenbhai said it was a house designed not to have any right angles. It was rounded everywhere. The MS volunteers got interested and wanted to visit the house. Virenbhai shrugged, "Sure, why not?", and the next thing you know about 15 of us are walking around the block to visit Virenbhai's random neighbor at their house with no corners.

We get to the house, which had its own Uttarayan party in full effect. I'm not sure what exactly the expectation was in us all walking over. Did we really think this neighbor would let in a random group of international strangers to his home and give them an uninvited impromptu tour while busily entertaining his own guests? Well, that's exactly what happened.

By the time I walked up to the front gate, some of our group had already been let into the house, which had a strange egg-shaped entrance that made it seem like either a hobbit house from middle earth or a luxury cruise ship. For the next 15 minutes, we wandered around checking out the unique if not slightly tacky architecture of this pod-like home with no corners. And there were literally no corners, it was pretty nuts. Everything was curved where there would be a sharp edge. All the windows were round, the doors were arched, even the handles were spiral instead of straight. Apparently the family had appreciated a Bollywood actor's home and had gotten the architect to design theirs.

It was pretty amazing how this neighbor warmly welcomed us all in and just started proudly showing off his house. A bunch of intruders who had no pretense other than, "Hey you put on an awesome fireworks show, thanks! Can I come in and explore your weirdly shaped home?" He walked us around the living area and showed us all the bedrooms. We toured the kitchen, the jacuzzi bathroom, and the underground entertainment room. We even walked up to the balcony and were introduced to the actual guests as if we were VIPs. Then it got stepped up even further: he insisted that we stay for dinner. And I mean insisted! He said it was 'compulsory'. I couldn't fathom it. In what country do you let strangers into your home unannounced, and instead of politely taking their compliments you let them in and show them around, then treat them to dinner for their imposition? What planet?

So while the actual guests waited, we were served from a catered buffet-style continental dinner spread in the beautiful garden. Given we were a big group, possibly the size of the actual party, it was no small gesture for us to be fed from a catered service. During dinner we got to talking with the neighbor, who was very appreciative of Manav Sadhna's work once the volunteers explained it. We gave him some cards and books (including Gandhi autobiography) from MS and thanked him profusely. We invited him and his family to Seva Cafe, where we would be happy to have the opportunity to return the generosity and hospitality he had shown us. But of course here was a person who demonstrated he intuitively understood the concept without even being aware that it was a 'concept'.

In India there is a cultural custom that an unexpected guest is to be regarded as a gift at your doorstep. 'Atithi Devo Bhava', literally "Guest is God". For me this was an emphatic case of the custom come to vivid reality.

Labor of Love

2012-01-04T22:42:00.000-08:00

Last week my advisor Scott and his partner Lera visited Ahmedabad as part of their tour of India. It was a long time coming, as Scott has supervised my research in India for 5 years but has never visited. I planned out their 3 days in Ahmedabad to maximize exposure to 3 things: Awaaz.De related people and places, historic and interesting sites in/around Ahmedabad, and the Manav Sadhna family. It worked out nicely, with their trip coinciding with a group of visitors from Teach for India coming through MS and bunch of activities including an Ekatva performance scheduled, and also a Wednesday meditation. Scott also met with DSC, which he got a big kick out of. And they had a chance to explore the old city and enjoy the company of Jagdipbhai and family at the Heritage House.

On the second day we took a rental and made a day trip towards Patan. We stopped off at the Adalaj Vav (step well), Modhera Sun Temple, and the Rani ki Vav. All were beyond expectation beautiful and worthwhile. I had all these childhood memories of boring road trips in Gujarat with my family where we'd take long car rides on crummy roads to boring temples. Maybe it's maturity or a cultivated appreciation, maybe its the crisp state expressways that now blanket the state, but I have never enjoyed a trip to an ancient site in Gujarat more than this trip. Made me feel a twinge of pride in Gujarat's cultural heritage to see the majesty of the temple and wow-invoking Vavs.

But the most underrated stop we made was at the Patan Patola Heritage shop of the Salvi brothers. Patola is a style of weaving that is intensely intricate. It entails a lengthy painstaking process of creating silk and cotton thread from scratch, then dieing it by stretching it out and tying small knots to block out colored portions. This is done one thread at a time. The design is already pre-set, so essentially they are projecting a final design onto each thread, a fraction of a millimeter at a time. This is all done by hand.

This is just to prepare the thread, weaving is a whole other process. They set up on a huge bamboo handloom that tilts down to one side. It takes two people to operate it. And they move forward, one thread-length at a time, shooting the thread in a bamboo shuttle width-wise to and fro, using the tilt of the loom to propel it. The design they had mapped onto each thread materializes as they weave all the thread tightly together.

Everything is done by hand. It takes a team of 4-5 people six months to make one sari in the Patola style. So they make about two pieces a year. They are very expensive and made-to-order. Typically they are sold to rich industrialists in Gujarat. The Salvis' masterpiece project, an elephant-adorned design with no repetition in the entire piece, took them three and a half years to make. One sari! Pieces of it sit in various museums around the world. One of the Salvi brothers proudly pointed out one certificate out of many adorning their wall. It was from the Smithsonian, which recognized the Salvis' as master craftsman and this workshop for its historically significant work.

The Salvi brothers are environmentally conscious. I was delighted to see some of the notices pinned in their workshop, it reminded my of my dad who writes similar reminders and posts them around our house. Especially the "think 100 times…" quote, that's straight out of Dad's playbook.

The result of the Patola process is beautiful, one-of-a-kind pieces. But what stood out for me visiting this workshop is how much care, attention, and commitment this family of weavers put into the craft. It is truly a labor of love. Being only one of two families still doing Patola in the traditional way, these brothers really carry themselves as stewards of this ancient, multi-hundred-year-old tradition. Only the eldest brother was married, the others have abstained from family life to hone the craft. They said they couldn't use computers because it would go against the tradition. "This is a human-powered computer," a brother said gesturing to the loaded loom. Just watching them work the loom, weaving in one thread at a time with exacting precision, two brothers working in perfectly timed movements (I theorized to Scott that only brothers could work with the ESP-level synchrony they displayed), it struck me that their level of devotion was beyond anything I had seen. Toiling away in this corner of Patan producing beautiful textiles that take months to complete by tedious manual labor, all for the preservation of their ancestral craft. They seemed to recognize that part of this preservation work is sharing it with others, so despite being interrupted from their daily work they took the steady flow of (mostly foreign) visitors in stride, explaining the entire process with the same care and attention that they had given us just ten minutes earlier.

Seeing the Salvi brothers got me thinking about a person's life's work. These guys were masters of a craft, but their work is largely invisible. It's strikingly different from Dr.V's family craft where they were serving millions of patients so there is a natural spotlight cast on their eye surgery prowess. The Salvi brothers serve two customers per year. But they didn't seem driven at all by recognition (though they relish it when it comes); rather by the tradition they were passed down. But what's the point? They are training the next generation of nephews who have shown some interest, but they are also engineers and doctors. Will they be able to train the next generation? One of the Salvi brothers told me the elephant masterpiece was re-created after 150 years. When I asked him who will re-create another piece 150 years from now, he dismissively laughed. This tradition will likely be gone by then.

I don't think the Salvi brothers are so bothered by this sad fact. I don't think they are even concerned about their legacy. Or money for that matter (one of the brothers told me they still farm to make ends meet). They are doing the work they were chosen to do, and care about doing it the right way, that's it. They have excelled at it, and whatever recognition they receive from that is enough to fill them. I was inspired by their detached dedication, and walked out of the workshop wondering whether I had it in me to work in the same way.

Infinite Inspiration

2011-12-28T22:14:00.000-08:00

Recently I finished one of the most inspiring books I have ever read, Infinite Vision by Big Sis Pavi and Suchi. Reading the book now was very timely for me personally as I try to build an organization trying to bring about social change in India. But that's at the surface level. At a deeper level I learned about the nature and personality of a deeply spiritual person driven by the cause of human welfare. How he lived, how he thought, how he acted.

Aravind, in my mind, is the pinnacle of so-called social enterprise. It represents the heights an organization can achieve in terms of excellence, growth, and notoriety as it relentlessly pursues compassionate service to the poorest of the poor. The first few pages presented a bold and improbable claim: Aravind had worked out a model in which the more they went out of their way to serve the poorest of the poor, the better it was for business. Sounds like a parlor trick. How can you earn more by optimizing yourself to reach those who have no money?

My interpretation of the book's explanation is this: Aravind was driven to provide high-quality eye care at the cheapest possible cost to customers ($0). In that drive it had no choice but to find ways to make the costs of delivering that service as low as possible. The constraints demanded they get creative. The response: get less, do more. It engaged in two classes of radical innovation: process and technological. In a service traditionally requiring significant attention from highly skilled but low-supply personnel, it used the (in)famous McDonald's "hospital-as-a-factory" [18] process approach to substitute for the human touch. With the right recruiting and training in its paraprofessional program, they were able to retain the compassionate care ethos even with this switch. The devotion to process and systems thinking allowed surgeons to do massive volumes of high-quality surgeries, which drove down per-surgery costs (surgeons were paid a flat salary, fixed costs better amortized).

The second class of innovation was technological. In what I consider the masterstroke breakthrough of the Aravind Eye Care System, they brought the manufacturing of intraocular lenses (IOLs) to India, and using clever home-brewed methods brought the costs of those lenses down from $200 to $5. That was the fundamental building block for cheap cataract surgery. So simple in hindsight, but what a bold ballsy move at the time. This is the type of leap-ahead thinking that separated Dr.V from the rest in his field.

The cheap IOLs powered what I consider the engine underlying the serving-poorer-people-is-better-for-business model: they didn't sacrifice quality of service any step of the way. At the time surgery for cataracts using IOLs was the state-of-the-art, only it was considered unaffordable for developing countries. Aravind broke that mainstream thinking.

In the end they solved the market demand problem by providing a service that was so high-quality that even though they were driven to provide it to poor people, rich people couldn't help but seek it as well. And so with that demand-pull force and a pricing strategy that respected the choice (and therefore dignity) of each individual, they got the rich to cross-subsidize the costs for the poor.

This model is very compelling. Provide a service that everyone needs, and provide it with uncompromisingly high quality. Then get rich people to pay enough for it that you can provide it cheap to poor people. Aravind generated enough surplus through this model to bootstrap its own growth. There's nothing more natural and validating than an organization growing purely on the fruits of its own efforts. At Aravind's first hospital each subsequent floor was built only after it had enough money to pay for it. They literally grew the organization brick by brick. And grow it did, to an eye care ecosystem including hospitals, rural vision centers, eye camps, international management consultancy, post-grad medical training programs, manufacturing, research institute, over 30 million patients served, over 30 countries consulted, nearly $30 million in yearly revenue. And it remains a registered non-profit organization.

Aravind has deeply influenced my thinking about my own organization. Following its example, Awaaz.De aims to provide a service so good that organizations with money will be willing to pay for it, while making it affordable and accessible and appropriate for the underserved communities we are mission-driven to serve. I have made Infinite Vision required reading for all Awaaz.De employees. A copy sits in our office library. Aravind is a paragon, an inspiration for how to run a social enterprise with integrity and compassion and focus, and also financial sustainability.

Others who've read the book have also been inspired. Big John, a regular attendee of Wednesdays in Santa Clara, a lovely warm presence with deep wisdom, told me the book was also timely for the healing of the world at this particular point in history. While reading it, he told me how much awe he had for Pavi and Aravind and how he was on the 8th chapter but "didn't want it to end". Later I talked to Shariq who said he had started reading the book from the back because he was anxious to know how the story ends: how was Aravind affected by Dr.V's passing? As a researcher interested in the longevity and legacy of institutions and their values, this was the part of this rich tapestry story that he was most anxious to delve into.

The beauty of this story and the way Pavi has woven it together is that there is something in it for everybody. There were so many features, fun and touching little anecdotes, and quotes that I loved, especially ones that revealed the personality of Dr.V and the culture of Aravind. I've compiled a few below, maybe I'll keep adding to the list. I hope it gives a sense of the spirit of this book, and the people and organization it portrays.

I have never read a book in which the cast of characters were presented in a family tree on the first page. I enjoyed the "meet the family" section, and that you had to constantly reference it while reading the book. As got into the story, the family members, particularly the founding team, grew into giant superheroes in my mind's eye. Each had their special powers. Dr.V the visionary, Natchiar the stern disciplinarian, leader, and accomplished surgeon, Thulsi the management czar, Srinivasan the resource and facilities genius, etc. They all had their gifts and came together and complemented each other like X-Men.
Dr.V's understated way of giving praise: "Very good, very good" [250]. I hear him saying it and chuckle.
I loved learning about the family dynamics, the challenges of transitioning leadership and culture through generations, the family/non-family ingroup/outgroup tensions, and how the younger generations related to and perceived the elders. Dr.V's New Age Group meetings were genius, a way to build solidarity and create "memories of caring that would outlast his lifetime" [249]
Natchiar: "…The West talks about 'value addition'. I don't know that that means. When a nurse holds an elderly patient's hand and leads her where she needs to go- to me that is value addition." [96]
Dr. V lives 3 minutes away from the hospital. He goes to his office every morning at 7am. He drives himself down the street, and being a cautious driver, honks most of the way [132]
After Dr.V observed Natchiar berating a janitor: "Did you shout at his body or at his soul, Natchiar? Shout at his body. His soul belongs to God. If you shout at his soul, you are shouting at God." [138]
Out of tens of thousands of journal entries, Dr.V rarely used a question mark. "As if framing the right question is itself an answer of sorts." [18]
Dr.V was invited to Harvard University to give a talk titled, "Living a Spiritual Life in a Contemporary World." He wore an ill-fitted brown suit purchased from a thrift store.
Dr. V's sandals. How he spears them with his walking stick to slip them on and off his gnarled toes; green and red rubberbands snapped onto the toe-holds to mark the two pairs he owns in order to avoid wearing either pair out too quickly. "A trivial detail loaded with his distinct personality: his utter lack of vanity, his frugality, his passion for order and discipline in the smallest details. He has built those qualities into his family and into Aravind." [57]
Sweet and simple Dr.V quote on mentorship, the last phrase always makes me smile as I think of him saying it in his accent: "Just as you are training somebody for the Olympics, you train everybody every day. You coach him, guide him, and play with him. So you can develop him quickly as a top player." [103]
Very interesting insight on the patience and egolessness required to build an organization like Aravind. Dr. Aravind: "You know, Dr. V built this place at the right time. He wasn't competing for anything at that stage in his career… you have to be completely out of the rat race to build an institution like this." [93]
One of my all-time favorite Dr.V quotes, captured in the documentary (min 7:26) and spoken in his sweet, endearing, matter-of-fact way: "And I don't insist upon that that man must pay me before I do anything for him. I say, give him the sight man, let him give whatever he can give. If he cannot afford, doesn't matter, he can give later."

Supply Chain of Service

2011-12-03T21:33:00.000-08:00

I randomly wandered into Manav Sadhna the other day and was treated to a remarkable story from Virenbhai. It had to do with the large number of boxes neatly stacked up next to where we sat, in a corner of the main MS hall. Inside the boxes was over a ton (3,200 lbs. to be exact) of top-of-the-line Helix school supplies from the U.S.: pencil sets, rulers, compasses, easels, art kits, sketch pads, paper cutters, scissors, stationery. Easily, it was thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. It's all going to be distributed, benefit, and be enjoyed by many hundreds of slum children in the area for a long time to come. How on earth did all of these amazing school supplies land here in the first place? The story is even better than the end result.

Few weeks ago Virenbhai was in Chicago, where he spends part of the year working (to earn his living; the other half of the year he's in Ahmedabad to volunteer full-time with Manav Sadhna). Out of the blue one evening he got a call from a young woman, Shilpa Patel. Shilpa works in the marketing department at a warehouse/distribution center in the Chicago area. She called Virenbhai to tell him that there is 5 skids full of brand new school supplies from Helix at one of her company's warehouses. By midnight, all of it would be removed, possibly just discarded away. But wouldn't it be wonderful if we could take and send the supplies to the kids at Manav Sadhna? Shilpa had volunteered there before, so she knew how joyful the kids would be royally and fully kitted out for back-to-school. She had even gotten the go-ahead from her bosses to let it happen, but they would have to clear everything out of the warehouse by midnight.

It was then 7pm. Virenbhai immediately springs into action. He sends an email out to a group of local volunteers, seeking on-call muscle to wrangle the stuff. Within a couple hours he's got a team of 6-7 loaders, and a truck borrowed/rented by one of the volunteers. They all meet at the warehouse and manage to pick up the supplies. But where to store it all? Virenbhai calls up his boss to ask permission to store the stuff at one of their company facilities. Generously, the boss says yes. He has long known of Virenbhai's involvement with MS and has been supportive in many ways. The next morning Virenbhai goes early to work to unload. A few of his co-workers volunteer to come help, and with shirts off they get to work. They are finished by punch-in time and head to work.

Next task was to pack up all of the supplies to have them ready for shipment to India. Virenbhai blasts out another call to the local troops to come for a packing party. It was short notice and right near the holidays, but sure enough 16 people infected with a spirit of service and love for hundreds of kids thousands of miles away show up. At the company facility one weekend, Virenbhai's boss arranges for tables, boxes, packing tape, and any other supplies needed for the team. The team works for five hours to sort, organize and pack up the supplies. Right on call, some local moms hear about the work and show up with all kinds of food: donuts, home-cooked bataka poha, the works. They weren't even asked, they just sprang into action. An entire station had to be set up on the side just for food.

After the boxes were readied Virenbhai arranged to have them sent to India. He researched the most cost-effective solution, which was by ship. He had a contact for a guy who had helped him with MS shipments before. He is kind-hearted and resonates with the spirit. He agrees to deliver the boxes, from doorstep to doorstep, at a generous discount.

Virenbhai also figures that these supplies could benefit local underserved kids in Chicago, so 20-30% of the supplies are kept back. He arranges to deliver them to 2-3 local public schools. A wonderful, think-global-act-local decision.

The shipment arrived to Ahmedabad the morning Virenbhai and I sat in MS chatting about the whole thing. The truck arrives in front of Gandhi Ashram. How to unload? Meanwhile the local kids catch wind and are going bonkers with excitement. "We'll unload everything Virenbhai, don't worry!" And like that the kids themselves bring this wonderful gift the last mile to its final destination.

I'm dumbfounded as Virenbhai relates this whole story to me. So much goodness, I kept wowing in amazement after each turn only to be out-wowed by the next part. After finishing, Virenbhai gets up to leave and I walk over to examine the supplies more closely.

"I didn't tell you the best part of the story," he says, peeking back in. The boxes had come in some metal support scaffolds. Jesús and Kafhai, two architect-volunteers at MS, saw them and excitedly kept them aside. The scrap metal would be perfect for a school they were building in the slum. There was also tons of cardboard that the supplies came packed up in from the delivery truck. The MS team sent that off to a local recycling center and gets Rs.210. They use that money to feed bhajaiyas to the kids as thanks for helping to unload. Not a resource wasted, more good created.

There is so much to love about this story, a rich supply chain of service that blossomed from a small seed. One act of inspired kindness led to maybe a hundred individuals receiving a wonderful opportunity to serve in large and small ways. Not to mention the collective effort will benefit hundreds more children around the world. To me the biggest hero of the story is Shilpa Patel. And the kicker is, I am Shilpa Patel. And so are you, gentle reader. Each one of us sits in a metaphorical office working at Dunder Mifflin in our own corner of the world. But what separated Shilpa from the rest of us is in that moment was that she had her eyes, ears, and heart open. Tuned into the calls of service, generosity, kindness, compassion. What I call the Always Be *Serving* state of mind. It's what lifts the haze off of an ordinary moment and reveals an extraordinary experience.

Are you tuned in?

Humilty in Action

2011-12-03T21:26:00.000-08:00

Over the past week I have been incrementally cleaning up mine and Nimo's apartment while he busily works on the Ekatva tour. I started with the bathrooms, then the kitchen, sinks, desks and other furniture, and of course tending to our plants. I have found it a good discipline and nice complement to morning meditation.

One of the big benefits of manual housework is that it really instills humility. It is humility in action. It is dirty, hard work bending over that greasy toilet, scrubbing hard-to-reach corners. But you do it and it grounds you. It keeps you flexible to a range of duties. No work gets beneath you, and that is an aid in cultivating a heart of service. And as Jayeshbhai recently confessed to me during a marathon floor/bathroom/dishes cleaning session, "Above all, I love to clean toilets."

At home, no one is watching you clean that toilet. Except yourself. So you do it to the best of your ability. This helps in developing a strong worth ethic, a dignity of work. Like young Steve Jobs who learned from his furniture-making father that even the parts of the piece that no one sees should be perfect and beautiful.

Manual work is beneficial to body and mind. It's physically challenging and strengthens the body. Also I've found that there is something very satisfying about wiping down a dusty shelf or sink. And that's what I love about India, everything in your house gets dusty! It's my latest argument as a long-standing India apologist.

Doing housework increases your appreciation of Moms. They do it in the normal course of their daily lives. Without recognition or praise or even a thought that what they are doing is something so great. They would think it bizarre and naive and arrogant to write a blog post reflecting and promoting it. Doing housework also makes me experientially understand what my mom means when she says, "I don't want a big house… it is too much work!"

Although I tend to like doing housework, I don't do it regularly enough out of laziness and resistance to getting my hands dirty. Getting started is the hardest part, but once you jump into it it's not so bad. And in the end I never regret having done it. It's satisfying, and you end up with a clean place to live! I plan to keep connected to some regular hard manual housework. Hand washing my underwear will be the task of choice for now.

Office Humour

2011-11-29T02:08:00.000-08:00

Chirag and I were in the office, and he was booking a train ticket for me, filling an online form. He asks (verbatim), "What is your pet name?" I say I don't have one (a pet name). I glance over to his screen, curious why the form would ask that.

Turns out it was a security question. "What is your pet's name?"

He wrote in, "Puppy".

Football in the Air

2011-09-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year I wrote about an initiative within Manav Sadhna to bring the game of football (soccer) to the local slum kids and other youth in the surrounding community. Things started humbly with Jesus holding a weekly practice with any kid that was interested at the Ashramshalla. I later joined to help run the practices. Meanwhile a solid group out of the UK called Football Action contacted MS wanting to sponsor equipment and a football field to be built for kids to enjoy the game. Before I left India last March we had a meeting with some of MS coordinators about ramping up the activities: get more kids involved, recruit coaches/mentors from the local community to organize teams and hold practices, and work towards setting up a league for kids to hone their skills, compete, and grow the sport; and all along the way coordinate with Football Action to meet on joint objectives.

Six months later I am back at MS and eagerly joined Sunday morning's practice couple weeks ago to see the progress. Through emails, it seemed that things were really taking off, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw. There were over 50 kids, split into 5 teams representing 5 local communities, spread out in practice sessions across the ashram premises. Each team was engrossed in organized drills, led by a group of crackerjack coaches. The coaches are all "big brothers", MS volunteers from the same communities as the members of each team. The coaches led the surprisingly diligent players in jogging, passing and volleying drills, small-sided games, keep-away, shooting, and of course scrimmages. One especially strict coach, Rahulbhai, was barking orders as the kids ran in a wide circle and did the drill I used to do where you bend down and touch the ground with left, right, and both hands when commanded. Then go up for an air header. Incredible! They were having trouble running at the same pace and subsequently the circle got deformed and uneven, but was still a thing of beauty.

I later learned, mostly from Aaron who has been leading the training sessions, that these teams have been training hardcore for the past two months. Some teams get together daily to practice. Daily! On the weekends, there are sessions with multiple teams, and those regularly run for 4+ hours. Nimo works at MS everyday, and he told me every time he walks through the Ashramshalla he sees kids playing football. "Football fever has swept up these kids, cricket has been totally forgotten," Nimo remarked. Basically football is in the air and the kids can't get enough of it.

I was really impressed with the progress since Jesus and I were running a raggedy practice with ~12 kids every Sunday. We struggled to get the kids to pass and dribble. Now they were keeping space and intelligently passing. I participated in and watched some 3-on-1 keep-aways and was happy to see that a number of passes were being strung together. Some of the kids showed exceptional talent. I told Aaron later that what was most delightful was how you'd be watching 2-3 minutes of very ordinary football with standard repeated mistakes and lack of control. Then out of the blue a kid would do something brilliant. A delicate jumping touch to stop the ball dead, or a series of creative passes or striking the cone on a rifling shot. Breathtaking. One of my selfish goals for this project was for it to eventually produce one player who makes the Indian national team. It can definitely happen.

UPDATE:
I attended this week's Sunday morning practice and helped run a match with Rahulbhai and Aaron. Saying it was an incredible experience doesn't nearly do justice. There were 14 kids, 7 to a side. As we separated them into teams, Aaron asked whether we could assign them positions (3 defenders, 2 midfielders, 2 strikers to a side) in an attempt to get them to spread the field for passing instead of bunching around the ball. I was skeptical, it was a tall order since the kids have yet to fully grasp the ideas of playing off the ball and giving their teammates space to accept a pass. But with a lot of help from Rahulbhai, we were able to explain to each team how they were to stay in specific zones on the field and handle specific roles. We even mandated that the attackers not be allowed to cross back into their own midfield, which was an artificial way to keep them ahead. But once you give kids the structure to play soccer the right way, they naturally understand what they are to do.

The game was intense and also instructional for the kids. I played ref and also paused it several times to make them aware of positioning, spacing, and passing options. Throughout the game I paced the sidelines laughing and skipping in delight as the kids made one athletic and/or skillful soccer play after the other. There was some tenacious on-ball defending and tackling, the kids are naturally aggressive on the ball. Some memorable headers/facials and lots of hand balls, and even a few intelligent back passes which was one of the more rewarding moments (they realized possession is more valuable than ball position). The climax moment of the match was an absolutely gorgeous goal by one of the teams where Mitesh and Ravi played a perfect 1-2 game down the defensive third and put the ball into the corner of the goal. From my angle on the field I craned my neck to watch the play develop and the shot trickle through, and when it did I ran to the two players to celebrate as if I had scored. It was easily the most joyful moment of my last 18 days in India. I couldn't have been more proud.

The game ended 3-2, well fought by both sides. In the recap, Rahulbhai emphasized that the kids still needed to work on their spacing and respect the positions on the field. Also to work on trapping. Aaron spoke next and said something memorable: in the 8 weeks he's been at MS, playing countless hours of football with countless kids, this, finally, was the best match he had seen. After breaking up we hugged gave knowing looks that had been part of something amazing. The next day I get an email from Aaron who was also still on a high from the experience. "What a match... ten times better than the World Cup final!" Couldn't have said it better.

One of the edges that has come up with this project is working with an organization that has a pre-defined vision and goals for the project. Football Action stepped up and committed to sending a bunch of equipment, including balls, shoes, and even uniforms to MS to distribute to the kids. They sent a portion of it to Ahmedabad a month or so ago. Balls, uniforms, and even shoes. And this is all top-of-the line stuff, really high quality. But the problem is that there isn't enough equipment to match the number of kids that are participating. If the equipment was distributed to only some of the kids, it wouldn't be fair. So a deficit that didn't previously exist is created. We probably would have been better off buying enough equipment locally at cheaper prices. Meanwhile top of the line Man United jerseys and Nike Mercurials sit unused in a locker at Manav Sadhna while 52 kids play soccer outside barefoot.

A big reason why he have this situation is that the number of kids participating was unexpectedly high. But this is only a problem if we are unable to respond to the dynamic situation. Football Action approached MS originally with a vision to build a soccer field, complete with goals and lines, in or around the local community. Once the field gets built, their team would make a visit to the site, get to know the community, and have trainings and exhibition matches with the kids and other local people as the press looks on. This is their signature contribution, having followed this blueprint successfully for a community in Africa. While it's a wonderful thing to do, this is a different context with different constraints and requirements. There are a number of other expenses that have come up that need immediate attention. Equipment is just one. Another is paying a modest financial incentive for the coaches who have stepped up and dedicated significant time and energy to the project, despite their own time demands to make ends meet. Another is funds for snacks to offer the kids after practice. Many of the kids lack a nutritious diet. Instead, the coaches are spending money from their own pockets to provide the kids a snack. A third is setting aside money in case of injuries to players. A previous ultimate frisbee project at MS screeched to a hault when one of the players got injured and needed surgery, but the backing organizations couldn't offer any financial assistance. These are real needs, and it's easy to miss them when you have your own idea of success. To me this is a microcosm for how international aid agencies work; caught up in their own pet projects, many agencies miss being responsive to the unfolding situation on the ground.

If I ran Football Action, I wouldn't make a trip to the site after the field gets built there; I would travel there as the first thing. Get to know the community, talk to the local organizations, play some football with the kids and get a feel for what could work. Then create a timeline and budget that fits the context and get everyone to buy into it. But in an era where MBAs are rewarded for creating a model that "scales", we get seduced by the idea of one size shoe fitting all.

The School That Ganeshnagar Built

2011-09-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I visited a special school. It is located in the middle of a slum in Ranip, Ahmedabad. It's built using only materials from in and around the slum, and by the children from the slum.

Patangyu School in Ganeshnagar is phase 2 of the after-school program for Ranip kids that was run by Manav Sadhna volunteers out of a small but colorful space near Jayeshbhai's house. The idea for this new schoolhouse is to involve the students themselves in every step of the school's development, and to make it a part of the community that they live in.

I attended the weekly Sunday session with a bloke from UK named Aaron, to see the school in action. The schoolhouse is simple: a basic circular space closed off by pillars of rocks gathered by hand by the kids, stacked into cylinders by wiring. There is a basic but sturdy bamboo roof on top. Overall it's minimalist and inviting.

When we arrived class was already in session. Any child from the slum is invited to attend, provided they stay for the entire session and are old enough to understand what is going on. But inevitably kids of all ages show up. Currently Anjali leads the classes each week. Typically she presents a theme of the day and have the kids discuss it. The theme is usually related to a holiday or festival that's happening at that time. Then she has the kids draw a picture on that theme. This week it was Ganesh, who's festival is coming up. All the kids drew Ganesh first with pencil, then colored it in. The main point of the activity is to let the kids be creative, use their imagination, and practice concentration. The kids broke off into mini groups and got to work. It was fun watching the diversity of pictures develop, the kids took drawing Ganesh in many different directions. Whenever they had trouble know what to draw or how to draw it, Anjali would ask the student to close their eyes and picture what they want to draw for few seconds, then open and draw what they saw. Worked every time. In fact part of this exercise is about unlocking the latent ability each kid has, but isn't aware of. It's a confidence building exercise. At the end of the session everyone gathers back in a circle and flip through the pictures together. Each child has a chance to describe what they drew. Finally, class ends with a few seconds of meditation and the kids are off to the races.

Watching the kids play in the space, Aaron and I commented how these kids have such active imaginations, making up random games to play with each other. They had no toys, but maybe that was a good thing because it forces them to come up with creative ways to entertain themselves. Anji mentioned that it's a known principle that children need to feel boredom in order to spark their imagination. Kids in the US who are constantly stimulated by video games, soccer practice, and dance class don't get to feel bored, and maybe that's not a good thing.

The school has it's share of problems. Adults in the community sometimes sneak into the space to drink or gamble. Others have come in and defecated. During the rains, a farmer used it as a barn to keep his animals. Each time, the kids have taken the initiative to let the perpetrators know that it's not OK, that their space should be protected. That level of ownership only comes through sustained participation and engagement.

Though Anjali is currently the only full-time instructor, the space remains open for anyone to come in and volunteer to share what they know. This week, an organic farmer from nearby visited the school to talk with Anjali about getting the kids involved in gardening by planting some vegetables, herbs, and medicinal plants in the dirt area behind the schoolhouse. They could grow vegetables specifically to meet some of the community's nutritional deficiencies, and medicinal plants that can help with common chronic illnesses amongst the children. Everything would be grown organically; the children would help create compost by collecting waste from their homes. Hopefully they will take ownership over the garden as they have the school space. There will likely be other challenges, like theft and hungry animals. But the kids have a habit of stepping up when it's called for.

Tabla Pusher

2011-09-14T10:43:00.000-07:00

Robin Sukhadia has been in India for the past 6 months on a Fullbright Scholarship exploring the role of music education for street children in Kolkata and Ahmedabad. Last week he hosted an intimate evening at the MBL headquarters where he shared his personal journey, what art means to him, history and primer on tabla, and of course some riffs on the tabla from the man himself.

Robin took us through the history of Project Ahimsa, which he has been a part of since its beginnings. The project's mission is to empower youth around the world through music. Robin showed some videos of various projects in which disadvantaged youth came alive when introduced to creative expression through music, especially tabla. Also I learned that Project Ahimsa planted seeds for future music projects in Manav Sadhna, starting with a simple project to bring instruments to students of a local blind school. Later folks would be inspired to put together the Ekta show, which toured around the world. That laid the foundation for the latest incarnation, Ekatva.

In his own journey, Robin has been deeply influenced by tabla. Always musically inclined, he got into tabla after a chance encounter with Zakir Hussein 8 years ago. Backstage at his concert, Zakirji told Robin to seek out another renowned tabla master, Pundit Swapan Chaudhuri as his teacher. Robin obeyed, and has been practicing intensively under Swapanji ever since. But of course as Robin related, the tabla is a very subtle instrument and can take a lifetime, or even multiple lifetimes to master.

Tabla has its own language, the dha-dhin-dhin-dha that you often hear tabla players sing during a concert. The alphabet if dha's and dhe's and dhin's is what teachers use to transmit to their students. Tabla is taught completely orally, nothing is written down. Same goes for tabla making, which I learned is an ancient art. Tabla is one of the few modern instruments (and I mean really modern, it has really only gotten wide exposure since the art was opened up to the masses since Independence) that does not have a satisfactory synthetic version. No one has been able to capture the sound of symmetrically stretched calf and goat skin. The black middle part of the tabla is what gives it the sweet sound. The two drums represent the male and female, and making them dance together in different combinations is what makes tabla beats diverse and alive. My burning question from Robin's talk was a two-parter: a) Do famous tabla players grow out their hair on purpose so they can fling it around during performances, since their hands are occupied? and b) How does he cope with his own inability to do so?

Robin also talked about and quoted from the Artist's Way, and emphasized the benefits of making room for artistic expression in life. But also it's important to encourage artistry in others, especially youth. He linked art to social change and said Gandhi was himself a great artist, and how deeply he was influenced by the work of the artists Tagore and Tolstoy.

Robin is a really cool cat. Although we only overlapped in Ahmedabad for a couple days, it was great getting to know him and bonding over childhood love stories (tetherball!), Clay Shirky, and Mario Bros. I'm not sure when our paths will cross next, only that they will.

I am FOB

2011-09-12T08:04:00.000-07:00

Welcome back to The Organic Indian! Let's dive right in and cover happenings since the last installment of this blog.

First, I graduated. In early 2011, I was in India finishing the final bit of work for my thesis. I came back to California in April, gave my oral examination in May, walked in cap and gown in June, and handed in my dissertation in August. I subsequently came straight back to India where I type these words from.

Next, I am now working full time on Awaaz.De ("Give your voice"), the startup I co-founded with Tap last year. The company is a spin-off of my thesis project, Avaaj Otalo, which is a voice information service for small scale farmers in Gujarat to access and share agricultural advice using any mobile phone. Callers dial a regular phone number and access a question and answer message board, where they can post, browse, and respond to others' questions and answers. We launched the service with DSC, our local NGO partner, in 2009, and it has been live since then. If this paragraph sounds like a rehearsed spiel that has been rattled off in verbal and written form hundreds of times to hundreds of people in the last year, you are on the money.

My dissertation was on the design and usage of Avaaj Otalo. As I neared graduation, we needed a way for the service to live on. It wouldn't be right to just pack up my computer and call it a day just because I was graduating. We had started something that our local partners had invested time, money, and effort on, and that was delivering real value to farmers who depended on it: to date AO has served over 40,000 calls from 5,000 callers.

That's where Awaaz.De comes in. It hosts Avaaj Otalo: all of the calls into and out of AO come through the servers in the our office. In addition, we generalized the software underlying AO and created a customizable voice social media platform. So now any organization in India who wants to reach remote, disconnected communities can set up their own voice application with us. We help design a custom application based on the particular information and communication needs the organization is trying to address. Then we set up the application on our servers, and give the org a phone number and a login to a web-based administration interface. They don't have to install any software or manage any hardware. We take care of all the of the technology, it is a fully hosted service. The organization is the front-facing entity for the service. They promote the phone number as a service they are provided. They are also responsible for the content on the system: responding to questions form the community, uploading new info, broadcasting and routing messages, etc. Currently we are hosting applications for eight different organizations across six states in India. And not just for agriculture, but a variety of domains like labor rights, women's empowerment, and education.

And like that the company is off and running. We acquired our partners in a relatively short time, all since last September. And they all came through word-of-mouth. We hadn't even set up a website and we were getting requests from folks, like the service we offer has been needed for a while now, only no one was offering it. So in a way I don't really feel like I started the company, more that the company started itself. All very organic and demand-driven, which makes it feel right. There was nothing unnatural or forced about how things have developed. In fact if anything I would say I have been reluctant, conservative, perhaps even in denial about the inevitability of the company every step of the way. Honestly I didn't see it coming, yet now I look back at the path and it makes perfect sense. I couldn't see that far ahead, but now here I am trying to make this a way to earn a living. So far, it's looking possible. We are revenue-generating, have one full-time employee, Chirag, and an office with a sign and a logo. The other day, we even got business cards.

As I began to see light at the end of the tunnel of grad school about a year and a half ago, I started to think about what to do next. I thought about staying in academia as a professor, or getting a job at an organization I like and care about (one I've had on my list for a while is NPR), working for the government (inspired by Obama), and of course continuing to work on the stuff we started in India in some capacity. Then we started Awaaz.De, and that option became a concrete possibility. Since then, with a more-than-gentle nudging of Tap, I started trying on the role of entrepreneur in my mind. Is it for me? I have always felt my personality isn't suited for entrepreneurship, I don't have an unquenchable thirst for it like the best ones seem to have. But over the last year or so I have begun to start embracing the role, and at this point I can say with full conviction that this is what I want to do. I am an entrepreneur. I'm excited to develop the skills that are required to be a good entrepreneur. In particular understanding what people need, working under uncertainty, innovating, having a strong vision, and leading people. No matter the level of success the business achieves, I want the learning experience and opportunity for growth. Assuming this new identity, I've seen the transition in how I think and interact with friends and others. I am more protective of business interests in political debates (fiscal conservative?). When I'm at social events, I find myself giving the AD pitch 30 times throughout the night because I have no other way to answer the question, "So what do you do?". Dad, Jay, and I are all currently running our own businesses. Only mom is doing the sensible thing and working for an institution. We are a family of hustlers, as one of Jay's high school buddies recently remarked. Danny Patel would be proud, we have "various type of a strength" and "the vizzzun".

But it's not just about entrepreneurship, I am excited about Awaaz.De in particular. I love what we do and the service we provide. I wholeheartedly believe in it and its potential. I sit in meetings with all kinds of social impact organizations across India and say with genuine belief behind it that what we are selling is an amazing thing and can be revolutionary. I don't have to trick myself to think it, I've fully drank the kool-aid. It's one of the rare things in life that feels fresh even as I dive deeper in. With some ideas, they don't stand up to scrutiny, don't have depth and nuance and complexity. After spending enough time thinking about it, the idea withers in your mind. It no longer keeps your attention and interest beyond a certain quantity of attention. But with this, the more I think about what we're doing, the more excited I get. It has a blossoming, generative property. Every day I wake up feeling excited about the possibilities, and the number of possibilities keep increasing. More than I can keep up with really. There is so much potential for what we are doing, I just want to capture even some part of it and see what kind of ride that wave takes us on. The cliche goes that the test of your love for a job is whether you'd be willing to do that job even if you had a $0 salary. So far I'm passing the test.

But all that said, I think the big turning point in making the decision to work on Awaaz.De full time was when I found a suitable living situation in Ahmedabad. The entire Shreeji Krishna crew will be shifting to Sivanta apartments, a residential community bang opposite the Gandhi Ashram. When we all put in our deposits for the apartment, my decision to come to Ahmedabad was sealed. When you are looking for a happy work opportunity, what you are doing matters, but you also have to consider your social well-being. I knew that if I stayed in Ahmedabad, I would have a strong social circle. I already had bunch of relatives to maintain the feel of family, but having a like-hearted group of friends is also key. It's a blessing to be around Jayeshbhai, Anarben, MAM, little MAM, Anji, Nimo, and other MBL angels. Manav Sadhna is an inspiring ecosystem, it's the closest thing you can get to the CF posse outside of the Bay. I needed that piece in place before making the leap. Also I have a feeling that all of the difficulties I have living in India (the weather, the crowds, pollution, lack of taquerias) will be mitigated by having my own space to call home. I look forward to carving out a corner of India that I can really make my own and be totally comfortable in.

Recently I was trading emails with Kaushal, my friend from college. Back then we used to tease each other because he's a FOB and I'm an ABCD. As we were going back and forth planning a long overdue reunion in Bombay, he made a joke about carrying passports in Malad that I didn't understand. When I reminded him that I am not a FOB, he replied, "You're a FOB now!" It's totally true, I'm a reverse-FOB.

It's been somewhat of a challenge mentally adjusting to fact that I'll be living in India. Mostly because it will mean leaving so many beloved family and friends who I always miss dearly when I'm away. For their sake I've been trying to soften the language around my "move" to India. "Move" implies that I'm going and never coming back (Jo I promise I'll be back!!!). So I tell people that for the "foreseeable future" I'll be "based" in Ahmedabad, but keeping in frequent touch with my American my roots. And for sure, I'll be back.

I always had it in my mind that I would be involved in entrepreneurship in some capacity after grad school, but assumed that the opportunity would be in California, Silicon Valley in particular. But in life you can't deal your own cards, you can only play the hand that's been dealt. My cards have entrepreneurship, but also India. I'm going all-in.

Streets Watching

2011-03-12T22:23:00.000-08:00

Editor's Note: This post's theme music is here. Listening to it is optional because really it's just meant for Jay.

I find the streets in India to be alive with a particular vibrant eclecticism. Three stories from the roads around my office:

Couple days ago I was walking from my office to Ba's house, where I take my tiffin and have lunch most days. My regular rickshawwala Narendrabhai was posted outside my office and when I took off he told me to not walk, that he would drop me. I waved him off because I like the walk, a change of pace from my office coop. But he kept insisting, saying it was too hot to walk that day. I insisted back that it is fine, I need the exercise. So I continue on, and a bit down the road Narendrabhai pulls up next to me on in his rickshaw, again urging me to just hop in. No charge, he is going that way anyway, like it pains him that I was walking. But I hold firm and he speeds off. Fast forward another maybe two minutes, and a white Honda pulls up next to me and the driver rolls down his window. I feel the cool dry A/C air inside. This man is a stranger, I had never seen him before. Unbelievably, he nonchalantly offers me a ride. A complete stranger!

He says it's too hot, it's not a problem for him to take me where I need to go, it's no trouble at all. He was talking to me as if we were friends, which threw me off because he was definitely a stranger. All I could do was smile and thank him profusely, and that I would pass. As he drove off my immediate thought was how hard this city is trying to endear itself to me. At this point it's hate-love. I hate the heat, the pollution, the crowds, and the dearth of taquerias. But I love the people, the relationships, the connections. The warmth that comes from people, the hugs I get from MS kids, the bonding I do with noble friends at Shreeji Krishna. This was another point for Ahmedabad.

Story two is not really a story, just a feature of Indian street life that's interesting: how the public deals with vehicle accidents. Whenever there's an accident, it's pure street justice. A crowd inevitably forms around the vehicles in question, people yell, emotionally gesticulate, and point fingers, witnesses testify, and sometimes physical punishments are doled out then and there. I love how passersby naturally make it their business to get involved. The idea of rubbernecking as a feature instead of a bug is a stark difference between Indian and American street culture.

Final story: a crowd of people had gathered across the street from my office. I went to see what was going on, it turned out to be some kind of group distributing sacks of grain to poor people. There happened to be a lot of blind and handicapped recipients in the crowd, but especially blind. As I was watching the crowd disperse, an observation struck me about blind folks: they always seem to be smiling. Especially in India, where every so often you see groups of blind walking on the streets in a beeline, hand on next person's shoulder, blind leading blind. One possible explanation for the smiling blind is that a blind person is forced to live in complete trust of their immediate environment. Mostly the folks were walking down the street in groups, but one blind man was walking alone. I asked him if he was all right, and he immediately grabs for my hand. Maybe feeling to see if he could trust me, or to make me trustworthy if I wasn't. He asks to take him across the street and flag a rickshaw. When you're blind you're at the mercy of the universe by default, the only choice you have is to throw yourself into it. It takes courage. And also a shrewd strategy is to always be smiling.

I think smiling blind people is evidence that the natural configuration of our face is a smile, since the blind are not conditioned to keep their expressions based on looking at others. When I snapped my first pic of the group above, the lady in front immediately detected that I had done so, despite my camera being silent. I told her I was taking a picture of their lovely smiles. She said in that case I should take another one and this time her team would all show me their teeth:

Beautiful Game

2011-02-27T08:24:00.000-08:00

Jesús and I have been running a weekly Sunday morning soccer practice with Manav Sadhna kids in the Gandhi Ashram. From 8-10am we warm up, do drills, and play with any of the slum kids that are interested. Jesús, a fellow soccer fanatic, started the sessions couple months ago, and since I've been here I've joined as coach #2. Personally, I have four motivations for being involved. First, I am anti-cricket and happy to introduce an alternative sport, any alternative, into the lives of these kids. Second, soccer has given so much to me, shaped who I am, that I love to give back to the game by sharing it with others. Third, it's a way to plug myself into Planet Manav Sadhna doing something I'm passionate about. Fourth, it's the best game ever.

We play in Gandhi Ashram outside Manav Sadhna, jockeying for space with the cricket match that's also usually going on. The surface is sand, which is not ideal because of all the dust that gets kicked up and breathed in, but open flat grass areas are few and far between in these parts. Typically we have about 10 kids, but the number is fluid as kids get bored and go play cricket, new ones come, old ones come back, etc. It's a constant flux and flow of players, which is a bit of a problem when you're playing a team game.

But the competitive dynamic with cricket next door is great because it's the ultimate test of how interested the kids are in the game. Right now they are just learning, so it's pretty ugly out there. Just a bunch of little terrors in a crowd kicking the ball in a random direction, chasing, then repeating. Not exactly the beautiful game. But I believe firmly that if they actually played soccer, in the proper way, it would eventually topple cricket.

So we are teaching the game from the fundamentals: dribbling and passing. After two laps around the play area and stretching from neck to quads we do passing drills. Everyone get in a single file line, and I'll pass you the ball and you pass it back. Having the kids pass to each other is too slow because their kicking is wild and the ball is constantly lost. "Ek, beh. Ek, beh. Ek, beh." I yell out repeatedly to get them to think and do two touches. One, receive and trap the ball; two, look up and make a pass with the inside of your foot. Then we have them dribble in a straight line. The drills are all about introducing a sense of control and calm in the body-ball relationship. But the drill they like best is volleys, where we toss it in the air and they let loose with headers. They get really into it, reeling back and letting fly. They also particularly relish chesting it where they just spread eagle their little torsos at the ball to send it back.

After drills I like to play keep-away to hammer at dribbling and passing. Jesús thought it's too abstract with no goal to attack, but I feel it's a necessary intermediate step in the progression from drills to full-on scrimmage. You only earn points by passing. Four passes in a row by your team without the other team breaking it up and you get a point. The game typically degenerates to kick and chase, with points earned by two teammates finding the time to make four quick touches to each other one foot apart before the opposing team comes barreling in. It's a start.

Then scrimmage. By the time it comes the kids are pining to simply play unrestricted for goals. Just like when we were growing up. The game is start and stop, with the ball frequently going out of bounds and no real passing. There is frequent picking up and touching the ball with hands, which is old cricket habits. We beat it out of them by giving one minute penalties in the corner for any hand ball. Also one constant game within the game is fighting. These kids get into fights all the damn time. There are tears (usually from the ones who instigate), and at least two situations a session where someone storms off the field in angered protest. Half of our job is cop, gathering the culprits, making the crying stop, making people say sorry to each other. The other half is doctor/therapist for when a kid takes himself out of the game, sits in a corner, and rubs a cut on his shin. You go over, tell him it will be OK, tell him he was playing so good and he should get back in. So far my favorite kids are Jagdish, a talented player but an untamed hothead (Rooney); Kamal, a diva who basically plays so he can complain that people hit him (Christiano Ronaldo); and Ritesh, the calm elder statesman (Giggs).

Of all the coaches I had in my career, the one this experience brings to mind most is Mike Bland, a 20-something who coached us when we were maybe 12 to 14. I keep thinking how much of a pain we must have been for him to handle all by himself, how remarkable it was that he had us as disciplined as we were, how he probably did a lot more babysitting than I was even conscious of, and how calm he seemed through it all.

There is an organization based in the UK called Football Action which has contacted MS recently about collaborating to bring soccer to Ahmedabad in a big way. They want to fly out, build a legit pitch in the community, hand out equipment and balls, and conduct coaching sessions with the kids all with the aim of spreading the beautiful game and using football as a means of education. It's a great initiative, and we are excited to explore working together. First step is building a critical mass of local interest in the game from kids and coaches, which is work done one practice at a time.

Iza Good Lyfe

2011-02-24T10:17:00.000-08:00

More and more I have days like today:

Get to Delhi on a cold foggy morning after 4 hours of bed sleep plus 1.5 hours of meditation/sleep on the plane. Cab to Breakthrough to orient and train the team on using their shiny new Awaaz De voice-radio application. Joining the meeting is a young girl from Lucknow named Archana who will take the reins of the system as the moderator. She is quick to learn, asks good questions, and is sensitive to the nuances of the system. I am brimming with pride as I can see in her eyes that she grasps the implications, the power she now has at her fingertips. A tool to connect, engage, and mobilize an army of 500 youth advocating human rights across UP and beyond. During the meeting I get two comments about the heart pinned on my jacket sleeve, which gives me two separate opportunities to talk about the magical part of the human family we call Manav Sadhna. For the first time, someone gets the double meaning of wearing heart on my sleeve.

After the meeting officially adjourns I'm doing 10 things at once. Debugging and writing in new functionality based on the training, being pulled into meeting with the Breakthrough ED to discuss payment and sign our contract, talking with the ED at Sesame India Workshop to see how possible it is to scale up their deployment to set up infrastructure in Maharashtra, arranging to present Awaaz De at the upcoming mobile technology conference they are hosting. Indicative of how busy I've been the last month-plus. One day this week I skipped lunch because there was literally no gap in work at the office between coding and people coming in to have meetings. Tracking todos in three different ways on my computer. Time is so scarce I had to reserve a plane ride I would have in three days to give overdue feedback on a document for a colleague.

Later I take the delightful Delhi metro to dinner with Rikin and Saureen. They both are asking about life and I can't help tripping over myself telling how wonderful things are right now. Just had the great meeting with an enthusiastic energetic org that could really take our technology to new heights, talking to you about how we can and should take the DG deployment to another level, talking about how my PhD career is wrapping up felicitously with all possibility for ending up with a solid set of research outputs after all is said and done, talking about how we have paying customers (and NGOs at that) for Awaaz De with zero marketing or even a website, and any more would almost be more than we can handle right now, talking about the enchanted life I lead living and serving amidst the Angels of Ahmedabad, talking about how I'm angling to live a retired uncle's 6-month-in-India-6-months-in-Cali lifestyle starting at age 28, getting teaching gigs in both places to sustain. Later I'm sitting in the posh new Delhi airport typing away and Kapilbhai calls just to "share the joy" after getting bunch of happy and appreciative calls from organic farmers across Gujarat who just received the inaugural phone broadcast of Sajiv Kheti Samvaad. The skeptic has now turned evangelist. Then on the plane get a call from my Hall of Fame roommate making sure I got on the plane OK after going without a legit photo id. At this point my Cup of Goodness officially overflowed.

At the end of dinner with Rikin and Saureen I open my fortune cookie and get this. I know it's cheesy, but I exclaim at the appropriateness as I show it off to Rikin. Saureen laughs, "Yeah, but you work hard, *and* you enjoy yourself".

What more is there?

Telescopic/Microscopic

2011-02-17T02:09:00.000-08:00

This morning me, Nimo, and Nimo's Dad were in the kitchen having breakfast when Jayeshbhai appeared at the door. White kurta pressed perfectly, big smile, warm demeanor. I had the only reaction one can have when seeing him: joy. But especially this time since I hadn't seen him in several weeks as he has been busily stepping into his new life as Iswar 2.0. He came in, we exchanged hugs, and we started chit chatting. Quickly the conversational topic turned to Gandhi. Jayeshbhai said Gandhi had two parallel types of sight: telescopic and microscopic. He could always see the big picture and zoom into the little. He told some stories to illustrate.

When India first gained independence the new Parliament gathered to vote for the first Prime Minister. All votes but one were cast for Sardar Patel. Nehru was crestfallen, his heart was set on it. Gandhi knew both his protegés well: Sardar Patel was an Iron Man of determination and discipline. His relationship with Gandhi was of unflinching respect, he would always do what Gandhi asked him. But Gandhi's relationship with Nehru was more fitful. Nehru would constantly challenge and argue with Gandhi. Knowing their natures Gandhi made the decision to request Sardar to remove his name from consideration, so Nehru would win by one vote. Why? Because if Sardar were to lose the Prime Minister-ship, he would pocket the disappointment and move on. If Nehru lost, Gandhi knew it would be a constant source of trouble down the road. Telescopic vision.

Another telescopic vision story that Nimo loved: The location of the Sabermati Ashram in Ahmedabad was not chosen randomly by Gandhi. First, he wanted the Ashram on the banks of a river, because the river is like a Mother. Second, he wanted the Ashram close to a jail. Which it was, the Sabermati jail was walking distance. Why? Because they were in the middle of the Quit India Movement, and it would be a lot less fuss for Gandhi and posse to not have to go so far every time they got arrested. Also closer for the Britishers who were doing the arresting. Just made things more convenient all around.

Finally Jayeshbhai told of a time in 1946 when Sardar, Nehru, some British Lords, blokes, and other stiffs were meeting at the Ashram with Gandhiji. As they were there, a child brings an injured goat over to Gandhi. He gets up in the middle of the meeting and takes the goat over with the child to apply a mud pack to the goat's injured leg. All meeting participants were flabbergasted, especially the British stiffs. Bad form and what not. Legend has it Gandhiji replied by simply saying that tending to the goat's pain was of greater importance than anything being discussed in that meeting. Not only did it ruffle feathers, it likely left a lasting impression. The suffering of a lowly animal at that moment was of greater concern than all the heady affairs of global politics. That's why he was Mahatma, and that's microscopic sight.

Earn and Lounge

2011-01-28T06:43:00.000-08:00

The other day I was walking through the Tekra and ran into this woman. She was going through that sack of shredded paper, separating out any shreds that had color on them from the pure white. Some nearby business had been bringing in sack after sack, and paying for the work. Why mounds of pure white shredded paper are better than ones with color, I can't quite say. The woman said she was paid Rs.1 for each kilo of separated shreds. And it takes about 30 minutes to do a kilo, so that's Rs.2/hour (less than five cents).

Seems meager, and also a bit sub-human. But on another day I was with a group of volunteers walking by the same house and saw the entire family out doing the shred sorting. They were working together, and though focused on the task at hand, had smiles on their faces. We stopped to chit-chat and offer some chai, which they took gladly. Didn't seem like they were in much distress, or depressed. Almost seemed like they would have all been out there that day like that whether they had the shreds to sort or not. But with the shreds at least they were earning while doing timepass. Not quite earn and learn, but for a bit I was conflicted about whether I could completely knock what was going on.

My sense is it's a short run/long run tradeoff, similar to sweat shops. In the short run, it's an opportunity to earn more than you otherwise would (by default). In the long run, it erodes and then stunts the human capacity of the community.

Havikoro

2011-01-25T05:57:00.000-08:00

On Sunday an event several months in the making came together at the Tekra (slum) across the street from the Gandhi Ashram where Manav Sadhna runs many of its programs. Havikoro, a Houston, Texas-based hip hop dance group, visited the Tekra to demonstrate their art and teach some moves.

The event was brainchilded by our very own Nimo in collaboration with the U.S. Embassy's American Center. Havikoro, which consists of seven guys, came to the Tekra, mingled with the community, then held a teaching and demonstration workshop in the MS community center and later at Gandhi Ashram. At the community center they had groups of kids come up on stage and taught different hip-hop dance routines, intermixed with their own performances. They taught hip hop, break, b-boy, and house routines with different members leading the dance form they specialize in. One of the group's members, Heaven, is a beatbox artist, and dazzled the crowd with his incredible talent.

One thing that stood out for me was that the kids barely knew a word of English, but they were still able to learn the dances really well. It speaks to the intelligence of the Tekra kids and the expressiveness and patience of the Havikoro members, but also I felt it reflects the universal language of dance and performance.

Other thing that stood out about the event was the mutual learning that was going on. The local kids clearly got a treat and exposure to a different culture. But the Havikoro members were getting so much out of the experience themselves. At least a few of them had never been to India, let alone a slum, so the openness and enthusiasm they showed was commendable. Later Nimo told me that after giving a tour of the Gandhi Ashram and explaining some of the work that was going on there, they were all so moved. Couple even said they wanted to come back and volunteer, and Nimo has his eye on one to be a mentor for an aspiring dancer from the Tekra. As Nimo talked about how rocked the group was I could sense that this was his success metric for the event.

Hats off to the guy for pulling off something special. It was seemingly simple but logistically so intricate, and Nimo made it look easy. It was executed beautifully and the experience came off powerful for all people involved. After Havikoro had finished their workshop and left the Tekra, Anupam Kher, a famous Bollywood actor who happened to be in town, stopped by to visit the Tekra. Poor guy was mobbed endlessly for the 15 minutes he was in the community center, barely getting a good word in or even room to breathe. After one round around the stage, he was still unable to get separation from the crowd, so he left just as quick as he came. Later I asked Nimo which he thought the Tekra kids valued more, Havikoro's in-depth program or Anupam Kher's whirlwind visit. If they were given the choice to invite back one or the other, which would they choose? Nimo was adamant that the kids see the value in quality interaction, that although the Tekra (like any other community in India) is irrationally starstruck, they recognize and appreciate real connection.

I was anticipating this event ever since I got to India over a month ago, when Nimo first told me about it. I was anxious to see how kids here would react to a deeply rooted part of my own culture and childhood. Not surprisingly, the kids took it all in with open minds and hearts. They found the joy, the optimism in hip hop which Havikoro so vibrantly bears. Speaks to the power of music and dance as a universal language. Below is a short photo diary from the day. Anjoy!

UPDATE: The event got a bit of press.

Roots of the Grass

2011-01-18T10:20:00.000-08:00

There is a lot of fanfare and hoopla about 'grassroots' work or movements, but what often gets missed in the messaging is what the concept actually means. Small, painstaking, slow, hard work. I got a taste of it couple days ago when I visited a farm outside Nadiad with Kapilbhai.

A bunch of farmers from the surrounding area had gathered on the farm, which belonged to a farmer named Saborbhai. His three-year-old organic green chilli plot was the only organic farm in the locality. Kapilbhai and other organic farmers in the area had called the meeting to educate the neighboring conventional farmers on what organic farming is, why it's important, how to get involved, etc. Employing the same approach as the organic farming festival last month in Anand, the meeting was held in a location where the evidence of success was right before their eyes. Growing green chili in that area using chemicals typically costs a farmer around Rs.4 Lakhs per bhigha. Saborbhai grows it at Rs.5000 per bhigha, which is 80 times less money.

The format of the meeting was farmers sat in a circle and Saborbhai and a couple experienced organic farmers from the region took turns standing up and making the case for farming organically. There is the financial argument of saving costs of imported fertilizer, then the argument of a more effective way to deal with pests and diseases than pesticide sprays, then the promise of better quality and better tasting crops, and of course the appeal to do right by Mother Earth. After all of the farmers spoke Kapilbhai got up and gave a final appeal. He was in his smooth, humorous, pragmatic, compelling, farmer-friendly delivery mode. He reminded the farmers about DDT; when they were kids DDT was all the craze, and any farmer who refused to spray it was considered backward. And now? No one sprays DDT because it is recognized as a toxic chemical. The same situation applies to chemical agriculture. It was considered progressive farming 50 years ago, but no longer. He urged the farmers to take a small but deliberate first step towards a better way. Start with one or two bhigha, make it chemical-free and see what happens. Try the easiest crops first, it doesn't matter. You can still carry on with chemicals everywhere else, but see the difference. And if you are satisfied, bring one bit more land under organic cultivation. And so on. No need to jump all in right away; be sensible, work step-wise. But you have to take the first step yourself, we won't push and tug and kick you. And to help we will come to you, burning our own petrol, and even bringing our own rotlo. You just provide the otlo. The earlier you wake up, the better you will be.

At the end Kapilbhai asked for a show of hands for how many farmers will take a step. Nearly all did. And of course later on we were discussing the possibility of one, maybe two actually forging ahead. I told Kapilbhai that you have laid all of the evidence out, it is as clear as day; there couldn't be anything more clear than Saborbhai's farm. And yet seemingly illogically people won't make a change. But the logic is that it's hard to change, even if you know you should. It's why most New Years' resolutions fail. Or why people eat fast food even though they know it's better for their health to eat fresh vegetables. We don't always do the right thing, or rather the 'right' thing is relative.

Kapilbhai has been working in the grassroots movement for organic farming for 15+ years. And this is the roots of the grass. Sit with farmers, talk things through, help people understand a different lens, and support them in taking the first step of making a change. And through this work the movement inches forward one or two farmers at a time. Reminds me of Nipun who sits in circles around the world talking about service and stillness. Once he shared with a few CharityFocus coordinators how during a fiercely busy point last year he turned down bunch of top notch speaking invites to attend one small, informal, unglamorous event. Because it's an opportunity to "cultivate in the trenches", develop strength to step it up when called for. Real grassroots work.

We did our own bit of grassroots work after the meeting, holding an orientation for Sajiv Samvaad, the new organic farming phone line we are launching. Kapilbhai and I have had such meetings in Kutch, Baroda, and Nadiad, explaining the concept to room-fulls of farmers, having them try the number out, getting their feedback, and asking for their participation as responders for questions that will be posted. We've been getting positive feedback, and learning a lot about how to make the system better. That's the thing about working in the trenches; it usually has a way of paying off.

All of the Kites

2011-01-16T20:00:00.000-08:00

Editor's note: This post has background music, which is embedded below. Before you start reading, start the music and let it play as you read. Background music is the latest in the line of blogging innovations we have developed here at TOI. I have been waiting for the right moment to debut this one; the time has now come.

INSTRUCTIONS: Everywhere you here the word 'lights' in the song, substitute in 'kites'.

Last weekend India celebrated Uttarayan, the festival of kites. Gujarat, and especially Ahmedabad, go all-out for this holiday.

The celebration kicked off on Friday when there was an international kite festival on the Sabermati, bringing together people from 45 countries. As crazy as it sounds, people came to Ahmedabad from all over the world to fly kites. There was some sort of tournament, since kite flying in India is a competitive activity. You fly your kite and use your string (usually coated in crushed glass) to cut other people's kites (which I will refer to for the rest of this post as 'kut').

Virenbhai, one of Manav Sadhna's co-founders, is a die-hard Uttarayan reveler. He and other MS volunteers had hundreds of kites made to distribute to MS kids and others. Each of the kites had a message of wisdom about health or hygiene, like how tobacco can lead to problems. A clever way to educate since those kites will be all over the city, having multiple owners as they fly and are kut many times.

One MS staff member, Rahul, is a kite maker extraordinaire. He makes big 6-foot kites, but here he showed off a micro-kite he had made:

The thing I like best about Uttarayan is how pretty much everyone collectively participates. Kite-flying seems frivolous, but it is an ingenious activity for a festival: it gets everyone outdoors, it is highly social, it appeals to young and old alike, it has a whimsical and optimistic characteristic, and it is affordable enough that people from all strata of society can participate. That said, I found out that some still find it expensive, like my regular rickshaw driver who told me he couldn't afford the ~Rs.100 (Rs.45 for a batch of 20 kites, plus string which goes up in price based on quality) for his kids to play. But even if you can't afford to buy new, you can always scrounge fallen ones from the streets, etc.

To me Uttarayan's charm comes from a combination of the mass appeal and the cultural richness. The latter is what separates it from something like the Super Bowl. The event comes with its own little quarks and special traditions. There are foods associated with the event, like Sevsar, Undhiyu, and the official sweet, Chiki. All are served on the terrace of your house where you fly from. Friends and family get together on the choicest rooftops. Across the way your neighbors are having their own flying parties. You bond without words by trying to kut each other's kite, everyone in good spirits, smiling. The radio is blaring old Bollywood hits. You set your kite up with string and run it over the curvature of your head to bend the frame slightly to help it fly. Your fingers are taped for smooth string handling without cutting your fingers, though cuts are like badges of honor. Another badge comes from staying up on the roof, some remain day and night for two straight days. Kites of all colors drifting everywhere to the horizon.

Anarben made the comment that kids get a type of cultural education from such festivals that can't be provided in schools, and those are the most valuable lessons. In India another festival or holiday is always around the corner, and each has own quarks and traditions. As you get older, you participate and those little quarks are what let you time travel back to when you were a kid. Remember Mom's Undhiyu on Uttarayan? Most Indian festivals have a nostalgic quality.

I woke up in the morning to the homicidal screams that boys make while flying their kites. My sense is it's for when you are kutting someone or someone is kutting you. Then a little one came in bright and early asking Nimo for help getting his kite mended. He sent him on his way ready to go:

Later we went over to Virenbhai's where bunch of MS friends and volunteers were getting together. Virenbhai is an expert, he is deep in the kutting game. For about an hour I tried unsuccessfully to fly one, it's really tough. But I did eat a lot of chiki, which I now associate with rooftops and paper kites.

Turn on the Kites in here baby,
Extra bright, I want y'all to see;
Turn on the Kites in here baby,
You know what I need, want you to see everything,
Want you to see all of the kites.
All of the kites, all of the kites

Amazing photos courtesy of Neerad Trivedi

A Case for Manual Labor

2011-01-14T09:55:00.000-08:00

Last week a bunch of Manav Sadhna folks and co-workers of Iswardada piled into a bus and caravan of cars to the Narmada to scatter Dada's ashes (Asthi Visarjan). Friends who went came back with legendary stories about what happened. Inspired by Dada, Jayeshbhai led the group on an impromptu cleaning campaign at the riverbank where they scattered the ashes. While government officials had cosmetically cleaned the designated spot in anticipation of the group's arrival, Jayeshbhai spotted the mess moved over to another part of the riverbank, and so proceeded to get his hands dirty by cleaning up that spot. And by dirty hands I mean literally. Based on accounts from friends, it was a Shawshank tunnel escape-type situation, with Jayeshbhai and others literally cleaning raw sewage with bear hands. And if that didn't step it up enough, the group also cleaned dishes for 300+ people at the nearby temple where they had lunch. Another spontaneous act where the group wordlessly sprung into action, overwhelming the two frail women tasked with doing the job daily. The team set up a factory line for the dishes, ripping through them in 45 mins (which is testament to the two women who do a 10-person, 45-minute job everyday) as well as cleaning the dishwashing area itself which was again filthy. Priests from the temple urged them to stop, saying that this work was not for them. Jayeshbhai's reply to these so-called saints, "Don't let someone else do God's work for you".

The image of Jayeshbhai, Anarben, and team, all clad in white, after performing a solemn last rite for Dada, getting elbow-deep in filth to walk Dada's talk, is powerful and awe-inspiring. I was talking with Samir about it, who told me that even he was tip-toeing into the stinking mess on the riverbank while Jayeshbhai dove in with no hesitation, and could not be pulled away for the several hours that they worked there, even preferring to stay with his broom while being called to the boat to actually scatter the ashes. After the rest of the group left, Sam stayed back at the village near the riverbank and the entire place was still reverberating from what they had witnessed. The priests at the temple, the village people, were all talking about the incredible actions of these strangers. The ripples even continued on for Sam himself. Upon getting back home, he spontaneously decided to clean his house's water storage tank. Once he was doing that work, others in the house followed his lead and started cleaning the cupboards.

The stories from the Asthi Visarjan made me think about the value of manual labor. Through my work over the last few years I have developed a reverence for farming, gardening, raising plants. To me it is an ideal form of labor in that it both strengthens and directly feeds the body. But in the wake of Dada's passing I'm realizing that safai, cleaning or sanitation work, is also deeply spiritual. Working with the soil is spiritually deep in terms of developing a connection with nature. On the other hand safai, especially in mundane forms, allows one to develop the spiritual virtue of humility. Manual labor in general also instills gratitude and patience.

Absence of manual labor, life is hollow. Devoid of spirit, it is stripped of wisdom. If you never have planted a tree with your bare bands, nurtured it and watered it and gave it love continuously as it grows, then you won't have the proper level of gratitude for the spiral notebook in your backpack. Story of Stuff author Anne Leonard also alludes to this idea when she suggests that all teenagers should be required to visit a landfill before they are given their first credit card. My favorite example of this is washing your clothes by hand, which I have written about before. It is truly backbreaking work, in my mind the most physically difficult household chore. Having had that experience, I now fully appreciate the wonder of a washing machine. I also have a changed perspective on clothing: owning more clothes means more clothes to (hand) wash, and heavy processed clothes like jeans are a real luxury over simple, thin cotton that can be hand-washed more easily.

Use your hands, touch your heart, deepen your wisdom.

Opportunity Cost of a Thought

2011-01-10T19:55:00.000-08:00

A reflection from meditation:

Nowadays we are commonly encouraged to 'think outside the box'. But how do you actually do that? The mind is not a file cabinet. It's a distributed system, the original cloud computer. Discovering a solution to a problem, coming up with a fresh idea, even recalling a memory, consist of traversing a series of thoughts produced from firing synapse combinations across the brain. Often we get subconsciously attached to a certain thought-path. No matter how hard you bang your head on the wall, you cannot consider other possibilities. You can't make a breakthrough, and the old thought becomes a round peg for a square hole. Getting nowhere, the thought becomes stale. This is the opportunity cost of a thought.

In order to approach things from a new angle, you must necessarily let go of the old thought-path to make room. You have to purify, cleanse the mind, start from a clean slate. You have to first untangle the knot of yarn to start knitting a new sweater. And this requires practice.

Understanding the opportunity cost of our old thought-patterns is relevant for cultivating a service mindset. The other day I went to a party alone, and I didn't know anyone there but the hosts. In the same scenario with an old thought-pattern, I would have concluded that being there was a waste of time, sulked into a corner of the room, and been bored. But in this case I realized I could do something. I helped put away some dirty plates, and discreetly picked up some trash. Then I went around the party snapping pictures, planning on putting together a small report on the event for a friend who couldn't be there but really wanted to. So in that way I made something out of nothing.

The first step to moving forward in a new direction is retreating from the old.

The Namesake

2011-01-10T09:55:00.000-08:00

Give, Receive, Dance

2011-01-07T05:18:00.001-08:00

Today Nipun gave an informal talk at ESI on service, generosity, and how 'being the change changes the being'. He spoke about his own service journey, framing it in three stages: giving, receiving, and dancing. The first stage represents inner transformation, the second humility, and the third is joy.

He started by defining wisdom; it is being able to connect the branch of the tree with its root. Or as Thich Nhat Hanh says, "seeing the cloud in the piece of paper". He drew a parallel to service: the story of the boy who started off wanting to change the world, was unsuccessful, then tried to change his country. Unsuccessful again, he tried to change his state, then community, then just his own family. All unsuccessful. Now an old man, he realized that he could successfully change himself, and automatically change rippled out around him. The root connected to the tree branch.

One theme Nipun touched upon is the blurred line between giving and receiving. When you give, you really get back in return. He gave the example of Harshida Aunty who after a few years of serving meals on Wednesdays, went from saying "you're welcome" to a heartfelt "no no, thank you" when a stranger accepted a meal from her. Why? Because she came to realize the person was giving her an opportunity to be of service, to grow in generosity and selflessness. Or even take for example the talk Nipun was giving. At one level he is speaking and you the audience member is the receiver. But you are giving him your attention, which is itself a gift. And maybe just providing the occasion for Nipun to share serves him; he said it's possible that the person most needing to hear his words could be himself. So giving and receiving is blurry, and with that realization comes the third stage: dance. Keep the transactional scorekeeping calculations to the side and dive into the web of cosmic exchange headlong, with reckless abandon.

Another theme he talked about was the importance of Kalyan Mitra, "noble friends". The Buddha said it is one's most important asset while walking the million lifetimes path. Made me think about a conversation we were having just a few days ago at Jayeshbhai's, where my Dad and Nipun were talking about influences on my life. There are no accidents with who you cross paths with and stay close to, the souls you attract and attract you. It's possible that those certain soul friends in your life have been with you for many lifetimes, just in different configurations. In one life it's your friend, the next it's your brother, and the next it's your mother. But you are walking the path together, like attracts like.

The final theme I took away from the talk was about having depth to one's work. This has also come up in the wake of Ishwarsada's passing. At one level, Ishwardada worked on sanitation issues, keeping one's body and environment clean for one's health. At a deeper level, it's practicing discipline and cleanliness as an ethic in everyday life. At a deeper level still, it's cleanliness of the mind and thus purity of thoughts. Dada's work was outwardly practical, but there was a depth which connected it to spiritual development. Similarly, Gandhiji's work was ostensibly the Independence movement, but it was only the tip of the iceberg. Nipun tells the story about how Gandhi's disciples used to fight over who would get to sleep in his room at night, whereas Vinoba said it was all foolhardy because Gandhiji wasn't even in his body. He was spirit and as such Vinoba was with him even if he was in a different city. Swami Vivekananda could have done anything he wanted, including building hospitals and institutions galore. But an organization lasts only a hundred years if it's lucky, and buildings can be wiped out in one natural calamity. It's the deeper spiritual work that lasts lifetimes. Nipun maintains depth to his work by focusing on small acts. Like the man who stopped and gave him half a lemon when he was sick on the side of the road, then left without uttering a word.

I've heard Nipun speak enough times that at this point I typically listen from a meta level. Observe his body language, his pace and flow, how he uses eye contact, how I can serve him in the moment in invisible ways. I noticed today how effortlessly he transitions from story to story (today he talked exclusively in stories). It's almost like a Jedi mind trick the way he can take you from Karma Kitchen in Berkeley to a temple along the Narmada to an upscale restaurant in New York and then back to Gandhi's ashram during the Independence movement. All seamless, and executed like a delicate ballet dance. He delivers a story, gives a punchline, and then symmetrically uses that same punchline to launch into the next story. It's something a like a double entendre in a rap lyric.

At the end of the talk everyone in the audience was gifted two apples, which were themselves gifted to Jayeshbhai by a well-wisher in remembrance of Dada who loved apples. We were instructed to keep one for ourselves, and give the other to someone else as a half-lemon offering. And maybe in the process smudge the ideas of giver and receiver, and find some space to just dance.

Saint Ishwar

2010-12-25T01:18:00.000-08:00

Today is Christmas Day, which we traditionally associate with St. Nicholas. But after Christmas this year, for me this day will bring to mind another saint, Ishwardada.

Ishwar Patel is Jayeshbhai's father, and he is nearing his last moments on earth. His health has been steadily deteriorating since earlier this year. Since that time Jayeshbhai has dropped all of his other work and focused on Ishwardada in various capacities. Earlier this month he and many other volunteers organized a huge gathering of friends, family, co-workers, and well-wishers at Sughad in honor of Ishwardada and his life's work as a pioneer of the sanitation movement in Gujarat. "Mr. Toilet", as he's called, was also honored by the release of his biography, which had been in the works for some time.

It seemed that Dada was holding onto his health for that event, because shortly thereafter he was hospitalized and has remained in bed since. Today I went to Sanjivani hospital to pay my respects to Dada and give love to Jayeshbhai and Anarben.

Dada was in room 407, but rooms 408 and 409 had been cleared out because so many people kept coming through. I walked into 408 to find Jayeshbhai seated with several other visitors. I gave him a big hug, saw sadness, fatigue, and that constant flame of joy in his eyes. We sat and as we passed around bananas (which were brought especially for him but he insisted on sharing), he told about Ishwardada's state. He is in deep pain, but remains alert and vibrant. Jayeshbhai keeps feeding him updates on things going on outside. At Manav Sadhna, people are making efforts to clean the ashram and the surrounding area, in his name. There are small acts like the kids who walked from MS to the hospital, picking up trash along the way, then hand delivered flowers from money they had saved to other patients at the hospital. Jayeshbhai asks Dada about the future of MS, whether they should take it big. Dada insists, "Keep doing small things." Yesterday the hospital was swept and cleaned from top to bottom by volunteers. Today the hospital was freshly painted with bright colors and artful decorations, and all patients were served tea and biscuits. People are in Dada's room 24 hours waiting on him, massaging his legs and back as he has remained upright for the past 10 days. The nursing staff has been made a part of the family. So many wonderful acts, big and small, happening around Dada even as he lies on his deathbed. Jayeshbhai says it is Dada's final act of service, giving so many others the opportunity, inspiration, and occasion to serve.

Then all the people who have been streaming in to see Dada, at all hours. He is in so much pain yet refuses no one. Famous, powerful, politically connected, they all come in to pay respects. But then there are the armies of everyday people, rickshawwalas, sweepers, farmers, who come as well. Some come for appearances, others come out of emotional connection. With the admiration of people from all walks of life, so diverse, Jayeshbhai remarks how we are witnesses to the invisible ripples Dada has created over his 50 years of service, now made visible.

We are sitting there and Jayeshbhai is chatting about all these things, then the doctor walks by. He gets up with a somber face and goes to talk with him, and Anarben joins. We can overhear the conversation: Dada is doing worse then yesterday, it really doesn't look good. Jayeshbhai walks back into the room silently, deep sadness in his eyes. He sits back down in silence. After a few minutes he spontaneously gets up with conviction and tells me to come with him.

I'm only writing this post because I never want to forget what happens next. He takes my hand and leads me into Dada's hospital room. We have to take masks from the boy guarding the door. Once we enter it's humid and hazy. Dada is upright on his bed with pillows and people flanking him all around. Jayeshbhai goes up to him and gives what I can only describe as a shower of love. Pinching his cheeks, rubbing his hands and legs gently, getting Dada to stroke his face, sweet talking. Just over the top love. He introduces me to Dada, a bit about my work, how I come from California and Charityfocus. I touch Dada's feet and tell him everyone back there are thinking of him and send their best wishes.

Jayeshbhai continues the love barrage. Ishwardada mentions that today is Christmas. Good memory! Yes, Jayeshbhai responds, a day for Jesus, such a compassionate soul. He goes on about Jesus but at this point I stop listening and tear up. Jayeshbhai has just heard the worst news, that his father's end is near. He could be upset, depressed, fearful, self-pitying. But there is only one unflinching response: love.

I walked out of the room after Jayeshbhai and Ba insisted that Dada bless each of us in the room, with a touch on the head. I said goodbyes and walked out of the hospital, my head spinning. Since the past several months till today this son has totally devoted himself to serving his father, to do anything to make him happy. And there's really nothing he hasn't done. It was an incredible model of the heights we can reach in loving and caring for our parents in the final stages. I am so thankful to have witnessed it, it was such a valuable lesson. I resolved to take what I had seen and apply what I can when the same occasion in my life arises.

UPDATE: Ishwardada passed away the next morning, Dec. 26th

Sattvik

2010-12-22T03:48:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I visited the 8th Annual Sattvik Food Festival, held at IIM-Ahmedabad. The event is the brainchild of Prof. Anil Gupta, the visionary founder of SRISTI.

There was delicious food, interesting art, and the grassroots innovations of rural people on display. I had two highlights for the day. One was having Guptaji glide past me through the festival, with entourage in tow. Whenever I see Guptaji, he always has a group of cronies following him around who he leads around like a tour guide while throwing out occasional wise words and deep observations. There's always a funny contrast between his khadi-clad loose charismatic presence and the stiff FOBs with nerdy clothes and glasses with hands behind the back, trailing behind him. The other highlight was visiting Samadbhai, an incredible organic farmer, who had a stall at the festival where he was selling his organic peanuts, peanut oil, grains, etc. At his stall, I bought a bag of roasted salted peanuts, and left some extra behind to pay forward a bag for the next patron. Samadbhai's daughters, who were manning the stall at the time, were confused, and after stumbling through an explanation in Gujarati, amused.

More images from the day below:

Flagship Festival

2010-12-18T04:42:00.000-08:00

For the last few days I was on the outskirts of Anand at a remarkable farm for the Third Biennial Organic Farming Convention. It was hosted by the Organic Farming Association of India (OFAI) and Jatan, OFAI's Gujarat branch. I planned my trip to India around this event, as it promised to be a blockbuster. And it didn't disappoint.

Kapilbhai, Sarvadamanbhai (the owner of the farm), Minaben (Saravadamanbhai's wife), Dhartiben, Manojbhai, Claude Alvares of OFAI, and the countless others behind the scenes put on the finest event I have ever attended in India. The thing that set it apart from anything else like it was how deeply the organizing team couched the event in the principles of organic farming, sajiv kheti, sustainable agriculture, or whatever you want to call it. First of all, the whole event took place on a farm itself. Eight hundred organic farmers from around India and the world, all together on one of the most advanced biodynamic farms in all of India. What better place to talk shop? Second, from the bamboo forest auditorium to the organic food to the composted waste to the eco-friendly toilets to the simple tent accommodations, everything was set up with nature in mind. Nature as a partner and not as a servant. Be smart about waste, create systems of recycling, use what nature provides. If you are for sustainability but then you organize an event in a hotel with plastic water bottles and non-local unhealthy catered food, within four walls with the AC blasting, you're not much for walking the talk.

And it wasn't just the facilities, but the spirit of the whole event that imbibed the values. Much of the work setting up, cooking, serving, cleaning, etc. was done by volunteer groups who had come in from around the state, including girls from a school in Surendranagar interested in farming. All the food was donated by Gujarat's organic farmers. Sarvadaman told me how fanatical he was about every detail being right, even having the staff wake up at 5am the morning of the event to sweep the main entrance till it was spotless. Why? Because it makes a difference. Also he tells how on the first night when the delivery of blankets was running late, he stood out in the cold shivering with everyone else, the President of OFAI, to show the attendees that they were in it together. How Kapilbhai was given assurance by a few anonymous friends to not spare any expense for this event, to make it the best it can be and the resources would be there as needed.

I think all of this was exactly what Kapilbhai had in mind when he agreed to mastermind the event. He wanted to set the standard for what an event like this could be. Which is the same mindset he has for everything he does. He is uncompromising on quality. The man has incredible integrity of work, unparalleled work ethic. I salute him, as did Sarvadaman and others, for making this what one visitor from U.K. called a "flagship" event for India.

As for me, I love attending such farmer gatherings, especially with Gujarati organic farmers, of whom I know many and most know me. At an event like this I am treated like a prince; I walk around and farmers come up and greet me, show me love and appreciation, which I try and give back. It's why I do what I do. On a more practical note I was there to co-announce with Kapilbhai the launch of Sajiv Samvaad, a new organic farming-specific phone line we will be launching together. Farmers calling the number will be able to listen to a primer on Sajiv Kheti ("living agriculture"), ask questions and get responses from genuine organic farmers, get updates on news and events on the organic farming movement in Gujarat, and a new thing we are trying is a voice-based market for farmers to connect with organic retailers to buy and sell produce.

There were so many other great memories from this event, I've tried to capture them in the photo diary below. Be sure to flip through and read the captions at your own pace. Anjoy!

American-born Confused FOB

2010-12-11T10:00:00.000-08:00

I'm back in India and ready to continue the adventures! I was in California the past two months, visiting friends and family, meeting with my advisors, enjoying Cali food, weather, roads, and other amenities. Thus the lack of posting. I'm now back in Ahmedabad for what will be my final trip to India before graduation. Will it be the final chapter of this blog? Unclear. But what is clear is that I intend to bring it for you, my gentle readers, over the next couples months.

Couple stories/reflections from my trip home:

I had quite an experience boarding my flight home from Ahmedabad airport's new international terminal. I had to bribe my way to the gate.

I was carrying two bags filled with stuff to take back to various people, and when I got to the check-in counter I discovered that both bags were overweight. The attendant said I would have to pay a $50 fee per bag. But he suggested I transfer stuff from one bag to the other so that I would only have to pay the fee for one of the bags. So I went back to the waiting area to do that, when a boy who was working behind the counter approached me. He had heard that I was overweight and said he would help me so I wouldn't have to pay fees for either bag. He went back to the counter and brought out a cloth handbag, and told me to put stuff into it. I could carry that handbag with me on the plane, so I could check in both bags under weight. So he helps me do that, taking my bags back and forth to the counter to make sure they were within weight limit. I got the feeling that this boy had done this before, it was a way for him to make money on the side. I asked him how much I had to pay him, he said don't worry, check in the bags and walk toward the security line and he'll come by to give more instructions. He was all hush-hush, he could get busted if airport staff found out. Suddenly things felt very Jason Bourne. I persisted about the price, and he said $20. Steep, but still saves me $30.

I get back in the check-in line, and the boy, from behind the counter, motions me to cut the line to go to the same counter I was at. The staffer managing the line looks the other way as I cut. The same attendant at the counter now sees both bags underweight, and notices the new handbag. He knows what went down. He could have busted me for my carry-on luggage being overweight, but he looks the other way as well. A multi-person scam; everyone gets a piece of the action.

Then I start walking slowly toward the security gate, and the boy comes up casually behind me, and whispers in my ear, "meet me in the toilets", and walks by me and into the restroom. I get out a Rs.500 note ($10) and palm it in my right hand.

In the restroom, the boy is in front of the mirror, fixing his hair. I walk up to his side, pretending to wash my hands. And then I hand him the money discretely. I totally felt like I was doing a drug deal, it was so fantastic. He takes the money and walks out of the bathroom back toward the counter. I walk in the other direction. The deed was done.

Later on in security I got harassed about all the masalas I was carrying, maybe they thought it was gunpowder. They took a sample and put it through a gunpowder-testing apparatus. With all the bribery and gunpowder, it took me 2.5 hours to make it to my gate. A nice farewell from Ahmedabad.

Other thing I wanted to note is my feeling being back home. First off it was weird coming back for just two months and then heading back to India, it was like I was visiting America from India instead of the other way around. Continuing the trend from last year, I felt like a fish out of water in my own homeland. It seems like as I feel more comfortable living in India, I proportionately feel less comfortable living in California. I'm not an ABCD any more, but also not a FOB. Maybe an ABC-FOB. But in any case, it's a bit scary as I no longer feel totally comfortable/at home in any place.

I guess it's the cost of being international. The pros definitely outweigh the cons.

Seven Khands

2010-10-08T15:25:00.000-07:00

Anjali and Neelam run a school in Ranip for some of the local kids, which the kids themselves have named Patangiya ("Kite") School. The school is sort of like an after-school program where the kids (aged 9-12) are tutored but also do and learn holistically through activity, art, environment, and reflection. Yesterday both teachers were out of town so Nimesh and I filled in as substitutes. Nimo had a vision of doing a lesson about the world's geographic and cultural diversity. Expand the kids' thinking beyond their immediate surroundings to realize that there is a vast world beyond.

Every day at 5pm Patangiya school kicks off with a clean-up session. The kids sweep and organize their "classroom" which is basically a huge backyard and patio of a house which Anjali and the kids took over, located nextdoor to Jayeshbhai's house. After clean-up we gathered in a circle and said a prayer, and then introduced ourselves. There were about 8 kids. Nimo then kicked things off by asking everyone to describe where they were currently located. One by one the expected responses were thrown out: India, Ranip, Ahmedabad, Gujarat, Patangiya School. But no answer in terms of geography beyond India; it was as big as the world got. But then Nimo reminded about other places, like America. He pointed out that even bigger than countries there were continents. One of the kids said "Oh yeah, we are in Asia khand". Neither Nimo and I had heard the word for continent in Gujarati, but here was one of our students educating us. Yes, we are in Asia khand. Then there is Africa khand, Europe khand, North America khand, Australia khand, etc. There are seven khands across our earth. We showed them on a map and had the kids try and memorize them.

Then we had the kids grab paper and colors and draw a map of the world, anchored by the seven khands. They came up with some beautiful renditions. We had them carve out India from the blob they had drawn for Asia khand. Then within India, carve out Gujarat. Then, put a dot for where Ahmedabad is. Then, Ranip. A dot within a dot! Such a vast world, we are just a small speck of it.

After the drawings we brought the kids inside to show them some videos. Nimo began by flashing faces on the computer screen: black, white, asian. The kids had to guess which khand the person was from. It was funny hearing the kids yell out "Cheen" (China) for when a black face was shown. They loved guessing Cheen.

The point of showing the faces was to show how different people look from around the world. Then we tackled diversity from another angle, through a language they could easily understand: dance. Nimo had a bunch of videos of traditional/ethnic dances from around the world, and we showed them one by one. We asked the kids to reflect on the movements, even the clothing/costumes. Why were the people form Europe khand wearing so many heavy clothes, while the Africa khand people wore so little? It must be hot in Africa, and cold in Europe.

Finally Nimo ended with a video of Bob Marley's "One Love" performed by musicians from around the world. The lesson: unity in diversity, "Ek Prem". The world is so vast, there are seven khands, and we are just a blip on the map. And there are people of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and their dances are so different. And yet we are all part of the human race, we are all citizens of the globe.

I really enjoyed learning with the kids. I was most struck by their enthusiasm, their curiosity, their thirst for knowledge. I had an impression that kids in the Indian school system were sucked dry of those attributes through the emphasis on rote memorization, but it was alive and present with these kids. I also found the kids quite disciplined and well-behaved (as far as 10-year-olds go). And finally I was impressed by how they behaved and looked after each other as a family, brothers and sisters. All of the kids lived in a nearby slum. After class when they departed to walk home, the group waited for the last kid so they could walk together. Of course they had their inner fights and teasing and what not, but they also showed a lot of love and caring for each other.

I'm hoping to work with the kids more when I come back to India next time. One of the things some of us have discussed is teaching through sports, which I couldn't be more excited about. We are specifically thinking about soccer. It's a sport that doesn't require too many resources/space to play, is inclusive of girls, teaches teamwork and other skills, and is really really fun. Can't wait to kick it around with the kids some time soon.

Gandhi Day

2010-10-06T12:01:00.000-07:00

It is really special to be in Ahmedabad on Gandhi Jayanti, so close to Gandhiji's ashram. There are always special celebrations and events in honor of Gandhiji. This year there were two at the ashram that I checked out.

In the morning, I took part in the Kisan Swaraj Yatra kickoff. The Yatra's aim was to raise awareness across the country about the troubling practices and policies in India today that threaten food security, environmental health, and farmer's livelihoods. Starting from the Gandhi Ashram, the bus yatra will pick up farmers, farm workers, activists, students, consumers, and others from 20 states till it reaches Rajghat in New Delhi to have the voices heard by the central government.

Kapilbhai was the chief coordinator of the yatra in Gujarat, and he organized a rally and speeches at the ashram, which among others featured the legendary Gujarati farmer Bhaskar Save. Then everyone climbed aboard a fleet of vans and jeeps and set off. As I saw Kapilbhai and others march off on their mission for farmer's "self rule", I thought of Gandhiji's Dandi march.

Later in the afternoon there was a program which brought schoolchildren from all over Ahmedabad (and beyond?) to the ashram for a music concert in honor of Gandhiji. The kicker was that the performing orchestra was an ensemble of musicians from around the country as well as a group of guest musicians from Mexico. For the past few years, on Gandhi Jayanti this program has been a joint endeavor with the people of Mexico to stand together in celebration for Gandhiji. So there were some musicians from Mexico at the ashram to perform, along with the Mexican ambassador, and there was a live two-way webcast to Mexico City where people had gathered around a statue of Gandhiji to remotely participate in the event. Just an incredible idea, Gandhiji would have been happy to see it. I also kept thinking about how much Pancho would love it :)

I also think Gandhiji would have loved the music. The orchestra, with a medley of Spanish guitar and tabla and other instruments, played some of his favorite bhajans and other inspirational and devotional songs. The music was out of this world. I was with Nimo and we both really felt the vibe, we couldn't help but dance and sway to it. There was one Mexican woman with the most amazing angelic voice, she kept taking it higher and higher like she was piercing the sky with her voice. When she wasn't singing, she was dancing along to the instrumental with a Mexican/salsa 4-step. The open air, a pleasantly cool night, the spirit of Gandhiji, the love from strangers from across the world who don't know Hindi but understand the language of Gandhiji's universal message, it made for a really special atmosphere. I'm thankful to have been a part of it. Happy Birthday Gandhiji!

House Hunting

2010-10-05T14:58:00.000-07:00

MAM and I are in the market for housing in and around Ahmedabad. We are both looking for something a bit out of the city center in order to get peace, quiet, clean air, and open, natural space (there is also another reason that Meghna will have to share with you herself :)).

As we were discussing buying houses over the last few weeks, a humongous housing show came to town hosted by Gujarat Institute of Housing and Estate Developers (GIHED), held at the Gujarat University convention center. So the other day Madhu, Meghna, myself, and Jigo went to go check it out.

The show featured all of the prominent builders in Gujarat, each with booths set up sporting their generous site maps, modern floor plans, and attractive female agents in tight outfits hawking glossy, optimistic brochures. Each builder uniquely communicated the same messages of style, luxury, aspiration, elegance, and the latest buzzword, eco-friendliness. Apparently, every single housing development in Gujarat is eco-friendly. One builder was not only eco-friendly, but also carbon neutral. Most if not all the booths had green in their color scheme. The new Gujarat!

I got quite swept up with what I saw at the show. They were selling a dream, and I was buying with impunity. I excitedly talked to Jay (who serves as my financial advisor) back home to tell him that MAM and I were going to be visiting some housing developments outside Ahmedabad in a couple days, that these builders were for real and building some actually high-quality homes in well-planned out locales, that buying in Ahmedabad at this point in time is a can't miss from an investment standpoint. In my mind I was thinking we could go out there, fall in love with a choice 3-bedroom flat, and close the deal right then and there. Like I was shopping for a new sweater.

It was a different story when we actually went to visit the housing developments. We drove out a few kilometers from the city into Chankheda, which is at this point still a small village. Beyond the village were all the housing developments, one next to the other in a huge, flat, barren, featureless field. As we were driving toward them I got uncomfortable. The whole scene felt wrong. I had one image in my head earlier, but was seeing something else now. In my mind I had pictured a lush green tract of land with a modern housing complex nestled in the middle, with conveniences like food markets, stores, gardens, schools, even restaurants around. A proper community. But what I saw was just housing, laid out like military barracks on an open tract of land. I was expecting to see Palo Alto in Gujarat, but what I found was the Gujarati version of Palo Alto.

The homes themselves were nice enough, pretty much true to the shiny floor plans back at the housing show. But look out the window and you didn't see roads and gardens and quaint shopping centers, all amidst abundant nature. You saw just housing; complex after complex to the horizon. There was no personality to the place, it was all anonymous and standardized. It was factory manufactured living.

I realized quickly I was a sucker for falling for the eco-friendly propaganda as well. There was nothing to indicate that the builders had accounted for sustainability in their building plans. I mean, they wiped out all the trees in the area to make space for more housing units. What looked like central gardens and greenbelts in their brochures were in reality afterthought patches of grass off to the side of the complex.

My conclusion: these builders were not interested in building homes, they were interested in building housing. They wanted to squeeze every rupee out of every square foot of land, and the best way to do that is to cram in more units. There seemed to be no regard for quality of life. The sad thing is that at the moment people are buying this dream in droves; the housing market all over Gujarat is red hot. In a way it's understandable because it's the only option available if you are an upwardly mobile Gujarati looking to live the good life, unless you are one of the cream of the cream rich members of society, which I found out later is what it takes to have a home amidst actual nature.

In the end, we all pretty much decided to pass. While building up to the visit we were full of talk of the promise of living in the outskirts of the city, after seeing the reality our comments eventually started turning much more appreciative of the place we currently were living in, our apartment in Keshav Nagar. Sure it was a bit noisy and didn't have the cleanest surroundings, but at least it was a community. Felt like a home. It was a place to live, not just to exist.

Health care, a la carte

2010-09-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

Editor's Note: Like last year, I came back home from India being totally behind with blog posting. So I'll be posting a few retroactively, with the following being the first in the series. Anjoy!

Getting health care in India is very different than in America. Because of the health insurance system, in the U.S. I always feel like my health care is not in my hands. It's controlled by entities in the foggy distance; there are these big institutions that know all about my medical history, control how I interact with my doctor, give their permission and approval to do anything, and require me to update them when I have availed any service.

Not the case in India. If you want to see a doctor, you just call one up and make an appointment, or better, just show up to his office. And he's not going to ask you what coverage you have and to fill out this or that form. He just sees you like you would go to a barber for a haircut. No strings.

It's all very raw, very street. That's exactly how I described my experience last year when I had to get my elbow stitched after falling off of a bus, walked into a local doctor's office, laid down, stuck out my arm, and got sewn up with no anesthesia and no doctor's gloves, and walked out an hour later for Rs.150 (post mortem: The doctor had told me that my stitches didn't need to be removed because they would dissolve on their own. After weeks they were still there and so I had them removed. Now that patch of skin on my elbow is all gnarly coagulated looking and I feel a pain every time the skin gets stretched. So yeah, I paid Rs.150 for stitches, and I got what I paid for).

Recently I was sick and had to get some blood tests done. I used a service called Green Cross, which is basically a consumer pathology lab. They send over a dude with a bag full of needles and vials to your house. He takes your blood, sends it to the lab to have whatever tests you want on it done, comes back later that day with a full printed report with a doctor's number for referral, and takes your money. And all actually on time, and all at affordable cost (basic CBC blood test costs Rs.170 all in)! It is such a delightful service.

And it's unlike anything in the US because it is health care a la carte. There was no doctor or institution telling me how I should interpret my blood test, or even that I should have gotten a blood test in the first place. Self-diagnosis. I look at the report which shows my health reduced down to numeric scores, and see if things fall within the given arbitrary ranges. Then I can go online and find out what it all means, and even walk down the street and buy my own medicine. No doctor necessary. It's like going to the barber shop, sitting in the chair, grabbing the scissors and cutting your own hair as the barber just stands idly by. There are no people or institutions that are gatekeepers to your health care needs. It's all up to you.

It's both empowering and scary. What the hell do I really know about my hemoglobin count? It all seems a bit dodgy because you're dealing with something (health) that I've come to believe an expert should be consulted for. After all, in the U.S. kids spend thousands and give a decade of their lives to be able to put on a white coat and be an authority. Can it all really be bypassed? On the other hand my experience with doctors in India is that they don't really tell you much you don't know, like they work from common sense more than any specialized education. And usually the conversations are you speculating about what's wrong with you and what you should do about it, and the doctor just agreeing with anything you say. Madhu was on the phone with his doctor and even prescribed himself medicine. The doctor just said, "Yeah that's cool".

On one hand it's the way it should be. Our health is our own responsibility, and doctors are not magicians. On the other hand, one's health is a pretty risky thing to be mucking around with, and there is a need for specialized expertise. My feeling: bring on the a la carte health paradigm, as long as I have access to insights about my urine like this:

Not Your Average Farmer

2010-09-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

Friends,

I am proud to announce that my first-ever magazine article has been published! I was invited to write for Interactions magazine, which is published by the Association of Computing Machinery (ACM) and has the vision of providing "timely articles, stories, and content related to the interactions between experiences, people, and technology." Granted the magazine is no Salon or New Yorker, but I still consider it an honor. Although it's geeky and quite academic, I enjoyed writing for the magazine because it was less restrictive than typical scientific writing. I could write in the first-person and add a bit of humor, and it could be about a topic that is not necessarily scientifically interesting, but interesting nonetheless. In the end I'm quite happy with how it turned out, hope you enjoy!

Not Your Average Farmer: Designing for Lead Users in ICT4D Research

Thirsty?

2010-09-19T07:48:00.000-07:00

We have a wide selection of "Cold Drinks", including...

Only. In. India.

Multivariate Bridges and Metaphysical Mangoes

2010-09-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Nimo came to the group with a problem. On the main pathway between a slum in Ranip and Manav Sadhna, a stream had built up due to the persistent rain we've been getting lately. The stream was pouring through the passway from a storm drain that also contained waste water from the locality. The issue was that kids from the slum trying to get to MS had to cross the stream daily or more with no proper way to walk, and between the water's filthiness and the pressure it was rushing with, it was becoming a dangerous situation. Rumor even had it that one kid had climbed a parallel drinking water pipeline to cross the stream and had fallen from a considerable height.

So our Sunday project was to go down to the stream and fashion together a safe walkway across the water. Nimo had prepared 3 sandbags that he figured we could place over a bed of well-placed rocks that we could collect from around the stream. Seemed straightforward, but that's about where it stopped being so simple.

We got to the slum in the morning around 8. Our team consisted of myself, Nimo, Anjali, Jeego, Jesús (a volunteer from Spain working with MS through Australia-based Arichtects Without Frontiers), and Sachi. We also recruited some of the local kids to help. They were overjoyed to see Nimo and Anjali, I think half of them thought we were just there to play. We were, but the game was going to be carrying around heavy rocks and wading around in filthy water for a few hours.

When I got down to see the stream for the first time, my mind turned quiet. This was not going to be a rinky-dink Sunday morning project. This was a serious stream, clearly a hazard for a kid, an adult carrying supplies or vessels, animals, or any other entity trying to cross. Building a durable bridge was going to require some smarts and creativity. That was my first reaction. My second reaction was that I wish Jay was here, because he has a lot of smarts and creativity, especially for engineering puzzles like this. If he was there he would have MacGuyver'd the optimal solution. Alas.

At this point, the elements of a multivariate calculus problem began revealing themselves. First, there was the practical issue of our bridge solution. Clearly we needed something that was sturdy and safe. Couldn't be too high in case someone falls, can't be too low to be pounded by the water. And clearly we had no money, so it had to be cheap. A local man living right next to the stream said straight away, rocks and sandbags were going to fail. The pressure of the stream built up in the afternoon, and with any decently hard rain the structure would get washed away. He even pointed out the remains of previous ill-fated attempts scattered on the banks a bit down-river. Go ahead, he said, spend your morning doing a bunch of heavy, dirty lifting. It will be a waste of your time.

I agreed, we needed a better solution. Talking to some of the local boys, I found out that there was a cache of wood in the slum, kept by one of the kid's fathers. I went with two of the boys to go to check it out. We got to the home and on top of the roof was piles and piles of long, straight bamboo. Now we're getting somewhere, I thought. There were even some ladder-like structures fashioned out of the bamboo with some twine. Build two of those babies, I thought, lean one off of each bank, anchor where they meet down in the middle of the stream with rocks and sandbags, and you could have a simple v-style bamboo bridge.

I really wanted to just take the wood down with the boys and be on our way, but of course it would not be so simple. Vinubhai, the kid's father and keeper of the bamboo, had just gotten back home and needed to know what was going on. I explained what we were doing, and he seemed to generally be on board with using the bamboo. But, he said, I had to go over and get permission with his brother a few houses down. So I go over there, and there's more smiling and explaining. Then I get sent back to Vinubhai, who has now decided to come with us and assess the stream himself. And with him a third relative joins. So we head back down, no bamboo in hand, but more people from the slum. New variable: the community must be bought in.

Vinubhai looks things over and agrees that bamboo could work, but we would need longer pieces to stretch all the way across plus 5 meters of additional slack for support, proper fastening, mounting, etc. Then the money issue. Who's paying? And now that money is in the conversation, more expensive solutions are tossed out. What about a steel-based solution? Which introduces another variable: bridge security. If we use steel, someone will attempt to steal it, it fetches a high resale price. Even if you try to anchor it, theft will find a way. So, the bridge will require spending, but it can't be too expensive. Then another variable: animals. If they step on your bamboo bridge, it will surely collapse. You have to keep room for animals to cross separately, or build with the assumption that cows will be passing through as well. Then another variable: longevity. Is this a short term or long term solution? Maybe we just build something to last the winter, and then take the time to raise money to get professionals to come in and build something legit. But then what if that doesn't end up happening? We're stuck with a short-term bridge for the long term. Then another variable: environmental-friendly solution. If we get professionals to do something with concrete, it's not as sustainable as bamboo. Earth-impact should be accounted for. Then another variable: community engagement. How many people do we want to involve? The more that come to the table, the more opinions and less chance of consensus. But you need people in the community to feel a sense of ownership over the solution. Ideally they should contribute to it themselves. But then if it gets to be too big of a deal, and the government or media catches wind, then the bureaucracy machine could get involved, and that could lead to more overhead and delays. Peepli live. And then people will propose more and more elaborate solutions, requiring more money and deeper involvement from more people. Didn't we already bring up the money variable? Vicious cycle. Wait a minute, what are we doing here again? Building a simple bridge across a simple stream to simply walk!

At this point our team was less interested in vetting the issues and more interested in doing something, so we cut all the crap and started gathering rocks. As big and as many as possible from the surrounding area. Meanwhile Jesús embedded in the stream to receive the rocks from an assembly line of workers and fashion them into a sturdy foundation. This was grueling work, standing knee-deep in rushing water ripe with bacteria and fecal matter. Once we had gathered most of the big rocks around, we found discarded burlap sacks and filled them with smaller rocks. Then, one of the youngsters came up with a genius idea... lead pipes! There were a few laying around the banks, and a few that we dug up. The nice thing about the pipes was that they don't absorb the full force of the water pressure. You set them parallel to the stream so water can just rush through. So the bridge took the form of a rock/pipe medley, and was looking great. One more pipe and a bunch more rocks and we may have something. Until...

Another local man living near the stream arrived on the scene and took particular exception to us using the pipes. These pipes belong to me, he claimed, you cannot use them like this. And then just like that, as we are working on one side of the bridge, he wades into the stream and dislodges a pipe from the other side, sending it rushing down the stream. Later we are able to talk him down and even get him on our side to help build the bridge according to (of course) his own pet design, but the damage had been done. Now we're scrambling to make due without the pipes, racing against the rising tide as the morning gets older.

And we are losing the race. The rocks don't seem to be holding well enough with the rising tide, and the sandbags instantly get punctured and flimsy once we set them down. In the end we had something of a bridge, but it seemed mildly worse than whatever was there for walking before we got there. An illusion of a strong bridge is more dangerous than no bridge. So along the bridge we did our best to dislodge what was loose and strengthen what was strong, and left it at that.

There was much food for thought from this experience, but I'll focus on two personal key takeaways. The first is the insight that in life there are rarely simple solutions, and there are a lot of complicated problems that are deceiving. I came in with the expectation that building a bridge is a self-contained problem, mostly involving engineering the right physical solution. But really it was a people, money, motivation, even political problem, at least as much as it was technical.

Second takeaway was a question to ponder: When performing actions, is the right intention enough? We came to the slum on Sunday morning with the more or less pure intention of serving the community in a small way. The problem was we were carrying a slingshot into a war where everyone else had Uzis and grenades. In retrospect it was naive to think we could come in with a few sandbags, a shovel, a bucket, and a few hours of time and expect to come up with a satisfactory solution. I told our team how I thought we should either have come with everything we would ever need (hundreds of sandbags, thousands of long thick bamboo, rope galore, a concrete machine, a suitcase of cash) or nothing at all (just to observe and understand, to come back later with proper preparation). Anything in the middle would be half-ass. And what about the fact that we walked away leaving the situation we came to fix 5% better off, plus-or-minus 10%? This was my mind's competitive, ambitious, practical impact side, yelling impatiently.

But then there is a case to make for simply acting with a pure intention. This is the long-view, million-lifetimes side of my mind, calmly whispering. Sure we only brought a slingshot, but we showed up to fight with spirit and fearlessness, didn't we? It's the William Wallace way. And just our presence there surely mattered. We showed ourselves and others around that we cared. The ripples that pure-intentioned presence creates is hard to either capture or predict. One of those kids with us, taking a lesson in determination and seeing things through, could have gotten the inspiration to do so. Or a community member, observing how much outsiders care, could start caring more herself and eventually act.

Where do these two sides of mind reconcile? I think the middle ground is paved by qualities I have come to learn about and appreciate through meditation: patience and persistence. There is not a quick-fix solution here - be patient. You want there to be a successful outcome, you don't want to develop a half-assing habit - be persistent.

On that Sunday morning, though we weren't able to bear fruits, we did plant seeds. As Goenkaji says, you can't plant bitter neem and expect to get sweet mangoes. You reap what you sow. One thing I know for sure we accomplished that day: we planted a forest of metaphysical mangoes.

So if I don't die, is the ride free?

2010-09-06T22:38:00.000-07:00

Only in India.

Pizazzed

2010-09-03T22:21:00.000-07:00

This summer Tap and I opened up an office in Ahmedabad, our own space to keep our servers and work from whenever we are here. The office is property of Tap's father-in-law, who generously let us move into the prime location in Navrangpura. I absolutely love it, a place to call my own, and it lets me live out the cliché of a computer technologist starting a new venture from humble garage-like beginnings.

When I first moved in, the office was spartan and a bit unkempt. We had our server on a plastic table with plastic chairs, the walls were barren, and there was a stubborn ant problem. Save for a decently comfortable couch and an A/C, the place had nothing interesting going for it. This was not lost on a certain few roommate-neighbor-friends (who for security purposes will remain nameless) who came and visited the office over the last few weeks. Amongst those friends, a particularly articulate one said how the office was great, but needed 'pizazz'. Yes, I thought to myself, you are tiny, but you speak the truth.

I didn't think much more of it until earlier this week after returning from my trip to Madhya Pradesh. I got back from the airport in the evening and went straight to the office to take care of some pending work. As I opened the door to the room, it was dark so I couldn't see anything. But a zen-style bell attached to the door chimed to welcome me. That got me mildly confused, but when I switched on the light I realized what had happened. While I was away, my office had been pizazzed:

The walls had posters with inspiring quotes, there was a framed picture of Gandhiji and Kasturba above the desk, a huge "Be the Change" canvas, a map of India, some inspiring trinkets here and there. I didn't notice it that night because it was dark, but in the porch/otalo area out front, some lovely flowers had been planted along the pathway:

Seeing everything that first night, I couldn't stop smiling. I had come to the office to do work, but all I could do was smile. I wrote exactly that in an SMS to my roommate and neighbors (who, again, for security purposes will remain nameless). Later I asked each of them whether they happened to know who was behind this wonderful act, but they were conspicuously silent. Verrrry interesting, because silence is not the strong suit of certain individuals. So be it, my friends, I only wish you the best in the future as what goes around inevitably comes around. I have tried not to compromise your identities here, but only so much is in my hands. May God protect you.

And so I am left to offer my gratitude to all the silent angels of the world (including those living at Shreeji Krishna Apartments, Keshav Nagar, Ahmedabad). Thank you all, for bringing a smile to my face and the warm embrace of noble friendship whenever I sit down to work in this space.

Unnati

2010-09-01T01:04:00.000-07:00

Last week I was in Madhya Pradesh visiting PRADAN and Digital Green, two organizations we have partnered with to provide voice information services like we have in Gujarat for PRADAN's operations in Dindori district (you can read about last year's visit here). I went there to co-facilitate an orientation on the voice system we had set up, which they named Unnati Kisan Seva (Unnati means "progress", also the name of the farmer's cooperative they had recently formed; kisan seva means "farmers' service").

With me in MP were Rikin, a good friend and founder of Digital Green, and DG's CTO Saureen. Both had flown down from Delhi to attend the orientation and also get updates from the field on their own collaboration with PRADAN. As a quick summary, PRADAN is an NGO working in several states in India to develop comprehensive livelihood enhancement programs in rural areas. They work on agricultural productivity, natural resource management, self-help group promotion, and other related programs to improve livelihoods. Digital Green is an innovative organization that has developed a technique for disseminating technical agricultural information in rural India using locally produced videos. They have a process developed in which they train local people in villages to produce films, organize screenings, and provide follow-up support to farmers in their area in adopting the practices in the videos. The kicker is that the videos feature local farmers themselves demonstrating the practices, which they found to be more effective than traditional agricultural extension where outsiders give top-down advice.

The day we got to Dindori we went out to to observe video production and a dissemination (i.e. a screening of a locally-produced video). I was thoroughly impressed with what I saw. The farmer being filmed for the video was a quintessential lead farmer: innovative, confident, eager to share. I was happy to learn that out of 10 videos they produce in Dindori, 6 come from first-time farmers, so it is a pretty diverse group. The dissemination, held in a church, was really well attended, and the trained local person tasked with hosting the video screening and providing support (called Agriculture Specialists, or Agri-SPs) was patient and thorough. The screening started with a recap of what was shown in the last screening and updates on whether anyone adopted those practices. Then the film was played once with the Agri-SP interjecting and emphasizing key points every now and then, then the film playing one more time uninterrupted. After that there was review of what was seen and learned in the video, and some encouragement to adopt. I later talked to Rikin about how I thought the key to these videos was striking a balance between showing something substantial (big enough so that a clear benefit can be realized) and digestible (small enough so that the practice can be readily implemented). It seems that DG has developed an effective feel for taking highly complex practices like SRI and breaking them down into self-contained sub-practices, each with their own immediate and independent benefit.

With voice-based information services like Avaaj Otalo, Rikin and I both see a potential complimentary technology to video-based information dissemination. With voice-based information access, the Agri-SPs can share common problems and experiences, quickly escalate questions from farmers to agricultural scientists working with PRADAN, and have more steady communication with the central PRADAN offices. With these goals in mind we soft-launched UKS in July.

To kick things off formally, we held an orientation for all the Agri-SPs last week. My framing for the orientation was to have it accomplish 3 goals for the Agri-SPs: awareness (about UKS and the nuts and bolts of how to actually use the automated phone service), utility (establish the need for UKS with Agri-SPs and articulate concrete benefits to using the system), and ownership (engage with the system as their own, create a sense of team amongst all the stakeholders, and put faces behind the process to bind the system together).

The orientation brought together about 40 Agri-SPs. We all sat in a hall in the PRADAN office and began the day with a lovely poem read by Archana, the head coordinator of PRADAN in Dindori. I don't remember the name of the poem, but the gist of it was a message of empowerment: "When you tell yourself you cannot do something, you hurt yourself and others. You can do anything you set your mind to". It was like a Hindi folk version of Nas 'I Can', and I thought it set the tone wonderfully.

From there Satyam (the DG coordinator in Dindori, an absolutely awesome guy) and I led the group through a full day's exposure and orientation to UKS. I'll just summarize what we did with a couple noteworthy observations. First, in the phase where we wanted to establish UKS as addressing a real need and providing actual benefit to the Agri-SPs, we tried to elicit ideas about what those were from the group itself. Better if the group comes to the conclusion that they need UKS for X, Y, and Z reasons themselves, rather than us telling them what they should think. Good idea in principle, but this ended up more or less failing. The group had difficulty articulating their own needs, and when they did, they were not what we had in mind. Another noteworthy observation from the orientation was when we had the group get hands-on with UKS by dialing the number, navigating around on their own phones, recording messages, listening to messages, etc. As my work on this project has gone on over the last couple years, I regularly get suggestions from people on ways to improve the system with new features. "Just add the ability to search through messages, that will be fantastic!", or "People should get SMS sent to them as alerts about new content", or "People should be able to upload videos". For all of those people, I wish they would have attended this orientation and watched this group of relatively savvy rural Indians call an automated system and navigate a few measly prompts to just record a message. They were confused, lacking confidence, at times completely lost. It was a vivid reminder to me why our system is so simple. If the goal is to broaden access, the barrier to entry for first-time/new users must be extremely low. They should get value from the system even if they are confused, hoping that over time they will learn how to use it. But losing them from the beginning through overly complicated interface would be a fatal mistake.

My favorite part of the session was at the end, when we summarized UKS work flow and its ecosystem of stakeholders. I had prepared this diagram to illustrate the work flow, but it really didn't come alive until Archana had three people stand up and play the roles of the various stakeholders, acting out how the system would work in a playful way. It was funny and light-hearted, and I think it helped humanize the whole system. In my mind that is key.

Despite the challenges, the orientation as a whole was a success. The group enthusiastically approved UKS with a roaring round of applause and they even had me cut a cake to celebrate the 'birthday' of UKS. Though I felt satisfied with the outcome of the orientation, I am cautious about the uptake of UKS going forward. It will take sustained effort from all stakeholders to make it all gel, which can only come with the right incentives and motivations. In fact over the summer the feeling has been growing in me that the next big question guiding future research on Avaaj Otalo should be the non-technical, human-focused aspects of making the system work. What motivates people to really engage with the system, both for information consumption and production?

This visit was a great chance to spend time with Rikin, whom I really admire. Here's a guy who graduated from MIT and started out wanting to be an astronaut, came to India to work on a bio-diesel venture, spent six months in a village in Karnataka working on agricultural extension, started DG based on what he learned, and has not looked back since. I consider Digital Green to be one of the few real success stories amidst all the recent hoopla around information technology applied to rural development in places like India. Rikin is now starting to get some recognition in broader circles, which is absolutely well-deserved. As my own work has started to gain momentum, people often suggest that I tie up with large agricultural companies, phone carriers, the government, etc. to really scale up and take the project to the next level. I'm usually quite cautious about such things, because to me it's not where your work goes, but how you get there that matters. It's why ten times out of ten I would choose to work with someone like Rikin, who may be doing something smaller-scale but does it with values and commitment that I align with. In Dindori, we've tried to do things the right way; I'm interested to see what fruits that will bear.

Finding Nimo

2010-08-30T00:38:00.000-07:00

There is certain music that defines periods in your life. For me, my college years have a very vivid soundtrack, a set of songs that when I hear them I automatically go back to my glory days living on Highland Place on the north side of UC Berkeley. One of those songs is called 'Blood Brothers', by the hip hop group Karmacy:

Brace yourself if you haven't ever heard this song. It's a rap. In Gujarati. Karmacy is a group of 4 ABCD's who have both a love and talent for hip hop music. When I was in college, Amit gifted me their album, 'The Movement'. It immediately blew my mind. All my life I had listened to hip hop, but the voices, the stories, the context, were all foreign. Black culture wasn't something in my personal experience, I was a participant from a distance. But then here was Karmacy's music that not only had the undertones, the cadence, the brashness, the spirit of hip hop, but also came from a perspective that I could directly relate to. It hit close to home, like music I would have made myself had I pursued a hip hop career.

The song Blood Brothers was especially influential to me. Let me emphasize again: it is a rap... but in Gujarati! It really was a clashing of worlds in my mind. For all intents and purposes it sounded like any other high-quality rap song I had listened to. But it was in Gujarati! I couldn't get over it, and I kept listening to it, all throughout college.

Fast forward to this summer in India and I catch wind that a dude named Nimesh Patel has been volunteering at Manav Sadhna. And then I get some vague details about how he is a rapper. That was enough, I knew immediately. It was Nimo from Karmacy, the lead lyricist in Blood Brothers. When I met him the first time, I didn't know what to expect, but I was excited. My main goal was to tell him how much his music meant to me, and my secondary goal was to get him into in a freestyle session. The first goal was sort of achieved, the second one failed altogether. The thing I didn't anticipate about Nimo is how incredibly humble the guy is. He would barely accept my praise for his music, though he was appreciative. The other thing is that Nimo has moved on from Karmacy onto other ways of expressing his creative talents. He is working with MS kids to put on street plays and other types of performance arts. So yeah, the freestyle session didn't quite happen, but I still have hope.

So why do I bring this all up? Two reasons. The first is to rub it in Amit's face that I am friends with Nimo from Karmacy. Yes Amit, Nimo and I are friends. 4 lyfe. Second reason is a fun story that happened recently about Blood Brothers. Last weekend a bunch of friends, including Nimo, were on our way back from a weekend in Pavagadh celebrating Maddog's birthday when we stopped off in Nadiad to visit Santram mandir. We got a tour and hung out, and after dinner met with some kids who were attending school there. For entertainment, Nimo gathered 20 or so kids around and busted out a verse from Blood Brothers! I was mesmerized, I didn't even think to reach for a camera to snap a picture (really kicking myself about that now). It was awesome, and though I don't think the kids got it they were loving it. But no way they loved it as much as I did. Yes Amit, I heard Nimo perform Blood Brothers live.

Fast forward again a couple days later, and I'm in my gym Parsana working out. I have my headphones on, but I catch a note of the music playing on the gym's stereo system, which they typically play Bollywood stuff on. But when I take off my headphones to listen closely, I recognize the song immediately. Blood Brothers. Playing in my gym. Nimo, there is no doubt about it, you are officially famous!

The Perfect Farmer

2010-08-28T11:09:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago I went out 4 hours by car from Ahmedabad to Bhavnagar district to visit a very special farmer, Hirji Bhinradia. Hirjibhai is one of those few real visionary farmers, a thought-leader, an influential voice for his community and Gujarat as a whole. I went to his farm to do some voice recordings for an experiment I am working on, but after we finished the recordings, had a huge meal with 3 different forms of dairy products, and took a brief nap, we went out to visit his farm.

Hirjibhai is a very progressive farmer. He doesn't use chemicals, and believes in the concept of a farmer as a steward of the land. When you are driving through the farms surrounding his village, you can immediately pick out his farm because it is the lone one surrounded by a lush, dense grove of trees. You can make out a progressive farm first and foremost by how many trees it has, how closely it looks resembles a forest.

Hirjibhai's 40 acres have wall-to-wall drip irrigation. Drip irrigation is a fundamental technique for water conservation. Hirjibhai has had drip installed on his farm for 23 years, the first one in his area to have it. He got it so long ago that at the time the government subsidy for drip didn't even exist; it's now a very common scheme. Hirjibhai had to apply for it retroactively and even had to re-install lines to be eligible.

Of course no holistic farm system is complete without animals. Hirjibhai keeps cows for two main reasons: personal dairy consumption and manure. His farm does not take any outside source of nitrogen, he uses a combination of manure and carbon from his farm, and has a vermicompost operation to decompose into fertilizer. Very simple, very effective. Hirjibhai remarked that there are many composting methods, but most are labor intensive. With manure-based fertilization, the cows do all the work. My favorite thing to do is to smell the compost produced by earthworms. Shit never smelled so wonderful. It's black gold.

Hirjibhai has a simple white cloth stretched around each of his plots. It's a technique he picked up from a TV program on countermeasures for wild pigs. The cloth makes the pig unable to see the crops. It thinks nothing is there, not even trying to knock the flimsy cloth over.

Hirjibhai's main crop is cotton. He intercrops with sesame, which I had not seen before:

Hirjibhai's cotton is from BT seeds, which is the one and only reason why he is not certified under the Jatan Certification System, the organic certification I developed with Kapilbhai in 2007. Kapilbhai has taken a strong stand against BT, saying that a sajiv kheti farmer rejects it categorically. Hirjibhai is not so hard-lined. He told me that he uses BT because it works with his farm system. He does not use any of the heavy chemical pesticides that BT cotton almost always require (which is of course Monsanto's business model). He told me that pest problems for any crop aren't so much about the pest as they are about the environment in which the crop grows. Give a crop a healthy environment (soil, sun, air, and water), and pest problems are automatically averted.

As we were walking Hirjibhai and his wife Godhavariben picked some okra from a row for dinner that night. I joked to them that in America people go to huge supermarkets to do what they are doing. Watching them made me realize how backwards I had it. I'm looking at this couple picking fresh vegetables from their farm for their dinner that night, and I consider that radical.

If I had to pick out the number one most outstanding feature of Hirjibhai as a farmer, I would say hands-down it is the way he conducts himself with his wife. It is clear by every way they interact that there is mutual respect, they listen to each other carefully, they are considerate, they are mutually supportive. Godhavariben is herself a schoolteacher in their village, so she's no slouch. But beyond that they are a team, a partnership, which I rarely see amongst couples in rural Gujarat (let alone anywhere). I would like to believe that it is a secret to their farm's success.

As I was leaving to go back home, Hirjibhai and I called Kapilbhai, who had first introduced me to Hirjibhai. When I told Kapilbhai how impressed I was with Hirjibhai and his farm, he replied, "Yes, he is the perfect farmer". High praise coming from Kapilbhai, especially given that they disagree on fundamental issues. But I felt what Kapilbhai feels, that Hirjibhai is one of those rare diamonds in the rough. Interacting with such farmers brings me a lot of joy and strength, they are the reason I do what I do.

Family inside joke

2010-08-13T08:03:00.000-07:00

"InstaCash, please hold onnnn"

Stuff Indian People Like #5: Rituals

2010-08-11T23:02:00.000-07:00

Most of us are aware that this is true from the context of the Hindu religion, which has a multiplicity of gods that are everywhere and in everything, so there is always this god or that to pray to for any situation that you are facing in life. Word is Amir Khan's latest film even satirizes this point.

But as I've alluded to before, if you look around Indian society, rituals have penetrated so many everyday things as well. Recently I've been writing a bunch of checks from my personal Indian bank account. To properly write a check in India, it's not enough to write the name, date, amount, and then sign. You also can't make a single typo and scratch anything out, or else the entire check is void. Plus you have to make sure you write 'only' after the amount and cross out any unused space, write "A/C payee" in the top left corner with two diagonal lines around it to double-ensure that the check will be deposited, and cross out the "or bearer" line to triple-ensure. And since the bank still doesn't believe you want to actually transfer money to somebody, you may get a phone call to quadruple-ensure. I swear, I got an "Are you absolutely positive?" phone call from my bank asking to process a check I had written. I was dumbfounded.

Because of all this I get so nervous when I write checks, which is ridiculous because it's just writing a check! I'd be surprised if I've had to re-write more than 5 checks out of the hundreds or more I've written in my entire life, but in the last 2 months I've had to re-write 2 out of 5. I think the thing that gets to me is in the back of my mind I feel like the bank is looking for any excuse to reject rendering the service they exist to provide. That makes me annoyed, which makes me flustered. I get this feeling repeatedly while doing everyday things in India.

Another ritual I've been engaged in recently is signing up for services with a phone company. For the past 2 months I have been trying to upgrade a phone line we subscribed to with Airtel for our research project. Note that I am trying to upgrade, meaning I want to pay Airtel more money than we currently do, but even for that they are falling over themselves in ineptitude. The ritual works as follows: every day or so I call up the Airtel representative that has been "working" with me, telling him how we needed the upgrade a month ago and asking what the status is. Then the rep apologizes and assures me he's trying his best, giving me one of a rotating list of excuses: he's been sick, he's waiting on approval from his boss, his boss has been sick, there is a death in his family, there is a death in the family of his boss. Then he ends by promising he'll get back to me within a day with a resolution. Every day he makes that promise, and like clockwork every day he breaks it. The craziest part of all is that this guy has to be aware that after 2 months of this natak, all he has produced is a raggedy trail of broken promises. And yet he continues the ritual, each day with a zeal that makes me kinda sorta believe that maybe this time he means it.

I was talking to Anjali about this and she said this is standard operating procedure in India. You have to follow up with people multiple times to get what is seemingly a simple job done, even if it is the single job that person is trained to do. So really you can't delegate work in India in the traditional sense. You still have to keep that ball juggling in your own hands because you have to remember to remind people to do their own work.

In Anjali's experience with Gramshree, it took 9 years for a shift to occur, where the group of people just below the top management took initiative and could be relied upon to carry out work without follow-up. She said it has to do with how people are educated here. People are trained to fall into line, to conform. Out-of-the-box thinking is not valued. There is an intense culture of bureaucracy and hierarchy, and I think in such an environment people are dis-empowered and lose personal drive and initiative. People are always at the mercy of some looming superior or the other, it's like a glass deewaar. And perhaps people eventually come to depend on that deewaar to nudge them forward.

I have a theory that the hierarchies and associated rituals that are deeply rooted in Indian society are a by-product of over-population. When you have so many people, creating structures and uniformity is a coping mechanism for getting things done. Have millions and millions of students applying for a limited number of college seats? Create a rigid set of standardized tests and only let in the top X scores. Have too many bank checks to process? Create a bunch of quarks to check-writing that give more chances to reject the check. The positives are that the system moves and the imposition of standards and protocol gives the perception that there is quality control going on. The negatives are that the system by definition does not adequately serve everyone, and the people become ritual-oriented, a trained population of hoop-jumpers.

As with most things, it seems the antidote is a revolution in how people think, which can come from a revolution in how people learn.

UPDATE: Coincidentally, Trishna recently posted an incredible valedictorian speech from an American high school student arguing that her own education to date has been a training in being a worker, trapped within a slave system of repetition, not a human being.

Read about other stuff Indian people like here.

Appetizer

2010-08-08T02:18:00.000-07:00

Friends, I have gotten several inquiries recently about why I haven't been writing lately. Jay passed on a message from Babumama reminding me that Big B posts to his blog every day.

The main reason for the lack of writing is that over time I've learned that when I don't have anything worthwhile to contribute, it's better to just shut up. Typically for this blog I wait for posts to write themselves; whenever I try to force them to the page I end up with something...well, forced.

That said I have been inspired to write something recently, and while I work on the post (promise it will be ready soon!), I thought I'd share some ramblings from another venue I write to from time-to-time. Amongst some of the CharityFocus coordinators, we have been using an internal Twitter-like tool to share reflections and updates with each other, mostly under the prompt, "What are you learning?" As with all things CF, it's all about the journey, and this is a fun way for us to learn from each other's journeys, 1000 characters at a time. Below are some of my recent posts to the CF-Twitter, as an appetizer for more to come here on TOI:

Aug 8

One of my favorite conversations with people is the benefits of meditation and how it has positively changed my life. Sometimes I clutch for the right language to precisely describe the virtues one develops through regular practice. Recently I was sitting in a rickshaw in India and a word came to me: gumption. Wikipedia defines the word as "courage, also known as bravery, fortitude, will, and intrepidity... the ability to confront fear, pain, risk/danger, uncertainty, or intimidation…". When you meditate, you practice seeing things through all the way. You practice resilience of mind, intense engagement, holding your mind steady against the hard gusts of thought-winds. When I played competitive soccer, a phrase we used a lot was "get stuck in." Meaning, get lost into the game. Surrender to it wholly, with intense focus, and absolutely don't disengage. Meditation is a practice of developing mental gumption, of "getting stuck" into the present moment.

Aug 7

Malcolm Gladwell: When Wayne Gretzky (greatest ice hockey player of all time) was 2 years old, his parents sat him in front of the TV to watch hockey matches and when the games were over, he would burst into tears. At that age he could hardly walk, let alone play hockey, but he already loved this thing so much that for it to end was the end of the world. So what is talent? Typically we associate it with ability, but what if talent is about being in love? A far more appealing notion of genius than a high IQ is that it is an extraordinary love for a particular thing. What separates us from the genius is that the genius loves what he or she does more than we do. bit.ly/955D8m

Aug 2

Some new research that shows poor people are more generous than rich people: bit.ly/cKZUBR The researchers imply that poor people may adopt generosity as a coping mechanism, but perhaps it's deeper than that. When you are incapacitated in one realm, you build other muscles (blind folks usually have great listening skills); poor are doing much more than cope and rich also need to do much more than indulge :)

July 22

Just learned about the remarkable story of Barbados. A Caribbean island comparable in terms of history and resources to Jamaica 40 years ago, now has twice the median income of Jamaica, is thriving economically, and has over 95% literacy while Jamaica remains poor and lacking in education. The difference? Years ago Barbadian economy had financial crisis, and country's leadership made a decision against status quo historically by exercising monetary restraint and asking its population to spend less. Labor leadership stepped up and asked people to accept massive wage cuts under slogan "Save Barbados". Business leadership recognized labor's patriotic sacrifice and decided to accept a lower profit margin. Through mutual trust and solidarity between government, business, and people later formalized as the "Social Partnership", the country came out of crisis and real wages are now higher than before cut. And Barbadians are actually happy with their political leaders! bit.ly/9dJtBH

July 21

Reflecting on this week's thought on status quo and leadership (http://bit.ly/a68fdL): Our internal status quo becomes apparent during meditation. The mind is so noisy, so chaotic. The status quo is to entertain any thought. The status quo is to disengage with the present moment, to roll in the past or roll in the future. The status quo is inattention. The status quo is to react to temporary discomfort. To go against the internal status quo is to keep the mind still, to not identify with temporary sensations, to experience them with greater awareness and patience than you thought possible. Going against internal status quo is discovering new vistas of personal strength and capability. That is self-leadership.

Rhythm Riders

2010-07-26T08:33:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to a tabla concert put on by Rhythm Riders, a local troupe of musicians and dancers. The event was on Guru Poornima, which is a day where students are to show appreciation to their teachers. This group of artists have been putting on the concert for some years now, in honor of their Guruji a well-known tabla composer named Divyang Vakil.

The concert featured Heena Patel, a fellow Berkeley Alum who has been studying tabla under this Guruji for over three years. Heena's story is really remarkable and inspirational. She graduated Berkeley Engineering at the top of her class, but wasn't sure what to do next. On a lark, she followed Nipun's suggestion to go to Manav Sadhna and volunteer. Once in Ahmedabad, she started doing some impressive work with MS but one way or another discovered a deeply embedded passion for music and the tabla in particular. She immediately took it up in earnest. Fast-forward 3 years and she now has become a full-time tabla artist, practicing 8 hours (!) a day to become the first-ever pro female tabla player from Canada. To me, Heena's an awesome example of following your Inner Voice. She was going on a certain path that did not resonate, then found one that did and completely dove into it. Whenever I meet her I can't help but feel Berkeley pride. My school produced such a person!

Besides Heena, the concert featured artists from beginner to professional. It was my first tabla concert, so there was a lot to take in. I had a few observations that were unexpected and/or surprising to me about the art of tabla:

The tabla isn't played so much as it is evoked. When these artists play, the distinct impression is that they aren't using an inanimate instrument, but rather working with a living musician with its own temperament. The artist is co-creating music with the tabla. I got this impression based on the facial expressions as the artists played. There was a lot of squinting and cringing, like they were twisting the tabla's ear to get it to sound right. Also in between sets the artists would tune their drums with a small metal hammer that they would tap on the tabla and then listen for the sound. When they put their ear to the drum after the hammer tap, it was like the music they were trying to play was in the tabla, and they were trying to find it. The other analogy I thought of as I watched was that the artist was riding a "tabla train". Meaning the tabla's intrinsic nature is for music to flow out of it, like scent from a rose, and they were just along for the ride.
Tabla musicians express showmanship in creative ways. Since they are sitting and their hands are completely occupied, they have to come up with alternative means of adding flair and personal touch to the performance. Heena, for example, was all about facial expressions and head nods and a *huge* smile. Once in a while she really got into a riff and would swing her hair around wildly. Some of the dude tabla players did the same, it made me finally understand why Zakir Hussain's hair is the way it is. Also, at the end of a riff the artist would put his signature on the performance with a last bang and let his hand go flying in the air. BA DA BAAAAM!
Advanced tabla playing isn't about calm soothing music, it is much more aggressive and intense. They weren't performing music as much as they were putting together beats. Naturally for me, I immediately began to hear the hip hop in the rhythms that were being created. It was like a freestyle rap, only using taal instead of lyrics. Virtuosity was demonstrated through the unconventionality of the beat circles (like 5 and a half which goes, 'one two three four five one-and-half one two three four five one-and-half …' with the one-and-half spoken extra fast) and the speed of play. These guys were speed demons, their hands became blurs as they played.

After the concert, I heard more than a few people say how watching it made them feel the urge to take up musical instruments themselves, which in my book is the highest compliment to the artists. As for me, it further added to my regret that I missed the class Zakir Hussain taught at my school on the music of India few years back. Come back Zakir!

Happy Birthday, My Mother

2010-07-18T10:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday! For the past 4 years I've been in India during your birthday, and haven't done much more than give you a call and send best wishes. But this year, I really felt moved to do something more, to give you a special gift. Luckily I have some wonderful friends here that helped make it happen.

When thinking about a gift for you, I thought about what you value most in life. I came up with three things: family, education, and children. With that in mind I thought of doing some sort of activity with kids here in your honor. Maybe playing with some kids, or teaching them something, or feeding them food, or just connecting and adding some value.

With that basic idea in mind I set out with Madhu, Meghna, Jigar, Jumana, Adi, and Anjali to the slum area behind our apartment to meet with some kids. We brought some bananas, peaches, and pears from the local fruitseller, and also some Parle-g's from the local shop. Once we got to the slum, finding the group of kids was really easy. Many of them were just hanging around in front of their homes.

Anjali immediately organized the children and started playing games. She is such a natural, they immediately responded to her. She had them stand in a line, in order of size, and play some simple Simon-says type games. Then all the kids stood in a line and introduced themselves and said what their favorite animal was. After that we had the kids sing for us, and they ended with a special song for you:

Finally we handed out the fruit and biscuits and they gobbled them up like goblins. Anjali made it a teachable moment by letting them know the health benefits of eating fruit and also how they should dispose of the peels so that cows can eat. We left after sharing smiles and gratitude.

Another thing you like is plants and gardening, so in your name we planted a tree at ESI (next to Gandhi Ashram). It was a coconut tree, which Jumana explained was special because every component of the coconut tree from the bark to the leaves to the husk, shell, and of course fruit, can be utilized. I thought that it was fitting to plant this type of tree for you, since you are such a giving person. After planting all of us wished you happy birthday.

I hope you like your gift, it was the least I could do to show how much I appreciate the person you are. You are an inspiration in my life, I have learned and will continue to learn so much from you. You are the best Mom I could have ever asked for, and I hope on your birthday this year you are able to feel the love from me and the many others who have been touched by you. It is the least we can do for all the love you have shown us.

Also special shout-out to my friends for celebrating Mom's birthday with me. You really made the day special.

Desiland

2010-07-17T12:09:00.000-07:00

There is a traveling carnival set up close to our house, and the other night me, MAM, and Jig went to go check it out. Jig warned that it would be 'bogus'. Our cook Aartiben called it a 'circus'. Earlier I was telling Jayeshbhai how I was looking forward to checking out 'Great Ahmedabad' (after my hometown Great America). But Jayeshbhai himself came up with the best name of all: Desiland.

Desiland is a bizarro amusement park. It's amusing, yes, but not so much because it's fun, more because it's fun-ny. As we walked around the fair I found myself constantly comparing it to amusement parks back home. The main contrast was that the experience was nothing like the thrill I had running around Great America as a kid. I really can't put it nicely, the place felt depressing. It was dirty, the rides were rickety and polluting, the attendants were unkempt and lived in tents behind the park. It was the first time I got on a ride and wanted it to end halfway through. On one ride we watched a woman puke, and then the attendant cleaned it up by splashing a jug of water here and there.

And yet Desiland delivered some serious entertainment value. Here's a tour in pictures (w/ captions):

India's Next Top Artist

2010-07-13T10:59:00.001-07:00

Last week I checked out an art exhibit organized by Nipun's aunt Shetal Chokshi (she looks so much like Harshida Aunty!). She runs a school called Decent where children practice painting and drawing. The goal of the school is to 'unleash the artist within', which it has been doing for the past 18 years. Kids come to her as young as 4 and 5 and she teaches them art and expression, and by the time they're 14 or 15 an exceptionally high percentage are award-winning artists (the girl pictured below's parents showed me a gold medal prize she won from a competition in Eastern Europe).

The exhibition, 'Creations 2010', was held in a hot but spacious room with all white walls. Each student had a portion of wallspace where they displayed 4-6 pieces. Each artist stood in front of their work and mostly received praise from passing patrons, but also answered questions, etc.. Some held little books for writing comments.

The drawings were absolutely incredible. The first thing that stood out to me was the use of color. Such vibrant color. The students experimented with various mediums, one being crayon. It reminded me how awesome crayons are, why don't more artists draw with them?

The second thing that stood out was the imagination of the artists. The kids demonstrated a vast range from explicit, concrete imagery to abstract and even devotional art. Some of the scenes really brought you back to childhood, both in terms of what we used to do (play tag, dance, do mischief) and how we used to think and see the world. Madhu remarked how looking at the art made him feel the urge to take up drawing again, which is a pretty high compliment. I told Madhu and Nipun how I was in awe of how such beauty and raw creativity came from all those little hands. In contrast I look at my hands and all that comes out is code (though I do believe there is poetry in well-written code).

Below are some of my favorite works. These two are so playful and colorful, they brought me back to how I saw the world when I was a kid:

These both are so intricate, I love the top one which I thought was a social commentary on industrialization in India. From a 13-year-old!:

I love this one for the breathtaking expression on the face of the girl. How such a young person could capture that I have no idea:

And finally this one, which just seems fantastically clever coming from a 9-year-old:

Signage

2010-07-09T07:51:00.000-07:00

Two funny signs/descriptions that I've come across recently:

Who knew eating a mango was so damn complicated? To prepare for eating, place in a certain orientation, wrap in newspaper, wrap in newspaper again, put in a corner of a room, put hard clothes on them? It's almost like a KESAR pooja. I didn't get to taste these, but they better have been one-in-a-million mangoes to go through all this trouble. Also, what happens if you don't do the pooja correctly? Do the mangoes deflate? Mutate into durians? And by the way, for the rest of my life any time I write KESAR I will use all-caps. Because I like to keep it real.

This is the lock we use for our apartment. Needless to say I am thrilled that Hitler protects our house. He even tested it himself, 'OK'? Only in India.

Happy Rains!

2010-07-05T23:43:00.000-07:00

Till recently monsoon season had not begun in Ahmedabad. Anticipation was building throughout the city, especially for me because I find it oppressively hot here. Then the other day Jig and I were walking outside and I remarked to him that the day was particularly humid, which was a sign that rain was coming. Jig said maybe, but he was skeptical because in Ahmedabad the rains are a tease. All the clouds show up but they don't do anything.

But later that night we were having dinner at Seva Cafe and the clouds absolutely opened up and it started dumping rain. And I mean it was coming out in bucketfuls, like nature was having a water liquidation (no pun intended) sale, it just had to push product out by any means necessary.

At Seva Cafe they moved all the tables out of the open area and people went in and started dancing in the rain (the traditional monsoon celebration). Wildly and crazily. There happened to be a group of percussionists who had come to perform that evening. Once the dancing began they decided to stick around and provide the music for the occasion. It was garba, bhangra, high energy monkey-dancing, the works. People were soaked to the bone, but it didn't matter.

The mood was joyful, raucous, exuberant, relieved, blissful. I kept thinking about the parties that must be going on in villages throughout Gujarat. The arrival of monsoon is something that is celebrated because most of agriculture in the state is rainfed (i.e. not irrigated). Every year I come here and hear about the desperation of farmers as they wait for the rains, and every year when the rains come I hear about the jubilation that subsequently ensues. For me personally, it is also a huge source of happiness. The thing I love most is that I finally can feel a cool breeze on my skin, one of the top 5 things I miss from home.

This night it was fun to celebrate the first rain. A Manav Sadhna volunteer from Spain, Jesus, remarked to me how people back home receive the rains with disdain. It's the opposite of celebration. It's true in California too, where people generally dismiss winter rain as an annoying interruption to the normally perfect weather. So when we were leaving Seva Cafe and someone wished us "Happy rains," it sounded odd to my ear. But really, it's the perfect way to describe the feeling of the day. Happy rains!

Morning Tea

2010-07-05T23:29:00.001-07:00

July 1st was Nipun and Guri's wedding anniversary. In celebration Jayeshbhai asked everyone in and around the MS ecosystem to do small, random acts of kindness in their honor. I was part of an especially hard-core group whose act was to serve chai to people at the Ahmedabad train station, Kalupur, in the middle of the night.

We began at 12am at Jayeshbhai's where we woke up Nipun and Guri to kick off their anniversary with a cake cutting, which was presided over by idols of all the major religions (a la their interfaith wedding ceremony). After they went to sleep we went to work making chai in a huge vat in Jayeshbhai's kitchen, simultaneously trying to stay awake, get in high spirits for the task ahead, and also keep quiet to not wake up the couple.

The tea was ready by about 2am (I fell asleep on the couch while the others powered through), and then we set out for the station. There were about 10 of us. Once we got there we started by standing in a circle, holding hands, and said a prayer. I like how that grounded us and added a sense of sacredness to what we were about to do. Then we split into two teams, each with a kettle of tea, setting out to gift people a late night refreshment.

While the other group set out for the periphery of the station to offer to the rickshawwallas, my team went into the station itself. We wanted to go onto the platform where trains were coming and going, but the police officer at the security entrance did not let us through. We explained as best we could that we were simply trying to serve with no strings attached, but the guard refused. So we made due with roaming around in the front lobby of the station, where a hundred or so people were huddling about in groups on the floor. We started to ask people if they would like tea. At first there were just confused looks and refusal, and some of our group began getting a little restless and frustrated. But then our first cup of chai was accepted, then another, then another. Things were starting to pick up when another police officer who was watching us called us over. "You can't do this, you will have to leave," he said sternly. We tried to explain that all we were doing was offering tea to anyone who would want it, and that we considered it seva. "You call giving away tea seva? That is not seva," he said. Considering what we were doing as an act of kindness was completely off his radar, a paradigm he had no familiarity with. He started to threaten us, saying he will end things forcefully if we don't leave immediately. The tension had clearly escalated, so we left.

Some in our group got really rattled by the cop, upset and confused. Why are they hassling us? Why don't they get it? We are never going to be able to serve all this tea. Should we just give up? Go somewhere else? Frustration, doubt, fear. It was a surprise to me that these emotions came up, since for some reason I had it in my mind that doing random acts of kindness in India was much easier than in the U.S. Back home, where we organize hear the homeless or similar events, you expect these emotions, some level of fear for new volunteers, and confusion for those we encounter, because you assume it's a sharper shift for our me-first culture. But in India? People should be seva veterans, it should be smooth sailing. But here we were at 3am in a train station with a jug full of chai, getting hassled by cops, rejected our offering by a half dozen people, wondering whether we were crazy for what just 15 minutes ago seemed like a holy act. To me it was a realization that small, random, radical acts of kindness is a language that is a challenge to speak no matter where you are in the world.

What was remarkable was our group's recovery. First, we realized that the cops were just doing their jobs. What if we were lying to them about free chai, and were actually trying to sell? Even worse, what if we were trying to do harm to people with spiked tea? The more we thought about it, the more we felt that the cops were not at fault. So we let that go. And we kept on going, one cup at a time, eventually catching the spirit back. We soon had given away all our chai, and received gratitude and many smiles in return. After the chai, we stepped it up by buying 26 packages of biscuits from a vendor in the station and offering those out. For the biscuits, I walked around with an open package for anyone and everyone to take, only I made a point to always be eating one myself to assure people that they were safe. I ended up eating a package of them, even though I don't particularly care for Indian tea biscuits, especially at 4am. Brutal.

The recovery from the cop run-in was complete at the end of the night when Parul, one of the volunteers with us, reported successfully serving tea and biscuits to a police officer in the station. Persistence pays off!

There were a few small stories from the experience that stuck with me. The first is about Meghna, who was serving in my group. Watching her in action was incredible. When you try to do an act of kindness for a stranger, the most crucial part is creating context for the act with the person you are serving. Even a well-intentioned act, if not set up properly, can lead to mis-interpretation and/or suspicion. For example, what didn't work was going up to a person and asking, "Would you like some tea?" They can interpret that so many ways. Maybe you are trying to sell, maybe you are trying to play a prank, maybe you're just some nut with a jug. The person has little basis to assess the offering you are making, they don't know you. The key is to create context and comfortable report simply and quickly. What worked for me was starting by explaining who we were and why we were serving: "We have two close friends whose marriage anniversary is today. These friends have served others in many wonderful ways. In their honor, we have come here to do a small act of service. Would you allow us to serve you a cup of chai?"

What does this all have to do with Meghna? Well, she is the queen of context. It was amazing how effortlessly she was able to connect with people and bring them in. She is such a caring person, people can just feel it. I loved watching her and studying how she engaged people, how she spoke, her smile, her fearlessness. She had no hesitation approaching the poorest, sickest, dirtiest. And all with boundless energy. What an inspiration.

One rickshawwalla, after having his chai, was moved enough to help us clean cups for the next recipients. Pay-it-forward!

Last thing I'll share is this picture, which is of us serving tea to a chaiwalla! It's like selling water to a well. But he accepted our offering and enjoyed it. Hopefully it was up to his standards.

Landon's Life Goal

2010-06-24T19:09:00.000-07:00

By now many of you have heard about and/or seen the most important goal in the history of American soccer during my lifetime:

I was lucky to have caught the goal from here live. We had just finished Wednesday Meditation at Madhu and Meghna's, and Tap and I switched on the TV to see if we could catch the game. We tuned into USA vs. Algeria in the 83rd minute. When I saw that the score was 0-0, I thought to myself, "perfect timing!" We probably hadn't missed much. Very quickly from the pace of the game (frenzied and intense) the gravity of the situation started to hit me. We had to score a goal to advance. "This is the most important 6 minutes of Landon Donovan's professional life", I declared aloud in the 84th minute.

Why did I single out Landon? Because he is the best soccer talent the US has ever home grown. Because he, more than any other, represents American soccer worldwide. For someone like myself, who spent probably 95% of my free time between ages 4-18 playing soccer, there is a bit of kinship there and a sense of vicarious living. Out of all us who played and loved this game, gave so much of ourselves to it, he was the chosen one, the best of all of us. He is carrying the torch, you just hope he does something great with it.

Up to this game Landon's career has widely been regarded as a disappointment. Such high hopes and expectations on his shoulders, and he hasn't quite delivered on the biggest stage. But after his historical ups and downs this goal happens and in one moment all those hopes and dreams are realized. The thing is, the goal itself was relatively simple. But all of the hard work and practice and toil of a lifetime, the preparation for game after game over an entire career, the development of instincts and feel for your teammates, all of that came to bear in that single moment. He knew what run to make when his goalie got the ball, he started the attack, and was in the exact perfect position to bury that goal. There was nothing easy about that goal, there was a lifetime of work that went into it.

I watched the goal and when it went in I jumped up with an "OHHHHH!", but I really didn't know what to do. It was a bit of a shock, it felt like a fairy tale. "Match winner", I thought to myself. He had done it. Then the team celebrating, then the final whistle and Landon kicking the ball into the stands, his teammates giving him more hugs and thanks. It was an incredible moment, I kept thinking about it that night and was on a high.

Next day I read the recap of the game and I found myself searching quickly for Landon's comments. What was going through his head at this point?

"This team embodies what the American spirit is about," Donovan said. "We had a goal disallowed the other night. We had another good goal disallowed tonight. But we just keep going. And I think that's what people admire so much about Americans. And I'm damn proud."

"The moment kind of slowed down for me. It was as much a reaction as anything," Donovan said. "I kind of hesitated. I didn't know if he was going to play it across the goal or try to cut it back to me. Once he played it in front of the goal, I didn't sprint, but I kept my run going and once it popped off the goalie, then I picked up a little to get there."

"... It's something I'll have imbedded in my mind forever."

I was hoping he would put the goal in perspective in terms of what it means for his career, but it didn't matter. As I was reading his words I looked down and noticed I had goosebumps on both my arms, and was getting chills. The reaction made me think that a hidden personal dream had come to the surface through this moment, maybe I played all those years to try and make it on that stage myself in that moment and make that play for my country. Not sure, but I was sure that Landon had done it now, and what I felt most was happiness for him.

Of all the friends I grew up with playing soccer, there are at least 3 who I know read this blog: Gene (played D-1 at UC Santa Barbara, helping to make it a top-5 national program), Nate (played D-1 at UCSB, then professionally in the US), and Pav (dominated California youth soccer for a 1-2 year stretch when we were about 14, the best athlete of South Asian decent I have ever played any sport with). Dudes, what was your reaction to this goal, what did it mean to you?

Radiating Love

2010-06-22T20:06:00.001-07:00

Last night I had the fortune of sharing dinner with both my advisor Tapan and Jayeshbhai (and at Seva Cafe no less!). It was wonderful because it was a chance to further blur between my work/research life (represented by Tap) and my service/values life (represented by Jayeshbhai). Not that Tap doesn't already share many of the same values (it's one of the reasons we work well together and also why I feel blessed with the type of mentorship I'm getting in grad school), but he hadn't met Jayeshbhai formally and it was great to finally get them together.

In typical form, Jayeshbhai dropped whatever he was doing and took the time to tell the Manav Sadhna story to Tap with full focus and devotion. It's really hard to capture Jayeshbhai, what he represents to me, in words. He is a pure-hearted, inspirational soul dedicated to serving others with humility, compassion, generosity, and most of all love. He just radiates love.

I wanted to share three tidbits from Jayeshbhai from the night:

He was describing to Tap the humble beginnings of MS. He, his wife Anarben, and their friend Virenbhai were moved to serve children in any small way. Not necessarily to even teach them or empower them in any traditional sense. He used the words, "just giving value." They would go out to the street or a slum area and meet with kids, play with them, clean them, cut their nails, feed them snacks, etc. Just make them smile. From that small intervention things snowballed. They realized kids needed to earn to support their families, so they set up an "earn and learn" program to teach skills while generating income. Then they saw that parents also needed to be supported, so they started women's empowerment programs and eventually Gramshree. Then they saw that kids had trouble going to schools because of affordability and accessibility, so they started street schools. And on and on until they had developed a holistic set of programs for upliftment and empowerment. Jayeshbhai at one point talked about a contrast in their approach to western-style social welfare programs. He said that in many cases the west puts results at the top, logic second, and relationships at the bottom. He said that MS operates in the opposite way: start with relationships, then apply logic, and the results will follow.
Another powerful story Jayeshbhai told was about a small act rippling into big impact. Like any other household, at Jayeshbhai's and Anarben's home, when guests would come over they would serve them tea. But at some point they asked why should that be limited to just their friends and acquaintances? So one day Jayeshbhai goes out into a busy public area, asking passers-by, "Would you like to come to our home and have tea?" And like that Jayeshbhai began having tea with strangers in his home. One of those strangers was a vegetable seller, who was carrying a huge heavy parcel of vegetables on her head. As they had tea, Jayeshbhai learned that she was very poor and had to walk miles with that parcel every morning to sell her vegetables to be able to earn for her children. Because she was on foot, she would have to leave her home at 4am to get to the market on time. Jayeshbhai asked if she would benefit from having a wooden cart to transport her vegetables, and she said of course. So Jayeshbhai gets one for her. A few months later she comes back to tell him how much the cart has made a difference for her, how much time and effort she saves and how grateful she is. And to top it all off she hands Jayeshbhai Rs.800 to pay him back for the cart! Jayeshbhai is moved by this, but instead of keeping it he asks the woman to bring back someone else she knows who would benefit from having a cart, so they could pay forward. The woman brings back a friend, who then brings a friend of hers, and so on until eventually they had funded 59 carts! And all of it started from a simple but radical cup of tea. It's a reminer that even a seemingly small act of kindness can lead to powerful ripple effects that we cannot predict.
The last Jayeshbhai story wasn't from last night, but one that my cousin Jigar (a.k.a. Jig a.k.a. JEEEE-gah) told me recently. When Jig first came to India a few months ago, he was being introduced to people in and around the MS ecosystem. At one point he ran into a highly regarded social changemaker in Ahmedabad. Jig had heard good things about this person, so he approached the changemaker to introduce himself. But this person basically blew Jig off; they were busy schmoozing and shaking hands and generally carrying on with an air of self-importance. Jig felt like the person totally ignored him. Then some time later Jig was at MS minding his own business and in the far distance from the corner of his eye he noticed Jayeshbhai, whom he had yet to meet. But as Jig looked over he saw that Jayeshbhai, who himself was surrounded by people and busy, had noticed Jig, trying to make him out. Then he started to walk over. Jayeshbhai came up to Jig and said, "You are Samir's brother, right?" When Jigar said he was, Jayeshbhai immediately welcomed him and made him feel at home. He had never met or seen Jigar, had no special reason to try and find out who he was, but still he went out of his way to welcome him. And then here is Jigar months later recalling that incident and how much it meant to him and how good it made him feel. To me that is the essential teaching of Jayeshbhai. Whatever the circumstance, however chance, there is an opportunity to show love, and there is absolutely every possibility that you can deeply touch a person through even a small gesture.

The best portion of a good man's life is his little, nameless unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
--William Wordsworth

Editor's Note: Photos courtesy of MegaCreative and Mariette

The Organic Indian: Season 4

2010-06-14T08:11:00.000-07:00

My favorite TV show of all time is HBO's The Wire. The show is set in Baltimore and explores urban America through the lenses of drugs, crime, poverty, politics, and media. The show is a marvel of contemporary television, a work of art that can appeal to the casual viewer, the critic, and everyone in between. The show ran for five seasons, with many including cultural pundit Bill Simmons claiming that Season 4 of The Wire was the single best season of any television program in the history of television.

It's hard for me to disagree. The first three seasons of The Wire saw the development of subtly deep and complex story lines, etching and sketching of unforgettable characters, all the while setting up for something extraordinary. Season 4 was that something. It was mind-blowing, the show went to a higher place.

And in the same way here we are, at the 4th season of this blog. The first three seasons no doubt had their share of complex story lines. In Season 1, like in Season 1 of The Wire, it was about being introduced to the game. I lived in an Ashram, coming to grips with a reality in which my toilet was a hole in the ground, rats ran into my shower, and I worked out as if I was in a jail cell. I also started to learn about rural India and agriculture, setting the stage for future adventures.

Season 2 of The Wire was about broadening the perspective. How do drugs and gangs in urban Baltimore relate to the blue-collar community of Baltimore port workers? I, too, broadened in Season 2. I went from exploring and learning to doing. I had a project and people to manage, and results to achieve. Season 3 of The Wire was about "the more things change, the more they stay the same", where we see the futility of trying to wage a "war on drugs." Lock up the ruling drug kingpin, and another one steps right in to claim the crown, unfathomably more ruthless and diabolical than his predecessor.

Season 3 of TOI wasn't so ruthless as it was diabolical. OK, that didn't make sense. But still, things changed, and also stayed the same. I found new stuff to make fun of, like Bollywood movies, eating at McDonald's, and my cousin Samir. But I continued to develop Avaaj Otalo from the summer before, and I continued to find reasons why living in India was both uncomfortable and amazingly wonderful.

The Wire's fourth season brilliantly wove in the education system and urban youth into the rich quilt of plots and subplots that had already been established. The new perspective took the show to a whole other level. In this, the fourth season of TOI, I will similarly take things to the next level. This will be the single best season of blogging in the history of blogging.

Why so confident? Because I've got a small (~3) but hardcore group of readers who continue to encourage me. The most prominent of those readers is my uncle, Babu Patel. Babumama goes on the Internet as a part of his daily routine, and he visits the same small handful of websites every day. He only reads two blogs: this one and Amitabh Bachchan's blog. So yeah, it's just me and Big B. To me it means Babumama regards this blog highly, which is why I've endorsed him as President of The Organic Indian Reader's Association (Vice President and Head of Legal Affairs is Tarandeep Kaler).

The Prez and I chatted for a bit on my vision for this season of blogging. I told him I wanted to do more frequent posts, but shorter, hearkening back to the first season. He really had no comment, just kept talking about how good Bachchan's blog is. He asked me why it was that when he googled "Amitabh Bachchan" the blog came right up, but when he googled my name this blog was nowhere to be found. I told him because millions read Bachchan's blog, and tens read mine. Then he asked, "Why don't more people read your blog?" Good question.

Which brings us to my goals for this summer. In order of importance:

Take the top spot from Big B in my uncle's blog reading rotation. Your ass is mine Paa.
Continue to develop Avaaj Otalo, improving its capabilities and functionality and expanding its use with new partners. We already have set up a second phone line for PRADAN/Digital Green in Madhya Pradesh, and there could be one or two other deployments launching in other parts of India.
Graduate. As hard as it is to believe, I don't go to India every year just to goof off. In between I'm trying to do enough to satisfy my advisors to let me graduate. It's been a long road, but a very valuable one. And now I can see a hint of a flicker of a light at the end of the tunnel. This summer I will be trying to take some significant steps in my thesis work.

Last order of business is my customary disclaimer, in case you are a new reader. The purpose of this blog is two-fold: one, a way for me to stay in touch with family and friends back home; and two, to entertain you, the gentle reader. I am not trying to be particularly smart or insightful or a good writer, so if you want to challenge me in one or more of those dimensions, know that I have preemptively conceded defeat. Although I try to write things I can stand by, I also reserve the right to change my position any time, any place. This blog is more firehose than laser beam, I try not to edit and craft too much as I think the end result is something more authentic to my state of mind at a given moment. So while I think some posts have come out as thought-provoking and important, in general I hope this blog comes off more Colbert than Crossfire.

I'll end with a story, and like last year it is about my mom. The day before my flight my mom and I were driving to Target and we were talking about vivid memories in one's life. There are certain memories that for one reason or another stick with you, and you can recall them and remember every detail even if the time was decades ago. My mom was telling me how two very vivid memories for her are the births of me and my brother. She remembers exactly the look on our faces when we came out: I came out guns blazing, eyes wide looking around frantically here and there and everywhere, as if saying, "what is going on here?" Mom said that made her think that my personality was driven and purposeful, a "I am here for a reason" kind of personality. My brother came out perfectly peaceful and calm, there was a little crying when the umbilical was cut but after that just peaceful and restful. My mom says she remembers sitting in the hospital room with Jay and seeing my dad and me through the window. She remembers me holding Dad's hand, then him holding me up to see Jay, and she remembers me poking at the window to Jay, saying "Baby, baby". She'll always remember those memories, they'll stick with her forever.

For me, a disproportionately high number of vivid memories are from my times in India. Maybe it's because this place still feels foreign which takes me out of my comfort zone, and as a result I have a heightened awareness to things going on. But I think it's more than that. I have genuinely amazing life experiences here. I tend to come here with an exploratory mindset, and a sense that I have no control over what's going on. I'm just along for the ride, and when you live life with that mentality it seems like you unconsciously create space for things to flow in organically memorable ways. I have three seasons of proof that these are some of the most wonderful times of my life, and I expect Season 4 to be no different.

Aal Izz Well That Endz Well

2010-01-05T00:10:00.000-08:00

Editor's note: This is the final in a series of retroactive posts I wrote about my last month or so in India. I was motivated to write these after coming home and interacting with several people who followed this blog, whom I had never met. They told me how much they enjoyed and appreciated my writings. Then Yoric gushed about it talking about how he set it up to get new posts emailed, etc.. That's when I knew I owed you all a strong finish. Previous retroactive posts are here, here, and here.

My six months in India have come to an end, and I'm back in California. Honestly, it was an absolute whirlwind, and I don't know where the time went. I was telling friends that I felt that the 6 month stay actually felt shorter than the 3 month trips I did the previous two years. When I had 3 months, it felt like a sprint; I had a lot on my plate and was in 5th gear for most of those 12 weeks. But when I looked ahead to 6 months, I knew I couldn't sprint all the way, so I made sure I settled in, got into a nice living situation with good food, balanced work and social life, travelled more. And once you're settled in and comfortable, the time just flies.

The last couple weeks in India were hectic. I was wrapping up Avaaj Otalo development and launched the phone line with DSC. Things got tense when a certain sarkari-phone-company-not-to-be-named-here took 2 months to do a job they promised me would take two weeks. I was bewildered trying to get them to finish; I had to be on their ass every day, calling to make sure they weren't going to blow me off.

Then there was my cousin Keya's wedding, which was fun. All my family from California came, which made me homesick. The familiar faces and talk about home and how I'd be going back. Soon half of my mind left to go back home, the other tending to the loose ends in India. I think this was a contributing factor to me being sick for most of the last two weeks I was there.

It was an unfitting cap to my trip to India, which was my best stay there ever. I mentioned my living situation. The uncleji that hosted me was great and his house was spacious and gorgeous. I had monkeys in the front yard and peacocks in the back. And then I was a 2-minute walk from only the most hi-fi gym in all of Ahmedabad, Studio de Physique. In retrospect it was a godsend that it was the most expensive gym in the city. It meant it wasn't ever crowded, leaving me to work in peace.

But probably the biggest factor to my enjoyable stay was the friends I had. It was incredible luck to have Samir, Madhu, Meghna, Sachi, Anjali, Jignasha, Nirali, Aditi, Chandni, Shiven, and others to hang out with. But especially Sam and MAM. I will never forget how much fun it was lounging with you guys in Safal late night talking and eating cookies-cream (that's not a typo, that's how the flavor is spelled) and watching movies. I remember the night we almost watched Khwaab (why are you guys so embarrassed about such a great accomplishment?!?!) and instead watched Ali G and Samir was rolling. Or the night we celebrated Jayeshbhai and Anardidi's anniversary with the cake and framed photos only I was sick with food poisoning so I couldn't enjoy but it was Jayeshbhai so I felt happy anyway. Madhu feeling embarrassed about his dance that Meghna caught on tape and played for everyone. Me always encouraging Madhu by saying what a talented singer and dancer he is. Meghna's counter: the story about how Madhu used to fake play a keyboard on the roof of his apartment to impress a girl on the next roof. Dinners at our special restaurant, Cellad. Meghna, tell me if you ever figure out what that stupid sentence painted on the wall means. Dinner at Crazy Noodles where Maddog said he would just eat soup but ended up eating a load. Or that dinner the three of us had at La Fiesta where we got into deep conversation about fear and living life effortlessly (I had just finished my 10-day and MegaCool had just come back from Narmada walk). Or that night we all were at Jayeshbhai's making those masks for Jesus' birthday. Madddog remember the mask that you made that got rejected? I kept that in my closet and looked at it every morning. Or when Maddog broke out Mafia Wars at the office to show me how big of a gangster he had become in a pathetic game played by a worldwide network of pathetic guys. Giggling behind Meghna's back while she was at the computer doing real work. Meghna complimenting my ability to compliment people. Anytime you need one call me!

I really could go on, and probably should because those memories are golden and priceless and joyful. Madhu and Meghna, I am so glad we got to bond, and I hope we stay friends for life. You two will always make me smile.

And this brings me to my present state of mind, being back at home: unsettled. Mixed feelings. For both of my other two trips to India, my favorite memory was on the plane ride home, looking out the window as we made the decent into SFO. I remember distinctly the feeling of pride for my home, happiness to be back in my turf, the place I love. Not this time. I felt uncomfortable from the moment I got back. I was in culture shock because everyone spoke English. But the discomfort went much deeper than that. Even now sitting here, I don't feel like I belong here. I don't feel like I relate to people here as much as I used to. People here have a different set of problems. They get upset when the Caltrain is 5 minutes late. Or that someone cut them off on the freeway or even "bigger" issues like when the AT&T network was down for 24 hours in San Francisco and the Twitterverse was ablaze with outrage. I absolutely can't relate to that, not any more. For six months I lived in a place where there is real suffering, and you see it every day. Sure, maybe I didn't do much about it, but I knew that my problems are just "problems." Minuscule. And I come back here to realize that all the people whom I considered my community don't see it the same way. People here are afflicted with a narrow perspective, they see life through only one angle. Oblivious. I must have left something back in India, part of who I am. Maybe eventually I'll be 100% Californian again, but not today. Today I feel like a foreigner in my own birthplace.

Signing off till next time,
TOI
San Francisco, January 2010

Bada-ss Beach

2009-12-25T23:42:00.000-08:00

Editor's Note: This is the third in a series of retroactive blog posts I plan to write on my final month or so in India. First one is here, second here.

The Vipassana center that I sat a course at, in Bada, Kutch, is right on the Indian coast. On a recommendation from Meghna, after the course I walked (with a few fellow students) to the coast to visit a nearby beach. The walk up to it was very dramatic; we ventured through some farms and the coast was nowhere to be seen. Then we approached a small dune:

We walked up the dune and the Indian Ocean opened up in all its vastness. I was speechless and excited. The beach was totally secluded. You could look for miles in both directions and there wasn't a soul.

This was the most beautiful beach I have ever been to. The combination of isolation, pristine warm water, immaculate, soft sand, mild breeze, smell of the ocean air, the small shells scattered on the shore... I just sat there for an hour looking out and watching the waves. Such a wonderful atmosphere. It was a tremendous cap to a solid 10 days of meditation. I found the course very challenging; faced some deep-rooted impurities and came to discover key aspects to work on in my practice. Next stop: serving a course back in North Fork. Can't wait.

Teak is Weak

2009-12-19T15:41:00.000-08:00

Editor's Note: This is the second in a series of retroactive blog posts I plan to write on my final month or so in India. First one is here.

A group of 12 of us got together to visit the Dangs, a forested tribal area near Surat. The goal was to get away, be in a place of natural beauty, learn about tribal people and their culture, and bond with some friends and family. Samir, Jay, and my Dad were with me, and a bunch of friends from Ahmedabad, Baroda, and Bombay. Many activist types, which made for lively discussions and bonding.

Below is a photo diary of the trip. As always, be sure to pause and flip through manually so you can read the captions. Anjoy!

Madhya Pradesh: Life is Like a Box of Crayons

2009-12-15T00:40:00.000-08:00

Editor's Note: This is the first in a series of retroactive blog posts I plan to write on my final month or so in India. I've back dated to when I should have written the posts for you to enjoy. Yes, I blew it.

Over the weekend I went to Madhya Pradesh on an invitation by PRADAN. I was to end up at their office in a village called Dindori, but getting to it was really tough. I took a flight from Ahmedabad to Bhopal, where a car picked me up and we drove for 12 hours to Dindori. The good news was that the ride was very comfortable and gave me a chance to relax after an extremely busy couple months in Ahmedabad. Felt like a mini-vacation. But also I was treated to the absolutely breath-taking scenery of rural Madhya Pradesh. It is a sparsely populated country with a lot of open land. I felt it had a qualitatively different feel from rural Gujarat. The air was crisper and the colors were sharper. Above all else I felt there were such vibrant colors.

When I got to PRADAN's Dindori site I was taken to visit some of the villages where they have programs. I was taken aback by their beauty. I was especially struck by the look of the homes, their gardens, and the surrounding nature.

Look at the plants, and the field of yellow flowers. Just gorgeous. Only God can color with these crayons:

My favorite thing about the village homes were the huge squashes that grew from the roofs:

The reason for my trip to MP was to meet with PRADAN and discuss my work with DSC and to brainstorm how the same voice technology we have developed for farmers in Gujarat could apply and integrate into the programs PRADAN has going on in MP. In particular they are working with Digital Green and my friend Rikin on disseminating agricultural practices through locally produced DVDs. I think there is a natural synergy between the voice technologies and the DG approach, so it was exciting to discuss ideas with the PRADAN staff. One thing I loved about them was their level of energy, enthusiasm, and commitment to their work. PRADAN makes a point to send young talent to their field offices, so it isn't uncommon to see a 24 year-old managing programs for hundreds of villages. These youngsters, especially the females, are absolutely inspiring. Their level of commitment, and their ability to empathize and relate to rural people was very impressive to see. PRADAN works their field staff hard for a few years, then those staffers may move on to do other things in their career, a la TFA or the peace corps. Then PRADAN brings in the next batch of youngsters fresh out of college or MBA school to train and send out to the field. I find it to be an effective system, especially in contrast to a place like DSC where the older, long-term staff can sometimes act unmotivated, lethargic, and disconnected from the field.

At the end of the meetings and brainstorming sessions, we concluded that there were some gaps in their operations in terms of efficient information gathering and sharing, and that the gaps could readily be addressed through a voice-based information system. So next year I will work with PRADAN to launch a system in MP! It's exciting because it's an opportunity to extend my research project to a new context, and to work with an NGO that in my estimation is a top NGO in all of India in terms of genuine work that has a real impact.

Remember the Troops Day

2009-12-01T07:21:00.000-08:00

Dear Soldier,

I am glad you found your way to this blog post, because I wrote it just for you. Recently I have been listening to a lot of personal stories from the War in Iraq and it has inspired me to declare today, December 1, to be Remember the Troops Day.

I am against war. That isn't to say that I think wars should never be fought, but more that I think it should be a last resort after all other options have been thoroughly pursued. So when we went into Iraq, at first my total attention was towards the Iraqi people. I cared about innocents dying, the destruction of their society, the raping of their resources. I remember my drives to school in 2006 when I would listen to the news report about the latest suicide bomb or car bomb or IED and another 10, 15, 20, innocent Iraqis would be reported killed. I would slam my fist against the wheel in anger and disgust. I would swear to myself, "What the f*** are we doing?"

But in recent times my attention on the war has shifted to you, our troops. And I'm not talking about Petraeus or Sanchez or the other masterminds at the top. I came to know about stories of ordinary soldiers. The first thing I kept noticing is that during interviews with platoon sergeants or marines, almost without exception the interview would have to stop when it came to discussing comrades that had been wonded or killed. Like Donovan Campbell talking about a fire fight in front of a school where he lost a marine because he had decided to go against better judgement and linger to treat some children who had been wounded by mortar fire. He talks about meeting the soldier's mother later and not being about to do anything but cry and say he's sorry, it was his responsibility, and he lost her son. Everyone just kept breaking down and crying.

Leave no one behind. When a soldier dies, you pick him up gently, even if in the middle of a fire fight. When you are sitting in a VA hospital waiting room, vets from other wars know you're there for PTSD and come sit in silence and support and solidarity next to you. I realized that when you are out there, there is a deep level of bonding and camaraderie. Esprit de Corps. It seemed from how you talked about it that when you're out there, you aren't so much fighting for the country or for the mission as much as you are fighting for each other. That idea was confirmed in this program.

I was also impressed by how thoughtful and articulate you are. You aren't brutes or drop outs. You are high achievers, some with degrees from Ivy League schools. You are America's best. It's why I have changed my outlook on things like Abu Grahib. You are not bad apples, but rather good apples that got thrown into a rotten barrel. War is rotten, not you. I see that clearly now.

From these observations I started developing respect for you, but since then it has grown to admiration and love. I've come to realize a few things. Number one, you went to Iraq to serve our country. While some of you admit that you also wanted the adventure and the feel of combat, most see this as your country is calling, so you respond. And what a sacrifice, risking your life! When I respond to our country's call, it's to pick up trash or serve the homeless. You literally are putting it all on the line for our country. I can't say enough about how brave and generous that is.

The second thing I've realized is the depth of this sacrifice. First off, many of you are serving in your mid-20s, which I consider to be prime years of a person's life. For you to make the decision to dedicate those years in service of your country in the ultimate way, I can't express how commendable that is. The other dimension is that this becomes a lifelong burden you carry on your shoulders. It's not like when you come back the war is over in your mind and heart. You come back a different person entirely. War is inhuman, it's "where bullets meet bodies." I've heard the noises of war, and heard many of you talk about it. What you've done and seen there, how you've lived, one second at a time, trusting no one, always on alert for threats, hostile environment, it changes, no, mutates, a person. A lot of you come back and suffer from PTSD and depression and other challenges. Your divorce and alcholoism rates are 4x the national average. Some have said coming back is worse than war. I can't imagine the turmoil going on in a mind like that.

And I know we normal civilians make it worse. I understand you are annoyed and pissed at us. Sitting in restaurants and movie theaters laughing it up while you're on patrol in some god forsaken place trying to stay alive. Oblivious. I get it, if I were you, I'd be frustrated about that too. So this is my attempt to start making things right.

I declare December 1 to be Remember the Troops Day. Sure we have Memorial Day and all that, but there isn't a special day were we remember our troops who are at this moment in harms way somewhere around the world. The day works as long as we are fighting a war at the time, so in some sense I hope I don't have to celebrate it every year. But given that we are in Orwellian times, it's a distinct possibility.

Dec. 1 seems like a good day; people are in a giving and thankful spirit after Thanksgiving, but it's over and Christmas is still a ways off. On this day, Americans across the country (starting with me) will think and act in memory of American soldiers fighting in conflicts at that moment. I pledge to you to observe this day every year for the rest of my life. My act this year was to invent the holiday, write this post, and to encourage my readers to observe by checking out the following materials about troops that have really touched me:

First and foremost, TTBOOK's absolutely spectacular series, Boots On the Ground: Stories from the War in Iraq
Interviews and stories by Sgt. Donovan Campbell, author of Joker One
Anything by Dexter Filkins (There was an old interview with him where he talks about Capt. Omohundro that I can't find; if anyone does let me know).
Anything by David Kilcullen

Out of so many memorable things I've heard you say was a response to a civilian's question, "What can normal people do, right now, to help soldiers?" One of you replied simply, "Get to know one".

You got it.

To Move Forward...

2009-11-02T21:14:00.000-08:00

Gentle Readers, tonight I leave for a 10-day meditation retreat. It will be held in a village called Bada, in Kutch. I am excited because I hear that the center is very beautiful as it's right on the coast with immaculate beaches and clear waters.

Recently I was having a conversation with someone and the topic of 10-day Vipassana courses came up. Why do you isolate yourself for 10 days? It is escapism. You should not run away from your problems.

This is a common misunderstanding about the course, which almost always comes from someone who has not attended one themselves. I go to this course every year for the exact opposite reason. I am not going anywhere, and I don't want to go anywhere. I know I have to live in this world. But I want to live well, to deal with my problems effectively. I want be a happy, harmonious, productive person. Meditation is my best tool for achieving this goal.

There is a scene in Harry Potter where he has to go to the secret enchanted shop to buy his wizard supplies before going to Hogwarts. To his surprise the shop is smack dab on a busy street in the middle of the city. There is just a small unassuming entrance that thousands of people walked by everyday but never noticed. Had any of them paid attention, they would have found an amazing new world.

I think happiness works the same way. It's right there, right in front of us. But everyday we walk past it because we aren't paying attention. Meditation gives me the eyeballs, the lens, to spot that door to happiness. During the 10 days I will have the opportunity to practice meditation intensely, to purify that lens as much as possible. It's a blessing to have the chance. I am grateful to my parents and my friends and family and co-workers for giving me the space to be a better person.

To move forward, retreat.

Times Are A-Changin

2009-11-01T22:49:00.001-08:00

Stuff Indian People Like #4: Inopportune Phone Calls

2009-10-29T08:51:00.000-07:00

Back home in the U.S., it's a party foul if your phone rings in a movie theater, during a meeting, a speech, or other gatherings of people who are listening or watching something. You get a lot of annoyed looks and over-zealous shushing. But in India, phones routinely go off in all of these situations with no social repercussions. It's not that interruptions are accepted; it's more that in India the concept of an interruption doesn't really exist.

But the kicker is that not only do the phones go off, but people take the call! In movie theaters it is all right to pick up your phone and have a conversation right there. Or if you are attending a presentation and your phone goes off while the presenter is talking, by all means you can go ahead and take the call, and no one in the audience around you will blink an eye. Even when you are having an intimate or official discussion in a small group or just with another person, people do not hesitate to shove you into the back seat by taking a call. It doesn't even have to be important.

I have seen some pretty ridiculous disruptive phone calls in my day, but I was slayed by the woman in the picture above. She wasn't in the audience for the panel, she was a panelist herself!

Street Medicine

2009-10-25T22:38:00.000-07:00

This week I got my first, first-hand taste of the Indian medical system. I'll start with the story of how I came to require medical treatment.

I was at the bus stop near my office waiting to catch a bus home. I was on the phone conducting some business for work when the bus came. The next few moments are harder to piece together. I remember climbing onto the first step of the bus entrance, with one hand gripping the rail and the other still holding my phone. Then a guy comes flying in from behind and crams into the entrance before I had fully gotten in. And of course the bus has already started moving because "bus stop" is a very loosely interpreted concept in India.

Anyway the guy somehow wedges in such a way that I lose my grip of the rail and go tumbling out of the bus and crash onto the dusty pavement. My right chapal goes flying off. Without much hesitation I pick myself up, get my chapal, and walk back to the bus, which had stopped a little ways ahead. I get on and between trying to gather my bearings, dust myself off (I was covered), and trying to ask the guy what the hell he was thinking, I didn't notice a bloody, dirty clot of blood which had formed on my right elbow. I reached in my bag to find a napkin, but the best I had was a pair of boxer shorts I had packed in case I would be staying over at Ba's that night. After cleaning up the wound a little I notice that the there was a sizable indentation in my arm, a hole, like a big chunk of skin had been bitten off. At about that point it started to pain.

I went home and after Uncleji did some first aid he drove me to a local doctor. Dr. Oza, M.B.B.S.'s office was in a strip mall type location typical of small businesses in Indian metros . Next door were a vegetable stand, bakery, tailor, and a grocery store. Dr.Oza's place had a waiting area in front and then an office behind a glass wall. Dr. Oza led me to the back of the office where there was a shoebox of an examining room. The original idea was to get the wound cleaned and bandaged, and to get a tetanus shot. But after looking at the wound Doctor sahib declared that I needed stitches.

Thus began the series of events that lucidly illustrated to me what made medical care in India so different than in the States. Back home, everything is official, there are appointments, insurance cards, forms, charts with medical histories, more forms, thermometers that the nurse sticks in your ear, butcher paper over cushioned examining tables in private well-light examining rooms, and all the rest. Here there was a doctor in a small office with no staff. He had no stethoscope, not even a white lab coat. His equipment was all in an old-school hardshell suitcase which he popped open and worked straight out of. When he said I needed stitches, I was thrown off because there were so many steps that according to my sense of the world had been skipped. I was never asked my name; I filled out no form. I wasn't asked about medical insurance, or about my medical history. I was not called in from the waiting area by a nurse and my height and weight and blood pressure were not taken. It was all so raw, so street.

I paused and asked him how much the stitches were going to cost. He thought for a half second and then said Rs.150. I was mind-boggled. Three dollars! He told me that if I went to a hospital, it would be 3-4K, so I'd be getting a good deal with him. Ya think? I told doctor sahib to do his thing. He pulls out a thick black thread and some scissors and tells me to lay down and just stick out my arm in the air. He is not wearing gloves, and he administers no anesthesia (he didn't offer). He then proceeds to put two stitches into my wound. I was calm, though of course it hurt because he did not numb me. I didn't even know it was possible to get stitches without anesthesia. I look away for most of it with my handkerchief over my eyes, but get a glimpse of the dark gray metal hook-like apparatus he apparently used to make the holes. It reminded me of the torture implements in that part in Braveheart where that clergyman lifts a cloth and shows Wallace what he's about to use on him.

After the stitches Doctor sahib tells me to take down my trousers and administers a tetanus shot in the ass. We then sit at his desk where he writes out a prescription. Hand written on custom stationary . He writes for 3 days supply of antibiotics, painkillers, and anti-acid to combat the side-effect of the antibiotics. I pay him Rs.250 cash for the stitches and shot. He gives me change from a wad of cash in his shirt pocket.

Uncleji drives me to another street-side strip mall where there is a chemist's shop to pick up my drugs. The shop sells shampoo, body wash, deodorant, toothpaste, and prescription medication. The guy at the counter takes my hand-written prescription and goes to a shelf in the back to fetch my drugs. He didn't question the authenticity of the paper. I didn't have to prove my name was the one on the paper, nor was I given any instructions on using the medication. It was like ordering a burger and fries at a Burger King counter. After telling me they didn't have any of the anti acid drug in stock, they said not to worry; I'd be fine without it. Needless to say these guys were not doctors nor pharmacists. I paid Rs.300 for my drugs. And that was that.

This was an eye-opening experience for me. The process was both smooth and disconcerting. It felt too easy, though I'm pretty sure I got everything I needed. Cost-wise, I had the cheapest medical experience an American can ever possibly hope to have (about 12 bucks all in). And coincidentally all this while a health care debate rages back home in which an important component is (or at least should be) the exponentially-rising cost of health care for ordinary folks. I just finished listening to a pair of radio programs that wonderfully break down the problem in vintage TAL-storytelling style. Are the rising costs due to doctors who are incentivized to use expensive procedures? Or patients who believe more treatment is always better and/or pressure doctors with malpractice threats? Or insurance companies that charge exorbitant premiums and then use rescission to not pay out? Or medical facilities that use dominance in local markets to exploit the emotions of patients and demand high fees and cost-shift private insurers? Whatever the root of the problem, I now know that in India there is a model that somehow results in cheap, accessible medical care: street medicine.

A few days before the bus incident I was walking near my place and a woman on a scooter stopped me to ask how to get to the Anandniketan school. Remarkably, I actually knew where it was. I proceeded to casually give her the directions and soon she was on her way. I walked off in my direction with head held high, smiling to myself. I had finally made it; I was officially a local in this foreign land. There was a visible spring in my step. But after falling out of a city bus and busting my elbow, there is no longer any spring. Rest assured I've humbly re-assumed my role as an outsider, confused foreigner in Ahmedabad.

Flowery Glory: Awards

2009-10-21T00:33:00.000-07:00

Editor's Note: Also see this post's trailer and a bonus photo album with commentary!

I’ve covered most of the stories from my trip in the previous posts, but to finish off the telling I will borrow a device from my favorite writer Bill Simmons and hand out some awards:

Nobel Laureate Barack Obama Award for "Biggest Surprise of the Trip"
To the difficulties of traveling to remote places in India. It took us over an hour and a half to travel the 1000 KM from Gujarat to Delhi. It took us another 2.5 days to travel the 100KM or so between Delhi and Joshimath where we started walking. But the traveling process itself was an adventure. Once you get out far enough from big cities, vehicles traveling to any destination become varied and unpredictable. Samir believed in a greedy algorithm: always take the first thing moving roughly in the direction you need to go. This meant that not staying too long in one place was more important than where exactly you will end up and how much closer it gets you to your eventual destination. Just keep moving. The strategy worked remarkably well. It also resulted in a patchwork of different vehicles and intermediate destinations. From Delhi, we took a luxury bus to Dehradun, then a public bus to Haridwar which took us to a fork in the road where we picked up a small charter bus to Rishikesh. The next day we took a bus to Srinagar, then the next morning a jeep to Chamoli, then another jeep to Joshimath.

Indian Broadband Connectivity Memorial Award for “Most Frustrating Aspect of the Trip”
To losing stuff while traveling. Call me a green traveler, but I lost an embarrassingly large number of things. It started off with my wristwatch (sorry Dad!) which inexplicably fell off my hand while I slept in the bus to Dehradun. I also lost sunglasses in a river, water bottles at restaurant tables, gloves at a clothing shop(re-found), and hand sanitizer bottles (lost, re-found, lost, bought new, lost). Of all of these I think losing the watch was the most impactful. It was near the beginning of the trip, and from there on Samir and I pretty much stopped keeping track of time. For someone as anal as me, this was uncomfortable at first, and I never got completely used to it. But it was a fun exercise. At one point Samir and I were in Ghangaria and we realized we needed to plan when to start making the descent back to civilization in order to make our flight from Delhi. We had no idea what day it was, or the date. When we finally found out the actual date, we discovered that our best guess was off by 2 days.

Honorable mention for this award goes to my backpack, borrowed from the uncle I’m staying with in Ahmedabad. The bag was old, and developed rips at both the shoulder straps while walking. It was a burden to mind as I walked each step, wondering whether this would be the step when a strap finally gives, and I’m screwed with 20lbs of stuff in the middle of nowhere with no way to carry it. Luckily there were mochis (cobblers) at some of the places we stopped at on the way to Ghangaria (last city before Valley of Flowers) to mend the bag. Had to get it mended two separate times.

Sex in the City Award for “Most Overrated Part of the Trip”
To Rishikesh, a popular destination for wanderer-types from around the world who come to India for trekking adventures. A beautiful city scenically on the banks of the holy Ganges (this part of the river is also quite clean), but the place was overrun by foreigners. There was a large contingent from Israel, where a lot of youth fresh out of military duty come from to unwind. So much so that some menus etc. were written in Hebrew. But there are foreigners from all over.

I found it disorienting and for some reason annoying. It felt like the environment was cheapened; the city seemed to have sold out from a meaningful, holy place and degraded to catering to foreigners and their peculiar desires. The place offered an ideally packaged experience for any foreigner making a “pilgrimage” to India to live a spiritual cliché, all the while enjoying the comforts of a European resort. The main roads were lined with a rotation of quaint restaurants with names like “Freedom Café” and “Namaste Café”, cybercafés, convenience stores selling Garnier Fructis shampoo and hand sanitizer, schools for yoga and massage, and stores selling knock-off North Face gear and books on tantra and Kama Sutra. I liked Samir’s remark that Rishikesh is “Spiritual Las Vegas”, where people come for debauchery in the guise of a spiritual experience.

John Muir Award for “Best Hike”
Definitely to The Valley of Flowers. Although it was off-season so the flowers weren’t in bloom, I loved this hike for its killer combination of beauty and isolation. I made the ~6km trek through the valley alone, as Samir hung back to sit and write in his journal. Because it was off-season, there weren’t a lot of people in the Valley, so I was literally by myself as I walked through. After being in the world’s densest urban areas for 3 months, this was a very welcomed change of pace. My favorite part was stopping to look around and feeling I had the whole beautiful place to myself.

Indian Toilets Memorial Award for “Most Underrated Aspect of the Trip”
To moleskin, which Samir kept in his first-aid pack for blisters. I never get blisters, but I developed two on my right foot possibly from the hiking shoes I had bought just before leaving for the trip. The moleskin really helped ease the pain. When you are walking for so long, even a small annoyance in your feet can develop into severe pain. I slowly observed how the sensations from my blisters came to dominate every step I took during the trip. The lesson, as always, is to take care of your feet.

Honorable mention to black tea, which was our drink of choice during the cold mornings in Ghangaria. I never drink tea, but I must admit that I was hooked on it while on the trip. Best way to warm up.

Jayeshbhai “Most Memorable Personality” Award
To Rajnish, the expeditioner, tour guide, botanist, bird watcher, and photographer I befriended in Ghangaria. I first encountered him on the trails, when he flew by me up from Govindghat. I took notice because I am a fast hiker myself and I’m rarely passed. Later on I met him in his little shop in Ghangaria and we got to talking. He showed me his amazing collection of photographs of all kinds of wild animals, birds, and flowers of the area. He’s led Discovery Channel expeditions in the area as a local expert. A real mountain man.

Honorable mention goes to two local women we met between Joshimath and Govindghat carrying huge bales of hay. They were stopped over resting on the side of the road as we walked by, and they offered Samir and I cucumbers. So nice! We gave them a Kit-Kat in return for their generosity. Or maybe they were hitting on us.

Steven Gerrard Award for “Best All-Around Aspect of the Trip”
To the natural landscape of the Himalayan foothills. Being cooped up in Ahmedabad, a hectic urban environment for the past 3 months, I was dying to get to some clean, open space. And this trip didn’t disappoint. I loved the cold air, just the feeling of being cold. I loved the sound and the feel of the rivers. My favorite hikes are those near rivers; in this trip it was great to get near their rush and violent power. I loved the severely steep mountains, which stood out to me as the biggest difference between the Himalayan landscape and Yosemite, which I have been going to since I was a little tike. I couldn’t remember craning my neck in Yosemite as much as I did here to see the top of a mountain. That’s the best way I can describe the difference, the pictures don’t really reflect it.

An innovation to the trekking experience in India is that the trails are lined with shacks where people sell water, soda, snacks, and even cook full meals. So you are hiking along on a rugged trail and then suddenly pull over to a table and chair where you can enjoy roti and daal (as I did). At first I was thrown off and against it because I am a nature purist and don’t like human alteration of natural places, but I eventually made some place in my heart for the mountain snack shacks. And of course if we brought this concept to California trails, Choks wouldn't need to worry about being out a Safeway deli sandwich with olive spread in the middle of nowhere again. But the main drawback of the shacks is the amount of garbage they create on the trails. It was appalling. How remote do I have to travel in India to escape from the eyesore of littered walkways? At one point I was walking and saw a girl in the act of throwing an empty chips bag. I walked up to her and in my broken Hindi told her to pick up the trash, and asked her to please not throw trash on the trails. Her boyfriend, standing next to her, went stiff with disbelief, managing to utter "Yeah, sure." I don't think they got it.

Chris McCandless “Most Valuable Trekker” Award
To Samir Patel, a hall-of-fame travel companion. Samir definitely knows what he’s doing on treks. It’s one of the things he takes real seriously. He is super prepared with all the best equipment which he very generously shared with me. He has gotten packing the essentials down to an art (family members will not be surprised to know he doesn’t emphasize packing a lot of underwear). He also has a great sense of balancing what you need to plan ahead and what you don’t. He left just enough open-ended to make the trip both smooth and adventurous. We had good communication, marked by our unspoken commitment to not over-communicate. On the trails or when planning we talked when we needed to, and kept silent when we didn’t. Of course during meals we stayed silent. We were busy. The one exception was to discuss The Black Swan, which we were both reading simultaneously. Pretty soon we were seeing black swans everywhere.

It was great spending time with Samir to catch up in a real deep way. There’s no bonding like mountain bonding. Thanks for everything Sam.

Almost Famous

2009-10-20T07:21:00.000-07:00

The closest I've ever gotten to feeling like a celebrity is during the times I've gone into or out of the international terminal of a small Indian Airport. Like the one in Ahmedabad. For airports like it, there is often just one or two flights pending departure or arrival at a time. On top of that people here make the arrival or departure of a loved one to/from America or Australia or Europe an extended family event. There are balloons and flowers. People even come early with food and have picnics in the grassy areas outside the terminal as they wait.

My mom flew in from California earlier this week and me, Shiven, and Masi et. al. (who were coming as a surprise to mom) went to pick her up. Flight arrived at 11pm at night, and it was the only flight arriving. But you wouldn't have guessed it by the crowd, which was swarming around the terminal exit. Like our contingent, there was a posse of people to greet every passenger. The crowd excitedly gathered around the terminal's single exit door, anxiously waiting for their special guy or gal to appear from amongst the gauntlet of bag claims and security checks. Two metal railings kept a walkway, almost like a catwalk, leading out from the exit. Dramatically, passengers mostly appeared one at a time. Everyone had their own time to shine.

I will admit it was an exciting atmosphere. With each set of whoops and hollers my anticipation for the next person to be my mom grew. At the same time I was growing annoyed by the crowd, which seemed to intensify and start invading my space no matter how far away I stood. I kept trying to position myself in a place where no one could possibly bump me in the back or graze my chest, but the crowd was like a spreading disease that I couldn't escape. My Masi, on the other hand, had found a choice spot right on the railing from which to greet her sister. Masi wanted to make sure the first face my mom saw was hers.

Mom came out and made a beeline, head down, through the crowd toward open space. She didn't even acknowledge her 15 seconds of fame! But of course we gave her a royal welcome with hugs and smiles. Welcome to India Mom!

Flowery Glory: An Album

2009-10-20T01:22:00.000-07:00

Enjoy a visual recap (with captions!) of the trip:

Flowery Glory: The Trailer

2009-10-14T23:54:00.001-07:00

Diligent readers of this blog will have noticed that I've been conspicuously silent about my trip to the Valley of Flowers earlier this month. Well, the reason is that I was walking the inspired path between Govindghat to Ghangaria, on my way to some of the most beautiful open land I have ever seen, when I had a vision. It dawned on me that this story had to be told in a blockbuster fashion. I conceived of doing a series of blog posts about the trip, and I needed time to prepare. Now, finally, we are ready to begin:

Friends, we all know what a movie trailer is. But what about a trailer for a blog post? Absurd. Preposterous. Unheard of.

Until now.

For the first time in the history of the blogosphere, I present to you the trailer for "Flowery Glory", a post I will write sometime in the near future about my trip to the Valley of Flowers. We are all witnesses.

Navratri Naach

2009-10-07T01:46:00.000-07:00

Before heading for my trip with Samir to the Himalayas, we had a few days in Baroda. The night before we left from there we went to a Navaratri garba. Baroda is known for having the biggest and best garbas in Gujarat. And the most glorious of them all is the annual United Way Garba.

Getting tickets to get into this particular garba is shockingly difficult. You have to buy an expensive pass at the beginning of Navaratri, and they issue you an ID card with a chip that stores your photo digitally. In order to enter the grounds each person passes their card through a scanner and your picture shows up on TV screens, which security checks before letting you in. Yes folks, this is for entering a garba. The picture thing means you can't use someone else's card. Also, sneaking in is hard because security is swarming and apparently you will get severely beaten if you're caught without a card.

In our first night in Baroda Samir and I didn't have passes so we bought tickets to the bleachers section to just watch the garba. As soon as I walked in and saw the scale, the colors, and the energy, I was mesmerized. It was like an event from another world. Planet Garba. Compared to the garbas I went to in the Bay growing up, this was like the Super Bowl and those were like exhibitions. I came to the realization that to die happy, I had to experience it at least once.

Unfortunately everyone we talked to told us it would be impossible to get in because we had to have bought our pass well in advance. All kinds of scenarios were discussed with local friends; I even emailed Raj, Sam, and Choks back home to see if they knew anyone who could hook us up at the last minute. No luck. But I absolutely had to go to this garba, this and no other. During the day we were busy running errands for our trip so we only got back to the grounds an hour or so before the garba to see if we could buy tickets. My stomach dropped when the guy at the ticket window said there was no way we could buy a pass for that night; their system was shut down and no longer issuing new passes.

But I would not be denied. It was abundantly clear that the only way in was by talking our way in. Luckily my resume for sneaking into restricted events is long and storied. I even co-founded a fake institution, Sneaking-In University, when I was in college for schooling others on the tricks of the trade. My prized pupil, Amit Sura, M.D., is currently Dean in SIU's School of Rhetoric. God Amit, you would have been so proud if you saw me in action this night.

The key is getting someone, anyone, behind the window sympathetic to your cause. First things first, I went heavy on my California accent. I made the case to the window guy that we were from the U.S. and we only had one night to garba. What can you do for us? Then large doses of confidence, patience, and persistence. Eventually the window guy goes and gets the head organizer of the event. At that point I knew it was in the bag. I repeat our case to her, and she grills us to make sure we aren't lying about our story. We stand our ground. And with a few instructions to the peons at the computers, that was that. We had our passes.

Riding high from defying the odds to get tickets, Samir and I walk into the grounds with all the enthusiasm in the world. I really felt like I was going to a Kings playoff game or something. I remember walking in and thinking that this must be the largest gathering of Gujus I've ever been a part of. I loved the colors of everyone's dress, which went with the beautiful multi-colored lamp decorations of the outdoor venue. I liked the soft, fine brown soil of the grounds; I imagined that this had been determined as the optimal garba turf after years of experimentation. Before things got started I crouched down and rubbed a handful in my palms and put it to my nose, like Maximus in Gladiator. OK I didn't, but that would have been tremendous.

Once the music started it was a blur of adrenaline-charged dancing. The music was world-class, performed by some of Gujarat's best. The music starts out at an inviting pace, but ends in a dizzying sprint. At one point the music was so incredibly fast, I forgot where I was because all I was doing was moving as fast as I could. If I stopped concentrating on just dancing for even a second to look up and soak the scene, I would get smoked. And just as I thought the music couldn't possibly go anywhere else but back down, it kicked into yet another hidden gear, thrusting the whole crowd to a frenzied new height. The garba was at least 10 circles thick, and everyone was all business. No messing around, strictly dancing. The lines were so tight that once you were in the inner circles you couldn't get to the outside until intermission. Made me feel like Abhimanyu in the chakravyuha.

There were a lot of innovative steps that I had never seen before at Cal St. Hayward garbas. My favorite was a step I coined the 'Baroda Gangsta Lean' where for three beats your line struts forward with chest out in a diagonal march before turning a shoulder and going the other direction. Kids these days. Another thing I loved about the crowd was their interaction with the singers. They would scream in delight when they heard their favorite songs come on, and during the choicest, climatic lyrics.

And there was sweat. Buckets of sweat. I was absolutely drenched by the end, my kurta had fully turned a darker shade. Luckily there was easy access to water. Not to mention a great selection of food booths. All-in-all a phenomenally managed event. For something so large scale, it was a wonder it worked as well as it did. Made me wonder whether United Way was really a garba-organizing firm that did charity work on the side.

There's really no point in going into more superlatives to describe the night, maybe my single most favorite thing I've done in India for the past three summers. Lifetime experience. Afterward I decided that it is absolutely necessary that the Bay crew, and I mean all of us together, come out for garba in Baroda once before we die. Maybe for Choks' bachelor party?

To The Heavens

2009-09-20T22:10:00.000-07:00

I'm headed off for a 10-day trek in the Valley of Flowers. Samir and I have some rough plans, but mostly hoping the tide will land us wherever we need to be. Right now I am in Baroda furiously trying to scrap together the gear I'll need (backpack, sleeping bag, waterproof clothes, shoes, etc.) since I came here with none of my own stuff. It's incredible how much we take for granted in the states in terms of being able to get quality products for pretty much anything. There is nothing close to an REI here.

But I'll make due. What's important is I'm off to heaven on earth. Talk to you when I get back.

On Our Skull-Sized Kingdoms: David Foster Wallace

2009-09-17T07:23:00.000-07:00

I came across David Foster Wallace's story on a tribute episode to him on TTBOOK. I had never heard of the man, but he was known by many literary critics as one of America's best writers . He wrote a thousand page novel called Infinite Jest that is described as "sprawling". It is also considered "avant-garde", so I was initially put-off and wondered whether this is another fluffy head-in-the-clouds writer who only has a lot to say because he has no mental discipline.

Turns out he is pretty brilliant, and I got a lot out of learning about him and his writing. From his story I developed a better understanding of what it means to suffer from severe depression, and that taking your own life isn't necessarily an act of cowardice. His sister talks about how when they found out he had committed suicide in 2008, the family wasn't mad at David, or thought he was selfish. They knew he was suffering debilitating pain, that he was actually very brave, but that in the end he just didn't want to fight any longer. They understood fully.

(Tangent: Leave it to the folks at To The Best of Our Knowledge to make an hour of your attention worthwhile. There are very few media sources that I trust like TTBOOK, where even if the program title or tag line sounds uninteresting to me, I give it a shot anyway because I have profited so many times in unexpected ways from what they present. TTBOOK is one channel that allows me to expand my horizons, learning about topics I wouldn't have otherwise felt are worth exploring.)

The jewel of the program is at the very end where you hear an excerpt from an inspiring commencement address David Foster Wallace gave at Kenyon College. I highly recommend you listen, but I've also attached a written version cued up to the part that is heard.

...But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving and .... The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

David Foster Wallace Kenyon Address

Get A Life

2009-09-13T09:03:00.000-07:00

Recently I got a reminder that you can't put too much weight in how other people say you should live:

I am currently writing two research papers simultaneously for a big conference, and the deadline is looming less than a week away. This is the culmination of months of hard work and I am determined to finish out strong. One of the remarkable things is that I've been riding high all the way through. Last year at this time, I was a wreck, losing weight, feeling stressed, irritable. But in a year I've grown a lot stronger mentally. One of the things I've been focusing on recently with my mental approach is to keep the crushing burden of outcomes off my shoulders. Have no stake in what you do. Just do. This makes you a lot lighter on your feet, and it also diverts brain cycles spent stressing about outcomes toward doing the best work you can right now.

So because of my papers for the past couple weeks or so I have been very focused at the office, cranking through chai breaks and blocking all else out but the data dancing on the screen in front of me. My hard core-ness was picked up on by one of my co-workers, who remarked, "Neil, listen. There is more to life than Avaaj Otalo, you know that right?" Translation: "Get a life. You shouldn't be working so hard."

You just can't win. Everyone has that friend(s) or family member(s) who doesn't yet have her act together. She lacks focus. She doesn't have a direction. So what do we do? We rip on the girl. Get focused. Get a direction. Get a life! And then when you have found your place, and you are doing something you really truly love, something that you are proud of, the thing that if you had a choice to be doing any single thing at this point in your life, you'd choose this (not counting playing pro golf), someone tells you, "You're working too hard at it. Get a life!"

I was relating this episode to Samir, and he told me a story that he heard while he was a young FOB growing up in India. I re-tell it here with some artistic license. There was an old man who had a donkey (a.k.a. an ass), and the ass was pushing a huge load of goods for the old man to sell at the market. As the old man was leading the ass through a village, people yelled out.

Society: Hey, old man! Don't you have a conscience? Look at your donkey, so feeble and weak. And yet you load him up with all that plaster of paris? You should be ashamed.

Old Man: Really, you think so Society? Maybe you're right. OK, this is what I'll do. To lighten the burden for Eeyore, I'm going to chuck half of my goods. Hmpphhh. There you go, much better right?

Old Man and ass continue to the next village

Society: Stop being a punk old man! Look at your ass suffering. Have you any compassion?

Old Man: K, I'll chuck the rest of my goods. Hmpphhh.

Next village

Society: Old Man, poor ass! Help him!

Old Man: You're right Society. Ok Eeyore, up you go. I'll carry you on my own back. Hmmmmmpppphhhhh.

Last Village: bin Ladenstan

Society: LOL look at this old man. What a chump! Carrying a donkey? How silly. Hey old man, You're an ASS!

People just like to be critical. I think it is a reaction based on ego. The chain goes something like this: Hey, that guy looks like he's fulfilled. Why aren't I fulfilled like that? Well, since I'm not doing much wrong in my own life, it must be him. Hey man, you shouldn't be enjoying yourself so much. You're doing something wrong!

Can I Get A Encore?

2009-09-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

The other day I recalled something Sebastian Thrun, a professor in my department and of Stanley/DARPA Grand Challenge fame said in a talk about why he does research on cars that can drive themselves. He said that if robots were driving our cars on freeways, then all the cars would be able to drive a lot closer together than they do now. Human's hands and nerves are too shaky to be trusted to drive a foot off the bumper of the next vehicle. But robots certainly could, and the extra space this creates effectively triples or quadruples our freeway capacity instantly, without laying any new asphalt.

I was thinking this also applies to living life. The more time we spend dominated by our thoughts is less time spent actually living, which only happens when you are tapped into the here and now. If you made a practice of spending more of your time in the present moment, you would effectively increase the length of your life, without living any additional years.
One thing Tiger talks about in his interviews all the time is how he tries to "put himself in a position to win". Means that he can only win the tournament on Sunday, but he has to play Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in such a way that he keeps himself in contention to have a shot at taking the tournament on Sunday. He understands that if you put yourself in a position to win time and again, eventually the wins are going to pile up. In life, we fail all the time. And sometimes you wonder when the hell things are going to fall right for you. That's when you have to tell yourself to keep preparing, keep making yourself better. Because when you keep putting yourself in a position to win, eventually you will.
I want to give a shout out to two pieces of media that have really made me feel at home while I've been away. The first is Jay-Z's music.

I've been listening to rap music since I was about 8. The original influence was my cousin Ashish, who is 4 years older. I copied everything he did. One day Hash got The Chronic and I remember sitting with him and his friend Corey in Corey's living room blasting it on his family's surround sound system. I was shocked by the profanity, it didn't belong in that wholesome living room. But the music penetrated my brain.

Then Hash got a car when I was 12 or 13 and when we rode he would play a 2-song playlist: Bone Thugs N Harmony 'First of da Month' and 'Thuggish Ruggish Bone'. Over and over. He had this sweet sound system in his Acura that allowed you to skip to songs on a cassette tape. Hash sometimes also played some 'ethnic' rap songs that I know Jay and Hash remember.

Anyway from those early impressions I was pretty much hooked on rap. I probably now know the lyrics to hundreds of rap songs. I can say with 85% certainty that there isn't anyone I know who knows more rap lyrics than me, and with 99% certainty that I'm amongst the top 3 of people I know. By far and away the artist I listen to the most is Jay-Z. Recently I was listening to an interview with a guy who talks about how music shapes human nature. He argues that music predates language, and that music is itself a language. If that's the case, then I speak Jay-Z.

He's the greatest rapper we have ever seen. That's not a biased opinion. I think only the Beatles have more #1 albums, he has more than Michael Jackson and Elvis. Over the years I have grown more and more appreciative of his music, which I think has only gotten better. I'm also really fascinated with the person. Jay-Z is a lyrical genius, born with unique gifts that made him destined to be a poet/rapper. He doesn't write any of his lyrics down, it just comes out when he's in the studio. A few years ago he 'retired' from rapping but came back within a year or so. Most likely because it is impossible for him to retire. The rhymes just naturally flow out of his head. This is a really interesting video of him describing how he thinks about music and his approach to coming up with songs:

Jay-Z just released his 11th studio album, Blueprint 3, which I downloaded and have been listening to non-stop since I got it. It's a fantastic piece of work. Not his best (I still think Blueprint 1 was the masterpiece of masterpieces), but once again he takes the game to another level. He even introduced a new cadence sound ('awww' instead of 'uhhh' which I'm sure will now be used by all other rappers). He's a master of language, he just plays games with words. Even the crappy songs on the album can't be called crappy because of how fresh his lyrics are. But what sets him apart as a rapper is his unparalleled combination of talent and charisma. His swagger, like in the D.O.A. performance below. It's why Eminem will never reach Jay's heights. Here are a few of the best songs from the album:

I could go on forever talking about the guy. But for now, I just want to say thanks, Mr. Shawn Carter, for all of your music and making me feel at home away from home. Also, mini shout-out to my iPod, which has made it possible to listen to music and radio podcasts anywhere. I've absolutely turned into one of those anti-social assholes who sits on a bus or train burried in their headphones, off in their own world.
The other media shoutout goes to The Wire. Like my man Simmons talking about his own start with the show, I don't like to be forced into watching shows or music by others. I like to bump into things organically. Even if it means I miss out on stuff. For those of you who haven't seen The Wire, I'm sure you've heard one person or other recommend it, telling you about how it's the most important television show in the history of television. And that's true. Hopefully you'll watch it, but if not, it's really your loss. I have Bittorrent to thank for my date with destiny. Once I figured out how to use it, I wanted to download something big, and I really just chose season 1 of The Wire arbitrarily. That was about 3 months ago, and since then I have gone through the first three seasons and am just starting the fourth, which is reputably the best one (Maneka: "You will die of love for season 4").

The show has really taken over my life over these few months. I think about it a lot. Mostly the characters on the show, which are so vivid and engrossing. Avon is definitely my favorite character, mostly because he's the top man (of a drug empire). He was flawed in how he ran things strategically, but he knows what it means to lead men. But it's also about the stories and how they weave small details into larger arcs, how they portray the drug game from 360 degrees of perspective (the sellers, the users, the police, the courts, the government). You uncover all the messiness in the urban drug landscape, the interconnected ecosystem of the hopper on the corner, the stick-up boys in the alleys, the cops on the rooftops, and the councilmen in city hall. You realize that there is no single villain in the drama, and you end up empathizing with everyone. The show teaches you some things, but mostly you come away with empathy, and also with anger. You are mad at the shitty situation, it really lights a fire in you.

Again, I can go on for hours. I barely watch TV, and have certainly never been sucked in by a show like this before. So there you go. I am now at the point where I'm lamenting inching nearer to the conclusion, being finished with all 5 seasons with nothing left to watch, these characters no longer in my life to ponder over. I'm trying to ration season 4 to 2 episodes a week to make it stretch through October, then I'll have to wait to get home to watch season 5. Also wanted to point out that my case demonstrates how piracy helps sell product. After stealing season 1, I felt compelled to buy season 3, and will buy season 5. Without being able to download and watch season 1 illegally, I probably wouldn't have discovered that I loved this show and found it worth paying for even if I could steal it.

Yes We Can (Eat Corn)!

2009-08-30T09:19:00.000-07:00

I finally found a way to upload pictures that have been trapped in my phone since I got to India. Pictures taken with a cameraphone are special beasts. They are all about the context, spontaneous, raw, or something like that. They are often hastily taken because they depict life at life's pace. Or something like that. What I mean to say is that my cameraphone pics tend to be much more in the moment because they are pictures I take even when I don't have a (real) camera with me. Here are my favorites:

Exercise bike on the roof of a friend's apartment in Delhi. Love the jungle theme. Feels like you're doing a bike ride through the rain forest.

This was taken during a rickshaw ride home from the Gandhi ashram late one night. When the autowala picked me up, he was towing this old man with a broken down moped. When I got in, the old man shoved off, assuming it was the end of the line for him. But then I told the autowala it was OK with me if he wanted to let the man continue to hitch a ride, which he proceeded to do for 15 minutes. I just loved it. An old man in distress, and the autowala looking out for a stranger. The old man paid something in the end, but it was mostly in smiles and gratitude. I still remember the look on his face as he cruised along with us, a contented smile against the cool breeze.

Corn we can believe in! I was driving to dinner with Madhu, Meghna, and Samir when I spotted this stall. Meghna reversed the car all the way back up the block to get me the photo opp. There is a lot to love about Obama's Makai. The guy running the stall explained that he thought the name differentiated his offering. Did you ever imagine we would have a US president with this level of appeal to people the world over, reaching all the way out to street food vendors in Ahmedabad? I couldn't have been more thrilled. And yes, the corn was fantastic.

Once you're behind by one pawn...

2009-08-25T23:15:00.000-07:00

Some interesting tidbits I've learned recently: One, the 'Soap Opera' was invented by Proctor and Gamble as a substrate to advertise and sell... you guessed it... soap. Number two, Sherlock Holmes exhibited textbook characteristics of autism. Three, according to Rushdie Jodhaa was actually a figment of Akbar's imagination that he convinced everyone was real. These are the things you learn by listening to the radio folks!
There is this old kaka at Manav Sadhna (MS) who is notorious for talking people's heads off. People who know him warn the uninitiated to avoid him at all costs. He's one of these guys who loves to give advice to the point of being patronizing, and also seems to have been involved in most of the important events in human history. My friend Amit, a medical student from Canada, one day decided, screw it, I'm going to talk to this guy and see what he has to say. He sits down with him, and the very first thing the old man says is, "Ask." That's it. Ask. Period. What a way to start a conversation with a person you've never met! Ballsy! I was flabbergasted by the charisma this old man showed. Unfortunately when I tried it myself I only got confused (potentially dirty) looks.
Last weekend I was at MS playing games with the kids. I teamed up with a local dude, Nikunj, who was also volunteering. We spent most of that afternoon playing with the kids together and chatting it up in Gujarati. At the end of the day he offers to drive me home. On the ride I come to find out that he did his MBA in Florida, and he finds out that I'm actually an NRI from California. We could speak English to each other! Good, he told me, because he was concerned earlier. Why, I ask him. Because I assumed you had a speech disability based on the way you speak Gujarati. So slow and deliberate. :( First time someone's told me they thought I was retarded , I swear.
I've noticed that I unconsciously migrate to the right side of streets when I'm walking. Just feels more natural.
The other day I was talking with friends and told them I have come to realize that Nipun is a billionaire. He's filthy rich. It's just that all of his wealth is in social capital, instead of dollars.
Last night I was at Seva Cafe with Madhu and Meghna, Samir, and a few other friends to hang out, maybe eat, but generally to take in the vibe. Madhu and I are sitting on the swing when he remarks that this whole matrix, MS, Seva Cafe, etc. that they have moved from Bombay to be a part of is a 'bubble'. All the generosity, compassion, joy that really underlies this whole scene. Is it real? Is it wrong? I responded that I thought it was indeed a bubble, but for the world to change it's going to take a million of these bubbles sprouting up everywhere, so it ain't bad. Then I told him that I've never felt comfortable living in an existing bubble; I've always been of the mind of creating my own bubble for others to enjoy. Is it ego?
One re-occurring theme I've been observing around me since I got here is chess. It started when I was walking around the laris at Law Garden and noticed some of the street cooks huddled around a chess board behind their little food stall. Then this dude at DSC asks me how to play online and then we get to playing. Then folks break out a board at MS. Now at DSC we've got a physical set of pieces and a board we printed out on paper from the Internet. I've been playing with a couple co-workers. One of the guys I play with is really good. So far I haven't been able to crack him. I play well against him, but eventually I make a bad move and he never seems to make one. I can't find any holes in his game. After one match he tells me that in chess, as soon as you get behind your opponent by a single pawn, you've lost. After that it's just a matter of pressure and time, as Red said. It made me think of a story I heard about Harlem Children's Zone, a program which realized that to fundamentally shift their community away from the cycle of poverty, it's going to take more than an after school program or two with a few hundred kids. They would have to go big. So they decided to start a program which would include all 10,000 kids in Harlem. Wow. And on top of that, the program would begin for the kid at birth, and end when she graduated college. All the way through. Their insight was that it's the little things you do when the kid is age 0 to 3 which have the huge ramifications. They were inspired by a study which compared a family on welfare to a professional one, and found the number one difference was that the professionals' kids heard 20 million more words than the welfare kids from age 0 to 3. Also, the professionals' kids heard a vast majority encouraging remarks, whereas the welfare kids heard a majority discouraging remarks. So HCZ started Baby College, which talks to parents about not hitting their kids and reading to them, and how these little things make a huge difference. Results? The first batch of kids through the program, who come mostly from poor, single-parent families, had above average math and verbal scores in 3rd grade. Now Obama wants to replicate Harlem Children's Zone throughout the country as a model for ending poverty in America. The story reinforced Gladwell's point in Outliers that hidden head starts people get in society are the real reasons for success. Give back one pawn early, and it can make all the difference.

Living In Your Thoughts vs. Living in Reality

2009-08-20T08:27:00.000-07:00

There is a sharp distinction between living in your thoughts and living in reality. One is passive; it is crowded with anxiety, isolation, helplessness, but most fundamentally fear. The other is bold. When you live in reality, you are strong, confident, energetic, and most importantly you are aware.

I think of the two ways of living as existing on opposite sides of a revolving door. That door is the present moment. When you retreat into your thoughts, you abandon the present and are living in either the past or future, which are both figments of your imagination. But step into the now, and suddenly you are living in a real world. The door is revolving because for the most part we are in one world or the other at any given moment.

When you meditate, you practice living in reality for longer and longer periods of time. I suppose it's ironic to say that practicing silence and stillness helps you become more alive, but it's exactly like taking the red pill in the Matrix. To wake up, you first have to be made aware that you've been sleeping.