Aal Izz Well That Endz Well

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

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

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

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

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...

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