Thumbsearching

Lantau Cable Care hike: where to start

2011-09-10T20:06:00.001+05:00

The hiking trail along the Lantau cable car (Ngong Ping 360) is one of my favorite hikes in Hong Kong. Lovely views, good exercise, rewarding fresh water streams, lots of wooden steps (easy on the knees).
The destination isn't so bad either -- you look forward to refueling at Ngong Ping after the climb. And of course, The Gallery is just a 10 minute cab ride away.

Here is how to get to the start of the hike from Tung Chung MTR (about a 2 km walk; the total distance is just shy of 8km).

If you have GPS, then no need to read past this (unless you have time on your hands and an un-discerning eye for photographic talent):

View Larger Map

MTR Exit B and take a left past the Subway.

Walk past the Pizza Hut on your right. Resist the urge to stop and line your stomach with indigestible grease.

Walk past the driveway and take a right down this path.

Before this stretch ends, you'll see arrows to the left. Follow.

Come out of the tunnel, and take a right and then left up this stretch.

Follow the arrows to the right this time.

Can't miss the arrow.

Follow the path till...

... you come to a foot-bridge. Go up and straight across.

Continue on straight.

Go around the next foot-bridge.

Appreciate the view of the water (and airport).

Behold your destination (the first climb).

Before the end of this stretch, take a right...

... toward Hau Wong Temple...

... and steps down.

Left at the bottom.

Follow straight through.

Now right toward Hau Wong Temple.

Take a left and straight past the soccer field on your right. Marvel at your determination to climb the hill before you.

Bridge over untroubled water.

Stick to the meandering path.

Spot some crabs.

Philosophize.

The hike starts up these steps on the left.
If you miss it, should you really be out without adult supervision?

Consider the map. Tower 5's helipad is my favorite sun-set, picnic, yoga spot in HK.

Make sure you haven't lost the baby.

That's it folks. Once you've made it to the start, follow your nose to the Big Buddha. The other way to get down (besides walking up over Lantau Peak) is to take a bus or taxi. No buses after sun-down, so make sure you have the Lantau taxi numbers.

Hot or cool?

2011-09-04T11:46:00.000+05:00

It is often said that 'hot' and 'cool', in the context of Zeitgeist, mean the same thing. This is not at all the case.

Cool is so-laid-back-it's-almost-horizontal. Cool is aloof and arrogant: it is dismissive puff of the late-night cigarette under the dim streetlamp, the slight twist of the eyebrow, the stifled yawn and the curl of the lip. Cool, you can say with a sneer, just is, and always will be. Cool is dismissive. It is tangible, it is heavenly, but it so terribly calm.

Hot is another game entirely. Hot is a lustful spark that ignites; it burns swiftly, brightly, and then is gone. Hot is in the moment, of the moment, blink-and-you-missed-it; it takes you by surprise and turns your life upside down: you'd better jump on board or you'll be left trailing in its fiery wake. Hot is bright lights and absinthe and pumping adrenaline. Hot makes you want to stand on rooftops and shout into the red-hot night.

Cool is admired. Envied, even. But hot is a love affair.

GQ 9.11

The Unsuccessful Couple

2011-04-08T07:19:00.001+05:00

A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

- Lana Turner

Yes, we are an unsuccessful couple. I was wondering what was missing all these years. Now at least we know what to aim for. Though it seems like I have more options, i.e. I can either make more money or find a wife that spends less. But Mehvesh is stuck with her man. Oh, wait! I think that argument goes both ways. Ugh. Dog house tonight.

KL in a day, or two - Eena

2010-12-12T20:23:00.000+05:00

Eena wrote this out for Adnan. Had to save it for future reference and for peeps to enjoy! Thanks Eena.

Welcome to KL!!!

For breakfast (local and western) go to the Coliseum Cafe and Hotel at 100 Jalan Tunku Abdul Rahman. You can reach it by LRT at the Bandaraya stop. It's a golden oldie and feels like you've been transported back 100 years ago! People love the singapore beehoon here. After breakfast walk to the Central Market via the Jamek mosque (the confluence of the two rivers here is where KL was founded. The Central Market was a wet market decades ago but is now where you can browse for some local handicraft. Look for the Annexe Gallery and check out the small exhibits there. You can browse around this area to see the old side of KL where little india is located. Pick up some fish crackers called keropok lekor from the hawkers outside Central Market to keep you going. There is a famous Hindu temple here if you want to explore.

Now head to Bukit bintang street for some shopping malls to keep you cool and out of the sun during lunch. Lots of food choices here all along the street. There is also an art gallery featuring more local artists at the top of the Starhill Gallery mall.

In the evening provided that it doesn't rain,'consider heading to Chinatown on Petaling Street for the atmosphere and fake goods that the vendors try to peddle.

On Sunday consider walking around the lake gardens and visiting the Islamic arts museum for the breakfast which starts at 10am. Ppl say the food is good and the museum has some interesting exhibits. In the vicinity also are the bird park. If you don't feel like breakfast at the museum you can look for the Tanglin hawker stall in the area and have the Tanglin Nasi Lemak. Nasi Lemak is a rice dish every Malaysian eats for breakfast and other meals on the day. You can then visit the KL twin towers and the park below it and have some Char Kway Teow at the Penang Village restaurant in the twin towers shopping mall for lunch.

If you feel adventurous you can explore the Kampung Baru area which was originally a village outside of downtown but has since been surrounded by the city and highways. Here you can see some old Malay village style houses on stilts. You can try the Nasi Lemak here too at the stall called Nasi Lemak antarabangsa. You can try other malay food in the area too.

At all times do be careful of pickpockets. And if taking taxis insist on using the meter otherwise if negotiating then nothing should cost more than RM20. But if staying around the city it should be fine to walk or take the LRT everywhere. Only the lake gardens and museum area is off from the LRT.

Good luck and have fun exploring!!!

7 Moves That Will Make You a Better Dad - By Craig Playstead

2010-12-09T18:28:00.000+05:00

Tips for raising happy, well-adjusted kids.

By Craig Playstead

1. Dig deeper

A nice house, cool clothes, and grub on the table just aren't enough. Providing for our kids is in our DNA, but how well do you know yours? Do you know who your kids play with at recess? What subject they really struggle with? What they love to eat for hot lunch? If you don't know these things, you need to. While all of us are busy as hell with work and everything else in our lives, we need to make time for our kids and get to really know them -- especially the odd, everyday things that make them tick. I make it a point to talk with my kids about what happened at recess before asking about what happened in class. I want to know about the relationships they're forging, and also what they're up to with their only free time of the day. It's not easy to get this from them. But here's a fun way to spend a little time with them that they'll think is awesome: When your son or daughter is standing at the bus stop ready to be picked up for school, drive up, stop, and tell them to get in. Kidnap them for breakfast and they'll think it's the coolest thing ever. When kids are really impressed or excited by something (like this) there's a much better chance of them opening up and telling you about their lives. Don't preach, don't gasp, just listen.

2. Teach your kids to stand tall

One of the most important things a father needs to teach his kids is how to stand up for themselves. You will not get far in this world if you become a doormat, and the longer you let it happen, the harder it is to turn it around. This can be anything from just learning how to speak up in class, or confronting someone who's being unfair to them. Our offspring need to be heard, defend what they believe in, and not be bullied. Yes, we want them to be nice and to treat people well, but there is also a time to be assertive instead of like a punching bag. Teaching them how to do all this in a scary world is one of the basic duties of being a father.

3. Get off your rear

While we may be proud of our lecturing skills, most of the time when we talk all our kids hear is, "Blah, blah, blah." So that makes our actions even more important. You can tell the kids that it's important to be healthy and active, but if all they ever see you do is sit on the couch shoveling Doritos into your mouth as you watch "Celebrity Rehab," they're going to do the exact same thing. Kids should always be learning, exploring and trying new things. It's all part of how they find out what they're passionate about and who they are.

Dads can help fuel this exploration by doing the same thing; getting involved in new sports, musical instruments, and activities. This keeps dads fresh and active, and also shows kids that it's cool to try new things. Want to crank up the enthusiasm? Get junior's buddy and his dad in the game too -- kids will do almost anything if their friends are involved. If you want to start golfing, make it a foursome and it'll be even more fun.

4. Prepare for your death

This should be something that I shouldn't even have to write, but it's amazing how many men skip this to save a buck. We can all sit here and think that it's not going to happen to us, but death happens to dads every day. Protecting your family should be number-one on your responsibilities list as a father. If you're not taking care of your family you run the risk of ruining their lives if the worst should happen. This encompasses a lot, including having a life insurance policy and a will, and knowing who's going to be there to teach your son about being a man. Another aspect of this is keeping yourself healthy with regular physicals and, for God's sake, exercise. I used to work out to look better, but now it's all about longevity. My ultimate goal is to live long enough to make sure my daughter doesn't marry some jackass. They don't say "hope for the best and prepare for the worst" for nothing.

5. No worshipping heroes

There are parents out there who absolutely worship their kids and think they can do no wrong. But those kids will grow up with a distorted view of how the world works. Every parent should love the hell out of their children, but thinking that they are flawless is setting all of you up for disaster. The kids end up with unreal expectations on how the world works, don't understand defeat, and can't figure out why everyone doesn't think they walk on water. And the parents end up devastated when you finally come to the realization that little Tony actually is capable of throwing his classmate into the girls' bathroom or stealing the neighbor's mail. We all have flaws, and there's nothing wrong with that. Let them learn to deal with the disappointment of losing, and even the brilliance of constructive criticism. It'll prepare them for the real world.

6. Remember why you married her

I've said this before, but a lot of people still scratch their head when I do. One of the best (if not the best) things you can do for your kids is to be a good husband to their mother. This can be difficult to do, but it just might be the most important item on the list. We pay so much attention to not screwing up our kids that we sometimes neglect the one relationship that plays the biggest role in the person they turn out to be. And if you're divorced, remember that the way you treat their mother will have an enormous impact. It will help them respect her, and also show them how to deal with challenging relationships as they get older.

7. Imitate Clark W. Griswold

Clark was on to something when he loaded up the family truckster and headed west to Wally World. A couple times a year, we all need to bust out of that rut that our daily routine puts us in -- and getting out of Dodge is the only cure. It's not just us either; every member of the family needs to get away and put a little adventure back in their life. As painful as the family vacation can be while it's happening (with the constant potty breaks, spilled juice boxes, and annoying comments from the backseat), I run into more adults who claim that vacations were the parts about their childhood that they'll never forget. It doesn't have to be expensive -- you don't have to go far -- you just need to have a family experience to remember, for better or worse.

200 Things to Do with Linux

2010-10-30T08:38:00.002+05:00

For the 200th issue of Linux Journal, they did a virtual “man on the street” interview with the Web site readers, asking what things they do with Linux.

1. Actually work instead of waiting for reboots.—Tim Chase

2. Add extra monitors.—LJ Staff

3. Analyse water level and precipitation data.—Keith Nunn

4. Analysis of remote sensing imagery.—Micha Silver

5. Antagonize Windows users.—John Abbott

6. Anything I need, since 1994.—Manuel Trujillo

7. As the basis for FOSS conferences.—moose

8. Audio chat.—LJ Staff

9. Automate tasks with bash.—Dusty Roberson

10. Avoid using Microsoft Windows!—Simon Quantrill, Chris Szilagyi

11. Be a freelance writer.—Carl Fink

12. Be part of a revolution.—max

13. Be part of the Linux community.—Clifford Garwood II, Rodney Shinkfield

14. Be productive.—Petros Koutoupis

15. Block Web sites.—LJ Staff

16. Blog.—LJ Staff

17. Blow people’s minds.—djystn brimr

18. Bond Ethernet channels.—LJ Staff

19. Boot a live CD.—Tim Kissane

20. Browse the Internet virus-free.—ali

21. Bubble sort.—LJ Staff

22. Build an arcade center.—Kris Occhipinti

23. Build a robot.—LJ Staff

24. Build Asterisk telephone switches.—Mike Synnott

25. Build self-assembling/healing wireless mesh networks.—Ivan Ivanov

26. Build smart appliances.—Tom Gilley

27. Build solutions.—Wilhem Gonzalez

28. Burn CDs and DVDs.—LJ Staff

29. Carry it in my pocket.—Sean Pratz

30. cat stuff to /dev/audio.—Michael Hadam

31. Check e-mail from the command line.—LJ Staff

32. Code, code and code.—Jeff Boschee

33. Combine the power of xargs and MPlayer.—Javier Rojas Balderrama

34. Communicate with other consciences. —Angela Kahealani

35. Compile a kernel.—LJ Staff

36. Compile Windows programs.—LJ Staff

37. Compose music.—LJ Staff

38. Compress data.—LJ Staff

39. Conduct penetration testing.—Anthony Moore

40. Control embedded systems.—Mike Lerley

41. Control my data.—Dieter Plaetinck

42. Control servers from my N900.—Gunder johansen

43. Control space ground network for satellite communications.—Vidar Tyldum

44. Control XBMC from another room and freak out your kids by changing the video that’s playing.—LJ Staff

45. Convert units of measure.—LJ Staff

46. Convert video.—LJ Staff

47. Create and edit videos.—Elmer Perry

48. Create your own PBX.—LJ Staff

49. Customize with compiz.—okiwan

50. Debug ncurses code.—Alexander Cox

51. Delete all the GPS location data from images.—Stuart

52. Dent.—LJ Staff

53. Develop Arduino gadgets.—Eric Schug

54. Do development work for the pike language. —Lance Dillon

55. Do multilingual work.—Jonathan Abolins

56. Download back episodes.—john bosco

57. Dual-boot.—LJ Staff

58. Edit photographs.—Tarek Ahmed, Jim Peterson, DANiel Asselin

59. Edit the programing environment.—bhanupriya jena

60. Enjoy 1,000 days of uptime!—Ted Behling

61. Everyday tasks.—Patrick Dunn

62. Everything.—Philippe Godin, Lucas Westermann

63. Explore all the open-source apps.—Magesh

64. Explore source code.—Yash Datta

65. Explore various tools.—Bhupesh Chawda

66. Explore what Linux is made of.—Sriharsha

67. Feel the freedom.—hasintha, Risman

68. Filter spam.—LJ Staf

69. Fix Windows machines.—Scott Boucher, Detron Phillips, Stan Hearn

70. Geocache.—Buster Stone

71. Gloat when colleagues reboot Windows.—Kanwar Plaha

72. Grep the heck out of everything!—mixtape

73. Hack a Gibson.—LJ Staff

74. Hack an e-book reader.—LJ Staff

75. Hack everything.—Bart Friederichs

76. Hack your phone.—LJ Staff

77. Hang around various IRC networks.—dewey

78. Hijack Facebook on my wife.—Jon Elofson

79. Home music studio.—David Trombly

80. Home server.—Eric Gamache

81. Host your own blog.—BaloneyGeek

82. Impress girls with the command line.—Tim Kissane

83. Install apps from terminal.—M. Taylor

84. Install a RADIUS server.—LJ Staff

85. Install Boxee.—LJ Staff

86. Install on exotic hardware.—Jed Dale

87. Instant message/chat.—Josh

88. Launch a (USB) missle.—LJ Staff

89. Learn.—Andrew Frame

90. Learn C, C++, PHP, Python, Tcl/Tk, etc.—LJ Staff

91. Learn new technologies.—cga

92. Learn operating systems.—Alex Link

93. Link VHF radios using Internet.—Gustavo Conrad

94. Listen to music.—LJ Staff

95. Listen to podcasts.—LJ Staff

96. Load balance with round-robin DNS.—LJ Staff

97. Log on to Windows and remove IE.—Kartik Mistry

98. Make affordable technology solutions.—nettie feldman

99. Make a living.—Doug Roberts, cbleslie, Woody

100. Make free phone calls.—LJ Staff

101. Make my terminal window transparent.—Josiah Ritchie

102. Make non-Linux users jealous.—T.J. Domingue

103. Make videos of my desktop.—Praveen Kumar Singh

104. Make your computer look like Windows or OS X.—LJ Staff

105. Manipulate data with Python and shell.—Darrell Collins

106. Multitask.—Samuel Huang

107. Not waste my time rebuilding systems.—Jim Wallace

108. Parse weather data.—Xiao Haozi

109. Partition and format my hard drive.—Samsuddin Wira

110. Pay my bills securely on-line.—J. E. Aneiros

111. Photo management system with digiKam.—Fri13

112. Play a game.—LJ Staff

113. Play Commander Keen.—Terry Letsche

114. Play console emulators.—LJ Staff

115. Play SCummVM games.—LJ Staff

116. Play with Compiz Fusion.—Oleg Shmelyov

117. Play with OSes in VirtualBox.—Kousik Maiti

118. Pretend to be a Windows server.—LJ Staff

119. Provide services for Windows.—Gene Liverman

120. Proxy through SSH tunnel.—Scott Schafer

121. PXE boot GeeXboX.—Jeremy Kepler

122. Read a book.—LJ Staff

123. Read comics.—Neal Murphy

124. Read the boot sequence.—José Filipe

125. Read the digital edition of Linux Journal. —John Abbott

126. Record and watch TV.—Cory Lievers

127. Record, edit and publish a podcast about Linux. —Larry Bushey

128. Record HDTV with MythTV.—David Miller

129. Recover my girlfriend’s data.—Arun SAG

130. Rejuvenate a sluggish computer.—Andrea Zygmunt

131. Render fractals.—LJ Staff

132. Render video content.—Erin Bournival

133. Research and analyze baseball.—Sid Finch

134. Revolutionize healthcare.—Fred Trotter

135. Rip audio from streaming radio.—Galen Gish

136. Rip YouTube videos.—LJ Staff

137. Root around a Windows computer.—Ben Pratt

138. Run a beer fermentation cooler.—LJ Staff

139. Run a feature-rich Web site with Drupal. —Jim Caruso

140. Run an embedded server (where Windows failed).—Ryan Kirkpatrick

141. Run a proxy for my friend in China.—DavidWC

142. Run Lotus Notes version 8.—David Vasta

143. Run mutt and irssi in a screen session. —Matthew Cengia

144. Run my home family network.—Zak_Neutron

145. Run my whole house.—Robert White

146. Run Radiance daylight simulations in Amazon’s EC. —Severn Clay-Youman

147. Run the sound system at the chapel I attend. —Irving Risch

148. Run Windows in VirtualBox.—Happy Hacker

149. Run XBMC on your TV.—LJ Staff

150. Run Xen hypervisor.—Joe Cortes

151. Save infected Windows machines.—Paul Bucalo

152. Save people’s info with Linux.—Lee Schmid

153. Search for aliens.—LJ Staff

154. Search for Mersenne Primes.—Ted Behling

155. Serve a Web page.—LJ Staff

156. Set up a distro mirror.—LJ Staff

157. Set up a VPN.—LJ Staff

158. Set up my system for perfect productivity. —Justin Christian

159. Set up MythTV.—Patrick Bulteel

160. Share Linux with other people.—Rob Haag

161. Shell scripts.—Hieu, Nghiem Ba

162. Show it to my friends.—Dale Rooney

163. Show off my desktop.—Sum Yung Gai

164. Show people cool software.—Rob Hooft

165. Sniff packets.—LJ Staff

166. Solve for Pi (okay, probably not).—LJ Staff

167. Sort your DVD library.—LJ Staff

168. ssh to remote systems.—Bharathi Subramanian

169. Stream Netflix via Roku.—LJ Staff

170. Surf the Web, text, play silly games on my Motorola Droid!—Todd Blake

171. Talk to Amateur radio operators.—Jeff Hanscom

172. Teach Linux.—shrinivasan

173. Teach operating system concepts. —satyaakam goswami, Esteban Arias

174. Time your tea steeping.—LJ Staff

175. tracepath/traceroute.—Gjorgji Taskovski

176. Transmit audio casts.—carlos gomes

177. Try as many different distros as possible. —Carlo van Rijswijk

178. Try interesting apps.—Abhishek Tiwary

179. Tweet.—LJ Staff

180. Type top and press Enter.—Roshan Baladhanvi

181. Use a 9+ year-old computer.—Gumnos

182. Use GnuCash.—Peter Anderton

183. Use Linux as a thin-client server.—Tim Strickland

184. Use Linux to fix computers.—Bob Ivie

185. Use multiple virtual desktops.—LJ Staff

186. Video chat.—LJ Staff

187. Watch HD movies.—Vangelis Nonas

188. Watch Linux Journal videos!—LJ Staff

189. Watch TV with MythBuntu.—Todd Fowler

190. Watch video RSS with Miro.—David Crews

191. Web hosting.—Jared Moore

192. We like to have it with some funk!—Hedda, Anna and Maxim

193. Wiggle windows with Compiz.—LJ Staff

194. Work mobile or static.—Divakar Ramachandran

195. Work on my Web site.—charles snider

196. Write poetry in shell scripts.—Hani Saigh

197. Write programs.—ttylinux

198. Write Python code.—svaksha

199. Write Web pages that Internet Explorer can’t display.—LJ Staff

200. Write with OpenOffice.org.—Jeremy LaCroix

Potty Girl

2010-10-10T07:27:00.003+05:00

I'm a potty girl, in the potty world

Life in pampies, it's fantastic!

you can wipe my poop, change me everywhere

Imagination, life is your creation

Come on baby, let's go potty!

How to make a woman happy

2010-09-20T17:17:00.002+05:00

It's not difficult to make a woman happy. A man only needs to be:

1. A friend

2. A companion

3. A lover

4. A brother

5. A father

6. A master

7. A chef

8. An electrician

9. A carpenter

10. A plumber

11. A mechanic

12. A decorator

13. A stylist

14. A sexologist

15. A gynaecologist

16. A psychologist

17. A pest exterminator

18. A psychiatrist

19. A healer

20. A good listener

21. An organizer

22. A good father

23. Very clean

24. Sympathetic

25. Athletic

26. Warm

27. Attentive

28. Gallant

29. Intelligent

30. Funny

31. Creative

32. Tender

33. Strong

34. Understanding

35. Tolerant

36. Prudent

37. Ambitious

38. Capable

39. Courageous

40. Determined

41. True

42. Dependable

43. Passionate

44. Compassionate

WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:

45. Give her compliments regularly

46. Love shopping

47. Be honest

48. Be very rich

49. Not stress her out

50. Not look at other girls

AND AT THE SAME TIME, YOU MUST ALSO:

51. Give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself

52. Give her lots of time, especially time for herself

53. Give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:

54. Never to forget:

* birthdays

* anniversaries

* arrangements she makes

HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY

1. Leave him alone

Burkini maybe?

2010-07-27T12:00:00.006+05:00

"Not another one...", I thought to myself when I saw the title of this article, expecting another tirade from a flag-bearer of an anachronistic agenda and lacking any grasp on the reality of the world we live in. But here is a touching story of a mother who's trying to figure out how to protect her daughter while giving her daughter space to explore and discover herself. Hmm... how would I react if my daughter wanted to wear a burka -- or a bikini. Ground her for life! Ha! Well, she's due today, so I'll know in a few years inshallah. ;)

Bikini or headscarf -- which offers more freedom?

Nine years ago, I danced my newborn daughter around my North Carolina living room to the music of "Free to Be...You and Me", the '70s children's classic whose every lyric about tolerance and gender equality I had memorized as a girl growing up in California.

My Libyan-born husband, Ismail, sat with her for hours on our screened porch, swaying back and forth on a creaky metal rocker and singing old Arabic folk songs, and took her to a Muslim sheikh who chanted a prayer for long life into her tiny, velvety ear.

She had espresso eyes and lush black lashes like her father's, and her milky-brown skin darkened quickly in the summer sun. We named her Aliya, which means "exalted" in Arabic, and agreed we would raise her to choose what she identified with most from our dramatically different backgrounds.

I secretly felt smug about this agreement -- confident that she would favor my comfortable American lifestyle over his modest Muslim upbringing. Ismail's parents live in a squat stone house down a winding dirt alley outside Tripoli. Its walls are bare except for passages from the Quran engraved onto wood, its floors empty but for thin cushions that double as bedding at night.

My parents live in a sprawling home in Santa Fe with a three-car garage, hundreds of channels on the flat-screen TV, organic food in the refrigerator, and a closetful of toys for the grandchildren.

I imagined Aliya embracing shopping trips to Whole Foods and the stack of presents under the Christmas tree, while still fully appreciating the melodic sound of Arabic, the honey-soaked baklava Ismail makes from scratch, the intricate henna tattoos her aunt drew on her feet when we visited Libya. Not once did I imagine her falling for the head covering worn by Muslim girls as an expression of modesty.

Last summer we were celebrating the end of Ramadan with our Muslim community at a festival in the parking lot behind our local mosque. Children bounced in inflatable fun houses while their parents sat beneath a plastic tarp nearby, shooing flies from plates of curried chicken, golden rice, and baklava.

Aliya and I wandered past rows of vendors selling prayer mats, henna tattoos, and Muslim clothing. When we reached a table displaying head coverings, Aliya turned to me and pleaded, "Please, Mom -- can I have one?"

She riffled through neatly folded stacks of headscarves while the vendor, an African-American woman shrouded in black, beamed at her. I had recently seen Aliya cast admiring glances at Muslim girls her age.

I quietly pitied them, covered in floor-length skirts and long sleeves on even the hottest summer days, as my best childhood memories were of my skin laid bare to the sun: feeling the grass between my toes as I ran through the sprinkler on my front lawn; wading into an icy river in Idaho, my shorts hitched up my thighs, to catch my first rainbow trout; surfing a rolling emerald wave off the coast of Hawaii. But Aliya envied these girls and had asked me to buy her clothes like theirs. And now a headscarf.

In the past, my excuse was that they were hard to find at our local mall, but here she was, offering to spend ten dollars from her own allowance to buy the forest green rayon one she clutched in her hand. I started to shake my head emphatically "no," but caught myself, remembering my commitment to Ismail. So I gritted my teeth and bought it, assuming it would soon be forgotten.

That afternoon, as I was leaving for the grocery store, Aliya called out from her room that she wanted to come.

A moment later she appeared at the top of the stairs -- or more accurately, half of her did. From the waist down, she was my daughter: sneakers, bright socks, jeans a little threadbare at the knees. But from the waist up, this girl was a stranger. Her bright, round face was suspended in a tent of dark cloth like a moon in a starless sky.

"Are you going to wear that?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said slowly, in that tone she had recently begun to use with me when I state the obvious.

On the way to the store, I stole glances at her in my rearview mirror. She stared out the window in silence, appearing as aloof and unconcerned as a Muslim dignitary visiting our small Southern town -- I, merely her chauffeur.

I bit my lip. I wanted to ask her to remove her head covering before she got out of the car, but I couldn't think of a single logical reason why, except that the sight of it made my blood pressure rise. I'd always encouraged her to express her individuality and to resist peer pressure, but now I felt as self-conscious and claustrophobic as if I were wearing that headscarf myself.

In the Food Lion parking lot, the heavy summer air smothered my skin. I gathered the damp hair on my neck into a ponytail, but Aliya seemed unfazed by the heat. We must have looked like an odd pair: a tall blonde woman in a tank top and jeans cupping the hand of a four-foot-tall Muslim. I drew my daughter closer and the skin on my bare arms prickled -- as much from protective instinct as from the blast of refrigerated air that hit me as I entered the store.

As we maneuvered our cart down the aisles, shoppers glanced at us like we were a riddle they couldn't quite solve, quickly dropping their gaze when I caught their eye.

In the produce aisle, a woman reaching for an apple fixed me with an overly bright, solicitous smile that said "I embrace diversity and I am perfectly fine with your child." She looked so earnest, so painfully eager to put me at ease, that I suddenly understood how it must feel to have a child with an obvious disability, and all the curiosity or unwelcome sympathies from strangers it evokes.

At the checkout line, an elderly Southern woman clasped her bony hands together and bent slowly down toward Aliya. "My, my," she drawled, wobbling her head in disbelief. "Don't you look absolutely precious!" My daughter smiled politely, then turned to ask me for a pack of gum.

In the following days, Aliya wore her headscarf to the breakfast table over her pajamas, to a Muslim gathering where she was showered with compliments, and to the park, where the moms with whom I chatted on the bench studiously avoided mentioning it altogether.

Later that week, at our local pool, I watched a girl only a few years older than Aliya play Ping-Pong with a boy her age. She was caught in that awkward territory between childhood and adolescence -- narrow hips, skinny legs, the slightest swelling of new breasts -- and she wore a string bikini.

Her opponent wore an oversize T-shirt and baggy trunks that fell below his knees, and when he slammed the ball at her, she lunged for it while trying with one hand to keep the slippery strips of spandex in place. I wanted to offer her a towel to wrap around her hips, so she could lose herself in the contest and feel the exhilaration of making a perfect shot.

It was easy to see why she was getting demolished at this game: Her near-naked body was consuming her focus. And in her pained expression I recognized the familiar mix of shame and excitement I felt when I first wore a bikini.

At 14, I skittered down the halls of high school like a squirrel in traffic: hugging the walls, changing direction in midstream, darting for cover. Then I went to Los Angeles to visit my aunt Mary during winter break. Mary collected mermaids, kept a black-and-white photo of her long-haired Indian guru on her dresser, and shopped at a tiny health food store that smelled of patchouli and peanut butter. She took me to Venice Beach, where I bought a cheap bikini from a street vendor.

Dizzy with the promise of an impossibly bright afternoon, I thought I could be someone else -- glistening and proud like the greased-up bodybuilders on the lawn, relaxed and unself-conscious as the hippies who lounged on the pavement with lit incense tucked behind their ears. In a beachside bathroom with gritty cement floors, I changed into my new two-piece suit.

Goose bumps spread across my chubby white tummy and the downy white hairs on my thighs stood on end -- I felt as raw and exposed as a turtle stripped of its shell. And when I left the bathroom, the stares of men seemed to pin me in one spot even as I walked by.

In spite of a strange and mounting sense of shame, I was riveted by their smirking faces; in their suggestive expressions I thought I glimpsed some vital clue to the mystery of myself. What did these men see in me -- what was this strange power surging between us, this rapidly shifting current that one moment made me feel powerful and the next unspeakably vulnerable?

I imagined Aliya in a string bikini in a few years. Then I imagined her draped in Muslim attire. It was hard to say which image was more unsettling. I thought then of something a Sufi Muslim friend had told me: that Sufis believe our essence radiates beyond our physical bodies -- that we have a sort of energetic second skin, which is extremely sensitive and permeable to everyone we encounter. Muslim men and women wear modest clothing, she said, to protect this charged space between them and the world.

Growing up in the '70s in Southern California, I had learned that freedom for women meant, among other things, fewer clothes, and that women could be anything -- and still look good in a bikini. Exploring my physical freedom had been an important part of my process of self-discovery, but the exposure had come at a price.

Since that day in Venice Beach, I'd spent years learning to swim in the turbulent currents of attraction -- wanting to be desired, resisting others' unwelcome advances, plumbing the mysterious depths of my own longing.

I'd spent countless hours studying my reflection in the mirror -- admiring it, hating it, wondering what others thought of it -- and it sometimes seemed to me that if I had applied the same relentless scrutiny to another subject I could have become enlightened, written a novel, or at least figured out how to grow an organic vegetable garden.

On a recent Saturday morning, in the crowded dressing room of a large department store, I tried on designer jeans alongside college girls in stiletto heels, young mothers with babies fussing in their strollers, and middle-aged women with glossed lips pursed into frowns. One by one we filed into changing rooms, then lined up to take our turn on a brightly lit pedestal surrounded by mirrors, cocking our hips and sucking in our tummies and craning our necks to stare at our rear ends.

When it was my turn, my heart felt as tight in my chest as my legs did in the jeans. My face looked drawn under the fluorescent lights, and suddenly I was exhausted by all the years I'd spent doggedly chasing the carrot of self-improvement, while dragging behind me a heavy cart of self-criticism.

At this stage in her life, Aliya is captivated by the world around her -- not by what she sees in the mirror. Last summer she stood at the edge of the Blue Ridge Parkway, stared at the blue-black outline of the mountains in the distance, their tips swaddled by cottony clouds, and gasped. "This is the most beautiful thing I ever saw," she whispered. Her wide-open eyes were a mirror of all that beauty, and she stood so still that she blended into the lush landscape, until finally we broke her reverie by tugging at her arm and pulling her back to the car.

At school it's different. In her fourth-grade class, girls already draw a connection between clothing and popularity. A few weeks ago, her voice rose in anger as she told me about a classmate who had ranked all the girls in class according to how stylish they were.

I understood then that while physical exposure had liberated me in some ways, Aliya could discover an entirely different type of freedom by choosing to cover herself.

I have no idea how long Aliya's interest in Muslim clothing will last. If she chooses to embrace Islam, I trust the faith will bring her tolerance, humility, and a sense of justice -- the way it has done for her father. And because I have a strong desire to protect her, I will also worry that her choice could make life in her own country difficult. She has recently memorized the fatiha, the opening verse of the Quran, and she is pressing her father to teach her Arabic. She's also becoming an agile mountain biker who rides with me on wooded trails, mud spraying her calves as she navigates the swollen creek.

The other day, when I dropped her off at school, instead of driving away from the curb in a rush as I usually do, I watched her walk into a crowd of kids, bent forward under the weight of her backpack as if she were bracing against a storm. She moved purposefully, in such a solitary way -- so different from the way I was at her age, and I realized once again how mysterious she is to me.

It's not just her head covering that makes her so: It's her lack of concern for what others think about her. It's finding her stash of Halloween candy untouched in her drawer, while I was a child obsessed with sweets. It's the fact that she would rather dive into a book than into the ocean -- that she gets so consumed with her reading that she can't hear me calling her from the next room.

I watched her kneel at the entryway to her school and pull a neatly folded cloth from the front of her pack, where other kids stash bubble gum or lip gloss. Then she slipped it over her head, and her shoulders disappeared beneath it like the cape her younger brother wears when he pretends to be a superhero.

As I pulled away from the curb, I imagined that headscarf having magical powers to protect her boundless imagination, her keen perception, and her unself-conscious goodness. I imagined it shielding her as she journeys through that house of mirrors where so many young women get trapped in adolescence, buffering her from the dissatisfaction that clings in spite of the growing number of choices at our fingertips, providing safe cover as she takes flight into a future I can only imagine.

By Krista Bremer, who is the winner of a 2008 Pushcart Prize and a 2009 Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers' Award. She is associate publisher of the literary magazine The Sun, and she is writing a memoir about her bicultural marriage.

This article First appeared on: O, The Oprah Magazine

EIGHT CLUES TO HAPPINESS

2010-04-07T18:22:00.002+05:00

THIS ABOVE ALL - KHUSHWANT SINGH

Having lived a reasonably contented life, I was musing over what a person should strive for to achieve happiness. I drew up a list of a few essentials which I put forward for the readers’ appraisal.

First and foremost is good health. If you do not enjoy good health you can never be happy. Any ailment, however trivial, will deduct from your happiness.

Second, a healthy bank balance. It need not run into crores but should be enough to provide for creature comforts and something to spare for recreation, like eating out, going to the pictures, travelling or going on holidays on the hills or by the sea. Shortage of money can be only demoralizing. Living on credit or borrowing is demeaning and lowers one in one’s own eyes.

Third, a home of your own. Rented premises can never give you the snug feeling of a nest which is yours for keeps that a home provides: if it has a garden space, all the better. Plant your own trees and flowers, see them grow and blossom, cultivate a sense of kinship with them.

Fourth, an understanding companion, be it your spouse or a friend. If there are too many misunderstandings, they will rob you of your peace of mind. It is better to be divorced than to bicker all the time.

Fifth, lack of envy towards those who have done better than you in life — risen higher, made more money, or earned more fame. Envy can be very corroding; avoid comparing yourself with others.

Sixth, do not allow other people to descend on you for gup-shup. By the time you get rid of them, you will feel exhausted and poisoned by their gossip-mongering.

Seventh, cultivate some hobbies which can bring you a sense of fulfilment, such as gardening, reading, writing, painting, playing or listening to music. Going to clubs or parties to get free drinks or to meet celebrities is criminal waste of time.

Eighth, every morning and evening, devote 15 minutes to introspection. In the morning, 10 minutes should be spent on stilling the mind and then five in listing things you have to do that day. In the evening, five minutes to still the mind again, and ten to go over what you had undertaken to do.

Nathaniel Cotton (1721-1788) summed up my views on the subject in one verse:

If solid happiness we prize,

Within our breast this jewel lies;

And they are fools who roam:

The world has nothing to bestow;

From our own selves our joys must flow

And that dear hut, — our home.

Roaming at 30k

2009-08-23T08:28:00.004+06:00

On my Emirates flight back from Thailand I switched on my phone (changing back to HK SIM) and noticed that I was getting a signal. What? 'Aero Mobile' roaming. Wow. The airline must have a satellite link-up and a local GSM transcevier. Of course I couldn't wait to inquire about the charges (pretty dull, in hindsight) and wanted to see if it worked. Fired off an SMS and received an incoming call (couldn't really hear anything on the latter). Charges were actually not too bad (that's HK$ == US$ / 8):

According to their website: http://www.aeromobile.net/ Telenor is one of the partners (will I get better rates if I have a Telenor connection from Pakistan?). And they also offer data services. 3G is probably not far off.

I guess the only way to disconnect now is to actually pull the plug. Here's a brave story. :)

http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2009/08/geekdad-unwired-screenless/

Home is where?

2009-08-22T14:29:00.003+06:00

I think Hong Kong has one of the prettiest city skylines in the world. Took these pictures from my office window. Poor man's wide angle lens with a bad camera phone and terrible lighting, but you get the idea.

When I returned from Thailand last week, it didn't feel like I was coming home -- that little tingling of excitement I always get when going to Lahore and New York. It just felt like my vacation was over and I was returing to work.

So what makes a place feel like home? History. Family and friends. A sense of belonging. I guess I don't feel like I belong here. Yet. Maybe ever? It's a difficult culture to follow, and never really being able to understand the language well enough (even if I try to learn) will make it harder. So should I try? Or is it just easier to go with the flow like every other expat who act like they're always on vacation (even if they've been here ten years).

Sizzle...

2009-08-19T05:05:00.007+06:00

I recently upgraded my home Internet connection from 8Mbps to 30Mbs for an extra HK$ 34 (US$ 4; now paying a total of US$ 22 for internet). The results are sizzling! The following using speedtest.net.

Hong Kong server: It actually goes up to ~30Mbps! But more astounding is the upload speed.

Lahore server: appaling ping time, but download upload are still pretty decent. Don't think it can get much better no matter the ISP.

New York server: Download is OK -- not sure if I've gained any advantage by upgrading to 8Mbps (most of the downloading we do is from US servers, right? Unless they are Akamized, of course!). But upload is faster than download? Ha! That's funny.

I also tested from my work PC to the Hong Kong server. Hey look! My home download is better (though that could just be because of the time-of-day that I tested). But the ping and upload numbers are just insane. I should also try the same for a New York server.

My life according to Daughtry

2009-08-12T22:08:00.002+06:00

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 15 people you like and include me. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as SOMEONE'S "my life according to (band name)"

Pick your Artist: Daughtry

Gender: Ghost of Me

Describe yourself: There and back again

Describe your job: Breakdown

How do you feel: Crashed

Describe where you currently live: Home

If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Long Way

Your favorite form of transportation: Traffic light

Your favorite food: Feels like tonight

Your best friend is: No surprise

You and your best friends are: Supernatural

What's the weather like/Favorite time of day: September

If your life were a TV show, what would it be called: One Last Chance

What is life to you: All these lives

Your relationship: What I want

Your fear: You don't belong

What is the best advice you have to give: Learn my Lesson

Thought for the Day: Open up your eyes

Giant pedal forward

2009-05-28T22:14:00.006+06:00

Ahmad reminded me that I hadn't blogged in a while... so here I am. And what better time to blog than to report Faiz's next giant leap(s) forward? Yes, after a year of trying, and buying him a bike for his third birthday (4 months ago!), Faiz finally took his first pedal. Sure it took bribes (lollypops) and threats (no lollypops), but the results are staggering.

Funny thing though, he only likes to pedal with his right foot. So rather than bring his left foot down forward, he takes both feet back and brings the right foot up again. His piano teacher told be today that he only likes to play with his right hand. So we have a heavily-right-biased kid. I suppose that might be normal at this age, so I'm not concerned. Should I be?

But that's not all! Of course, all of us in-the-know know that he has also taken another giant leap toward civilized behavior by adopting the potty to take care of business. Yes, this will be regarded by many as a significantly greater achievement than the first pedal. But I'm biased, and I'm sticking to it. The sooner he starts cycling, the sooner I can take him on rides with me. Pooping is a solo sport and he can take his own sweet time at it.

And last but not least, Faiz has joined the ranks of all privileged children since 1965. He has discovered Sound of Music and likes it! Dancing around to Do Ray Me is now a favorite pastime. Here is a picture of him rivited to the ballroom dance:

And the story would not be complete without honourable mention to Faiz's nano. The potty training is wholly attributable to her (and a few dozen candies). She also suggested downloading Sound of Music (I had a role to play in locating the illegal torrent), and that we let Faiz bike around in the house -- earlier he was only allowed to do it downstairs and thus wasn't getting enough 'saddle time.'

I can cook!

2009-01-26T00:13:00.005+05:00

Started cooking again. It's easier when you have your own kitchen, and know where everything is. It's still a mystery why I can never get myself to cook in Pakistan. I am convinced that it must be hundreds of years of genetic training... men in Pakistan just don't like the kitchen.

Pictures are a litte dull because of the camera phone, but really looked and tasted yum!

Chollay (chick peas) -- though you can only see the

potato and onion garnishing on top. It was a small pot!

Chicken Jalfrezi -- Shan masala zindabaad!

Noodles with shrimp paste and Chicken in black bean sauve.

December 16, 1971: Hum kay thehray ajnabi…

2008-12-13T09:31:00.003+05:00

In his memorable 1974 poem ‘Dhaka say wapsi par’ (On Return from Dhaka), Faiz Ahmad Faiz, expressed his feelings on the separation of East Pakistan. Here is the poem in Urdu, a version in ‘Roman Urdu,’ a wonderful English translation of the poem by the late Agha Shahid Ali in his book The Rebel’s Silhouette, and a video of Nayarra Noor singing the verses with the passion and feeling that they deserve.

ham ke Thehre ajnabi itni mulaaqaatoN ke baad

phir baneiN ge aashna kitni madaaraatoN ke baad

kab nazar meiN aaye gi be daaGh sabze ki bahaar

khoon ke dhabe dhuleiN ge kitni barsaatoN ke baad

the bahut bedard lamhe khat’m-e-dard-e-ishq ke

theiN bahut bemeh’r subheiN meh’rbaaN raatoN ke baad

dil to chaaha par shikast-e-dil ne moh’lat hi na di

kuchh gile shikwe bhi kar lete manaajaatoN ke baad

un se jo kehne gaye the “Faiz” jaaN sadqe kiye

an kahi hi reh gayi woh baat sab baatoN ke baad

Agha Shahid Ali’s Translation

After those many encounters, that easy intimacy, we are strangers now –

After how many meetings will we be that close again?

When will we again see a spring of unstained green?

After how many monsoons will the blood be washed from the branches?

So relentless was the end of love, so heartless –

After the nights of tenderness, the dawns were pitiless, so pitiless.

And so crushed was the heart that though it wished it found no chance –

after the entreaties, after the despair — for us to quarrel once again as old friends.

Faiz, what you’d gone to say, ready to offer everything, even your life –

those healing words remained unspoken after all else had been said.

Source: http://pakistaniat.com/2006/12/16/december-1971-pakistan-bangladesh-faiz-ajnabi/

Letter from the son of an Oberoi victim

2008-12-06T01:54:00.001+05:00

Dear Friends,

Firstly I would like to thank you all for the love, support, prayers and good wishes extended to me over the last few days. I would like to reply to all you messages one by one but it will be impossible to do in such a short time frame. It was these messages that kept me going for the last few days giving me hope and comfort.

As many of you might know from email and newspaper articles my father was trapped in the oberoi hotel for 36 hours. He was eating dinner with his two close friends Anand Bhatt and Pankaj Shah, both of whom have been father figures to me over the last several years. The three of them were trapped along with another fifteen people in the Kandhar restaurant when the terrorist arrived. They were all marched up fifteen or so flights of stairs up to a landing in the fire escape where two terrorists lined them up and opened fire with AK 47s. A bullet grazed my father's neck and he collapsed on the floor with all the bodies piling up on top of him. Some how he and 3 others managed to survive hiding among the dead bodies for the next two days. We lost both Anandbhai and Pankaj Uncle in the shooting.

My father is now safe at home with minor wounds, which will heal, but the damage of losing such dear friends and good people continue to haunt us. Somehow with the help of God and all our friends we hope that one day we can reclaim the innocence of life which is now so lost to us.

There are several stories I can tell you.... tales of near escape, luck and sheer herosim. I am inspired and touched by the many brave men and women who gave their lives to perform their duty and know that somewhere they are with God. To their families I give my deepest condolences and pray to God that somehow one day we can understand why they fell to such madness.

Today I attended the march outside the gateway of India... the press were calling it the gateway of anger and in many ways they are right. I saw the impassioned youth of India frustrated with the ineptness and impotence of our leaders. I saw a spark in their eyes that fills me with a hope that we can change this city and this country. The youth are educated and strong and believe in a better country for us all. Their strength will carry us forward into the next phase of our country.

I only wish to ask a few things of everyone that reads this... things that have become clear to me over the last few days. I shall list them down point by point.

The following is my action plan for the rest of my life... what I will take away from this experience.

1) Do not preach violence and war without first understanding its true nature. I spent 2 nights hearing the guns and grenades going off from outside the hotel and imagined my father in there. What I felt at that moment I would not wish on any family in the world. We must not let our passions take control of us and become the very same demons that held our city hostage. Our response must be measured educated and precise. Please do not ask for anything more from you leaders.

2) Corruption is the cancer of our society and has now shown how it can cripple us. Politicians are too busy making money to carry out their work. This again starts with you and me. From today I promise never to bribe another government servant. I will go to every businessman I know and ask him to do the same. Please let us collectively rid our nation of this poison.

3) Train yourself mentally and physically to protect yourself and your family. Learn a martial art or basic self-defense. If everyone in these hotels knew how to react to violence maybe we may have overcome this situation sooner. If you do not with to learn to fight learn basic first aid and lifesaving techniques. We are heading to a situation of war soon and these skills will serve us well in the future.

4) Be involved with an NGO/govt org/ prayer group. Connect with your society and help to uplift it with money and time. We now have to be concerned with what goes on outside the doors of our apartments and bungalows. Educate a poor child and he will be an asset in the future not an easy recruit for terrorists and criminals. Reach across communal borders and get to know other religions. It is only after we start this dialogue on the basic level will we be able to be undivided when the terrorists try to divide us.

5) Love and cherish your family and friends... even the ones who you think are weird and different. The sheer number of people who supported our family through this crisis has been amazing... people who I haven't spoken to for years have reached out with love support and prayers. It's only after incidents like these that you realize how petty your day-to-day problems are. The terrorists didn't check whether the people they shot were Hindu, Muslim, rich, poor, ugly, well dressed etc etc.... They just shot.... we should not diffrentiate between people when we share our love and support. If you can make a sad person smile for me you are a hero.

6) Fear nothing except fear itself.... your destiny is written.... if the bullet had been one centimeter off my father would have been dead.... never be scared.... be bold and be brave and when the time comes you will meet your maker with dignity.

7) Stand up for what's right... support those who do ...

8) Smile, dance, sing enjoy the beautiful world that god has given us. Plant a tree and give back to nature. Life is fleeting and if you don't enjoy it what's the point.

9) Confront your guilt and stand up to your fears. Apologize to those you have wronged and forgive yourself for the wrongs you have committed.

A few messages I wish to convey -

To the terrorists and people who committed this cowardly act I want to thank you for exposing our weakness so now we may become strong, for hurting our pride so that we may be humble, for scaring us to that we can be brave, for angering us so that we can unite. You have served as an alarm clock for a sleeping giant and I hope that one day I can meet you face to face and show you how wicked and weak you hearts are.

To the people of Pakistan... I know that you have been victims of terror too and I pray to God that you have the strength and clarity to face the demons that exist in your country. Money and power means nothing without the love of your friends and family and it is now time to stand up and fight for what's decent and right. Its time to stop letting the jihadis and self-serving govt officials fool you. Take control of your country - never forget that we were once one proud nation and the same breed of men split us apart. We are with you in body heart and spirit.

To fellow Indians.... never forget where you came from ... we have inspired the world before and the time has come again... never again is a casualty or death acceptable... be it a poor man in a train or a rich man in a five star hotel... We must protect our children and our motherland with blood, sweat and tears.

To my friends and family ... you are the most important part of my life and without you there is no meaning. I hope you are safe and happy wherever you may be and hopefully we will be together soon.

with all my love always,

Romil Parikh

The Debris of Terror

2008-12-05T02:54:00.003+05:00

There can be nothing more dangerous at present than a deadly combination of injured innocence and glib macho loose talk. About bombing Pakistan and Islamophobia...Or 'Mossad-CIA' involvement, for that matter.

SHUDDHABRATA SENGUPTA

December 3, 2008

Last week’s terror attacks on Bombay/Mumbai, for which there can be no justification whatsoever, have targetted railway stations, restaurants, hospitals, places of worship, streets and hotels. These are the places in which people gather. where the anonymous flux of urban life finds refuge and sustenance on an everyday basis. By attacking such sites, the tactics of the recent terror attack (like all its predecessors) echo the tropes of conventional warfare as it developed in the twentieth century. These tactics valued the objective of the escalation of terror and panic amongst civilians higher than they viewed the neutralization of strictly military or strategic targets. In a war without end, (which is one way of looking at the twentieth century and its legacy) panic is the key weapon and the most important objective.

The history of the indiscriminate bombing of cities and inhabited tracts as acts of war in modern times (from Guernica in Spain to Dresden and London in the Second World War, to the bombing of Cambodia in the 70s and the attacks on Baghdad in the Iraq War) underscores the fact that the ultimate objective of contemporary military actions is not the destruction of military or state assets but the utter demoralization of the civilian population by deploying disproportionate and massive force against the softest of possible targets - unarmed, un-involved ordinary people.

The terrorists who caused mayhem in Bombay, and their mentors, wheresoever they may lie, are no less remarkable in their lethal cynicism than those who sanctioned the bombing of Baghdad in recent times. They were interested in hurting people more than they were in tilting at the windmills of power. If we accept the conjecture that the attacks were authored by Islamist organizations based in Pakistan (which by itself is not unlikely), then we also have to accept the irony that in their actions they have mirrored and echoed the tactics of the military leadership of the great powers they decry as their adversaries. Terrorists and war criminals are replicas of each other. The difference between them is only a matter of degree. The students have learnt well from their teachers.

No redemptive, just, honourable or worthwhile politically transformatory objectives can be met, or even invoked, by attacking a mass transit railway station, a restaurant, a hotel or a hospital. The holding of hostages in a centre of worship and comfort for travellers cannot and does not challenge any form of the state oppression anywhere. The terrorists (I unhesitatingly call them ‘terrorists’, a word which I am normally reluctant to use, because their objective was nothing other than the terror itself) who undertook these operations did not deal a single blow to the edifice of oppression in this country, or in any other country. On the other hand, they strengthened it. By helping to unleash calls for war, by eliminating (unwittingly perhaps) those that have been investigating the links between fringe far right groups and home grown terror, by provoking once again the demand for stronger and more lethal legislation for preventive detention (in the form of a revived or resuscitated POTA), these terrorists have done statist and authoritarian politics in India its biggest favour. The sinister and lunatic fringe of far right politics of the Hindutva variety (which seems to have acted hand in glove with rogue elements within the security establishment) in particular, must be delighted to have been gifted this latest horror on a platter without having had to work hard for it.

While the agents of the attack in Bombay may have been genuinely motivated by their own twisted understanding of Islam, they have demonstrated that they have no hesitation in putting millions of Indian Muslims in harms way by exposing them to the risk of a long drawn out of spiral of retaliation. We need to underscore that they killed 40 innocent, unarmed Muslims (roughly 20 % of the current total casualty figures of 179) while they unleashed their brutal force on Bombay. The terrorists who authored their deaths cannot by any stretch of imagination be seen as partisans or friends of Islam. They are the enemy of us all, and especially of those amongst us who happen to be Muslims, for they jeopardize the safety and security of all Muslims in India by unleashing yet another wave of suspicion and prejudice against ordinary Muslims. Any effort to rationalize their actions by reference to real or perceived injustices to Muslims in India, is patronizing at best, and insensitive at worst.

It is therefore neither surprising nor remarkable that several Muslim organizations and individuals in India have unanimously condemned the terror attacks and terrorism in general. The actions of the terrorists (their purported statements as aired on India TV notwithstanding) constitute an insult to anyone who is interested in seriously addressing the discrimination faced by minorities in India.

What is particularly reprehensible about the terrorist’s actions is their choice to target and kill unarmed Jewish travellers, a rabbi and his wife. This choice was not accidental, these people were targetted because of their religious affiliation and their ethnic origins. The anti-semitic edge of contemporary Islamic Fundamentalism has nothing whatsoever to do with any opposition to the oppressive policies and practices of the state of Israel towards Palestinians. Targetting Jews (who may or may not be Israeli) or individuals who happen to be Israeli in a house of Jewish worship in Mumbai for the actions of the State of Israel is not unlike attacking Carribean Hindus and Hindu Indians at a Hindu temple in Trinidad for real or imagined misdemeanours of the Republic of India. It would be similar to attacking ordinary Indian, Pakistani or Somali Muslims and Iraqis in retribution for the offences committed by the erstwhile Ba’athist government of Iraq on Kurds. The Israeli government treats Palestinians in occupied Palestine a shade better than Saddam Hussain’s Iraq treated Kurds. (Settlements in Gaza and the West Bank, though they have no doubt borne the brunt of Israeli state terror, have not to my knowledge been gassed by chemical weapons). Islamic fundamentalist anti-semitism is as much an abomination as Hindu, Christian or Jewish Fundamentalist or Secular Islamophobia anywhere in the world.

One of the theories doing the rounds of the underbelly of blogs and mailing lists is that of ‘Mossad-CIA’ involvement in the attacks on Bombay. While I have no doubt at all about the fact that organizations such as the Mossad and the CIA are murderous and unscrupulous in terms of their day to day operational existence and that they have an active and corrosive agenda in South Asia. I find the theory of their involvement in the Bombay terror attacks as far fetched as the assumption that the Indian Ocean Tsunami was a result of a Mossad-RAW conspiracy to test secret undersea weapons.Such theories, which are closely related to the ‘9/11 was a Mossad job’ kind of wild conjecture, are a species of denial, and are often propagated by credulous commentators and politicians, particularly in the Muslim world (and their non-Muslim sympathisers), with a view to maintaining the myth of the eternally victimised and wronged Muslim. Such unsubstantiated conjectures and allegations do not help Muslims in any way. On the contrary their whimsical non-seriousness perpetuates the conditions that undermine responsible non-xenophobic Muslim points of view from being taken seriously.

Having said all this (which I believe is necessary to say), it is equally important to address several other serious issues that have raised their ugly heads in the aftermath of the attack on Bombay.

The aftermath of the terrible recent events in Bombay contains a great deal of debris. A spell of terror destroys so much, so quickly. A lot gets damaged by violence. Lives are shattered, walls and roofs collapse, entire neighbourhoods get devastated. Cities, sometimes the populations of countries, find what gets called their ’spirit’ broken.

But one thing stays intact, and on occasion even finds new strength. This one thing is a sense of wounded innocence, and the search for easy fixes and answers. There can be nothing more dangerous at present than this deadly combination of injured innocence and glib macho loose talk.

I would like to spend some time looking at the sources and consequences of two specific kinds of loose talk which I will address in turn.

1. War Mongering: The Indian state is an injured and innocent party, and an attack like this gives India the right to conduct a military campaign, even war, against Pakistan to finish once and for all, the scourge of terrorism. As the botoxed visage of Simi Garewal screamed on ‘We the People’ broadcast on NDTV two evenings ago ‘Carpet Bomb those parts of Pakistan…"

2. Islamophobia: We can understand everything about the motives and drives of the terrorists by pointing to their ‘Muslim’ identity. A variant of this is - ‘The Quran sanctions violence against unbelievers, and that is all that we need to know in order to understand the roots of the attacks in Bombay’. This kind of sentiment is burgeoning on the internet, where it feeds the testosterone overdrive of a certain kind of overzealous netizen who sees the tragedy that has befallen Bombay as an opportunity to put out a sick and prejudiced agenda.

It should not come as a surprise that often, the two come linked. The idiotic and jejune militarist fantasies of the hard Hindutva right are a public secret. However, there are also many card carrying secular nationalist ‘war mongers’ who see the times we are living through as an opportunity to exhibit how much more ‘patriotic’ they can be than their communal peers. Of course, these attitudes have their exact mirrors in Pakistan. And a peculiar mirroring is currently underway between Indian and Pakistani news channels, with news anchors such as the hysterical Arnab Goswami (Times Now TV) in India and his counterparts in Pakistan indulging in a perverse and dangerous game of jingoistic one-upmanship. Even retired senior officers of the armed forces who are sought out for comment and analysis in television studios and politicians of parties such as the BJP (neither of whom are necessarily known as models of moderation) are acting with greater restraint than sections of the electronic media.They (the BJP politicians) are at least at present not rushing to talk of war (how could they, they have an election to contest in a few months time, and an Indo-Pak military standoff that could work to the advantage of the incumbent UPA government could really upset their best calculations). The retired soldiers by and large, speak wisely of avoiding military options as far as is possible. It is only the few news anchors who have let their place in the spotlights go to their heads, (and their adolescent online clones) who are consistently maintaining the shrillness of war-talk.

Those speaking of war or punitive military strikes base their arguments on the ‘enough is enough’ theory, that time has now come to deal Pakistan a hard blow as a punitive action against letting its territory being used against India. This line of reasoning assumes that India is cast as the eternal victim and can never be seen as the aggressor.

If this is so, then (following this line of thinking) there is no reason why India too should not have been carpet bombed for allowing the use of its territory and resources for acts of terror against its neighbours. The memory of news anchors may be as brief as the punchy headlines of breaking news, but even a cursory examination of recent history would show that the Indian state and elements within India have sinned as much as they have been sinned against.

In May 1984, for instance, the LTTE (at that time housed, armed, funded and nourished by the Indian state led by Indira Gandhi) conducted a brutal slaughter of around one hundred and twenty unarmed and peaceful Buddhist pilgrims in and around one of Sri Lanka’s holiest Buddhist shrines in Anuradhapura. The Anuradhapura Massacre caused great anguish and outrage in Sri Lanka at that time, and if we accept the principles that prompt our ’studio-warriors’ and ‘online dharamyoddhas’ to call for the carpet-bombings of parts of Pakistan then we have to admit that it was unfortunate that Sri Lanka did not carpet bomb Delhi and Chennai.

Perhaps as the comparatively militarily weaker neighbour of mighty India, it may have found itself reluctant to imagine, let alone carry out such a bizarre threat. Clearly, the nuclear fuelled fantasies of militarist Indians brook no such reasons for reticence. I wonder whether it is amnesia and the lack of a moral-ethical sense that underwrites Indian militarism or is it the intoxication of arrogant militarism that induces this dystopic inability to either remember ones own state’s history of complicity in terror or to behave ethically and reasonably in times of crisis.

Further, should a professional investigation into the devastating attack on the Samjhauta Express train to Pakistan reveal that the perpetrators of the attack were Hindu radicals assisted by rogue elements within the military intelligence apparatus in India, would Pakistan then be justified in ‘carpet bombing’ Pune, Indore, Jammu and other places linked to the cluster of organizations and individuals around outfits such as ‘Abhinav Bharat’?

A military adventure into Pakistani held territory by Indian forces at this current juncture can be nothing short of a disaster, It risks taking South Asia and the world to the precipice of a nuclear conflict. It has been pointed out by some idiots on television that the United States is apparently safer today for having sent troops to fight into Afghanistan and Iraq. The truth is, the United States has made the world and Americans a great deal more unsafe , and a great deal more vulnerable to terrorism, by the conduct of its wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.The incidence of terrorism worldwide has increased due to its intervention, and even the attacks on Bombay can in a sense be seen as ricocheting off the mess in Iraq and Afghanistan. The deliberate targeting of British and American individuals by the terrorists in Bombay last week demonstrates how unsafe it is to be seen carrying an American passport today. If India is to be pulled headlong into conflict with Pakistan as a result of the fall out of the attacks on Bombay, the world will automatically and immediately become a far more unsafe place. There will be more, not less terrorism for us all to deal with.

The only way for us to defeat terrorism in South Asia is for ordinary Indians and Pakistanis to join hands across the Indo-Pak divide to say that they will no longer tolerate the nurturing of terror, hate and division in their societies through the covert and overt acts of rogue elements in both their governments (which have a vested interest in the continuity of conflict) and powerful non-state actors in both societies. Neither POTA, nor military misadventures, nor harder borders can defeat terrorism. A suicide bomber can only be disarmed by the narrowing of the political and cultural space for hatred within society to levels of utter insignificance.

For this to occur, we all need to shed the cocoons of the assumptions of our own innocence. The sooner we do so, the sooner we realize that culpability in terror in South Asia is not a one way street with all signs pointing only in the direction of Pakistan, the better it will be for peace in our time. The automatic assumption of our own innocence, especially at times when we perceive ourselves to the be victims, is something we cannot afford to do. Whatever little illusory comfort it may give us in the short run, it will rebound to haunt us with unforgiving intensity.

If we are serious about putting an end to the seemingly endless spiral of retributive violence behind us we have to exercise the hard and necessary choice of leaving the discourse of ‘martyrs’, ‘victims’, ‘villains’ and ‘heroes’ behind us. The media, and especially the electronic media have a special role to play in this regard. They have much introspection to do. It will not do to have jingoist anchors and commentators protect their diminishing intelligence and rising moral culpability in stoking the flames of war themselves with the fig leaf of ‘national psyche’ and ‘popular sentiment’. It is they who fashion the chimera of ‘popular sentiment’ with their spin doctoring, and it is unacceptable to see people refuse to take responsibility for the very serious consequences of this dangerous spin.

Finally, I come to the question of whether there is anything specifically ‘Islamic’ about acts of terrorism such as we have witnessed in Bombay last week. Under normal circumstances, such ridiculous questions would not need any attention. Unfortunately, these are not normal circumstances, and it is at times such as these, that otherwise marginal irresponsibly articulated opinions get a disproportionate velocity due to the way in which they circulate, particularly on the internet and then leak out into the grit of innuendo, insinuation, half-informed speculation and rumour in daily conversation.

One particularly pernicious communication that has been doing the rounds of chain mails, and has already begun cropping up in blog posts and discussion lists is the familiar litany of - "There are suras (chapters) in the Quran that justify the slaughter of unbelievers and what the terrorists were doing was only fulfilling the commands of their faith". This kind of response asks us to assume two things,

One, that the source of the motivation for the terrorists actions was predominantly scriptural (this bases itself somewhat on the scripture laden rhetoric and vocabulary of the so-called ‘Indian Mujahideen’ terror emails that accompanied previous attacks this year)
Two, that if as a believing Muslim you do not follow Quranic injunctions to unleash violence, you are at best an insincere or inconsistent Muslim, and the only true Muslim is the one who kills unbelievers to earn his place in heaven.

The first reduces the speechless complexity of a terrorists actions to a few pithy and selectively quoted phrases. The second is an insult to the lives, actions and convictions of the absolute majority of believing Muslims. Both betray a singular and profound ignorance of Islam, of the concept of jihad within Islam and an unwillingness to engage with Islamic belief and the history of Islamicate societies.

This (completely erroneously) view of all Muslims as mindless ‘holy warriors’ takes the injunctions to do with the term ‘jihad’ (which translates, not as ‘holy war’ as is commonly thought, but as ’struggle’) as referring solely to acts of violence. It needs to be stated here, once again, as has been stated many times before, in many different contexts, that ‘jihad’ within the theological context of Islam is of two kinds, and that only one of these refers to the conduct of armed struggle. The greater and more commendable jihad is that which involves a personal struggle with one’s own baser and unethical propensities, which every believing Muslim is asked to conduct as a spiritual cleansing process. The ‘lesser jihad’ concerns specifically defensive military acts conducted against aggressors as a last resort, when all else fails.

The Quran is replete with statements such as ‘to you your religion and to me mine’, or ‘there can be no compulsion in religion’. When the adherents of other religions are specifically mentioned by name (Jews, Christians and Sabeans) it is said -

"Believers, Jews, Christians and Sabeans (the followers of St. John the Baptist or Hazrat Yahya) - whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day and does what is right - shall be rewarded by their Lord, they have nothing to fear or to regret". (Sura Baqarah - The Cow - 2:62)

Jews are invoked as ‘the children of Israel (Bani Israil) and in the Quran, Allah only asks of them that they remain true to their faith. There is not a trace of anti-semitism in the Quran. When certain Jews are spoken of negatively, the statements echo the admonitions of the Jewish scriptures by saying that ‘those amongst the people of the book who were of little faith’ were worthy of God’s disfavour. Clearly, this indicates that ‘those amongst the people of the book who were NOT of little faith’ are to be favoured, and in fact Allah is heard saying in the Quran -

"O Children of Israel, remember the favours I have bestowed upon you, keep to your covenant, and I will keep to mine".(Sura Baqarah - The Cow - 2:40)

It is important to keep this in mind specifically with regard to the special targeting of unarmed Jews by the terrorists in Bombay. Their acts, in this specific instance stand in direct contradiction to the spirit of the Quran. While there are anti-semitic traces in the Ahadis (the reported traditions of the prophet that were accumulated and collated over the centuries), there is no unanimity or consensus amongst believing Muslims about the authenticity of different ‘isnads’ (lines of transmission) attached to different Ahadis. Therefore, in instances of ambiguity, as with regard to the attitude to Jews and those of other faiths, it is only the unquestioned authority of the Quran that can be seen as acting as the final arbiter and guide. From this standpoint alone, the anti-semitic edge of the terrorists actions in Bombay last week can be justifiably condemned as anathema by all believing Muslims.

Generally speaking, the quote that is most commonly hurled by Islamophobes is:

"Kill them wherever you find them, drive them out of the places from which they drove you" (Sura Baqarah - The Cow - 2:190-191).

This verse was given to the prophet Mohammad before the advent of a major battle when all attempts at arriving at peaceful negotiations had been exhausted, and when the Prophet and his fledgling community in Medina were in danger of being exterminated by invasive aggression. The injunctions are specific, they apply only to retaliation against armed bodies of men who have acted as aggressors.

What is omitted when these verses are hurled, either by Islamophobes, or by Islamists, is that they follow immediately from the injunction that says -

"fight for the sake of Allah those that fight against you, but do not attack them first. Allah does not love the aggressor" (Sura Baqarah - The Cow - 2:190-191).

It is also followed by the equally specific injunction "but if they mend their ways, know that Allah is forgiving and merciful.. but if they mend their ways, fight none other than the evil-doers." (Sura Baqarah - The Cow - 2:190-191).

So, we have repeated caveats, repeated qualifications - ‘do not be the aggressor’, ‘fight only if they fight you’, ‘cease armed action if they see reason’ that immediately surround the quote that is so often pulled out at times like this like a tired rabbit from a magicians hat. And yet, the sleight of hand continues.

By what stretch of imagination can a chef’s assistant in a hotel, or a rabbi’s wife, or passengers trying to get to second class railway carriages or children who live on the street, ordinary Muslims, or police officers trying to investigate the terrorist outrages purportedly undertaken by radicals who happen to be Hindus with a view to intimidating ordinary Muslims be seen as ‘aggressors’ against Islam? By which Quranic injunction can we justify acts of aggression against such individuals?

Once again, by their concrete actions, the terrorists have demonstrated not their fidelity, but their sharp deviance from the letter and spirit of the Quran. Those motivated and prejudiced slanderers who circulate the insinuations about the ‘Islamic’ provenance of the terrorists actions are actually just as much guilty of spreading a mistaken understanding of Islam as the terrorists themselves. In fact, objectively, once again, Isamophobes and Islamists, are not adversaries, but allies.

The lineage of the terrorists who attacked Bombay is better traced to those vicious acts of twentieth and twenty-first century terror which feature self styled protagonists of all the faiths and ideologies that mark our modern world. They are to be found as much amongst the New Age-Buddhist-Hindu hybrid of Aum Shirin Kyo, the Branch Davidians, the Balinese Hindu vigilantes who slaughtered 40,000 unarmed Indonesian Communists and their suspected sympathisers in 1965, the ultra-left and far-right radicals of West Germany, Japan and Italy in the seventies and the hardened callousness of Palestinian, Egyptian, Israeli, Peruvian, Basque and Irish terrorism as much as it is to be located in the enigmas known as the LTTE (all factions) , the Lashkar-e- Taiba, Jaish-e- Mohammad, HUJI, Indian Mujahideen and Al-Qaida. Each of these organizations has contributed more than anything else to the hardening of structures of state power. As such, they, like the Indian Maoists and Salwa Judum , and the ingredients of the alphabet soup of insurgent and counter-insurgent outfits operating through the length and breadth of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Burma are the objective agent-provocateurs of reactionary, authoritarian, statist politics. Terrorism, whatever else it may be, is in the end, the mightiest secret weapon in the arsenal of the state to beat and badger a terrified population into meek submission by creating a situation where the surrender and abdication of civil rights is seen as a normalized and natural response to a mounting crisis.

Even a brief history of the limited genre of terrorist actions such as ‘hotel bombings and attacks’ reveals a rainbow hued ecumenical pantheon of contemporary terror. The attacks on the Taj and the Oberoi Trident (which constituted the spectacular telegenic apex of the Bombay attacks) need to be seen as successors to the Marriott Hotel bombing in Islamabad, Pakistan of only a few months ago, the bombings of the Radisson SAS, Grand Hyatt and Days Inn Hotels in Amman, Jordan in 2005, the bombing of the Grand Hotel in Brighton, UK by the Provisional IRA in 1984, the bombing of the Hilton Hotel in Sydney, Australia by suspected Ananda Marg radicals in 1978 and last, but certainly not the least, the King David Hotel Bombing in Jerusalem, (then Palestine) in 1946 carried out by Irgun, a terrorist organization wedded to the Zionist ideal of a Jewish state in Palestine.

If hotel massacres were something like cricket scores, then we could say that the Bombay attacks have finally surpassed the hitherto all time high ’score’ of the King David Hotel Massacre of 1946. The Irgun, a terrorist outfit espousing an ostensibly ‘Jewish’ and supposedly ‘Zionist’ cause had held till date the record of maximum casualties for this outrage. 93 dead. The Bombay attacks, apparently authored by militant Islamists, have gone higher. Those who identify terrorism with Islam today would find themselves faced with the uncomfortable fact that as far as the lethality of attacks go, the bar was raised early, and high, by self-styled ‘Jewish freedom fighters’ who counted amongst their ranks the then future prime minister of the state of Israel, Menahem Begin. The Islamists have once again proved how imitative they are of the militant far-right edge of Zionism. Again, the students have learnt well from their historical teachers.

Begin (who is somewhat of an icon amongst many current Islamophobic zealots of the ‘war against terror’ for the hard line that he took in Lebanon against the PLO ad its Lebanese allies and against violent as well as non violent forms of Palestinian resistance) is himself reported to have said while referring to the period in which the King David Hotel Massacre took place - "We actually provided the example of what the urban guerrilla is, we created the method of the urban guerrilla." - see - ‘By Blood and Fire: The Attack on Jerusalem’s King David Hotel’ by Thurston Clarke, Hutchinson, 1981

To extrapolate from the spectacular successes of self styled ‘Jewish’ terrorism in Palestine under the British Mandate in the 1930s and 40s to a generalized theory of ‘Jewish’ Terrorism would have been as prejudiced and short sighted then (and many efforts were made in this direction) as the current efforts to give current global terror a ‘Muslim’ face are today. In fact the ancestors and first cousins of today’s Islamophobic zealots are yesterday’s and today’s anti-semitic rabble rousers. Sometimes, at the outer edges and wild fringes of the global far right, they still do meet. The irony in the fact that here, they often find themselves in the convivial company of self styled 'Hindu', 'Christian', 'Neo-Nazi' and even 'Jewish' radicals, (whose agendas merge and diverge like the courses of unpredictable rivers) is inescapable.

The ‘Jewish’ bombers who took down the King David Hotel in 1946 entered it carrying milk cans laden with explosives in the guise of ‘Muslim Arab’ milkmen. Reports of the earlier round of Malegaon and Nanded blasts featured instances of the possibility of ‘Hindu’ radicals donning fake beards and ‘Muslim’ guises to plant bombs. Reports of the recent Bombay attacks suggest that the ‘Muslims’ who entered the Taj and the Trident hotels wore red threads around their wrists and had smeared their foreheads with ’tilaks’ in order to appear as ‘Hindus’. What this ‘tragedy of errors’ suggests that as far as terrorists are concerned, identity is a masquerade. Jews and Hindus cross-dress as Muslims, Muslims appear in Hindu drag. In killing and dying, they cross the line and embrace the identity of the very other that they ostensibly hate. It is only we, the witnesses and the vicarious spectators of this masquerade, the rag-pickers in the debris of their actions, who obsess about the ‘reality’ of their identities. By doing this we follow what is scripted for our bit parts in this charade to the hilt. When the curtain calls come, we, the chorus, the extras, are all lined up behind the principal actors, taking a bow. They were their costumes, we are naked in our incredulity.

The actions of a terrorist are neither Hindu, nor Muslim, nor Jewish, nor Christian, nor a Sikh, nor Communist, nor Anarchist, The terrorist is simply the emissary and executioner of the mediocrity of organized violence, and an agent acting for a number of overlapping shadowy state and non-stage clients of different provenances, whose identities may be obscure even to him.

This profound ambiguity, if nothing else, should prompt us to be moderate and reasonable in our responses to the spectacle of terror. To buy into its proffered illusion of certainty is perhaps one of the greatest signs of submission that we can offer to those who have nothing other than terror to give us. Surely, we can be more intelligent, imaginative, self-aware, sceptical and compassionate. The two things we need to do is to stay calm, and keep our doubts alive.

http://www.outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20081203&fname=shuddha&sid=1

Arundhati Roy: Azadi, It's the only thing the Kashmiri wants. Denial is delusion.

2008-12-05T02:39:00.005+05:00

It's the only thing the Kashmiri wants. Denial is delusion.

ARUNDHATI ROY

September 1, 2008

For the past sixty days or so, since about the end of June, the people of Kashmir have been free. Free in the most profound sense. They have shrugged off the terror of living their lives in the gun-sights of half-a-million heavily-armed soldiers in the most densely militarised zone in the world.

After 18 years of administering a military occupation, the Indian government's worst nightmare has come true. Having declared that the militant movement has been crushed, it is now faced with a non-violent mass protest, but not the kind it knows how to manage. This one is nourished by people's memory of years of repression in which tens of thousands have been killed, thousands have been 'disappeared', hundreds of thousands tortured, injured, raped and humiliated. That kind of rage, once it finds utterance, cannot easily be tamed, re-bottled and sent back to where it came from.

For all these years, the Indian State, known amongst the knowing as the Deep State, has done everything it can to subvert, suppress, represent, misrepresent, discredit, interpret, intimidate, purchase—and simply snuff out the voice of the Kashmiri people. It has used money (lots of it), violence (lots of it), disinformation, propaganda, torture, elaborate networks of collaborators and informers, terror, imprisonment, blackmail and rigged elections to subdue what democrats would call "the will of the people". But now the Deep State, as Deep States eventually tend to, has tripped on its own hubris and bought into its own publicity. It made the mistake of believing that domination was victory, that the 'normalcy' it had enforced through the barrel of a gun was indeed normal, and that the people's sullen silence was acquiescence.

People's movement: Protesters march towards the UN office in Srinagar

The well-endowed peace industry, speaking on people's behalf, informed us that "Kashmiris are tired of violence and want peace". What kind of peace they were willing to settle for was never clarified. Bollywood's cache of Kashmir/Muslim-terrorist films has brainwashed most Indians into believing that all of Kashmir's sorrows could be laid at the door of evil, people-hating terrorists.

To anybody who cared to ask, or, more importantly, to listen, it was always clear that even in their darkest moments, people in Kashmir had kept the fires burning and that it was not peace they yearned for, but freedom too. Over the last two months, the carefully confected picture of an innocent people trapped between 'two guns', both equally hated, has, pardon the pun, been shot to hell.

A sudden twist of fate, an ill-conceived move over the transfer of 100 acres of state forest land to the Amarnath Shrine Board (which manages the annual Hindu pilgrimage to a cave deep in the Kashmir Himalayas) suddenly became the equivalent of tossing a lit match into a barrel of petrol. Until 1989, the Amarnath pilgrimage used to attract about 20,000 people who travelled to the Amarnath cave over a period of about two weeks. In 1990, when the overtly Islamic militant uprising in the Valley coincided with the spread of virulent Hindutva in the Indian plains, the number of pilgrims began to increase exponentially. By 2008, more than 5,00,000 pilgrims visited the Amarnath cave in large groups, their passage often sponsored by Indian business houses. To many people in the Valley, this dramatic increase in numbers was seen as an aggressive political statement by an increasingly Hindu-fundamentalist Indian State. Rightly or wrongly, the land transfer was viewed as the thin edge of the wedge. It triggered an apprehension that it was the beginning of an elaborate plan to build Israeli-style settlements, and change the demography of the Valley.Days of massive protest forced the Valley to shut down completely. Within hours, the protests spread from the cities to villages. Young stone-pelters took to the streets and faced armed police who fired straight at them, killing several. For people as well as the government, it resurrected memories of the uprising in the early '90s. Throughout the weeks of protest, hartal and police firing, while the Hindutva publicity machine charged Kashmiris with committing every kind of communal excess, the 5,00,000 Amarnath pilgrims completed their pilgrimage, not just unhurt, but touched by the hospitality they had been shown by local people.

Eventually, taken completely by surprise at the ferocity of the response, the government revoked the land transfer. But by then the land transfer had become what senior separatist leader Syed Ali Shah Geelani called a "non-issue".

Massive protests against the revocation erupted in Jammu. There, too, the issue snowballed into something much bigger. Hindus began to raise issues of neglect and discrimination by the Indian State. (For some odd reason they blamed Kashmiris for that neglect.) The protests led to the blockading of the Jammu-Srinagar highway, the only functional road link between Kashmir and India. The army was called out to clear the highway and allow safe passage of trucks between Jammu and Srinagar. But incidents of violence against Kashmiri truckers were being reported from as far away as Punjab where there was no protection at all. As a result, Kashmiri truckers, fearing for their lives, refused to drive on the highway. Truckloads of perishable fresh fruit and Valley produce began to rot. It became very obvious that the blockade had caused the situation to spin out of control. The government announced that the blockade had been cleared and that trucks were going through. Embedded sections of the Indian media, quoting the inevitable 'Intelligence' sources, began to refer to it as a 'perceived' blockade, and even to suggest that there had never been one.

Flaming chinars: People climb atop trees to hear Hurriyat leaders

But it was too late for those games, the damage had been done. It had been demonstrated in no uncertain terms to people in Kashmir that they lived on sufferance, and that if they didn't behave themselves they could be put under siege, starved, deprived of essential commodities and medical supplies. The real blockade became a psychological one. The last fragile link between India and Kashmir was all but snapped.

To expect matters to end there was of course absurd. Hadn't anybody noticed that in Kashmir even minor protests about civic issues like water and electricity inevitably turned into demands for azadi? To threaten them with mass starvation amounted to committing political suicide.

Not surprisingly, the voice that the Government of India has tried so hard to silence in Kashmir has massed into a deafening roar. Hundreds of thousands of unarmed people have come out to reclaim their cities, their streets and mohallas. They have simply overwhelmed the heavily armed security forces by their sheer numbers, and with a remarkable display of raw courage.

Raised in a playground of army camps, checkposts and bunkers, with screams from torture chambers for a soundtrack, the young generation has suddenly discovered the power of mass protest, and above all, the dignity of being able to straighten their shoulders and speak for themselves, represent themselves. For them it is nothing short of an epiphany. They're in full flow, not even the fear of death seems to hold them back.And once that fear has gone, of what use is the largest or second-largest army in the world? What threat does it hold? Who should know that better than the people of India who won their independence in the way that they did?

The circumstances in Kashmir being what they are, it is hard for the spin doctors to fall back on the same old same old; to claim that it's all the doing of Pakistan's ISI, or that people are being coerced by militants. Since the '30s onwards, the question of who can claim the right to represent that elusive thing known as "Kashmiri sentiment" has been bitterly contested. Was it Sheikh Abdullah? The Muslim Conference? Who is it today? The mainstream political parties? The Hurriyat? The militants? This time around, the people are in charge. There have been mass rallies in the past, but none in recent memory that have been so sustained and widespread. The mainstream political parties of Kashmir—the National Conference, the People's Democratic Party—feted by the Deep State and the Indian media despite the pathetic voter turnout in election after election appear dutifully for debates in New Delhi's TV studios, but can't muster the courage to appear on the streets of Kashmir. The armed militants who, through the worst years of repression, were seen as the only ones carrying the torch of azadi forward, if they are around at all, seem to be content to take a backseat and let people do the fighting for a change.

Everywhere in chains: But it's no barricade to freedom

The separatist leaders who do appear and speak at the rallies are not leaders so much as followers, being guided by the phenomenal spontaneous energy of a caged, enraged people that has exploded on Kashmir's streets. The leaders, such as they are, have been presented with a full-blown revolution. The only condition seems to be that they have to do as the people say. If they say things that people do not wish to hear, they are gently persuaded to come out, publicly apologise and correct their course. This applies to all of them, including Syed Ali Shah Geelani who at a public rally recently proclaimed himself the movement's only leader. It was a monumental political blunder that very nearly shattered the fragile new alliance between the various factions of the struggle. Within hours he retracted his statement. Like it or not, this is democracy. No democrat can pretend otherwise.

Day after day, hundreds of thousands of people swarm around places that hold terrible memories for them. They demolish bunkers, break through cordons of concertina wire and stare straight down the barrels of soldiers' machine-guns, saying what very few in India want to hear. Hum kya chahte? Azadi! We Want Freedom. And, it has to be said, in equal numbers and with equal intensity: Jeevey Jeevey Pakistan. Long live Pakistan.

That sound reverberates through the Valley like the drumbeat of steady rain on a tin roof, like the roll of thunder before an electric storm. It's the plebiscite that was never held, the referendum that has been indefinitely postponed.

On August 15, India's Independence Day, the city of Srinagar shut down completely. The Bakshi stadium where Governor N.N. Vohra hoisted the flag was empty except for a few officials. Hours later, Lal Chowk, the nerve centre of the city (where in 1992, Murli Manohar Joshi, BJP leader and mentor of the controversial "Hinduisation" of children's history textbooks, started a tradition of flag-hoisting by the Border Security Force), was taken over by thousands of people who hoisted the Pakistani flag and wished each other "Happy belated Independence Day" (Pakistan celebrates Independence on August 14) and "Happy Slavery Day".Humour, obviously, has survived India's many torture centres and Abu Ghraibs in Kashmir.

On August 16, more than 3,00,000 people marched to Pampore, to the village of Hurriyat leader Sheikh Abdul Aziz, who was shot down in cold blood five days earlier. He was part of a massive march to the Line of Control demanding that since the Jammu road had been blocked, it was only logical that the Srinagar-Muzaffarabad highway be opened for goods and people, the way it used to be before Kashmir was partitioned.

Goodbye, fear: A police post being dismantled in Srinagar

On August 18, an equal number gathered in Srinagar in the huge TRC grounds (Tourist Reception Centre, not the Truth and Reconciliation Committee) close to the United Nations Military Observers Group in India and Pakistan (UNMOGIP) to submit a memorandum asking for three things—the end to Indian rule, the deployment of a UN Peacekeeping Force and an investigation into two decades of war crimes committed with almost complete impunity by the Indian army and police.

The day before the rally the Deep State was hard at work. A senior journalist friend called to say that late in the afternoon the home secretary called a high-level meeting in New Delhi. Also present were the defence secretary and the intelligence chiefs. The purpose of the meeting, he said, was to brief the editors of TV news channels that the government had reason to believe that the insurrection was being managed by a small splinter cell of the ISI and to request the channels to keep this piece of exclusive, highly secret intelligence in mind while covering (or preferably not covering?) the news from Kashmir. Unfortunately for the Deep State, things have gone so far that TV channels, were they to obey those instructions, would run the risk of looking ridiculous. Thankfully, it looks as though this revolution will, after all, be televised.

On the night of August 17, the police sealed the city. Streets were barricaded, thousands of armed police manned the barriers. The roads leading into Srinagar were blocked. For the first time in eighteen years, the police had to plead with Hurriyat leaders to address the rally at the TRC grounds instead of marching right up to the UNMOGIP office which is on Gupkar Road, Srinagar's Green Zone where, for years, the Indian Establishment has barricaded itself in style and splendour.

On the morning of the 18th, people began pouring into Srinagar from villages and towns across the Valley. In trucks, tempos, jeeps, buses and on foot. Once again, barriers were broken and people reclaimed their city. The police were faced with a choice of either stepping aside or executing a massacre. They stepped aside. Not a single bullet was fired.

The city floated on a sea of smiles. There was ecstasy in the air. Everyone had a banner; houseboat owners, traders, students, lawyers, doctors. One said, "We are all prisoners, set us free." Another said, "Democracy without freedom is Demon-crazy". Demon Crazy. That was a good one. Perhaps he was referring to the twisted logic of a country that needed to commit communal carnage in order to bolster its secular credentials. Or the insanity that permits the world's largest democracy to administer the world's largest military occupation and continue to call itself a democracy.

There was a green flag on every lamp post, every roof, every bus stop and on the top of chinar trees. A big one fluttered outside the All India Radio building. Road signs to Hazratbal, Batmaloo, Sopore were painted over. Rawalpindi they said. Or simply Pakistan. It would be a mistake to assume that the public expression of affection for Pakistan automatically translates into a desire to accede to Pakistan.Some of it has to do with gratitude for the support—cynical or otherwise—for what Kashmiris see as a freedom struggle and the Indian State sees as a terrorist campaign. It also has to do with mischief. With saying and doing what galls India, the enemy, most of all. (It's easy to scoff at the idea of a 'freedom struggle' that wishes to distance itself from a country that is supposed to be a democracy and align itself with another that has, for the most part, been ruled by military dictators. A country whose army has committed genocide in what is now Bangladesh. A country that is even now being torn apart by its own ethnic war. These are important questions, but right now perhaps it's more useful to wonder what this so-called democracy did in Kashmir to make people hate it so.)

Everywhere there were Pakistani flags, everywhere the cry, Pakistan se rishta kya? La ilaha illa llah. What is our bond with Pakistan? There is no god but Allah. Azadi ka matlab kya? La ilaha illallah. What does Freedom mean? There is no god but Allah.

For somebody like myself, who is not Muslim, that interpretation of freedom is hard—if not impossible—to understand. I asked a young woman whether freedom for Kashmir would not mean less freedom for her, as a woman. She shrugged and said, "What kind of freedom do we have now? The freedom to be raped by Indian soldiers?" Her reply silenced me.

She's no terrorist: A woman pelts stones at policemen

Standing in the grounds of the TRC, surrounded by a sea of green flags, it was impossible to doubt or ignore the deeply Islamic nature of the uprising taking place around me. It was equally impossible to label it a vicious, terrorist jehad. For Kashmiris, it was a catharsis. A historical moment in a long and complicated struggle for freedom with all the imperfections, cruelties and confusions that freedom struggles have. This one cannot by any means call itself pristine, and will always be stigmatised by, and will some day, I hope, have to account for—among other things—the brutal killings of Kashmiri Pandits in the early years of the uprising, culminating in the exodus of almost the entire community from the Kashmir Valley.

As the crowd continued to swell, I listened carefully to the slogans, because rhetoric often clarifies things and holds the key to all kinds of understanding. I'd heard many of them before, a few years ago, at a militant's funeral. A new one, obviously coined after the blockade, was Kashmir ki mandi! Rawalpindi! (It doesn't lend itself to translation, but it means—Kashmir's marketplace? Rawalpindi!) Another was Khooni lakir tod do, aar paar jod do (Break down the blood-soaked Line of Control, let Kashmir be united again). There were plenty of insults and humiliation for India: Ay jabiron ay zalimon, Kashmir hamara chhod do (Oh oppressors, Oh wicked ones, Get out of our Kashmir). Jis Kashmir ko khoon se seencha, woh Kashmir hamara hai (The Kashmir we have irrigated with our blood, that Kashmir is ours!).

The slogan that cut through me like a knife and clean broke my heart was this one: Nanga bhookha Hindustan, jaan se pyaara Pakistan (Naked, starving India, More precious than life itself—Pakistan). Why was it so galling, so painful to listen to this? I tried to work it out and settled on three reasons. First, because we all know that the first part of the slogan is the embarrassing and unadorned truth about India, the emerging superpower. Second, because all Indians who are not nanga or bhookha are—and have been—complicit in complex and historical ways with the cruel cultural and economic systems that make Indian society so cruel, so vulgarly unequal.And third, because it was painful to listen to people who have suffered so much themselves mock others who suffer in different ways, but no less intensely, under the same oppressor. In that slogan I saw the seeds of how easily victims can become perpetrators.

It took hours for Mirwaiz Umer Farooq and Syed Ali Shah Geelani to wade through the thronging crowds and make it onto the podium. When they arrived, they were born aloft on the shoulders of young men, over the surging crowd to the podium. The roar of greeting was deafening. Mirwaiz Umer spoke first. He repeated the demand that the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, Disturbed Areas Act and Public Safety Act—under which thousands have been killed, jailed and tortured—be withdrawn. He called for the release of political prisoners, for the Srinagar-Muzaffarabad road to be opened for the free movement of goods and people, and for the demilitarisation of the Kashmir Valley.

Syed Ali Shah Geelani began his address with a recitation from the Quran. He then said what he has said before, on hundreds of occasions. The only way for the struggle to succeed, he said, was to turn to the Quran for guidance. He said Islam would guide the struggle and that it was a complete social and moral code that would govern the people of a free Kashmir. He said Pakistan had been created as the home of Islam, and that that goal should never be subverted. He said just as Pakistan belonged to Kashmir, Kashmir belonged to Pakistan. He said minority communities would have full rights and their places of worship would be safe. Each point he made was applauded.

Window of opportunity: Spectators for the march to Srinagar

Oddly enough, the apparent doctrinal clarity of what he said made everything a little unclear. I wondered how the somewhat disparate views of the various factions in the freedom struggle would resolve themselves—the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front's vision of an independent state, Geelani's desire to merge with Pakistan and Mirwaiz Umer Farooq balanced precariously between them.

An old man with a red eye standing next to me said, "Kashmir was one country. Half was taken by India, the other half by Pakistan. Both by force. We want freedom." I wondered if, in the new dispensation, the old man would get a hearing. I wondered what he would think of the trucks that roared down the highways in the plains of India, owned and driven by men who knew nothing of history, or of Kashmir, but still had slogans on their tailgates that said, "Doodh maango to kheer denge, Kashmir maango to cheer denge (Ask for milk, you'll get cream; Ask for Kashmir, we'll tear you open)."

Briefly, I had another thought. I imagined myself standing in the heart of an RSS or VHP rally being addressed by L.K. Advani. Replace the word Islam with the word Hindutva, replace the word Pakistan with Hindustan, replace the sea of green flags with saffron ones, and we would have the BJP's nightmare vision of an ideal India.

Is that what we should accept as our future? Monolithic religious states handing down a complete social and moral code, "a complete way of life"? Millions of us in India reject the Hindutva project. Our rejection springs from love, from passion, from a kind of idealism, from having enormous emotional stakes in the society in which we live. What our neighbours do, how they choose to handle their affairs does not affect our argument, it only strengthens it.

Arguments that spring from love are also fraught with danger. It is for the people of Kashmir to agree or disagree with the Islamic project (which is as contested, in equally complex ways, all over the world by Muslims as Hindutva is contested by Hindus).Perhaps now that the threat of violence has receded and there is some space in which to debate views and air ideas, it is time for those who are part of the struggle to outline a vision for what kind of society they are fighting for. Perhaps it is time to offer people something more than martyrs, slogans and vague generalisations. Those who wish to turn to the Quran for guidance will no doubt find guidance there. But what of those who do not wish to do that, or for whom the Quran does not make place? Do the Hindus of Jammu and other minorities also have the right to self-determination? Will the hundreds of thousands of Kashmiri Pandits living in exile, many of them in terrible poverty, have the right to return? Will they be paid reparations for the terrible losses they have suffered? Or will a free Kashmir do to its minorities what India has done to Kashmiris for 61 years? What will happen to homosexuals and adulterers and blasphemers? What of thieves and lafangas and writers who do not agree with the "complete social and moral code"? Will we be put to death as we are in Saudi Arabia? Will the cycle of death, repression and bloodshed continue? History offers many models for Kashmir's thinkers and intellectuals and politicians to study. What will the Kashmir of their dreams look like? Algeria? Iran? South Africa? Switzerland? Pakistan?

At a crucial time like this, few things are more important than dreams. A lazy utopia and a flawed sense of justice will have consequences that do not bear thinking about. This is not the time for intellectual sloth or a reluctance to assess a situation clearly and honestly. It could be argued that the prevarication of Maharaja Hari Singh in 1947 has been Kashmir's great modern tragedy, one that eventually led to unthinkable bloodshed and the prolonged bondage of people who were very nearly free.

Already the spectre of partition has reared its head. Hindutva networks are alive with rumours about Hindus in the Valley being attacked and forced to flee. In response, phone calls from Jammu reported that an armed Hindu militia was threatening a massacre and that Muslims from the two Hindu majority districts were preparing to flee. (Memories of the bloodbath that ensued and claimed the lives of more than a million people when India and Pakistan were partitioned have come flooding back. That nightmare will haunt all of us forever.)

There is absolutely no reason to believe that history will repeat itself. Not unless it is made to. Not unless people actively work to create such a cataclysm.

However, none of these fears of what the future holds can justify the continued military occupation of a nation and a people. No more than the old colonial argument about how the natives were not ready for freedom justified the colonial project.

Of course there are many ways for the Indian State to continue to hold on to Kashmir. It could do what it does best. Wait. And hope the people's energy will dissipate in the absence of a concrete plan. It could try and fracture the fragile coalition that is emerging. It could extinguish this non-violent uprising and reinvite armed militancy. It could increase the number of troops from half-a-million to a whole million. A few strategic massacres, a couple of targeted assassinations, some disappearances and a massive round of arrests should do the trick for a few more years.

The unimaginable sums of public money that are needed to keep the military occupation of Kashmir going is money that ought by right to be spent on schools and hospitals and food for an impoverished, malnourished population in India. What kind of government can possibly believe that it has the right to spend it on more weapons, more concertina wire and more prisons in Kashmir?

The Indian military occupation of Kashmir makes monsters of us all.It allows Hindu chauvinists to target and victimise Muslims in India by holding them hostage to the freedom struggle being waged by Muslims in Kashmir. It's all being stirred into a poisonous brew and administered intravenously, straight into our bloodstream.

At the heart of it all is a moral question. Does any government have the right to take away people's liberty with military force?

India needs azadi from Kashmir just as much—if not more—than Kashmir needs azadi from India.

http://www.outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20080901&fname=Arundhati+Roy+(F)&sid=1

I am Crusty Wafflechunks

2008-11-18T13:27:00.000+05:00

The following is excerpted from a children's book, Captain Underpants And the Perilous Plot Professor Poopypants, by Dave Pilkey, in which the evil Professor forces everyone to assume new names...

So:

1. Use the third letter of your first name to determine your New first name:

a = snickle

b = doombah

c = goober

d = cheesey

e = crusty

f = greasy

g = dumbo

h = farcus

i = dorky

j = doofus

k = funky

l = boobie

m = sleezy

n = sloopy

o = fluffy

p = stinky

q = slimy

r = dorfus

s = snooty

t = tootsie

u = dipsy

v = sneezy

w = liver

x = skippy

y = dinky

z = zippy

2. Use the second letter of your last name to determine the first half of your new last name:

a = dippin

b = feather

c = batty

d = burger

e = chicken

f = barffy

g = lizard

h = waffle

i = farkle

j = monkey

k = flippin

l = fricken

m = bubble

n = rhino

o = potty

p = hamster

q = buckle

r = gizzard

s = lickin

t = snickle

u = chuckle

v = pickle

w = hubble

x = dingle

y = gorilla

z = girdl e

3. Use the third letter of your last name to determine the second half of your new last name:

a = butt

b = boob

c = face

d = nose

e = hump

f = breath

g = pants

h = shorts

i = lips

j = honker

k = head

l = tush

m = chunks

n = dunkin

o = brains

p = biscuits

q = toes

r = doodle

s = fanny

t = sniffer

u = sprinkles

v = frack

w = squirt

x = humperdinck

y = hiney

z = juice

Pizza and Police

2008-11-13T14:20:00.002+05:00

"What do you expect of from country where Pizza delivery arrives faster than ambulance and police?", said Sheikh Rashid on a TV interview. That is startlingly true! Just goes to show what our priorities are. 99.9% of the country is bent toward the will and whims of the remaining one thousandth.

The Seven New Deadly Sins

2008-11-13T11:19:00.002+05:00

In March the Vatican updated the traditional seven deadly sins with seven new social sins, to bring the list in to line with the temptations of the modern world. The additions:

bioethical sins,
morally dubious experiments that harm human embryos,
drug abuse,
polluting,
social injustice,
accumulating excessive wealth, and
creating poverty

(Time Magazine, Nov 10, 2008)

How not to die

2008-11-11T23:55:00.002+05:00

"So I'll tell you now: bad shit is coming. It always is in a startup. The odds of getting from launch to liquidity without some kind of disaster happening are one in a thousand. So don't get demoralized. When the disaster strikes, just say to yourself, ok, this was what Paul was talking about. What did he say to do? Oh, yeah. Don't give up."

http://www.paulgraham.com/die.html

Paper cuts: The Rooster Coop

2008-11-10T21:48:00.005+05:00

Adiga's rooster coop (from White Tiger) reminds me of Hamid's air conditioning (from Moth Smoke). But Adiga has won a Booker, so it's not just the coop. Or the accompanying poop. I like how his writing flows effortlessly and without taking itself too seriously. It's endearingly believable, despite the caricaturing and parodies.

"When you get here, you'll be told we Indians invented everything from the Internet to hard-boiled eggs to spaceships before the British stole it all from us.

Nonsense. The greatest thing to come out of this country in the ten thousand years of its history is the Rooster Coop.

Go to Old Delhi, behind the Jama Masjid, and look at the way they keep chickens there in the market. Hundreds of pale hens and brightly colored roosters, stuffed tightly into wire-mesh cages, packed as tightly as worms in a belly, pecking each other and shitting on each other, jostling just for breathing space; the whole cage giving off a horrible stench - the stench of terrified, feathered flesh. On the wooden desk above this coop sits a grinning young butcher, showing off the flesh and organs of a recently chopped-up chicken, still oleaginous with a coating of dark blood. The roosters in the coop smell the blood from above. They see the organs of their brothers lying around them. They know they're next. Yet they do not rebel. They do not try to get out of the coop.

The very same thing is done with human beings in this country.

...

Because Indians are the world's most honest people, like the prime minister's booklet will inform you?

No. It's because 99.9% of us are caught in the Rooster Coop just like those guys in the poultry market.

The Rooster Coop doesn't always work with minuscule sums of money. Don't test your chauffeur with a rupee coin or two - he may well steal that much. But leave a million dollars in front of a servant and he won't touch a penny of it... He's no Gandhi, he's human, he's you and me. But he's in the Rooster Coop.

...

Never before in human history have so few owed so much to so many. A handful of men in this country have trained the remaining 99.9 per cent - as strong, as talented, as intelligent in every way - to exist in perpetual servitude; a servitude so strong that you can put the key of his emancipation in a man's hands and he will throw it back at you with a curse."

Baggy eyes

2008-11-10T15:50:00.002+05:00

I just noticed that I don't have any bags under my eyes! I can't remember the last time I didn't have bags. It seems that I've always had them... sometimes they get baggier, and serve testament to all the hard work and sleepless nights and anxiety and tension and stress and so on and so forth. They prove that I am alive. I am a man. And I toil and struggle. But no bags at all? What does that mean?

Could it mean something good?

This must be an accurate measure of healthiness. Some people measure their gut (or lack thereof), or their blood pressure, or use any number of medically derived, currently in fashion techniques. I will now rely on my bags (or lack thereof). My holistic measure of health.

World's highest standard of living

2008-11-10T12:06:00.002+05:00

Hey, are these people coming in or going out? :)

Just thinking of you

2008-11-08T19:12:00.006+05:00

"Maybe when you are a kid life is still so full of wonder that there can be no real surprises, because almost everything is a surprise. Or perhaps children just adapt faster than adults." (Tony Parsons, Man and Boy)

I've been wondering how Faiz deals with these long separations? Is he so used to it now that it seems normal to him? We decided that Faiz should stay with Mehvesh because she's been more of a constant in his life, and the fewer the disruptions, the better. But I miss him. And he misses me too (he's always cranky after web-caming). Does it make sense to him that I go away for so long? Does he sense that something is wrong?

We hope he won't remember this time, or at least won't be permanently 'damaged' by it. But who's to say? It will probably shape him in one way or another. We're bearing so many sacrifices for a better tomorrow, a better life. But are we forgetting that this is life? And if it's not the life we desire then we should change it now. For now.

Someday

When I'm awfully low,

When the world is cold,

I will feel a glow

Just thinking of you,

And the way you look tonight.

Why I love Islamabad

2008-11-08T12:37:00.004+05:00

Because there is an outdoors where you can breathe. And it's green and hilly. And I can go biking! Goal is to make it up to daman-e-koh (translation: lap of the mountain) -- a lookout above the Margalla hills in Islamabad. I made it 2/3rds of the way this morning; had to stop just before the final big climb (pic below).

Google's Blue Screen of Death

2008-11-06T18:44:00.004+05:00

I never thought I'd see the day, but here's Google Chrome's blue screen of death. All I was doing was trying to compose an email (and indent a copy-posted HTML table -- but who cares?).

What do I mean?

2008-11-03T13:02:00.002+05:00

Kazi bhai has always been eager to give me a middle name. He's always used 'Naeem B Ahmed' where the B stands for Bollocks. Not really, but we were wondering what my middle could/should be, and I remembered that I used to be 'Naeem Hasan Ahmad' till I was twelve years old! So I looked up the meaning of my name(s), and here is what I found:

Naeem: happiness, comfort, benevolent

Hasan: good, nice, handsome

Ahmad: honored, praiseworthy

Hmm... so does Hasan add anything beyond the obvious? He he. Maybe I should use Ihtisham (modest) instead. But 'Naeem Hasan Ahmed' has a nice ring to it. Too much hassle to change one's name though.

A new economic system for Pakistan?

2008-11-02T18:57:00.002+05:00

Muhammad Ali Jinnah, in his inaugural address on the opening of the State Bank of Pakistan said :

"The economic system of the West has created almost insolvable problems for the humanity and to many of us it appears that only a miracle can save it from disaster that is now facing the world. It has failed to do justice between man and man, and to eradicate friction from the international field. On the contrary, it was largely responsible for the two world wars in the last half century. The Western world inspite of its advantages of mechanization and industrial efficiency is today in a worse mess than ever before in history. The adoption of western economic theory and practice will not help us in achieving our goal of creating happy and contented people. We must work our destiny in our own way and present to the world and economic system based on true Islamic concepts of equality of man and social justice. We will thereby be fulfilling our mission as Muslims and giving to humanity the message of peace which alone can save it and secure the welfare, happiness and prosperity of mankind."

Seven Levels to Nirvana

2008-10-30T21:23:00.002+06:00

According to many Sufi Teachers, there are seven levels of the self or of development, ranging from absolutely self-centered and egotistical to purely spiritual.

The Commanding Self

Also been described as the domineering self or the self that incites to evil. The commanding self seeks to dominate and to control each individual. At this level there is unbridled selfishness and no sense of morality or compassion, and people at this level are like addicts in denial. There is no hope of change because they do not acknowledge any need to change.

The Regretful Self

At this level, wants and desires still dominate, but now the person repents from time to time and tries to follow higher impulses. The addiction is still far too strong to change, but there is a realization that of the pain that has been caused to the self and to others.

The Inspired Self

The seeker begins to take genuine pleasure in prayer, meditation, and other spiritual activities, and is truly motivated by ideals such as compassion, service and moral values. Before this stage, the best anyone can accomplish is superficial outer understanding and mechanical outer worship. Though not free of desires and ego, this new level of motivation and spirtual experience significantly reduces the power of these forces for the first time.

The Contented Self

The seeker is now at peace. The struggles of the earlier stages are over and the old desires and attachments are no longer binding. This level of self predisposes one to be liberal, grateful, trusting, and adoring. If one accepts difficulties with the same overall sense of security with which one accepts benefits, it may be said that one has attained the level of the contented self.

The Pleased Self

At this stage the individual is not only content with her or her lot, but pleased with the difficulties and trials of life, realizing that these difficulties come from God. The difference in this state is how we usually experience pain in the world: now the individual accepts it with love and gratitude to God.

The Self Pleasing to God

Those who reach the next stage realize that all power to act comes from God, that they can do nothing by themselves. They no longer fear anything or ask for anything. The self pleasing to God has achieved genuine inner unity and wholeness, by healing the multiplicity within.

The Pure Self

Those few who attain the final level have transcended the self entirely. There is no ego or seperate self left, only union with God. It is now realized that there is nothing by God, that only the Divine exists, and that any sense of individuality or separateness is an illusion.

Rumi illuminates this state for us:

If you could get rid, of yourself just once,

The secret of secrets would open to you.

The face of the unknown, hidden beyond the universe

Would appear on the mirror of your perception.

(excerpted from 'Essential Sufism' HarperCollins Publishers)

Monkey Business

2008-10-28T14:54:00.001+06:00

Once upon a time, a man appeared in a village and announced to the villagers that he would buy monkeys for $10 each.

The villagers, seeing that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest and started catching them.

The man bought thousands at $10 and, as supply started to diminish, the villagers stopped their effort. He next announced that he would now buy monkeys at $20 each. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started catching monkeys again.

Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to their farms. The offer increased to $25 each and the supply of monkeys became so scarce it was an effort to even find a monkey, let alone catch it!

The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at $50 each! However, since he had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would buy on his behalf.

In the absence of the man, the assistant told the villagers:

'Look at all these monkeys in the big cage that the man has already collected. I will sell them to you at $35 and when the man returns from the city, you can sell them to him for $50 each.'

The villagers rounded up all their savings and bought all the monkeys.

They never saw the man or his assistant again, only lots and lots of monkeys!

Now you have a better understanding of how the stock market works!

Heart

2008-10-15T10:47:00.000+06:00

Masjid Dha Day, Mandir Dha Day

Dha Day Jo Kujh Disda

Par Kissay Da Dil Na Dhawee(n)

Rub Dilaa(n) Wich Wasda

(Bulle Shah)

translation:

Tear down the mosque, tear down the temple

Tear down every thing in sight

But don't (tear down) break anyone's heart

Because God resides in peoples' hearts

On Liberty

2008-08-11T19:20:00.001+06:00

"The only freedom deserving the name, is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Each is the proper guardian of his own health, whether bodily, or mental and spiritual. Mankind are greater gainers by sufering each other to live as seems good to themselves, than by compelling each to live as seems good to the rest."

John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), On Liberty

Powers that be

2008-08-10T22:05:00.003+06:00

(Written at 7pm on Friday 8/8/8 while waiting to depart to New York; I'm in New York now)

I usually don't like to write about my immigration tragedies, but it seems certain that forces are aligned to keep me out of the US. Strong forces. All the roadblocks that keep propping up have to be more than mere coincidence.

So after I finally got my Canadian visa to go to Toronto, and then finally got my US visa in Toronto (details are painful and in the past), I was all set to take the 8.50am flight from Toronto to Newark this morning. Here is a blow-by-blow account:

5am wake up
6am Anand drives me to the airport
7.15am I complete check in for my 8.50am flight
8am I get through the first desk of US immigration, then the second desk, and then get stuck at the third desk.
8.30am An Air Canada official comes find me and rips the tags from my luggage -- I'll have to re-book my flight once I clear immigration.
9.15am Immigration officer takes me to a private room. He asks questions about all my past US visas, and then gets to the point: my US visa was revoked in 2002. I'll have to wait.
10am It's looking bad, I am told. I need a 'waiver' against the 2002 revocation. I cannot travel to the US without such waiver. All my entries to the US since then were mistakes. The officer can't speak for why I was mistakenly admitted to the US four times since then, and why no one thought of this waiver in the 11 months of security clearance I've gone through since 2005. I will have to exit, go back to the US consulate in Toronto, get the waiver, then try again.
10.10am Shit hits the fan. Wait, no fan. Stuck. I feel cold now. Wish they would turn the air conditioning down.
10.30am Consider telling immigration to f' it. Can still find a seat on the 5pm flight back to Lahore.
10.45am No, no, it's cleared up. I don't need a waiver. Smiles. No apology. Too tired to be relieved.
11am Why, why, why me I ask? He doesn't know, suggests I get a job and a green card in the US, to avoid visa and immigration issues in the future. Jeez, thanks, now why didn't I think of that?
11.20am Re-booking my flight. Next flight to Newark is at 4.50pm. Sigh.
12pm Had a slow slow lunch. Wish I could lie down.
12.30pm Tried all available seat types in the departure area, but nothing is comfortable. Back sore.
1pm sleep?
2pm sleep?
3pm please?
4.15pm Flight canceled because of bad weather. The bright sun outside mocks me. Thank God they don't get monsoons here, or there would be no flights for 2 months.
4.30pm Am informed that I need to go get my luggage. That means I have to exit, go through Canadian Customs, pick up my baggage, re-book my flight, and then go back through US immigration again. Groan.
4.31pm mumble grumble
4.32pm back really sore now
4.40pm ##!@#!#$!@#!@@!##
5pm Canadian immigration dude gives me a hard time. Why does he care how I'm going to make a living in the US and where the money is coming from? He tells me that since I have a single entry Canadian visa, and I'm now re-entering Canada, I need to get a new visa from Immigration before I can go out.
5.05pm !@#@!$!@#@!#@!#?@#?@!$@!#@!
5.30pm Finally get through the line to the next immigration officer. Oh! I don't need a new visa. Because I didn't really leave Canada. My current entry is valid for 5 months! Aaaaaargh! No hair left to pull out. Maybe I'll pull out my nails. At least I won't feel the pounding in my head anymore.
6pm No more flights to Newark today. I don't think I can make another sodden commute on the TTC. Send me over the border please! Fly me to Boston, New York, DC, anywhere! Oh, wait. There's space on the 8.15pm flight to LaGuardia. Whew. Wait! Can't relax yet. Still have to go through US immigration again.
6.30pm OK. Made it back in. Had to go to the 'special room' again, but thankfully they remembered me and I got back into the departure area.

Anxiety

2008-08-04T02:04:00.004+06:00

Anxiety, the next gumption trap, is sort of the opposite of ego. You're so sure you'll do everything wrong you're afraid to do anything at all. Often this, rather than "laziness", is the real reason you find it hard to get started. This gumption trap of anxiety, which results from overmotivation, can lead to all kinds of errors of excessive fussiness. You fix things that don't need fixing, and chase after imaginary ailments. You jump to wild conclusions and build all kinds of errors into the machine because of your own nervousness. These errors, when made, tend to confirm your original underestimation of yourself. This leads to more errors, which lead to more underestimation, in a self-stoking cycle.

The best way to break this cycle, I think, is to work out your anxieties on paper. Read every book and magazine you can on the subject. Your anxiety makes this easy and the more you read the more you calm down. You should remember that it's peace of mind you're after and not just a fixed machine.

- Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Timezone fixed

2008-06-28T12:38:00.005+06:00

I recently applied all the updates in Ubuntu 8.04, and realized that my time was now updated to Pakistan Daylight Savings time, though it's called 'PKST'. Open source zindabad! Maybe Windows has updated it too?

amaana evangelists

2008-06-24T09:29:00.002+06:00

amaana enters World Challenge 08

2008-06-03T20:00:00.003+06:00

amaana has entered World Challenge 08 , which is a global competition aimed at finding projects or small businesses from around the world that have shown enterprise and innovation at a grass roots level.

Here are the answers to the 5 questions that distinguish amaana from other candidates:

Why was the project initiated and what does it aim to achieve?

This project was established keeping in mind the millions of un-banked people in Pakistan, lacking any access to affordable financial services. Through the course of rolling the product into the market, amaana aims to provide financial options for the low-income market by enabling micro payments via mobile phones at a significantly lower cost than existing financial channels such as banks and money transfer agents

How does the project measure its achievements?

We look at usage patterns starting with our airtime feature for prepaid purchases over SMS to any mobile phone. For outreach we see how virally the service has spread by word of mouth or referrals in any given community in the country. For usage we look at overall traffic and volume for any particular user. These power users represent their communities, or trust networks, and become amaana's evangelists by promoting us locally. amaana finds particular pleasure in noticing how apparently illiterate people can memorize roman SMS commands or numeric shortcuts to use our basic services

How does the project benefit the community and/or environment?

By providing services over their existing mobile devices at no additional cost, amaana increases each users own income-value by reducing costs typically associated with existing financial services available to them. Accepting amaana as a payment option induces the growth of cash-less economies. This substantially provides economic growth opportunities to the community at large by increasing efficiency, reducing currency printing costs, theft, and sabotage

How does the project use environmental resources sustainably?

We enable cashless economies, which in turn enable paperless environments. Taking physical aspects out of any system increase the inherent security and cost effectiveness of that system. The State Bank of Pakistan has started issuing cotton based currency for it to circulate longer, but that only increases the capital expenditure of producing currency and bank notes continues to transport disease. Our real time over the air processes eliminate time and cost related to physical documentation and transport.

Please write in no more that 250 words why you think this project deserves to win World Challenge 08

We live in a world today with a population of approximately 6.7 billion people, the majority of whom are below the poverty belt. Where, once the world feared Hitler and Communism, headlines now turn to Islamist groups spreading fear throughout the world. With so much diversity in our history, there has been little to rejoice. Pakistan embodies a mere 2% of the global population, yet we have managed to attract attention from the other 98% for nearly a decade. Acts of violence and extremist slander have brought social sanctions home. However, despite the circumstances, life goes on. Part of the life being exposed here is the kind that incubates passion in ones struggle for improving the lives around you. With such passion come situations where the youth that once sought to find success and opportunity elsewhere, are now finding solace in bringing the better wisdom of the world home. One such wisdom is the idea that one day, a company such as amaana, might become a part of the greater solution to challenging economic disparities and social persecution. amaana prides itself in the insistence that everyone should be entitled to flourish. Leveraging the incalculable benefits of modern technology, amaana provides access to financial services over even a basic mobile phone to the poorest man, woman or child, exposing them to prosperity. amaana's low-cost technology platform turns mobile phones into powerful keys that can open doors to change. With consistent resilience and determination, perhaps amaana can fill such big shoes.

East and West Pakistan reunited. Borat says: very nice!

2008-06-02T14:50:00.006+06:00

What do East and West Pakistan have in common today? We're in the same timezone! Yes, according to The World Clock, there are 3 countries which share our current dst timezone: Pakistan, Bangladesh and Kazakhstan.

Borat, reportedly, has expressed great delight over this development and has been quoted as saying 'This will be to make great benefit for glorious nation of Kazakhstan and Islamics Republicans of Pakistan. It's a very nice.'

Indra Gandhi could not be reached for comment.

I will now call it 'Ubuntu Time' vs. 'Borat Time.'

Sunlighting

2008-06-02T12:15:00.002+06:00

Since I haven't been blogging very regularly for the past 6 months, my blog on daylight savings in the US (November) appears only 3 entries ago. Now Pakistan is also trying Franklin's experiment, a second time. As before, there is much mayhem and confusion. If everyone agreed to set their clocks forward by an hour then the answer to 'what is the time?' would be as clear as day. But not everyone agrees (we keep talking about 'old time' and 'new time'), least of all our electronic devices which stay faithfully tuned to Pakistan's default timezone.

So what to do? No, I'm not worried about agreement (this isn't a democracy, after all). But what timezone do I set my computers and phones to? Either I disable NTP (network time protocol -- so that the device updates its time regularly from the network), or I set the time manually. Erk! Manually? What is this, 1978?

I searched Google for 'world timezones', and the first link to http://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock suggests that Pakistan is in fact in dst (daylight saving time)! Wow. Also, Mobilink seems to have updated their network time so my Mobilink phone is on dst. UFone hadn't updated till this morning, but let's see.

Now how to convince my computer that Pakistan is now dst? I've updated Ubuntu with a bunch of differnet timeservers around the world, but no luck yet. Let's wait and see... otherwise, I'll be asking the question 'ubuntu time or new time?'

Faiz the greater (letter to Sohaib Mamoo)

2008-05-17T01:05:00.001+05:00

My Dear Mamoo,

Lemme 1st give u sum gud newz, i have been 2 the principlez office twice so far, can u beat it, aap nay kabhi soocha tha aap ka bhanja will b 10 steps ahead of u, i know ur first call in office was when u were 12 years old. Now plz dont tell menu nano cuz she will start thinking kay aap nay kahin chup kur mujhey ghutee tu nahin dey thee. My mom is already irritated by my comlpains and she was grumbling that "main tu faiz ki shkayaaat suun suun kur thuk gayee hon." Doesnt this dialogue sounds familiar, nano sayz it does, and she soo much misses her sis menu. Now tell me honestly arent sum stupid teachers just fond of complaining, for no reason, its their habit na, unn ko khana nahin hazam hota jub tuk complain na kareen. Now whats wrong if i sit on the table, other children also can, mainay unn ko mana tu nahin kiya, but my teacher sayz "all children r sitting on chair u also sit." Bhai i will sit when i become an exective officer, abhi tu meray khailney kudney kay din hain.

Now they tell me to take my shoes off i didnt and they took me to the principal, even she couldnt make me take it off, than they called in a 5 yr old boy, my friend and he asked me, mainay kha challo uttar hi detay hain. They tell me 2 drink water from glass i drink from sippy cup, bhai what the hell r they wanting to make out of me, mush or bush. I hate to b both, I'll be bill gates , loads of money and butlers to remove my shoes and dress me.

Mamoo u know how much fun it is to roll from over the back of the sofa onto the seat and than make a great jump onto the floor. Mama and nano r alwayz scared that i will hurt mysely, bhai when i dont mind hurting myself why do they interfere in my life, aur kiya main aaj tuk girra hoon, never, i know how 2 make safe jumps, pur mazaa bahut aata hain. Yesterday i got a spanky from nano cuz i took out all the spoons from the draw and hid them under the dish washer, do u think that was enough, no na, i pushed them far underneath as much as i could, theek kiya na, warna tu mazaa hi na atta . Now nano had to lie down and take them all out with a stick,i did that cuz nano needs sum excersize, aok bhala karo uppar say spanky, bhalay ka tu zamana hi nahin.

I am writing u all this cuz i know u r the only one who would agree that i am not wrong at all. If teachers have problem with me, its their problem, i dont have any problem with them. aur main kiya kiya batuv, i luv going behind the sofa and beds and when i get stuck i yell, i have to, if i call my mom or nano they wont cum cuz they cant c where i am so i have to yell, uss pur bhi they say, it hurt their ears.

My life is so full of fun and i am sure i will have loads of fun with u and khubaib mamoo, i am not very sure about zeesh mamoo. Nano has told me i have 3 mamooz and 7 khalaz, 3 nanoz, 3 nanaz, and my darling nani ami, i luv her so much and i remember her everyday, when ever nano is telling me all the names , i keep on repeating nani ami, nani ami, i am soo much looking forward to c her, i know she lovez me the most. i am so lucky.

I think thats enough for today, btw i am reaching on 3rd june, any plans made yet, make sum, mini golf, kui seesha weesha, trust me i wont tell anybody..

bye for now. Luv u mamoo, Wish khubaib mamoo good luck from me and nanoand mom too.
aap ka apna bhanja

faiz the greater.

Same old?

2007-11-09T17:11:00.000+05:00

Though there is much excitement abroad about the martial law in Pakistan, most common people in Pakistan seem un-phased, especially the generations that have seen all this before. Another martial law, another dictator, ho hum. But, it seems, something has changed. The protest against Musharraf comes not from the masses, but from the moderate elite, and from lawyers who are loath to let their constitution be shredded. Something else has changed. Pakistan is faced with a serious radical threat, and in a country where half the population is under 21 and undereducated and not gainfully employed, this makes for a massive recruiting ground for the jihadis. This is of course Musharraf's argument, and why the US is blatantly supporting a miliatary dictator. But we probably won't see a single, unified jihahdi movement sweeping the country because ethnicity has always trumped religion in Pakistan, and much of the jihadi movement is ethnic (Afghan and Pushtun).

What we need from the opposition (whether it's the lawyers, BB or Sharif) is a viable plan to quell the extremist threat. Not only is this critically needed, since the army has so far failed to deliver on this front, but it will give them more credibility and support on the international front and also weaken Musharraf's mandate.

Uncertain, troubling times. Indeed for Pakistan and maybe for the rest of the world. Many people, friends, who I greatly respect and admire have been put in jail or house arrest. Had I been in Pakistan, maybe I would have joined them. Humbling, overwhelming thoughts. Yes, I am troubled.

Daylight, where is the daylight?

2007-11-01T20:53:00.000+05:00

"I don't really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind. I even object to the implication that I am wasting something valuable if I stay in bed after the sun has risen. As an admirer of moonlight I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it. At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves." (Robertson Davies, The Diary of Samuel Marchbanks, 1947, XIX, Sunday.)

It seems that the idea of daylight saving was conceived by Penn's own Benjamin Franklin in 1784.

Desiderata

2007-10-16T08:06:00.001+05:00

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Priorities

2007-10-11T19:57:00.001+05:00

Kevin Carter won the 1994 Pulitzer for this photograph (the vulture is waiting for the starving Ethiopian child to die), and unable to cope with the horror of what he had witnessed, committed suicide soon thereafter. Is the human condition so bleak that the humane cannot stomach it, and would rather end their own lives rather than try to save those of others? Most of are driven to inaction because it is easier to ignore than to accept the reality of the world we live in and continue living our lives normally.

The following text is (allegedly) from Carter's diary:

"Dear God, I promise I will never waste my food no matter how bad it can taste and how full I may be. I pray that He will protect this little boy, guide and deliver him away from his misery. I pray that we will be more sensitive towards the world around us and not be blinded by our own selfish nature and interests.

I hope this picture will always serve as a reminder to us that how fortunate we are and that we must never ever take things for granted."

Quote of the day: Knowledge

2007-10-06T00:05:00.001+05:00

We are drowning in information and starving for knowledge.

- Rutherford D. Roger

Paternal Instinct

2007-09-28T02:56:00.000+05:00

Had my first experience with 'auto-response' paternal instinct today. Faiz, Mao and I were playing outside, or rather, Faiz was abusing Mao and I was trying to teach him how to respect fellow living things (not successful so far).

Either Faiz or Mao stumbled upon a nest of hornets, and one latched itself to Faiz's ear. I flicked it off and held flailing-Faiz tight as I pulled out the sting from his ear lobe. Meanwhile two hornets had stung me and their stings are probably still under my skin (yes, they are throbbing and hurting). But at the time it didn't seem like a concern and all I could think of was to get Faiz in, and the sting out.

Selfless sacrifice must be evolutionaly-embedded . Never really thought about it before.

Good news is that Faiz is not allergic to bee stings.

Puss-in-the-bed

2007-09-26T01:52:00.001+05:00

So I've given up on keeping Mao off the bed; at least while I'm bed-ridden. He's comforting company. Sorry Sundas, but the only solution is frequent laundry. Will be more strict when I'm better.

And no, Faiz pictures have not been replaced by kitty pictures. It's just that Faiz is in school and I am alone with Mao at home all day. And Shuli, for the record, Faiz is much much MUCH cuter. ;p

Mao likes to stretch out on the window sill too. Anywhere he can be lazy is his favorite place.

Iftaar at MickeyDo

2007-09-24T23:49:00.000+05:00

The excuse was to get Faiz some fries. What we really had was a craving.

Broke-back man's best friend

2007-09-24T23:45:00.000+05:00

I'm flat on my back and recovering from a rather painful lower-back sprain. Mao is my constant companion and refuses to leave my side. Never-mind that he's always asleep.

New baby in the house

2007-09-10T22:13:00.000+05:00

Rolly Polly is the newest addition to the household. We haven't re-named him yet. 'Rustam' and 'Chukoo' were popular suggestions. The current favorite is 'Mao', or 'Chairman Mao' (long story, can only be told in person!).

First day was a little uncertain for Mao, but he's settled right in now, and goes off to sleep (which he does most of the time) anywhere he wants. He and Faiz get along very well, and it seems that they team up looking for mischief. One causes trouble, and the other looks on. Maybe we should rename them both Calvin and Hobbes.

Click on pic above for album.

Home Again

2007-09-10T21:52:00.000+05:00

Mehvesh and Faiz finally made it back to Princeton after a hot, sweltering Lahori summer. It was not all wasted, because Faiz discovered mein-mein (mango), which is of course the most important discovery of his life.

The first day back called for a celebratory bike ride, followed by a splash in the Woody-Woo fountain (pics below). Other exciting events include Babur and Sarah's wedding, and first day at UNOW (nursery school). Mehvesh and I snuck away for a ride through Mercer Country Park during the latter.

BBQ @ Princeton

2007-09-10T21:32:00.000+05:00

We had a BBQ to kick off the Fall semester, and kick off Sadiq into marital bliss. Click on the pic below for the album.

Ghutti: prayer from Tasha Khala

2007-09-06T01:02:00.000+05:00

Dearest Faiz,

I strongly beleive that the person who gives ghutti to a new born gives the baby a bit more than just a taste of honey. My Nana gave me ghutti and with that he gave me a lot of patience, strength of will and character, wit (which is the most important for me), the power to think and he gave me love, unconditional, never ending love. These all characteristics sound very simple and you might think that everyone is like that. But my dear these characteristics are hard to find in yourself. its hard to be strong at times and its hard to be patient at times.

When i was giving you the ghutti. I felt under pressure because i knew i was giving you more than just a taste of honey. So I sent you a prayer with the ghutti. My prayer:

May Allah give you all that is good in me but not the bad in me
all the patience but without the urge of giving up
all the strength but no weaknesses
all the wit but no sarcasm
power to think but not too much
and love lots and lots of love...so much that you'll know no matter what you do ill always be on your side
I pray for you to be loved by everyone
to see the good in people but to never be deceived
to make your parents and grandparents proud but be not a victim of pride
to have all that the joys and naimats in life and hereafter and to always count your blessings

Well I have loads of more prayers for you. So you should know that this khala of yours shall always be praying for you. She'll cry when you pass your first grade, and when you graduate, when u get your first job, when you get married, when you have your first baby...but ill cry because ill be happy looking at the amazing person you will be

And ill cry before you whenever you are hurt and ill take away all your sorrows and tell you that 'this too shall pass'

So darling Faiz make your Khala proud cause in that taste of honey I gave you the best of me :)

Love you forever
Tash

Big Bird

2007-08-19T19:11:00.000+05:00

Oh! It can't be! Yana was right all along! I can't deny my yellow fuzziness anymore. :D

Which Sesame Street Character Are You?
	You are Big Bird. You are something of an eccentric, and not everyone always gives you credit for your inventiveness and intelligence. You may not always know everything, but people turn to you for your sound, unique logic. Plus, you have a big heart. Really big.
Find Your Character @ BrainFall.com

Well spun!

2007-08-17T02:26:00.000+05:00

There are lots of spiders out these days, and they're rather large -- about the size of a dollar coin. Here is one that have weaved its web on our front porch. The web is not visible otherwise, but the flash bought it out. The second picture below is a little overexposed, but it shows the web more brilliantly.

Rolly Polly

2007-08-17T02:16:00.000+05:00

Khushbu and I went to see the kittens today. There were six originally, and now there are four. 'Rolly Polly' is male, and apparently the most docile of the lot. He likes to laze around and roll over. That's the kind of cat we need. :) And males are... umm... easier to 'fix'. Now we just need to figure out if we can afford a cat and if we'll have the time and energy to take care of it (the first few months will be some work, then it'll be pretty independent, except for feeding and litter cleaning).

What car would I be?

2007-08-10T12:27:00.000+05:00


	You would be part Ferrari Enzo. You are quick, slick and ever-so-cool. Your ostentatious showiness may put some people off, but your friends know you're the real deal.
	You would be part Toyota Prius. You live life with practicality and innovation. You may not be the flashiest kid in town, but your quirkiness and smarts get you noticed.
Find Your Character @ BrainFall.com

On the car

2007-08-07T11:40:00.001+05:00

Faiz gets his run of the car. Looks like a big boy -- until you see the diaper. :)

Peek a boo at Nigar's

2007-08-01T06:24:00.000+05:00

Faiz @ home with Baba

2007-07-26T05:58:00.000+05:00

Here are pics of Faiz in Lahore from when I was visiting (click picture to go to album).

More pics at Sadiq & Sundas' Wedding.

Between Cultures?

2007-07-24T06:06:00.001+05:00

He he. Dalrymple also gives his opinion.

Baltimore and DC

2007-07-23T19:49:00.000+05:00

Had a full and fulfilling weekend. Friday night in Baltimore with Prerna, Brighu (and entourage), Yana and Jon. And Saturday in DC with Hasnain, Fariha, Waleed, Sara, Zaid, Maryam and my boy Sajid. Some pics:

Picked up this magnet at the Arts Festival
in Baltimore. Notice the mustache?
Thought Mehvesh would get a kick out of it.

Complete set here.

E50: online in the palm of my hand

2007-07-20T22:24:00.001+05:00

It's not quite an iPhone, but at the third of the price, I'm willing to compromise. :)

I picked up a Nokia E50 in Pakistan recently, and it runs the Symbian 9.1 OS. AT&T has EDGE coverage here, so I get a pretty decent connection. Lots of apps for Symbian make it an almost perfect online companion on the go. Here are some of my favorites. Next: GPS.

Google Talk

Google Maps

Gmail

Faiz @ home

2007-06-28T14:50:00.000+05:00

Faiz is home and happy. But baba is far away and sad... :(

Surprise for Nana!

Who's the center of attention?

Horsey is happy to be horsey... as we are to be smug!

Complex hieroglyphics. A higher intelligence, really.

Let's see if we can make the car prettier...

Uh oh... someone's been naughty... not me!

Nahin... got a hair cut. Now Faiz looks all grown up. To soon! Stop!

Oil spill and fireflies

2007-06-20T00:46:00.000+05:00

Last night the plan was to get a work-out on the way home from work. I got on my bike around 9.30pm, all fired up for a power ride. Not 100 feet out, and I was down on all fours with the bike on top of me. I slid into an oil spill on the turn out of the parking lot (on to Washington Rd). Who leaves an oil spill at a turn, and that too at night?!?!!

My knee provided much of the braking force as I slid across the road. Bike got a bit battered to (gears aren't changing right). Both are repairable (hopefully).

Bruised and battered, I ambled home (on my bike) on the short-cut (straight down Washington). At that time there were no cars, and no lights (on the stretch between Rt.1 and faculty), and I was welcomed with the most wondrous sight. Fireflies! Like little stars all around. Would have never seen it driving through with the headlights on. Some well-earned twinkled-lining on my recent dark-oil-goo-cloud.

Little incidents ward off bigger tragedies -- who knows what awaited me on my power-ride at night through the back roads of Princeton? Not biking at night again: not safe. Thanks for the lesson. :)

Missing where the heart is

2007-06-12T11:13:00.000+05:00

Lyrics from Daughtry's 'Home':

I'm staring out into the night,
Trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

Well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
Well I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love, it makes true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
I'm going home.

Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all,
And then some you don't want.
Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all, yeah.

Oh, well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.
I said these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.

Faiz does Manhattan (on a bike)

2007-06-05T10:50:00.001+05:00

More Boston

2007-06-05T10:31:00.001+05:00

In a park on St. Paul's

Thrice as many giggles! (also just as many poopy diapers)

Longing for the other side (cars on the street).

Getting sweets off the table on the cheek.

Noodle experiment failed. Too slippery!

Off to the bay in Rhode Island.

Getting some help from Bibi.

With Abid Chacha at the *best* Thai restaurant in town
(though Faiz refused to partake in the culinary pleasure, he
had the best time running around the elephants).

See Naima, I can draw! And then I can make it disappear in my tummy!

Fishes at the Aquarium.

Boston

2007-05-24T23:13:00.001+05:00

Long break from blogging! But before I get back into it, here is a pictorial update from Boston. We came for Feeza's graduation. We stayed for the break from rural life. :)

Birds and Turds

2007-05-02T06:08:00.000+05:00

Heard this song on Radio Paradise (great station btw) and 'turd' caught my ear. What can I say? Some things just strike a chord (or rumble).

This is 'I like birds' by Eels. Going out to you Baji!

I can't look at the rocket launch
Trophy wives of the astronauts
And I won't listen to their words
'Cause I like birds

I don't care when walkin downtown
Crazy auto car gonna mow me down
Look at all the crazy people like cows in a herd
Well I like birds

If you're small and on a search
I've a got a feeder for you to perch on

I can't stand in line at the store
The mean little people are such a bore
But It's ok if you act like a turd
'Cause I like birds

If you're small and on a search
I've got a feeder for you to perch on

If you're small and on a search
I've got a feeder for you to perch on

I've got a feeder for you to perch on

If you're small and on a search
I've got a feeder for you to perch on

I've got a feeder for you to perch on

Fauji Puns

2007-04-28T07:48:00.000+05:00

Picked these up from the Pakistani Fulbright group. Now there's always some truth to jokes... right? The army is really generating a lot of bad rap by focusing more on consolidating its political power base, and less on strengthening Pakistani institutions. This could finally be the last army rule, but not for reasons that the army would have liked.

Army song parody:

"Aey watan key sajeeley jernaelo,
Sarey RAQBEY tumhaarey liey hain,
KOTHIYUN key talabgaar ho tum,
PLOTOUN key parastaar ho tum,
O zalalat ki zinda misalo,
yeh patwari tumharey liey hain,
aey watan key..."

Army Niyyat-i-Namaaz:

"Main Niyyat karta hoon 100 Acre zameen ki,
6 commercial plot farz,
2 residential plot sunnat,
waastey apni family key,
Muhn mera DHA kee tarf:
ALLAH-O-AKBAR"

Want to desire

2007-04-28T01:18:00.000+05:00

Too often, the thing you want most, is the thing you can't have
Desire leaves us heartbroken, it wears us out
Desire can wreck our life
But as tough as wanting something can be,
The people who suffer the most
Are those who don't know what they want.

- Gray's Anatomy, 4/27/07

More stroller pics

2007-04-24T21:51:00.000+05:00

Greeting Earthlings! I come in peace. With my stroller.

Oh! It doesn't want to go.

Hmm...

Whack! Whack! #!$!@@!!#

No worries, I'll just carry it over.

Here we go...

Bye!

Little man

2007-04-24T21:45:00.000+05:00

Faiz very dedicatedly pushing a stroller. Not sure what the mission is, but he is very intent on it and it makes him look much bigger than he is!

Patience

2007-04-19T10:16:00.000+05:00

"Be sure we shall test you with something of fear and hunger, some loss in goods or lives or the fruits (of your toil), but give glad tidings to those who patiently persevere, Who say, when afflicted with calamity: "To Allah We belong, and to Him is our return." They are those on whom (descend) blessings from Allah, and Mercy, and they are the ones that receive guidance." [Quran 2:155-157]

Out and about in Princeton

2007-04-18T20:01:00.000+05:00

The weather isn't really getting better, but we still forced our way out the past couple of weekends. PJ's is becoming a regular hangout.

No mama! I don't wanna get it cut!

Ooookhay...

Hanging with (on to) khala.

Hmm... why is everyone walking in different directions?

Hello Mr. Tiger

Wow! It's colder up here...

Yana & Jon.

Look! There must a light somewhere...

Peek-a-boo!

With Belinda, Mason and Steve

Mama time

Baloon for brunch

Sadly, we must go home now.

Thought of the day: Happiness

2007-04-17T01:18:00.000+05:00

Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.
Ernest Hemingway (1899 - 1961)

Hmm... I hope were not spending all these years acquiring 'intelligence.' Intelligence is such a distraction anyway. Makes you feel like you have to get up and do something with it. So tiring. My kingdom for some bliss...

Thought of the day: Greener

2007-03-26T22:45:00.000+05:00

The grass only looks greener on the other side; step in and you could find your foot sinking in the mud.

Sixth tense

2007-03-15T08:58:00.000+05:00

And it's out! Faiz's sixth tooth. He's suddenly all grown up and enjoying having his teeth brushed.

He's also becoming a little terror around the house and we're going to start phase 2 of baby-proofing this weekend. He's most fascinated with the flush and has discovered that pulling the little lever makes fun whooshing-gurgly sounds. One day we left the seat up, and Faiz started depositing a load of dirty laundry into what he thought was the washer. Well at least he had the right intentions. I can't wait for him to grow up and do the laundry, the dishes, the vacuuming, jhar-ponch, etc. -- seeing how fond he is of it and all. Mehvesh is appalled at my suggestion. I just want him to follow his passions.

Religion lost, Paradise regained

2007-03-10T03:35:00.000+05:00

Heard an old replay of Mike Stine's '98 interview on NPR. He revealed that 'Losing my Religion' was inspired by Police's 'Every Breath you Take.' Not sure what his interpretation was, but this truly stands on its own:

Oh, life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up

(chorus)
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight, I'm
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

(repeat chorus)

But that was just a dream
Try, cry, why try?
That was just a dream
Just a dream, just a dream
Dream

mokaJo

2007-03-08T22:35:00.000+05:00

mokaJo lives by 5 guiding principles:

It's not where you buy your coffee but where you put down your cup
Everything you need should fit in your pocket
There is no such thing as a job well done until no one does it better than you
High 5's should not include a jump (missing looks stupid)
LivePCs are better than dead PCs

Thought of the day: Government

2007-02-25T20:03:00.000+05:00

There is no nonsense so errant that it cannot be made the creed of the vast majority by adequate governmental action.
- Bertrand Russell

Thought of the day: Education

2007-02-21T08:23:00.000+05:00

If you think education is expensive, try ignorance. - Derek Bok

Settling in

2007-02-13T21:13:00.000+05:00

Excessive Entitlement

2007-02-09T01:58:00.000+05:00

A couple of not-so-rare sightings in Pakistan:

This limo can be rented for Rs.40k for the first hour, and Rs.10k per hour subsequently. With status symbols getting so expensive, the rest of us can expect to become status-less very soon.

A 2006 Porsche 911 Turbo spotted in Lahore. 0-60 in 3.7 secs and 193mph top speed. No doubt the $400k price tag will help you get from Defense to Gulberg faster. Don't worry about the expendable peasants you'll leave in your dust along the way.

So it's established we're a rich nation, and have equally rich tastes; certainly a worthy outcome of moderated enlightenment (read: excessive entitlement). But does that entitlement give us any respect for law and order? Which way is the car going around the round-a-bout? I am sure the half second he will save by not going around the right way is also a part of his entitlement... or maybe he is saving valuable fuel. Sweet irony.

I have a thought (yes, just one): If I can ever afford to, will I choose to buy an expen$ive imported car in Pakistan? What's the opportunity cost (and to whom)? Is it the height of hubris, or am I justified in enjoying my (legally) hard-earned money? We'll know in 20 years.

Thought of the Day: Nationalism

2007-02-06T10:16:00.000+05:00

Nationalism is a disease. It's the biggest disease on the planet.

- Nick Negroponte

Together; finally; again!

2007-02-05T00:07:00.000+05:00

Faiz is happy in his new home. Or maybe he's just always happy! :) I'll take both.

Rickshaa!

2007-02-04T03:51:00.000+05:00

The doctor forwarded the following. Translation for the Urdu-challenged:

To General Pervez Musharraf Sahib: Please accept our congratulations on the victory of the Women's Rights Bill. We would be grateful if you could also make a bill for men's rights; we have so much difficulty in drinking.

The Milton Pot

2007-01-31T10:38:00.000+05:00

A 'friend' (who prefers anonymity) whose status as a potential tenant in Manhattan was challenged:

"As a member of the Republican party, I do not hope for individual endorsements, although I will be appreciative, since that's what the society tells me how a decent human should feel. However, if I am a good tenant with low credit risk and low depreciation rate, and if the signals are dispatched right, the market will recognize this itself."

"The above statement is made in honor of Milton Friedman, 1912-2006, the greatest economist in the 20th century."

REAL first word

2007-01-31T01:52:00.000+05:00

In recognition of all the love and hard work that he gets from his Tasha Khala, Faiz has officially uttered 'Tasha' as his first word. He started by babling 'Tasha Tasha Tasha...' consistently and sometimes incoherently, and a week of this diatribe could have been confused with many other rants and ramblings (mam mum baba mama dada etc.). But yesterday he confirmed that he can say Tasha, and means his Khala when he says it. So thanks Tasha Khala; this is a first that you will always have.

Unexpected

2007-01-27T02:13:00.000+05:00

We all think we are going to be great. And we feel a little bit robbed when our expectations aren’t met. But sometimes our expectations sell us short. Sometimes the expected simply pales in comparison to the unexpected. You have to wonder wonder why we cling to our expectations? Because the expected is just what keeps us steady. Standing. Still. The expected is just the beginning. The unexpected is what changes our lives. - Grey's Anatomy, Jan 25 2007

Old is gold

2007-01-24T06:05:00.000+05:00

"... literacy was viewed in terms of knowledge of literature and attention to rhetorical appropriateness. Literacy pedagogy involved rote learning, oral recitation, copying, and imitation of what was considered correct speech and writing. And the literacy curriculum was based on exemplary texts ... and handwriting primers. This public schooling paradigm corresponded to the needs of an aristocratic social structure, in which land, power and knowledge was concentrated in a few hands, and education involved obedience to tradition and power." - Mark Warschauer (2004)

This text describes the state of school-based literacy in the U.S. in the nineteenth-century. Sound familiar?

Thought of the day

2007-01-23T03:03:00.000+05:00

TV is like alcohol. It helps you forget, it's addictive, and the hangover hurts like hell.

Lazy no more

2007-01-21T09:06:00.000+05:00

African proverb:

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.
It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will get killed.
Every morning a lion wakes up.
It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death.
It doesn't matter whether you are a lion or gazelle.
When the sun comes up, you better start running.

Unequal prosperity

2007-01-17T21:07:00.000+05:00

Friedman, in 'The World is Flat': Communism is a great system for making people equally poor, and capitalism for making them unequally rich.

So which is better? Which makes people happier? If the entire world where communist, and everyone was equal, then that would probably be better. But societies and nations cannot live in isolation anymore, and as long as there are have-nots anywhere in the world, there will be discord, strife and conflict. I think I need to finally start reading 'Capitalism at the Crossroads.'

Tool my technology

2007-01-17T07:58:00.000+05:00

I wrote in my Wharton essay:

"I believe that developing countries like Pakistan have the skill-set and training to manufacture home-grown ICT solutions for non-technology problems. This has the potential to not only provide employment to a generation of underutilized youth, but to help develop solutions to many socio-economic problems that plague developing countries, like accountability, transparency, service delivery, and education, to name a few."

Basically I am for narrowing the digital divide (the uneven diffusion of information and communications technology) not by applying imported technology, but by building home-grown technology solutions. Narrowing the divide is not an aim in itself, rather narrowing the divide is a means to spurring socio-economic revolution.

It's another dimension of "homesourcing." We're not going to try to continue to fail to get our little piece of the outsourcing pie, but rather use and develop our own skills and resources to directly impact our lives.

"Some people argue that technology is a reward of development, making it inevitable that the digital divide follows the income divide. True, as incomes rise, people gain access to the benefits of technological advance. But many technologies are tools of human development that enable people to increase their incomes, live longer, be healthier, enjoy a better standard of living, participate more in their communities and lead more creative lives. From the earliest times, people have fashioned tools to address the challenges of existence, from war to health care to crop production. Technology is like education—it enables people to lift themselves out of poverty. Thus technology is a tool for, not just a reward of, growth and development." UNDP, HDR 2001