Salmon

On Wednesday, I was watching a Nature program on PBS. I love PBS stuff nowadays....PBS seems so substanial compared to the other crap on TV. Anyway, the show was about someplace in Alaska where the Salmon go upstream to spawn. I caught the show somewhere in the middle and watched, fascinated, as the salmon wiggled and splashed their way through shallow riverbeds. It didn't matter that there was barely a few inches of water--some lifeforce, some instinct, pushed them on. Bears and wolves caught a few of them too...In the end, the salmon that got to the spawning place were already decaying from the inside, dying as their life cycle came to a close. They had to mate quickly. So they did. The male was ready to fertilize as soon as the female laid the eggs. The female covered the eggs with some gravel. She then, in the words of the words of the announcer, "allows herself to die". It was so sad. Heck, I started crying. It makes me wonder what the salmon were thinking, if they think at all. The entire goal of their life is to go upstream and regenerate or become food for other animals. Is that what life is all about? You live, you work to provide life for someone else, and then you die. Is this like our purpose? Are we no better than anything else on Earth? Does Ego get in the way of us accepting this? What if there was one Salmon that went against the grain? He lived in the sea and didn't go upstream to spawn. He would die too, right? If he could think as well as humans, how would he percieve his situation? He would probably think he was not like the other Salmon. He probably would wonder why he was different. He would probably condemn their mindless insistence on going upstream. He would probably ask "What's the point?" As he got older, he would have second thoughts. He would think of the salmon who went before him, their children, who laugh at this crotchety old salmon, the recluse of the sea, the crazy one who just eats and takes up space. As he got older, he would probably regret not having sex, having kids, having fulfilled his purpose, or having at least attempted to make the journey. He would think "What was the point in hanging around here? Why didn't I just go?" As he died, he would also think maybe "Is this all there is?" What did I contribute? How did I make a difference? Who knows? Maybe the old Salmon contributed by showing the younger ones how not to be? I think we all contribute something to the world. Maybe there is more than one purpose. We touch so many lives along the way...I suppose the salmon are lucky if they are unable think about it.

Edu-ma-cation

Funny...I suddenly feel as if I have nothing to vent about. Marriage: did that. The desi-classification-system thing: did that. How lame this is: did that. Now what? I would complain about my parents but that would just be for the sake of complaining. My brother? Nah, he's cool. Indian society? Well, I kinda did that with the marriage topic. How about learning?Hmm, don't think I've talked about that though its suddenly become a passion. Now honestly, this will not be a vent session so if you were here for that, you are welcome to stop reading now.I don't think I ever used to hate school really. Sure, I had my share of bullies but I learned early that if you remained inconspicous to the point of being invisible, they usually left you alone. I think the only thing I ever wanted to learn in school was how to read. I remember when I was like 3 or 4, I used to sit with a book and try to read by just knowing the alphabets. Lemme give you an example: the word CAT. Now, I only knew my ABCs so that word would be CEE AY TEE and put together it would be CEEAAYTEE. Now I was confounded as to why that creature was called a Ceeaytee when it was obviously a cat! I supposed if I was a child prodigy I would have figured it out on my own, but I didn't. And then when I got to school and finally learned phonics...it was like DUH. Reading was a breeze. Now spelling on the other hand...well, I digress.I loved to read. I loved stories of all kinds. My parents really helped to encourage that. I had like a whole closetful of Dr. Suess' books. He's still one of my favorites. I think when I was in second grade, Dad started checking out books for me from the public library. The first book he brought home was a children's book of stories from India. I fell in love. Soon, I wanted to read the whole series: Stories from China, Stories from Ireland...etc. I did, and then some. By that time I was hooked. This love followed me into high school.Now, as in Chinua Achebe's book, Things Fall Apart, in high school things fell part. I suppose I should blame it all on being an self-conscious adolescent but suddenly reading and learning didn't mean Jacques Schitt if you didn't have a boyfriend or a bod that would get you a boyfriend or even a personality that would get you into the 'cool' clique so you can meet a 'cool' boyfriend. Oh blah, I sound bitter. I'm sure there are plenty of people who actually had a fantabulous time in high school and that's all well and dandy. However, I had a crappy time. It really sucks not knowing who you are. You want to be the best and think you deserve the best, but when things keep happening that tell you that you are not...well, what can you do? I look back and think that my priorities were all wrong. It's hard to be a banana when you're an orange. Both are yum. BUT you can only be one of them, you know? My darn luck, bananas were really popular in high school.Of course, self-confidence plunged to an all-time low. I started listening to everyone but myself and THAT, my sweet gullible friend, was my downfall. Yes, I think of it as a downfall though without that episode I would not be where I am today. I wanted to get away from it all. I was taught that suicide was a sin and the last thing I needed was the wrath of a Supreme Being on top of all that. So I just left. Packed my bags and took off. Best damn thing I did, I tell ya.When you suddenly lose everything that your existence revolved around, you realize that you are left with only yourself. And TA-DA, I realized who I was. No, it didn't happen overnight but it did happen. All the junk that you were bogged down with are but a mere memory. THAT's when I realized that knowledge was what I desired. Some people get the same self-awareness by following their own dreams like painting or singing or dancing, etc. Whatever floats your boat. All that potential knowledge stored in library books and newspapers and textbooks....It overwhelmed me. Just call me Dr. Faustus (without Mephistopheles though). I learned to love to read again. However, this time, and perhaps this is a sign that I'm getting old, I realized its importance.I really don't know why I feed on knowledge. Maybe to hush up the incessant 'whys'in my head or perhaps to find out if anything in those books would lead me to the truth in myself, my purpose, the TRUTH....I believe no one book can tell you that. Books only direct your mind. You have to read a whole bunch of books just to get a summary of the whole story. And even if you read all the books in this world, it will just lead you to an abridged version. Now for the rest of your SELF....? Well, you would have to look beyond this world, I guess. And by world, I mean physical realm of reality.Yeah, I do tend to babble and as usual none of this makes sense. Forget I said anything. This is what happens when I start writing as I'm thinking. Stream of consciousness and junk...Well, sort of :)

The Best Loser You Can Be

Isn't it funny how you make all these plans and stuff about the future and none of them turn out the way you wanted? And then you realize later that those plans that you had made would have totally screwed you up had they come to fruition. Of course, you don't know all this when you are making the plans. Yet, there is this innate urge to make plans and goals and dreams and whatnots. Why? Just so your mind can rest in peace thinking that it just organized the future? Poor mind, trying to control what is so obviously muddled chaos. That's why I hate telling my plans to people because things never really turn out that way. And then ur all like 'gosh darn, there i go again trying to control life, bad, bad me'. Maybe it's just me...but I feel like i'm losing face when I say somthing and it doesn't turn out that way at all. So can I not help but be secretive? Another technique is to totally downplay your life so that you seem like an utter loser. I mean, you would have enough self esteem to know that you're not BUT people don't expect much from you after that. SO...then when you secretly mastermind your own rising-from-the-ashes sorta thing, everybody would be oohing and aahing because it is such a surprise that such a loser would be doing well. And hot dog, that's what you wanted all along, right? The only downfall to this technique is that there is a tendency to actually believe what you yourself say and think that you are an actual loser. This might lead to discouragement and giving up when you think you can't do any better especially after even your own secret master-minded plans fall like last week's souffle. So the key is not to give up. Be persistant. Repeat to yourself " I can kick ass if I really want to" as your personal mantra. Believe that you are clever and devious enough to fool people into thinking that you are a loser when in fact you are not. Know thyself and Be thyself. Breathe Deep and Kick Ass, grasshopper.

ABAD

I used to be an ABCD (american born confused desi). And honestly, I totally dissed FOBs. That was before I went to Bangalore where I was so forcefully stuck in their shoes and became a FOB (fresh off the boat)myself. So I came back as a veritable amalgam of both worlds. I am neither one or the other. Just a lovely concoction. Since everyone is into creating new classifications (refer to LTOB (long-time-off-boat-desi article at www.littleindia.com)I though I'd come up with a new one too. ABAD: American Born Again Desi. Born again in the sense that love of desiness and desi-land was revived. So far, I only know of one other ABAD personally. A very rare species I guess. Most ABCDs who end up in India either stay in India (desi land) and become a full-fledged desis or come back to the USA and revert back to ABCD-ness.ABAD's are actually quite lovely people; able to balance and love both cultures and have a fantabulous time doing it. Of course, there are some FOBs and ABCDs who can do the same. Unlike some hostile desi purists, ABADs embrace the diversity that characterises India and Indians, no matter where the heck they were born or how long they lived anywhere.

Marriage

I really hate making decisions. It's so much easier to have someone tell me what to do and then blame them when things go wrong. I mean, to me, that would be the whole premise behind, oh lets say, arranged marriages? I mean, couldn't you possibly see someone saying "WEllll, gollllyy mom and dad, thanks for setting me up with whats-his-face. He's so ME" Of course that would be said with much evident saracasm as that same someone signs the divorce papers. That would be much easier though. To blame someone else. I go around pushing off marriage like Mr Perfect is just around the corner. I don't want to marry just because I think it's the right thing to do. Or marry someone just because I'm afraid I won't get anyone better. And then when I do marry and it turns out like hell, I have no one to blame but myself. Of course, half the fault would be his but I'm a perfectionist and if it went wrong it's because I didn't choose better. Of course the ABCD in me is like 'oh screw that indian b.s; i'll just date until i find mr perfect. so it might take me until i'm thirty. so i might never get married..so? so ? so??'. The FOB in me is like 'ayyo, ur parents know better and u can blame them in the end. at least, molay, you'll have a fantabulous wedding with all your relatives very much approving the boy because ur loving parents approve, na?' Marriage sucks. Of course I want a companion but, hell, why do I HAVE to get married? There's so much I want to do before that and I'm sure I couldn't possibly do all that with a whiny husband and a couple of young'uns. Mom is so like 'get married now before it's too late'. I swear, I'm starting to see marriage as death. Seems the end of the world. Why does Indian society seem to deem marriage, along with regeneration, as the goal of life?? Is the whole point in living to lose urself (your identity)to some weirdo who supposedly is your soul mate? And then eventually to some kids who won't appreciate you until you're dust. I've lived my whole life trying to figure out who I am and when I finally do, I have to share it with someone else??? Not fair, says I! Well, I'm still in my early 20s. No matter what anyone says, I still say I have time to be selfish. Yeah, selfish selfish selfish!