A teacher's story

The student-teacher relationship has long been an interesting one and which is percieved differently among world cultures. Some are taught to fear their teachers, adulate them like gods, bow down in ultimate obedience. You get the drift. And in others it's quite the opposite, where the establishing of an equal relationship is encouraged. To share ideas and learn from each other.

But what possibly doesn't change is that all teachers have lives outside school, just like their students. which often isn't given much thought. Every morning, when we walk into class, there's the professor, waiting to begin another class, surrounded by all the symbols that give them that status - pens, notes, slides. Ever thought what they ate for breakfast? Who's their best friend? Where did they go on their last holiday? The characteristics that make them people, not just teachers.

Recently, I've been discovering the backgrounds of my professors based on what they share in class and their work which is available online. So many of them have fascinating existences beyond the premises of 640 Commonwealth Avenue.

As mentioned in some of my previous posts, one has Parkinson's and fights the disease everyday with a beautiful, undying sprit. Another had a rough childhood, rougher marriage and emerged from both, stronger and sparkling. And some share lifetimes with the same person, cherishing their spouse whom they're glad to have by their side as their teenaged children head off to college. I feel like Matilda in Roald Dahl's book by the same name, who learns of Ms. Jenny's life outside school.

The next time you're in class, let your mind wander just this once. Try seeing your teacher as a person rather than a professor, for just a couple of moments. You may gain an education rather than a lesson.

An overdose of champagne, white lace and three-tiered cakes

What is it with American cable and so many shows about weddings, marriage and other shenanigans that surround the topic? Recently, it's been virtually impossible to flip channels with at least one bridal show airing at the time. Irrespective of what time of day or night it is!

Bridezilla, Platinum Weddings, Confessions of an American Bride (which is a full-length movie)...is it just me or is the amount of content bordering on unhealthy?

My Big Fat Fabulous Wedding, Disney Dream Wedding and still counting...

Yoga

The yoga class turned out to be everything I expected and some more.

Before heading there however, I stopped off at the robotics competition at the Agganis Arena. The stadium was filled with a cheering crowd as area schools competed to prove their robot was the best. The smell of pizza filled the space and loud, upbeat music added a nice finishing touch.

Getting back to the yoga class, it looked a little weird from the outside. It had ugly neon signs and just looked like no one had bothered to enter in at least five years. But inside, it was clean, with soft lighting and wafting music.

I grabbed a yoga mat and did many of the 'asanas'. I'd like to think my yoga teacher was quite pleased with me :)

Shutting out Somerville, MA for an hor and a half, we strecthed and breathed, until I felt so calm that the traffic on the street outside started to sound like waves.

After the class, I treated myself to some home style Bangaladeshi food - chicken jalfrezi, rice and roti. Perfect would be an understatement. Tender meat slow cooked in a medley of spices. I poosibly discounted the value of the yoga class. But the chicken was so hypnotically good, I could hardly seem to care.

Not a bad idea, this yoga class. There's no saying I won't make it a more regular practice.

Today

Today was so interesting, I felt like documenting all of it.

I'm working on a story about alternative healing techniques in Boston and interviewed an acupuncturist. Initially, I thought I'd ask my questions and be done in under half an hour. But I stayed for close to two hours listening about the fascinating method and finally got pricked with my first acupuncture needle too. Not as bad as I had anticipated. A slight tingling pain, but that's about it.

Tomorrow I try out a yoga class in Cambridge.

Then my friend from Shanghai who lives with an American family invited me for dinner to their house. Wonderful people, with the cutest dog (who I took on a walk). In keeping with their faith, they had a traditional Sabbath. Since this wasn't my first, I wasn't so much of the wide-eyed tourist this time round. But it was still a new feeling, allowing the prayer to engulf the dining room and fill the guests with a soothing calm, the sonorous notes dancing off the walls.

We ate roasted potatoes, baked cod, Muligatawny soup (made espcially for me) and carrot cake with frosting. Simply divine.

A thought that crossed my mind during dinner. Photographers depend so much on light for the right picture yet spend so much time in the darkness developing the perfect shot.

Noam Chomsky visited campus a few days ago and I had the privilege of hearing him speak at the law tower. It was a provocative discussion which sparked tempers.

My story made it to the front page. Check it out here.

Spirit

“Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free till they find someone just as wild to run with them.”

A Million Little Pieces by James Frey

Checking in as a patient is not the only way to know what it's like to be in rehab. Sometimes, it's possible to get a fairly accurate picture by reading a book like A Million Little Pieces by James Frey.

Frey was a 23 year-old who had been abusing drugs and alcohol since he was 10 years old when he was brought to a rehabilitative center in Minnesota. He was told he would die by the age of 24 if he did not get immediate help. And so began a long, painful, highly graphic journey of his path ro recovery.

The writing is conversational in parts. But it's more accurately an insight into the author's mind, as though he has hooled it up to a silent reader which translates his thoughts into text. Frey has employed an interesting use of capitalization, treating different words as though they were characters. Ironically, this is not distracting but actually lends more meaning to the reading.

The story develops very well, carrying the reader comfortably through it at every stage. The beginning of the book is quite harsh and it takes determination to get through the first few chapters. But once past that, the effort becomes worthwhile.

The timing of reading this book coincided with my discovery of a television show called Intervention. It deals with addictions of different kinds through real people suffering from the conditions. With help from their family, victims get help from medical facilities in different parts of the country. The visual elements of the show helped put the book into perspective.

A Million Little Pieces was once Oprah's choice for her book club. However, soon after it was discovered that not all parts of the book were true. Frey appeared on the show to admit and apologize for the falsity which was part of his "memoir." I don't support deception and it is tragic for the credibility of a text especially like this to be marred by something like untrue facts. But the story is compelling. Read A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It will suprise you how a book with that title can make you feel reknewedly whole again.

On an aside, I've started my new blog here, where only my published journalistic work will be available. I encourage you to to take a look and would really appreciate feedback.

Changing times

This economy is scary. Although it was inevitable and felt imminent for a while, it still is shocking. But yesterday, a proefessor was explaining how the restructuring of a newspaper office may be the answer to keeping the suffering print industry alive. That's when it hit home that although this economy is here now and there seems to be little recourse from it at the moment, it will untimately end and that will happen when some radical changes take place.

So the answer does not lie in returning to old models which got us in this mess in the first place. Restructuring seems to be the answer - the process of making marked changes without changing the essence of the product. That means, reassessing business plans, rethinking the finance market, reorganizing the stock market and real estate sector with the efforts being extended to pertinent areas such as education, infrasturcture and of course, the media.

The right changes could likely help avoid such a catastrophic scenario in the future, making the public sector more insulated to the need to layoff employees by the dozen, snatch away their paychecks and leave them standing cold and wet by the side of the road.

We will ultimately go back to being okay. But it will take time. And things will not be the same when we do. Which is probably a good things. It's better to return to different models which work better than old onee which fail.

There is hope. All is not lost. It's just about making those changes. And as a wise man once said, "Change is good."

India is on a date with Oscar

The Indian presence at the 81st Academy Awards was unprecendeted. For once, India did not feature in only the foreign film category. Nor is Satyajit Ray, a great contributor to Indian cinema, the only Indian anymore to have one an award. AR Rahman joins him and does India proud.

As does Resul Pookutty, part of the sound mixing team which also won an award and the gorgeous kids from Mumbai who endeared a worldwide audience.

From the riot of hyper-pink-costumed dancers who performed a modern day jazz bharat natyam* to the dhol** players among the audience, the Indian actors who attended the event and the mindboggling number of awards Slumdog Millionaire won - the night truly belonged to bringing the world several steps closer to India.

Besides the entertainment factor, this movie and now these awards, will hopefully make the world more aware of a land which is home to more than a billion people and swelling community overseas. Make them appreciative of a culture of celebration and resilience, much of which languishes in indifference. No, not the politicians and geography majors whose job it is to know. But the next door neighbor in Sweden. The classmate in Australia. The fireman in Alabama. The everyday people around the world who will be curious to know more about a place like no other. And hopefully, just maybe, that curiousity will translate into opportunity for Indians to play host, to learn tolerance and embrace the process of opening of the mind. Because India needs more of an education. What better way than for an exchange of ideas? Only when this is successfully achieved can we claim to belong to a civilized society.



* A form of Indian dance
** An Indian drum-like instrument

The night belongs to Hollywood's Golden Boy

It's Oscar night baby!

Like a house of cards

A toy store I went to a week ago (don't let your imagination run wild, there are plenty of toy-age-playing babies in the family for whom I go shopping. Besides, no one ever said it was illegal to linger by the doll section a little longer than necessary, did they?) is two days away from closing down. A large scoreboard sort of sign hangs conspicously in a corner screaming out the number of days to go before closure.

The economy is in shambles. This is just one of the many victims.

The prices are marked down insanely low. A toy that cost 15 dollars at Christmas time...now get five of them for five dollars. I gulp hard.

Losing businesses give me such a pit in my stomach. Like they're a contagious disease which will afflict anyone who breathes the same air as them.

Shudder.

Like the rest of the world, I'm waiting for this economy to get better. When cash registers are ringing again and money flows freely. Much like healthier times we had not so long ago before too many people in important positions decided to gamble.