Idol thoughts

Larry Summers is one of my idols. Even when he said stupid things about women and science during his tenure as Harvard president.

Imagine my surprise to find a blog titled "Economists for firing Larry Summers", supposedly to help him spend more time with family.

Yikes!

Dream river, river of dreams

I just dug out this career goal sheet that I've been carrying in my wallet since 2007. I don't know why I forgot about it.

It had inane things like save XX amount by 2008 and 2009, etc. But there are some goals that I found intriguing, particularly because I don't remember why I wrote them.

So here's the list:

1. Earn XX a year
2. Learn Spanish
3. Travel to 4 countries a year
4. Publish 2 articles in peer reviewed journals by end of 2009
5. 100 pushups/day
6. 20 crunches (no specifics)
7. Save XX by end of 2009 (I failed, unsurprisingly)
8. Get admitted to masters program (name withheld) (don't want it anymore)
9. Run 6 miles under an hour

Well, well, well. I visited six countries this year, so that's the only goal I met. The fitness goals I failed miserably, as I was able to do 10 pushups in one go last week.
journal article did not happen, neither did the prestigious masters program.

I need a new list for my wallet.

The Gabtoli Guy

I’ve been cheated out of Tk.60 by this guy on Karwan Bazar four-five years ago. I found out about the cheat when he played the same shtick the second time the following month.

This is how he does it. You’re at an intersection, he would stand on one corner, and ask people directions to the other side, then he’d casually mention that he had walked from Gabtoli (or needs to walk to Gabtoli) and needs to go to Sayedabad. The first time, he added some other personal information to make himself sympathetic.

So, the first time, I gave him Tk.60.

The second time, I was disgusted, and walked away. I wish the story ended there.

There was a third time, a fourth time, a fifth time, and this week, a sixth time. I’ve run into this man again and again. He must have a memory of a goldfish, because he approaches me again and again, and tries to give me the complete story again and again. Twice in Karwan Bazar, once in Bangla Motor, once in front of Bashundhara city mall, and this week, in Maghbazar. They are all in the same area.

This has become an interesting socioeconomic study for me. Whenever I walk around Karwan bazar, I look for him. I’ve spotted him and done mental handicapping as to whether he would recognize me. He hasn’t so far. I also look at trends: clothing, health, shoes, to get a sense of how much money he makes. He looks the same everytime, so I don’t think he’s making enough from his games.

Previous times, I’ve considered handing him over to the police. But I feel that people should get the same amusement from him as I do.

This time, i thought of giving him some money. He was looking haggardly, and looked like he could use my money again. But I was in a hurry, and did not want to engage into the discussion. I gave him the wrong direction (to check if he recognized me, and he didn’t), and walked away in the crowd. People around me might have thought that I’m a heartless guy, but let them.

Canongate Myths

I was thinking the other day that Odyssey from Penelope's perspective would be a great novel. In Kabul, I tried to read Mists of Avalon, feminist retelling of the King Arthur's lore. I did not get far, and ended up buying the DVD. It was interesting, perhaps too mushy.

Little did I know that Margaret Atwood has already written it as part of the Canongate Myth Series. Canongate Series retells ancient myths from a different perspective. So, in her book, Penelope tried to paint Odysseus as a liar, cheater, and her actions as one necessary for survival.

I don't know the story well, but I think I would've focused on something else, and would have used a different form. Are there room for two books on Penelope?

Maybe not. OK, back to the drawing board.

Criteria for friendship

OK, this is not about Mars and Venus, i.e. difference in sexes. Well, kinda.

I have 3 criteria for friendship:

1. Someone who looks hot and is hurt/damaged (i.e. brings out my inner savior slut)
2. Someone who makes me look good (i.e. feeds my ego)
3. Someone who makes me want to become better (i.e. brings out my inner student)

Anyone who fulfills one of the three gets to be my friend.

I recently sat down on a rant about why someone can not become a friend/acquaintance because of a variety of reasons, some superficial, some not, and mentally jotted down the three criteria.

Wouldn't life be simpler if you know who you want to hang out with? Life is so short!

Peer to peer downloading

There's a scene in Shakespeare in Love, where William is trying to follow Viola in a boat, and once the boat is docked, the boatman hands over to Will a script he's written.

This seems to be my life now a days. Whenever I come across someone creative, I try to unload a (mental) script I've written, with all my ideas. Then I see the look on that person's face, and realize that, just because I'm ready to upload, the other person is not ready to download and install my ideas and thoughts.

Is it because of too much thoughts? The thoughts are not generalizable? Not enough hard disk space? All of the above?

Curiously, it's been like this for last four official meetings, where I feel I'm saying something valuable, but the person on the other end of the table is only paying attention, and thinking something else. And I have this violent tendency to shake this person, and scream, "don't you see? this is how you do community mobilization/advocacy/campaign/design, and if you don't pay attention, you'll be a miserable failure".

OK, I'm dramatizing a bit.

But it's true.

Reckless, restless Semi-year

Feb of 2008, I wanted to leave Afghanistan, and couldn't. I was stuck and felt trapped in the endless visa requirements. I made a promise to myself that when I finally leave Kabul, I will make a point to visit six countries in the six subsequent months, to make up for prison, so to speak.

So, after leaving Kabul in March, I visited five countries: Malaysia, Jordan, Bhutan, Turkey and Nepal. I was supposed to visit Bosnia too, but the visa process became too complicated, and I dropped it.

I went over-budget, and spent a lot of time and energy making the trip plans, but now looking back, I'm glad I did this. I don't think I'll ever get the chance to do anything like this, but you never know.

My restlessness comes from not knowing where my next incarnation will take me. I've learned to relax, and enjoy the journey.

From this month, real life took over. It's a good thing, though.

Coming home

So, I was listening to someone talk about why it is difficult to do certain things. The argument was that you don't want to revisit/relive some experiences, as the first one was so painful. I feel there's some merit to this.

I was walking in Nepal this week and remembered a certain encounter with a jeep driver I had in 2006 when I was in a bus in Bandarban, and I could feel my hair standing up. It was such a minor thing, and I had no idea I even remembered it. Oh well, part of letting go, I guess.

So, the theme of this entry is coming home. I notice this every time I leave. I come back a changed (ok, slightly modified) person, hopefully more enlightened one too. But nothing in the household has changed. There's that frog in my bathroom, the spiders on the wall. The people too. It takes time to get back into the scheme of things.

On my trip to Nepal last week, I was reading the travels of Marco Polo. It is a very confusing book with footnotes and explanations written like a Ph.D. thesis. The family is a mess, with elder brother Marco dying and middle brother Nicolo naming his son as Marco again, and then naming his second son with another wife Maffeo, which is also his brother's name. And then after returning from China, while Marco was in jail, Nicolo had another three sons, and maybe even two more illegitimate ones. Don't even get me started on the famous Marco's descriptions of everything in the millions (he was known as the Million Polo, because of his exaggerations).

But what striked me the most was how the people did not recognize the three travelers once they came back from the East. This is how they convinced people, (I'm paraphrasing), they spent a lot of money to hold a banquet, and showed off the jewels they brought back. Well, I could do that, and people might take me as Nicolo Polo.

How long were Nicolo, Marco and the other Polo traveled? They were gone, max, 5-10 years? But people did not recognize them once they were back. Same thing happened to Odysseus. What did he do? Why, he threw a banquet, and killed all the suitors of Penelope. See where I'm going with this?

I'm never gone too long, but I'm a different person every time I travel. I become more patient, more humbled, more hopeful about the world out there. But I don't know how to bring the people around me up to speed, so that they see the new me.

A banquet, you say?

Cut offs or short shorts?

I used to be a highly moral person once upon a time. Not in that smug "I never do any wrong" kind of way, but in that "morality is important to me" kind of way. Not anymore.

I realized this when I met an old friend for the first time after 1994/95. He was talking about the new epidemic of Dhaka, referring to a sweeping sexual revolution in our peer group, and how concept of monogamy has ceased to exist. In a conversation among three of us, I found myself to be the only one defending this new trend, and I didn't realize how different I was until he said to me, "when you're living in stench, you don't see the garbage around you".

I was reading this article by one of the economists (I think, can't find the post anymore) about differing attitudes of republicans and democrats toward elected officials having extramarital affairs. The article argued that to democrats, the extramarital affair is a betrayal of trust, therefore, the person is not trustworthy for public office. Whereas, to republicans, it's about the act of sex, and as human beings, they can be forgiven.

I sort of digressed from my original point, which is about my attitude towards morality. 15 years ago, if someone committed an immoral act, be it adultery, financial transgressions, etc I would distance myself from that person, because, the act would define that person to me. And I couldn't be around a person who would commit such an act.

Now, on the other hand, I would look at the act, and see that person as someone who committed a reproachable act. But the person would still be that person, therefore, I could easily go on being around that person, and distance myself from that act.

So, what does that make me? Living in stench for too long? Grown up? Bigger hearted than before? Forgiving? Can't see forest for the trees?

I hope I'm a better person for my new attitude toward sin.

Rhode Island

Rhode Island is proposing that sex for money be considered as a misdemeanor.

Amsterdam is trying to convince banks that sex workers should be given credit, even during the recession.

How can two countries be so different about their attitudes towards the same subject?

Tan lines, Fallacies and Afghan surges

Wikipedia defines Fallacies as follows:

A fallacy is an argument which provides poor reasoning in support of its conclusion. Fallacies differ from other bad arguments in that many people find them psychologically persuasive. That is, people will mistakenly take a fallacious argument to provide good reasons to believe its conclusion.

In my mind the most important of all fallacies are verbal fallacies. You use innuendos, and double entendres to drive home your argument, rather than making a solid one.

Take a very superficial example. I was reading Gov Sanford's letter to some Maria about her tan line (or was it lack of it?). And as a cultural outsider to the US, I was trying to fathom whether tan lines are good, bad, exotic, not found in the US, too common, looked down upon, or admired from a distance.

Then I was thinking of the concept of tanning itself, which is very common among Westerners, but yet to gain ground in South Asia (as far as I know). In some circles, I would be labeled as "pasty", in some places, I have an exotic skin tone. There's a link between skin cancer and tanning, and also between tanning and perception of health and weight loss.

So, a fallacious (?) argument will be that: Tanning gives the appearance of health and sportiness, but also leads to skin cancer. Therefore, healthy behaviors and sportiness, by nature of their damage to the skin cells, lead to cancer. We should all sit at home, and hide under the sun, and take deep breaths, as in buddhist or tibetan philosophies, our breaths are finite, and once we use them up, we drop dead. Now compare this with the notion that without exercise, we might be overweight, and will have to take shallow fast breaths to keep up.

Confusing, no? That's because, it is done in a crude way. And I didn't cite statistics, or try to use scientific sounding words.

Now, compare this with the recent US media reports about Afghanistan. Devex.com cited Maureen Shauket to declate that/61128"USAID Official Admits Lack of Afghanistan Strategy. At the same time, there are several BBC and CNN reports on US Marines helping British and Afghan troops in the Helman province to launch a surge attack against the Talibans. And add to this General Jim Dutton of UK Ministry of Defence statement, Helmand is not a losing campaign, that there had been a stalemate, and additional troops now bring adequate capacity.

Now, you could argue that lack of Afghanistan strategy leads to need for additional troops, more loss of lives, and a stalemate. But then someone could always point to your tan line, or lack of one, and argue that you'll have more luck debating about that.

The F word for this generation

I've been on a fitness kick lately. This was brought on by my pictures in the US last year where I looked like a pregnant drug mule.

But now that I've lost my weight, and trying to build up muscle, it's getting difficult to talk to people.

Lots of people compliment me on my new looks, and said I look more confident, and more aggressive.

Aggressive?

Not to get self righteous or so, but all I did was incorporate a physical activity into my daily routine, and watched how much I slept.

And the weights came off. If I can do this, so can anyone else.

Now try to communicate this to anyone around you.

Lovely Bones, Funerals, grief and inappropriate behavior

I don't know what made me think of this story this weekend. I'll write it down just as part of my memory quilt.

One of my classmates, Romel, lost his father in the 1990s. The deceased was a high profile army doctor. So a few of my mates and I went to visit our buddy. He was understandably upset and lost and overwhelmed. We went to his room and started a discussion on something quite inappropriate, I think it was something like a new fashion trend, or some gadget, and the discussion became very animated. So, the mourning friend came back to his room, and found us completely absorbed in this discussion, so much so that we didn't even notice him. I was completely embarrassed, and shot out of the room, and then after 30 minutes, left the house sheepishly.

Then, fast forward to 2006, my uncle passed away. At the funeral ceremony, one of my uncles came up to me, and started another inappropriate discussion about my career, and why I am not pursuing my PhD. I was in shock about my uncle, and couldn't understand how someone could talk about my career at a place like this. And it reminded me of that time in my childhood.

There's a story, I think, by Sunil, which makes the case that you grieve alone and it is unfair to expect others to join you. The story was about a mother, after losing her daughter, first felt disconnected from the work circle, then family circle, and everyone else. Then one day, she realized that her husband is moving on, and does not want to stay in grief with her. And at that moment, she becomes truly alone in grieving for her daughter, and she realizes that for her daughter to live, she needs to carry around this grief inside her.

And this leads me to Lovely Bones, the book by Alice Siebold now being turned into a movie directed by Peter Jackson. I consider the book unfilmable, and found it to be a difficult read. It's just one day, I got it. I wasn't consciously thinking about the book. But I got the notion of personal grief.

Death and other calamities

So, I went to bed hearing about Farah Fawcett's death news, and woke up with news about Michael Jackson's death. Both are people with whom I don't have a lot of emotional attachment, my love for music and TV developed well after they were past their prime.

But, looking at many people's FB updates, it got me thinking, which are the celebrities whose death (natural or unnatural) would make me depressed? Before answering this, I set some criteria:

1. It has to mean something to me personally, can't be a result of mass hysteria. I teared up when Mother Teresa passed away, but only for five minutes, because TV news were repeating it again and again.

2. It has to be someone with a positive contribution to something I care about. That would rule out the likes of OJ Simpson, or Bill Clinton.

3. That person must not die from a bizarre or shameful act. Sorry, David Carradine types.

Having said this, in five minutes, I jotted down my instant five. It may change, even by the time I post this note, but there are no constants in life. So here goes:

a. Film Personality: Richard Gere: I learned how to be a man by watching Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It's the way he opens the door for Julia Roberts, and slams it shut, and says, "Stay". Runner-Up: Ralph Fiennes.

b. TV Personality: Chris Noth: He's Big! If Sarah Jessica Parker can chase someone for six years, he must be desirable. Runner-Up: Jewel Aich, because I loved his Eid TV show so much.

c. Music Personality: Rezwana Chowdhury Bonna. I grew up with her voice, and she made a particular genre popular among the masses through her distinct rendering.

d. Art Personality: Ra'Nabi, the cartoonist. His Tokai character is the cornerstone of Bangla satire movement.

e. Writing: Sunil Ganguly, the God of Bangla writing.

Hmm, that's quite a list. And I hope that this doesn't happen soon.

Times fly when you have fun

I finally signed another contract with my old company day before yesterday. It's not like I don't enjoy working for them, I've been with them for six years and some odd months.

Just that I was enjoying unemployment so much more. I actually had some savings I could burn. I maintained my old dinner and socializing schedule, just as when I was employed. I slept better.

The only downside was when I was trying the leave the country. Both times, the customs people asked what I did, and I had to sheepishly admit, I'm not employed. And that set off red flags in their mind, that maybe I was going to join the millions of illegal B'deshi immigrants, selling flowers in rome, or hawking water in Mujhdalifah. Anyway, both times, I managed to leave the country.

Now that I am employed, I won't be able to sleep in if I felt like it, or have a carefree lifestyle I've been grooming. But at least I'll keep on trying to pretend that I could.

If I wanted it.

Gratitude Journal

I was reading recently that one of the way to manage stress and depression was creating a gratitude journal, i.e. a journal you write at the end of the day to remind yourself how lucky you are, and what needs to be accomplished tomorrow.

It's a nice approach, except one catch. All of the examples are somehow related to religion. You give thanks to God, Allah, Zeus, Vishnu, the almighty, the higher being, the deities, your ancestors, and so on.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Anything that helps you navigate your life easily and makes your life bearable should be applauded.

But this got me thinking about gratitude and religion. Ideally, I'd like to thank the random events that have resulted in me being me, and nothing more. I can't imagine an Adam Smithesque invisible hand approach, and I doubt I was created in the free market. I think I used my own free will, and am ultimately responsible for my success, failure, and tools I'd be using to measure them.

And I'm grateful that the society allows me to take a viewpoint like this. That's a start, isn't it?

Back home

I've been back in Bangladesh on April 1 after completing my Afghan assignment. I'm unemployed, but can't remember when I was this busy.

It's quite an adjustment being back. The noise, the traffic, etc.

But I'm happy.

Cat IQ

One of my (now 5, soon to be 10+) cats figured out how to jump on the doorknob to make it open, so he could come in. I didn't know that he could do that, and locked my door before going to sleep.

This did not please him, and he kept jumping on the door in the hopes that the outcome will be different.

So this morning, I brought out the nail clippers, and clipped the nails on the opposable thumbs on the front legs. He's stopped climbing up the door for now. Hope this lasts for my last six days in Kabul.

Don't need any cat-astrophe.

Time Machine

I just finished reading H G Wells' the Time Machine. I read it in Bangla before, and saw a movie version from the 70s, but this is the first time I read it in its entirety.

I downloaded the book into my iPod, and read it before going to bed over a period of 6/8 weeks.

The interesting thing about the book was, I could identify passages where I could improve on the author's view or narrative, but I was engrossed in it nevertheless. And I never thought that I would get caught up in a book which was published over 100 years ago.

The next book on my iPod, Pursuasion, by Jane Austen, hope it does not take another 2 months.

My last new years resolution was to read 8 books by April. I think I've done that. Not bad.

Need to believe

So, I'm watching the Namesake, which is, kindly put, a butchering of Jhumpa Lahiri's elegant prose.

Anyway, enough on that. My thoughts turned to this need of us to believe. Not like, I believe in what you said, or I don't believe in scientific fallacies, but I'm talking about the compulsion to believe in something, anything, to go on. As if, in this changing, mutating world, you need something to be constant, something you can hold on to.

It's not all bad. If I didn't believe in myself, I wouldn't be able to have half the experiences I have had. But I don't blindly believe that I can do anything, otherwise, I probably would've turned out to be a serial killer, or an extremely insufferable schmuck. And my abilities have changed over the years. I no longer remember much from my school education, but I have confidence that if needed, I could look it up or ask someone who knows. And now I can do things that I never knew was possible.

Similarly, I find it a ridiculous proposition to believe in things. There are so many news articles bombarding us lately about investment bankers, loan agencies, attorney generals, policymakers, and the indignation that those people let us down. And I'm not even talking about catholic church, the saints in BD, etc.

People can't let you down, unless you feel compelled to believe in them. Believing lets you drop all your common sense, and gives your brain a rest. You can then stop thinking for yourself, and let others do the thinking for you.

No wonder one fine morning, you find out that you probably had more common sense than those people.

25 Random facts on Facebook

I just did the 25 random things on facebook, thought i'd post it here too.

1. I'm a UFO junkie and a former trekkie. I think Picard is sooo much better than Kirk or others. I've checked out Samaipata UFO site, and want to check out Easter Island and Tunguska someday soon.

2. I've seen enough movies, and can carry on a conversation just quoting lines from different movies. I dare you to test it. I wanted to be a film director in some life, but when Bard's film dept told me that I'd have to take one year film history before they'd let me even touch a camera, I dropped it from my plan.

3. I cry watching movies all the time. my favorite crying scene (never fails) is where Nicolas Cage tells Bridget Fonda that he won 4 million dollars in a lottery and she will receive half of it, and the expression changes that she goes through, and the beautiful way she expresses it. I must've seen it 50 times.

4. After watching Addams Family Values, I've never been able to watch the Sound of Music, even though, growing up, I saw it at least 50 times. The scene where they tie up Christina Ricci, and make her watch sound of music all night totally ruined it for me.

5. I have never wanted children of my own as far as I can remember. Only recently, I can state this fact without guilt, anger or shame. I am very fond of my nephews and nieces, though.

6. My two favorite books are Devi Chowdhurani (Bangla) and Carry on, Mr. Bowditch (English). Both involve people making sacrifices for years (7 for DC and 9 for NB) in order to become a better person. I believe in sacrifices. I also want to be a better person.

7. I hate not having choices, and always rebel when choices are not given to me. I've left jobs, partners, friends, simply because I wasn't able to make decision for myself in those circumstances.

8. I need to have the last word in an argument. I forget many details, but I never forget who had the last word in an argument.

9. I believe in kindness of strangers, and good manners. But I prefer working with sharp abrasive people than with pleasant dumb people. On the other hand, I've broken up with dates because they were rude to people I cared about or waiters in a restaurant.

10. My friends are my everything. I don't judge my friends, but I hold my relationships up to higher standards and expect more from my partners.

11. My favorite L word is not love, it's loyalty.

12. I can't stand people who talk too much. My attention span is 5 mins, after that I'll start daydreaming about my hacienda in the Patagonia that I'll buy in 5/10 years.

13. I don't like wearing brands. I choose clothes and accessories that are understated and where the logo is not obvious. I am intentionally not a sharp dresser, and often purposefully underdress (particularly shoes) to give the impression that I'm not trying too hard. The only brand I don't mind displaying is probably Nautica.

14. I have bought something after watching an infomercial. It was a cream that supposedly dissolves fat. I used it, like, three times and then threw it out.

15. I never had a negative body image until I moved to the US. Now I'm obsessed with fitness and looks.

16. My biggest fear is having nothing to do. I am a workaholic. My self image depends on being employed and being financially independent. I can not imagine running my own business, because that would burn me out.

17. My typing speed is faster than my handwriting speed, in both English and Bangla.

18. My idol is Roger Ebert. I received a one line email from him once. I still have it in my hotmail inbox. I still remember where I was when I first heard that Gene Siskel died.

19. I have consulted a psychic only once, my friend Adam Weiss's uncle, in Boston, in 1994. What he told me was very accurate and I live by that advice still.

20. I need to hear a name at least twice before I will remember it. It always gets me in hot water professionally.

21. I'd buy something new rather than take an old one for repair or maintenance. It's wasteful, I know, but I just can't be bothered.

22. I am a late bloomer in everything. But I'm comfortable with that. I've developed my taste in art, architecture and philosphy in my late 20s/early 30s. And it's still mutable.

23. I don't negotiate. I'll state a price, and if I don't get it at that price, I don't get it. I've never regretted this strategy.

24. I've been trying to give up one thing every year. 2006 was magazines, 2007 was ice cream, 2008 was liquor, 2009 is chocolates. So far 2009 has been the hardest one.

25. I believe in white lies and protecting other people's feelings. But push comes to shove, I am blunt like anything.

V day musings

I don't celebrate special days. Rather, I can't think of any special day that I've looked forward to, or celebrated in last 3-4 years. Holidays are free time for me to do something else, completely unrelated to the purpose of the holidays. I spend Eid holidays on vacation, preferably in a non-muslim settings. Any other holiday, I sleep, eat, catch up with people and catch up with movies.

I attribute this aversion to holidays to me being a control freak. As a reader of this blog, it shouldn't come as a surprise to you I'd think.

When I was young, the Eid holidays were the most boring events. You get up early in the morning (which I still hate), go to the mosque, then visit some relatives nearby, then other relatives will visit you. You have no control over your schedule, because people will drop in unannounced, and if you were planning to visit someone, then that's completely up to visitors at home. Also, you have no control over your diet, because you are dependent on people to provide food.

Now on a vacation, you have control over when you wake up, who you will meet, what you will eat, what you will see, and it's a great feeling of control.

Valentines day, in particular, ticks me off every time, because it doesnt celebrate any religion or culture. And it's purpose is as desribed in a great sex and the city quote, "scaring single women into getting married, because otherwise they will realize that they don't need a man anyway". So all week long, you'll indulge in badly written songs, nibble on bad quality overpriced candy, overpriced dead flowers and ruminate on your existence with someone else.

Now here comes the part about control. You have no control over whether you'll have someone to share valentines day with, whether you'll get the reservation at the restaurant, what you will receive, etc.

I used to joke that through my teens and 20s, I've been single for every single valentines day. Only last 4 valentines day, I was in relationships. Two of them, I was having arguments throughout the evening.

From next year, V-day is dead to me. I'll invent a new holiday, like, Imti worship day. People of my choosing will come kiss my feet, leave gifts of my choosing, perform services of my choice and then leave when I ask them to.

Now wouldn't that be nice.

Recession and relationships

I've been reading these stories about how the global recession is affecting divorces and relationships in these trying times.

There are storied where someone stabbed his wife in order to take back the breast implants he paid for. Someone else is suing his wife for investing in the Ponzi scheme of Bernie Madoff.

I read these stories and wonder what kind of people does this. But then I realized that I've actually done the same thing, although, it was less drastic, so didn't make the newspapers.

In 2001, I met someone charming and interesting, and started a courtship. It was supposed to have been a winter romance. Then the other person got laid off, and suddenly had a lot of free time. What I found charming gradually became annoying, and then irritating to the point where I started creating excuses not to meet up. It was over unceremoniously over a lunch where we both admitted that it wasn't working.

I think for a relationship to be stable, both people need to have their separate lives, circles, activities, dreams, things to keep them busy. The idea of two becomes one really does not work for me, and so far I've learned that it does not work in practicality.

At the risk of sounding morbid, we come to this earth alone, and die alone. What we do with the rest of the time is up to us.

The "Why bother" phase

It is said that a marriage starts heading south when one person stops noticing the other. It is hard to create disagreements, arguments when the other person is obviously not interested, is mentally somewhere else and starts resorting to platitudes just to keep the peace.

I think I've reached this stage in Kabul now. Nothing fazes me. People try to manufacture conflicts, and try to get me to react. And I frame everything with the prefix: In 55 days, it won't matter to me, so why bother?

The upside is obvious, there is no toe stepping, no arguments, no conflicts.

The downside is, we are having the most beautiful snow today, and I walked around in it and noticed after one hour. It's the dry, soft fluffy kind, the kind you want to capture, only to watch it melt away in a flurry of nothingness.

Incomplete memories

There's this science fiction story (I can't remember who wrote it, I think either humayun ahmed or zafar iqbal) where the aliens recreate the familiar world of one person. He figures it out because he tries to spend time trying to read books, and then realizes that he can only read upto the pages that he read the first time.

So, here I am, thinking about stories I never finished. Like this irish/celtic tale where a man meets a beautiful swan/woman from the lake, and proposes to marry her. She agrees, on the condition that he could never strike her. If he struck her three times, she would disappear forever. So they marries, and eventually he hits her the third time, and she disappears back into the lake, and takes her children with her. I never found out how the story ends.

Or this story about two boys who compete in the boiled egg competition. You each take a boiled egg and hit each other. The owner of the egg that is not broken gets to keep the eggs. But if the eggs are too hard, then they are not eatable afterwards. I have no idea where I read it, but I don't know how it ends.

I'm afraid of incomplete stories, or insufficient memories. I'm not afraid of death, but afraid of spending eternity trying to remember the punchline to a really good joke.

I wanna experience it all, and know the ending of every story, whether it's happy or sad.

When I grow up, I wanna be

Hmm, so many possibilities, so little time.

I wanted to be a writer, an astronaut, a pilot, a magician, a film director and a cyclist at different points in my life. My dad even printed a newspaper blurb in 1992 proclaiming that I wanted to be a researcher.

The problem with these ambitions are that they are so monochrome and boring. Did I really think that I'd be spending 15 years cycling, writing, astronauting (go with me on this), piloting etc, and do nothing else?

When they ask you to dream big and be all you want to be, it should come with a helpful footnote, you are allowed, scratch that, you are strongly encouraged to choose multiple goals and dreams, and not worry about how you'll choose between them. You'll just have to believe that you'll have it all.

Had I known then what I know now, I'd have probably chosen the following, in no particular order:

1. A clown to my nephews/nieces
2. A magician
3. An anthropologist
4. A mathematician
5. A motivational speaker
6. An evangelist (non-religious)
7. A day dreamer
8. A problem solver
9. A world traveler
10. A cyclist
11. A film director
12. A writer
13. A bodybuilder, etc.

And therein lies the paradox of social conditioning, it urges you to dream big, but then tells you that you can't have it all.

Slumdog Millionaire

SDM is my choice, and it seems like everyone else's too, for the Best Picture oscar. I'd have to say that I appreciated the movie, I didn't love it, and I spent a lot of time admiring the technical competencies that made it look effortless and fanciful.

Like this picture where young Jamal is inside a toilet and looks up at the bright sky. The lighting and the composition makes it look magical. But then they cut to the outside surroundings and the slum reality totally kills the magic.

And I think similar composition is also in Danny Boyle's other movie about children, Millions. But I saw it some time ago, so couldn't remember correctly.

I absolutely hated the Reader, and didn't love Milk that much(except the ending procession scene, which is very moving), and haven't seen Frost/Nixon, and don't want to see Ben Button.

Only 3 weeks to go.

Sex and Money

Now there's an intriguing title.

In Bangladesh, these are two things you don't talk about.

In Afghanistan, it's the first sign of intimacy, when people start talking about their conquests, and how much more/less they are making at their job, and how they are supplementing their income.

I don't mind either, I always take an anthropological view about these things. I listen, I nod politely, I sometime forget about it, two minutes after.

So someone approached me today about a favor for someone else, and I was piqued by the justification, he got married, and now has a family to support, and needs more money. If I was my caustic self from 10 years ago, I'd have a sharp retort ready about birth planning, but I simply accepted it as a pronouncement, and said I'll do what I can.

The other thing that mystifies me as how judgmental people get about sex and money. A friend confessed (well brags actually) about taking money for sex, and supporting the family through death of the father. My attitude is that, well, that's your choice. I find destroying your life through alcohol, steroid and hallucinogens more objectionable. It's not for me, but who am I to judge. When I cross that bridge...

Well, it seems people have a lot of choice words about it. It's ok to be generous and give it away for free, but god forbid if you think you're worth it.

House would be so proud

I've been really tired lately. Partly because of all the dinner invites last couple of days, partly because of the winter, rain, roof leak, lack of sleep, staying up to watch flash gordon, my pregnant cat who keeps screaming when uncomfortable (most of the night), etc.

But last night, I was back home by 8.30pm, and still couldn't fall asleep. I ended up watching House, MD from 10-11pm, and then spent the night trying to analyze my symptoms.

First, I looked at my surroundings for agents of discomfort. Nothing.

Then, I tried to analyze what I ate in past 72 hours that could have the potential to cause discomfort: anything with MSG (nope), high fat (are you kidding? I'm in Kabul), lactose (had some yogurt), too much salt (nope), and came up with nothing.

Then I tried to pinpoint the stressors in my life: I'm losing job in 62 days (nope, I'm actually looking forward to it), Couple of deadlines coming up (nope, I've had it worse), Bren (nope), exercises I should be doing (nope, I had a walk in the afternoon), and so on.

And like typical House way, I suddenly realized that I was in a dark room without electricity, and it's 2.30am, and I've analyzed myself out of little sleep I could've gotten.

And then I laughed out loud and went to sleep.

Happy Year of the Ox

What a difference a day makes. Just yesterday morning, I woke up at 4am, and realized that my roof was leaking, and I didn't have anything to stop it. I had to wait till 7.30am to find someone to fix it. Meanwhile, two buckets were almost full, and my room was a mess.

Today, I'm feeling very bullish, and not in an investment banking kind of way.

I'm feeling bullish about new possibilities. Things are only starting to get exciting. Brendan left this morning to join Timor, and I now have only two months left of my Kabul contract.

Things are falling into place.

MCP - dead and buried

One of the most damaging Bush legacy was reinstituting the Mexico City Policy, which barred US govt funding to abortion activities. This was harmful for women and children's health by denying crucial services to the most vulnerable.

President Obama has just repealed it. It won't make up for all the lives destroyed by this law in last 8 years, but it is a step in the right direction.

Year of the Ox

Get ready for some bull headed year. I already feel that I am surrounded by oxes. Or maybe I am one, considering the beast of burden aspect.

I had a scary dream last night, I woke up in sweats. Someone was in a car accident, and then police suspected murder, and there was this chase through a building, and this feeling of loss and helplessness, and then I woke up. It took me some time to come back to normal phase, and go back to sleep. Now the details are a little blurry. But I'm sure I saw something. Well, I did.

This morning, I couldn't shake this feeling of dread. Let's hope nothing happens.

Religion Diet

Lately, I've been noticing a fair number of religious people around me.

I guess I've always been surrounded by them, but only now noticing how religious they are. Typically I don't ask anyone about their viewpoint.

So about what I've been noticing. All of them are quite slim, and somewhat fit. I've say all of them are fit, but somehow I think at least two around me seem affected by malnutrition, and/or look diabetic. And this trend isn't only limited to Muslims.

So, if i have to form a hypothesis/conjecture, what should be the departure point? I can think of three alternate explanations:

1. You get so satisfied experiencing oneness with your higher power that you no longer crave food and sometimes forget about eating
2. You spend calories either doing situps while praying (in case you're muslim), or jumping up and down in your sessions or just going to (choose from church/synagogue/kingdom hall)
3. You deprive yourself or give away food in order to achieve mental clarity or to express solidarity with others less fortunate.

I think my 2009/1416 resolution has to be losing weight and getting in shape. I feel lethargic, and don't have energy most days. And possibly developing insomnia. So anytime I encounter someone slim and in reasonable shape, my first thought is figuring out how. Not everyone here goes to the gym for sure.

Last night, I had a dream that I was being chased by a turtle through streets of Kabul, and I'm huffing and puffing and trying to get away from it. So the turtle finally catches up, takes a bite my ankle, and says, "my god, you're in terrible shape!"

And sadly, I couldn't argue with that observation.

Values and social conditioning

One of the most important things you learn in my field is: don't attack people's value system, people change their behavior faster if they find a neutral space to learn new behaviors and attitudes. So gradual positive reinforcement is the most sustainable way to promote new attitudes and beliefs.

For example, in Bangladesh, the average number of children a family has is 3. So it's perfectly acceptable to promote a message about having only one child for a family, because the families will think about it and can understand the rationale. But in Afghanistan, the average number of children is 6.8, the concept of one child per family will be immediately rejected. So, the government is correct in promoting four children in most of its communication.

The other related to this concept is: your value system is mutable, and is profoundly affected by people around you. If others start something new, quickly, you'll accept it as given. Case in point, if you see everyone using a paper napkin to blow their nose, even though you've been cost/etiquette conscious, and carry around a handkerchief, after a while, you'll find paper napkins equally acceptable. It's part of social conditioning.

Now two reasons I'm giving this lecture on communication, other than the fact that it's my bread and butter, and I make a good living selling my skills.

One is this article I found about bottled water. It claimed that until bottled water was invented, no one talked about how many glasses of water you should drink in a day. Every health article now propagates the supposed myth that you need to drink 8-10 16oz glasses of water every day. But back when water was free, you could've drunk as little or as much as you wished, and no one cared.

The second reason is, I just subscribed to Huffington Post on my google reader, which spits out about 50 articles a day on various liberal agenda. I don't mean it in a disparaging way, I'm sure all the folks at HP are brilliant and have something interesting to say. I just don't share a lot of ethos (for lack of better word) with them.

Consider this article which starts like this:

Bush is the ex-boyfriend we've finally gotten out of our life only to discover he left an unpleasant souvenir, like an STD. A particularly nasty strain too, in the form of new HHS regulations.

I just did a virtual double take after reading this line, and my instant reaction was to unsubscribe. I live in Afghanistan, and can find much to criticize in the last 8 years of republican administration. But somehow my value system is more centrist and middle of the road, where these kinds of soapboxing has no place. And yet, many people find it quite acceptable.

One of the thing I always found fascinating about US&A (quoting Borat) was the self selection done in your uptake of attitude, demonstrated by Woody Allen in a verbal diarrhea in Annie Hall. If you're rightist america, you'll listen to Fox News, Mancow Mueller, Bill Cunningham, read New Republic, Chicago Tribune, New York Post, Drudge Report, etc and your value judgment will be shaped by everything these extremist people will say. And there's the other extremists, who'll go for Huffington Post, New York Times, NPR, etc, and you ignore everything else.

Now back to my first paragraph, as in neutral space. I'd have been more convinced about how the Dept of Health and human services is compromised by the new bill signed by GWB, where health workers can refuse to serve someone if their actions go against values, for example in performing abortions, etc, if the article was written in a balanced way.

Then again, most people reading it are already so conditioned by all the opinion pieces, 50-60 a day produced by Huffington Post, maybe it is quite acceptable to them to absorb it in that medium. And the other side won't even bother opening HP.

Once again, I am safe

Big attack on German Embassy in Kabul, which is three blocks away from my guest house. I am safe, though.

I was reading a book on Pompei, and thought how funny a coincidence.

Don't Speak! Please, don't speak!

There's this running gag on Bullets Over Broadway, one of my all time favorite movies by Woody Allen, where Diane Wiest keeps interrupting John Cusack with the words, "Don't speak", preventing him from mentioning how much he loves her.

My sojourn in Kabul is ending in 75 days, and I've been trying to find opportunities to give thanks to the people in my surroundings, the ones that have made my stay a memorable one. But I keep nonverbal gestures that say that I shouldn't be discussing my departure. As if no one ever leaves Kabul.

Which is interesting, because I want to talk about my work here and how much unexpected support I've received from so many people. I want to ask people for referrals and recommendations. I want to make sure that everyone knows that there will be a transition plan, and the project will not suffer because of transition. And I work in communication, which is based on... talking and discussing.

In doing year-end evaluation for me and my team, I felt very happy about some choices I made, and how open and honest communication solved a lot of problems, and motivated our team.

I guess tomorrow is another day.

Musings in a problem solving approach

Its snowing outside, and the overall mood is damp, dank and depressing. I'm sitting in my desk, trying to get some work done, but this is not an inspirational day, I keep getting distracted.

So, snow is accumulating on the roof of the one storeyed house next to my window. It looks pretty, but I've been glancing at it every couple of minutes, because all their laundry is hanging on the ropes, and snow are gathering on the linens.

My first reaction was, no one's home, and they left all the clothes hanging to deter burglars. Then I saw a boy shoveling snow off the roof, and 30 min later, the clothes are still there.

Now I'm intrigued, and my next theory is that maybe the boy is hired only to shovel snow, and no one is home.

The mystery thickens. I better get back to work.

New era of communication

There's a seinfeld joke about men and TV channels. I forget the premise but the punchline is that Men are not satisfied with what is on TV, they want to see what ELSE is on TV, so they keep flipping channels. That's because they are hunters and not gatherers. Or something like that.

Over the new year, I had an interesting realization. I have six hotmail accounts, two yahoo accounts, and two gmail accounts. And this doesn't even count all the novelty accounts I've had over the years: email.com, mail.com, musclemail.com, wildmail.com, etc.

But at some point last year, I have stopped reading emails. I haven't opened my personal gmail or yahoo account in six months, and over christmas break, I simply opened them, deleted all the content and closed them again.

What happened there? I'm more inclined to check my facebook updates on my google reader than read someone's email. And I don't think I'm missing much on my friend's lives. If I'm curious about someone, I just go to facebook, and check out the new updates. If you are not on fb, you practically haven't existed in my life in last four-six months. Harsh, but true.

Add on top of that my hatred for communicating via phone, and I've reached non communication nirvana.

Has my life been better or worse because of this? I'm spending more time pursuing my passions, rather than composing lengthy email updates of my life. Well, if playing Sudoku on my Touch can be called passion, but I've cracked the 5 minute barrier! Only 500 more games, and I'll be able to solve one under 3 minutes.

I'm also listening to music more, which I haven't done in last 4-5 years. I'm discovering new talent, refreshing some of my other interests, like cooking, history, UFOs, and movies.

I like the new me.

More on 2008

I was done with writing about 2008. It was a good year. I had some important accomplishments at work. I found someone, and chucked my neuroses and stuck mostly to monogamy. I visited US after 9 years, and found things to be the same. So there.

But Lady Loranga's recent entry brought me to pause. She answered 30 questions on her blog, I'm quoting just a few:

2. Did you keep your New Year resolutions?
Nope…not this year again…How difficult can flossing be one could ask? Well very difficult I would say.

9. Your biggest mistake?
Same as every year. I trust people. And I believe in what people say. I hate to say, but that has proven to be a mistake.

15. Where you more or less happy during 2008 compared to previous year?
Very difficult to say. There have been so many ups and downs. Hmm…perhaps a bit less happy actually. Hate to conclude that, because I have nothing major to complain about. But the risk of homelessness and unemployment has affected 2008. But all cool trips and amazing people should outweigh that.

You get the idea. Now I should answer the same:

New year's resolutions: See my previous entry

Your biggest mistake: Hmm, unlike, Lady Loranga, I trust people, but I don't give them power to control how I feel. My biggest mistake this year was opening a closed chapter and realizing that I still had all this unresolved feelings about that period of my life. Some things should be buried deeper because of the feelings they well up.

More or less happy in 2008: After 5 minutes of pontification, the conclusion is that, I was less happy in 2008 than 2007. In 2007, I had a lot to look forward to. In 2008, those things happened, and they were not what they appeared.

OK, basta, this is finito. Now we start day dreaming about 2009.

2009 Non-resolutions

I'm losing the urge to blog. Part of it has to do with work and family life pressure, I don't know how the days go. Part of it has to do with electricity problems, I don't have electricity from 11pm-6am, which in Dhaka was my private and creative time. So I sleep.

My new year's resolution comes in April, but I want to revisit the one I made in last April (Bangla New Year). There were three points:

1. Physical and mental fitness
2. Reading
3. Math

I've been exercising, and i've been playing some games, but i could do more. I've read two interesting books, but I have a pile of three that I should finish before April. And I haven't done much about math, except downloading some books.

Now on to other matter, which is my insipid vocabulary. Qaiser invited us the other night, and the directions said, drive past the road with the oil kiosk in front. We missed the road completely and were fumbling in the dark, because I understood as kiosk as something which has a computer screen that you use to check in at the airport or locate hotels.

So now I know what the true meaning of kiosk is.

Similarly, I realized in last couple of days that I had the meanings of incipient and insipid confused.

And while we're on it, dish and dirt, related to gossip, always baffled me.

Maybe my resolution should be that I can make intelligent sentences. But, like Antonia San Juan said in All about my mother:

"How can I wear real Chanel with all the hunger in the world?"

Food, by any other name

I read the following thing at the LATimes.com website and started laughing. My comments after the article, which can be found here.

Here's what the stars will feast upon at the Golden Globes gala

The menu for Jan. 11 has been created by the Beverly Hilton's executive chef Suki Sugiura and executive pastry chef Juan Sigala.

APPETIZER
California organic field green salad with white asparagus; crisp apricot dill goat cheese in phylo and poached pear; maple syrup apple cider vinaigrette

ENTREE
Grilled prime tenderloin of beef with green tea pearl and sautéed aromatic Asian spice marinated sea bass; sherry wine yuzu pepper sauce; grilled king oyster mushroom; jicama, Romanesco and potato onion croquette

DESSERT
Golden chocolate Globe with organic yogurt pistachio mousses

Now if I wrote the menu, you'd be eating this:

-Salad with cheese
-Beef
-Fish
-Mushrooom
-Mexican Potatoes & Onions
-Chocolate

It's a good thing I don't work in marketing.

Life lesson I should have learned in 1979

I have a thing for the whole myth of spider-man. In 1979, I participated in a class play in YWCA, where I played a spider. That's right, you read it right, YWCA, not YMCA, I started my academic joyride at a girl's school. If you ever have to piece together the scary screwy influences that made me who I am today, that would be right up there. But I digress.

So, someone sewed a stuffed spider together from scratch, and put it on a black tunic. Me being me, I tried to adjust it around my body for comfort, and an hour before the show, i ripped off the strings that were holding it.

So, the show began where we sort of just stand on stage, sway our head, kinda like Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell in A Night at the Roxbury, and recite some nursery rhymes. I'd tell you what the rhyme was, but I blocked off the memory entirely. Maybe someday when I go back to therapy.

So, my teacher obviously wasn't pleased with it, but wouldn't help me either. She let me be on stage with a ripped spider which I was trying to keep on my dress by holding it in one hand. I forgot my line, since I was concentrating on the spider.

Peter Parker, the slightly more famous spider-man, was also a bumbling menace to society who would blow important moments of his life by responding to his "spider-sense", and make everyone else angry.

And in clumsy, absentminded, awkwardness, I supercede Peter Parker by leaps and bounds. Let Us count the ways.

There's this expensive trousers which I cut off trying to tame a rogue thread, and wore it hoping no one would notice.

Then my black fleece jacket which always has food stains on them in Kabul.

Me having to abandone wearing panjabis/kurtas, because I'd inevitably rip it against a stray screw in a rickshaw, or against a door bolt.

My expensive iPod with coke stains because I snorted while reading a fun article and drinking at the same time.

All of my trousers are ripped at the end of the leg because I always buy them too long to have a better fit at the crotch.

I hate polishing shoes because i'd use one foot to step on the other pair of the shoe within 2 min of wearing them.

My glasses will always have scratches on them, because I inevitably sleep on them, or throw them out in my sleep.

It took me 29 years to realize that:

MY LIFE WILL NEVER LOOK PERFECT, OR LOOK LIKE ANYONE ELSE'S! It will always be messy, disorganized, awkward and slightly off kilter.

And you know what?

I don't give a damn anymore.

Are you happy? She asks

I'm watching Breaking and Entering, There's a moment, where Juliet Binoche, playing a Bosnian seamstress, asks Jude Law, and urban architect,"Are you happy?"

He replies, "I'm happy enough".

It's too bad Anthony Minghella, the director of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and my all time favorite film, The English Patient, is not alive to make more scenes like this.

Cutting Edge Art

One of the most memorable experience of this summer for me was the Klaus Moje exhibit at the Portland Art Museum.

Klaus Moje is an australian glass artist, who fuses different colored glass together to create beautiful art. I simplified the description of his art, but you just have to see it.

My sister and I wanted to buy a little piece, and the price was beyond our budget. But after seeing the video of the process of creating each piece, we understood why.

Here's another link about his work.

Staycation during Eid

The new buzzword during the oil/gas price increase was staycation, having a vacation at home.

So I spent the Eid holidays in my room in Kabul. Not because of gas prices, but because I needed to catch up on sleep. I realized after three sleepless nights in Dhaka that next to our home, a massive commercial complex was being built, and the construction trucks worked till 6am in the morning. The sound of them backing against the site, and drills being used pretty much killed any hopes of relaxation. After one month in Dhaka, I needed this.

I actually had two lunch plans during the three day holiday, but both of them cancelled citing work pressure, which worked out fine. On Eid day, I had four guests in the evening, otherwise, it was me, Kontor - my dog, and lots of DVDs. I went out for two hours with Suzanne to a garden, but that's about it.

It was probably one of the more relaxing vacations ever. I missed friends and family, but sometimes, when you need to sleep, you need to sleep.

Simplest greatest statement

I'm not a regular watcher of Jon Stewart show, I do get the weekend version on CNN, but always forget to tune in.

Here's an interchange between Jon Stewart and Mike Huckabee that had a very simple statement that I never realized.

The topic was same sex union, and within this, JS says simply, that religion is a choice.

I've never heard this statement in my entire life. Hearing this 15 years ago would have freed me from so many guilt and self-destructive behavior.

Instead of atoning for my sins, perhaps I should've focused on choosing the belief that worked for me.

Anyway, here's the video. Enjoy

I love NIN

But sometimes I do think that their music is torture.

Now comes this news report from Associated Press:

GUANTANAMO BAY NAVAL BASE, Cuba - Blaring from a speaker behind a metal grate in his tiny cell in Iraq, the blistering rock from Nine Inch Nails hit Prisoner No. 200343 like a sonic bludgeon.

"Stains like the blood on your teeth," Trent Reznor snarled over distorted guitars. "Bite. Chew."

The auditory assault went on for days, then weeks, then months at the U.S. military detention center in Iraq. Twenty hours a day. AC/DC. Queen. Pantera. The prisoner, military contractor Donald Vance of Chicago, told the Associated Press he was soon suicidal.

The tactic has been common in the U.S. war on terror, with forces systematically using loud music on hundreds of detainees in Iraq, Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay. Lt. Gen. Ricardo Sanchez, then the U.S. military commander in Iraq, authorized it on Sept. 14, 2003, "to create fear, disorient ... and prolong capture shock."

Now the detainees aren't the only ones complaining. Musicians are banding together to demand the U.S. military stop using their songs as weapons.

A campaign being launched Wednesday has brought together groups including Massive Attack and musicians such as Tom Morello, who played with Rage Against the Machine and Audioslave and is now on a solo tour. It will feature minutes of silence during concerts and festivals, said Chloe Davies of the British law group Reprieve, which represents dozens of Guantanamo Bay detainees and is organizing the campaign.

At least Vance, who says he was jailed for reporting illegal arms sales, was used to rock music. For many detainees who grew up in Afghanistan - where music was prohibited under Taliban rule - interrogations by U.S. forces marked their first exposure to the pounding rhythms, played at top volume.

The experience was overwhelming for many. Binyam Mohammed, now a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay, said men held with him at the CIA's "Dark Prison" in Afghanistan wound up screaming and smashing their heads against walls, unable to endure more.

"There was loud music, (Eminem's) Slim Shady and Dr. Dre for 20 days. I heard this nonstop over and over," he told his lawyer, Clive Stafford Smith. "The CIA worked on people, including me, day and night for the months before I left. Plenty lost their minds."

The spokeswoman for Guantanamo's detention center, Navy Cmdr. Pauline Storum, wouldn't give details of when and how music has been used at the prison, but said it isn't used today. She didn't respond when asked whether music might be used in the future.

FBI agents stationed at Guantanamo Bay reported numerous instances in which music was blasted at detainees, saying they were "told such tactics were common there."

According to an FBI memo, one interrogator at Guantanamo Bay bragged he needed only four days to "break" someone by alternating 16 hours of music and lights with four hours of silence and darkness.

Ruhal Ahmed, a Briton who was captured in Afghanistan, describes excruciating sessions at Guantanamo Bay. He said his hands were shackled to his feet, which were shackled to the floor, forcing him into a painful squat for periods of up to two days.

"You're in agony," Ahmed, who was released without charge in 2004, told Reprieve. He said the agony was compounded when music was introduced, because "before you could actually concentrate on something else, try to make yourself focus on some other things in your life that you did before and take that pain away.

"It makes you feel like you are going mad," he said.

Not all of the music is hard rock. Christopher Cerf, who wrote music for Sesame Street, said he was horrified to learn songs from the children's TV show were used in interrogations.

"I wouldn't want my music to be a party to that," he told AP.

Bob Singleton, whose song I Love You is beloved by legions of preschool Barney fans, wrote in a newspaper opinion column that any music can become unbearable if played loudly for long stretches.

"It's absolutely ludicrous," he wrote in the Los Angeles Times. "A song that was designed to make little children feel safe and loved was somehow going to threaten the mental state of adults and drive them to the emotional breaking point?"

Morello, of Rage Against the Machine, has been especially forceful in denouncing the practice. During a recent concert in San Francisco, he proposed taking revenge on President George W. Bush.

"I suggest that they level Guantanamo Bay, but they keep one small cell and they put Bush in there ... and they blast some Rage Against the Machine," he said to whoops and cheers.

Some musicians, however, say they're proud that their music is used in interrogations. Those include bassist Stevie Benton, whose group Drowning Pool has performed in Iraq and recorded one of the interrogators' favorites, Bodies.

"People assume we should be offended that somebody in the military thinks our song is annoying enough that played over and over it can psychologically break someone down," he told Spin magazine. "I take it as an honor to think that perhaps our song could be used to quell another 9/11 attack or something like that."

The band's record label told AP that Benton did not want to comment further. Instead, the band issued a statement reading: "Drowning Pool is committed to supporting the lives and rights of our troops stationed around the world."

Vance, in a telephone interview from Chicago, said the tactic can make innocent men go mad. According to a lawsuit he has filed, his jailers said he was being held because his employer was suspected of selling weapons to terrorists and insurgents. The U.S. military confirms Vance was jailed but won't elaborate because of the lawsuit.

He said he was locked in an overcooled 9-foot-by-9-foot cell that had a speaker with a metal grate over it. Two large speakers stood in the hallway outside. The music was almost constant, mostly hard rock, he said.

"There was a lot of Nine Inch Nails, including March of the Pigs," he said. "I couldn't tell you how many times I heard Queen's We Will Rock You."

He wore only a jumpsuit and flip-flops and had no protection from the cold.

"I had no blanket or sheet. If I had, I would probably have tried suicide," he said. "I got to a few points toward the end where I thought, 'How can I do this?' Actively plotting, 'How can I get away with it so they don't stop it?' "

Asked to describe the experience, Vance said: "It sort of removes you from you. You can no longer formulate your own thoughts when you're in an environment like that."

He was released after 97 days. Two years later, he says, "I keep my home very quiet."

Life changing trips

I have good travel karma. Most of my trips happen by sheer serendipity. I wrote on my website that I wanted to visit grand canyon, and in three months I was in a relationship with someone who happened to go to Arizona for work. I wrote a piece about learning spanish in early 2003, and in six/eight months, I was climbing the mountains of cochabamba, bolivia. Similarly, I visited Ethiopia within a year after expressing interest in working in Africa.

Lately, my karma has been a bit off, I missed out on Egypt, and recently, I missed out on Nepal simply because my friends couldn't make time.

I was thinking of all this while reading this interesting Best Life article called "Life Changing Trips", where 40 people describe their unique trips.

Running down their list, I saw that there's one that jumped out at me, conquer the Tango in Argentina. Well, I don't really want to tango, although I do love two movies that have hot tango sessions, Mr & Mrs. Smith, and True Lies. Watching Arnold Schwarzenegger tango with Tia Carrere was probably one of the moments where I wanted to dance. (Update: Shall we dance, both versions also have good tango sequences). But I digress.

Before I die, I want to see the following:

1. Iguazu falls, Argentina
2. Rapa Nui at Easter Islands, Chile
3. Borobudur Temple in Indonesia
4. Angkor Wat in Siem Riep, Cambodia
5. Collosseum, Roma, Italy
6. Machu Picchu, Peru

Valley of the Gods, Egypt was somewhere on my list, but I think the gods will not let me see it. I've made peace with that.

I don't know if things are life changing if you expect them to be, but I think I'll have lots to write about after visiting each one of them. Here's hoping.

Million Li'l Pieces

I picked up James Frey's controversial memoir, A Million Li'l Pieces from Hannah's discard bin couple of months back. I only got to read it on my way home, starting in Dubai and now I got through most of it. I'd say, I finished it, but I think I skipped some parts when I was in a hurry.

For the uninitiated, the book, a memoir of James Frey's drug rehab experience at the age of 23, was selected by Oprah's book club, then it was revealed that some of the facts of the book was made up, and then Oprah called JF and publicly rebuked her on her show.

After reading most of it, I realized that whether the story of JF's rehab is true or not is completely beside the point, it's an absolutely amazing brilliant piece of writing.

And after a decade of being a manic depressive obsessed with burying all demons under control and structure of work and socialization, I can totally relate to his experience. I loved this passage on page 220, where james tries to explain to someone why he stares at her. Notice the skill with which he infuses chaos and charm in run on sentences. Here goes:

I took a deep breathe.
The first time I saw you, my heart fell. The second time I saw you, my heart fell. The third time fourth time fifth time and every time since, my heart has fallen.
I stared at her.
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Your hair, your eyes, your lips, your body that you haven't grown into, the way you walk, smile, laugh, the way your cheeks drop when you're mad or upset, the way you drag your feet when you're tired. Every single things about you is beautiful.
I stared at her.
When I see you the World stops. It stops and all that exists for me is you and my eyes staring at you. There's nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. The World just stops, and it is a beautiful place, and there is only you. Just you, and my eyes staring at you.
I stared.
When you're gone, the World starts again, and I don't like it as much. I can live in it, but I don't like it. I just walk around in it and wait to see you again and wait for it to stop again. I love it when it stops. It's the best f**king thing I've ever known or ever felt, the best thing, and that, beautiful Girl, is why I stare at you.

Tech Virgin

I consider myself pretty web savvy. So it was annoying to be pointed out recently that I haven't bought anything online in last 10 years. Well, I did use pagla's credit card to register for GRE, but you get the point.

And there are some things I'm still virgin to, like

eBay (Never entered the site)
Amazon.com (I use it only to look for name of songs and books)
Twitter (as if updating my blog isn't chore enough)

Well, here's to resisting change and temptations to complicate my life even further.

My wonderful life

Here's a fun site that lets you plan your funeral, i.e. the music you'll like to have, people who should speak, flower arrangement,etc.

http://www.mywonderfullife.com/

Is there anything more depressing?

Quantum of Crap

So, Bren bought the new James Bond movie, Quantum of Solace.

And I spent two and some hours watching it, and afterwards felt like here's two hours I'll never get back.

Has there been a more joyless Bond ever? Or a bond girl like Olga K. who doesn't even kiss the Bond in the cheek?

Yeah, Daniel Craig looks hot and stuff. But c'mon!

back home

I've been home six days now. And it's been weird, to say the least.

I'm going through the rounds, meeting with friends, and generally being busy with helping with the conference. But it's like Diane Keaton in Annie Hall, I'm removed from the experience, and just going through the motions. There's nothing at stake, I'm neither happy nor sad to be there, and things happen around me without me being engaged in it.

I attribute all this to the sheer exhaustion.

I'm going to try to get more sleep built in.

I used to have demons in my room at night

Desire, despair, desire, so many monsters
- Annie Lennox

Where to begin? Obama, prop 8, halloween, more fun and violence and kidnapping and credible threats, etc.

I am in Dubai airport, with lots of thoughts running through my head. I took the afternoon Kam Air flight. I was sitting next to someone clutching an iPod touch, and violently displaying it's properties. When I write violently, I mean violently jerking your iPod to show that it has portrait and landscape modes. I already know it, jerk.

I'm an iPod afficianado. I've owned a mini, a nano, an FM transmitter, etc. True, I haven't owned an iPhone or iPod touch, so I had the regular emasculating feeling creeping in, the kind that makes you feel inferior because you don't have what the Jone's have. Scary how even in this economy, this feeling hasn't gone into recession.

So, back to this jerk and his iPhone. I kept throwing surreptitious glances at his playlist from time to time.

Started with Dave Matthews Band, my one time favorite band. OK

After some time, it's INXS. I get that. I was sad when Michael Hutchence committed suicide. I approve.

Some Tupac. Wow, man's got taste. I am desperately drooling at this point. Tupac's Life goes on is one of my all time favorite songs.

After a while, when i'm mustering the courage to ask him if I could feel it, the play list becomes, wait, can it be true...? I must be wrong. No I'm not, there it is.. right there on big fonts, for everyone to see. It's TINA MOFO CHARLES!

Who listens to Tina Charles? Moreover, who buys an expensive toy like Ipod touch, and then dares to desecrate (sp?) it with some disco queen from the 70s?

The sheer blasphemy took my breath away. I went from drooling to nauseated.

Luckily, the plane stopped soon enough, and that vile equipment went away from me, forever.

Rainfall, dried mushrooms, autism, climate change

Sometimes science just blows me away.

Here are two cases:

Economists at Cornell University of found a strange link between Rainfall and Autism. Michael Waldman, lead investigator, an economist, and parent of an autistic child made this claim.

He and his team studied children in California, Oregon and Washington state. They speculate that rain might act as a trigger in genetically susceptible children by carrying pollutants or by forcing indoor activity that leads to increased TV-watching, decreased vitamin D levels or increased exposure to household chemicals.

"Autism prevalence rates for school-aged children in California, Oregon and Washington in 2005 were positively related to the amount of precipitation these counties received from 1987 through 2001," they wrote in the Archives of Pediatrics & Adolescent Medicine.

And now for another mind boggling claim from University of California, Irvine.

The fight against climate warming has an unexpected ally in mushrooms growing in dry spruce forests covering Alaska, Canada, Scandinavia and other northern regions, a new UC Irvine study finds.

When soil in these forests is warmed, fungi that feed on dead plant material dry out and produce significantly less climate-warming carbon dioxide than fungi in cooler, wetter soil. This came as a surprise to scientists, who expected warmer soil to emit larger amounts of carbon dioxide because extreme cold is believed to slow down the process by which fungi convert soil carbon into carbon dioxide.

Holiday time

I'm leaving in three days. It's been challenging couple of weeks, so I'm very happy to get away from Kabul for a month.

Last Thursday, insurgents entered the Ministry of Information and Culture, and one person blew himself up, killing 5 other people with him. There's a children's nursery inside the building for the staff, luckily, they were not harmed.

The attack was apparently meant for Ministry of Finance, where Bren works. Luckily, the guards chased them away, and another suicide bomber was apprehended.

Yesterday, a French aid worker was kidnapped from his car. The abductors killed a national security officer. Two others escaped from the attack. The place of abduction is just 15 min away from my guest house.

I am mentally exhausted. I feel lethargic, and uninterested in anything.

Let's hope this vacation is all that I need.

602. I am ready to go home

I'll be home in Dhaka in 9 days, and it's not coming soon enough.

Another blast in Kabul. I'm angrier than I was before. I feel lethargic.

Vacation, where art thou?

Color Palette

I'm being bombarded by all this news discussions about how the world and the youth are now colorblind, that the Obama campaign has inspired people to look beyond the race and focus on where it counts. Some even go as far to say that globalization had led to more sensitivity and openness that is the highest in recent decades.

Well, La Dee Dah.

Two Bangladeshi NGO workers were kidnapped from Gazhni province last week. Gunmen walked into their office, right next door to the police station, and just took them. Not a single int'l media source reported it. Trust me, I monitor them all, thanks to Google reader.

The grandson of one of the Afghan kings was kidnapped from his house at night, with his wife three weeks ago. He was found with his wife and a young man, son of one of the largest banks of Kabul, in a dried up well 5 km north of Kabul. How many stories do you think have been published in English language media? You guessed it, none.

It's easy to say that the news media only publishes stories that people want to read. And as people get dumb and dumber, the media also dumbs down to "communicate at their level".

With some experience in the media environment, I don't harbor any false hope that this is going to change soon. If people want to read about Poppy and Shakil (Bangla movie stars of the last decade), no matter how much info you shove at them, they will read what they will read.

But one day, they might get bored and find that there's nothing else out there to challenge their imagination.
And after taking a deep breath and looking around the vacuum surrounding them, they will go back to their own filth, and revel in the comfort of their own surroundings.

600. Shonkhoneel Karagar revisited

It's a nice coincidence. My 600th entry. And yesterday, I completed one year in Kabul.

I came to Kabul on October 24. I was jetlagged because of staying overnight in cold Dubai airport, my pickup guy did not recognize me, and for 45 minutes, I was standing outside Kabul airport in the parking lot, in blazing hot sun, looking ridiculous with my three suitcases, and wondering why no one came to pick me up. And the bright cloudless blue sky was mocking my entry into a new kind of prison (the title comes from the name of a famous novel, Karagar = prison, Shonkhoneel = blue as the coral sea, together = life as a prison).

How has this prison sentence been like?

1. It made me a more patient man. The countless security threats (some imaginary, I think), the lack of infrastructure (six weeks without running water last winter, and to cap it off, my shower head hasn't been fixed in two months, and when I asked him last week, the guy said, "sorry, I've been on leave last month, because I had to use up my 40 leave days", and left me scratching my head). I found lately that I don't react to anything anymore.

2. It made me a more grateful man. Living in Dhaka exposes you to poverty quite a bit. But you haven't seen anything until you've seen the burkha wearing prostitutes on city streets, scrambling for food tossed off from car windows for their offsprings. Everytime someone complains about Kabul night scene or the lack of food options or something of this sort, I try to look away and hide my disdain.

3. It made me a more generous man, I hope. The more I understand the Afghan culture, the more respect I have for the generosity that they show on a day to day basis. Day before yesterday, I went to buy vegetables, and ran out of small change to pay for everything, but had a $100 bill in my pocket. My grocer, Ali, cheerfully tossed the lemons I needed into my bag, for free. And waved as if it was nothing. I try to return some of those favors, sometimes.

I am so happy I made the choice to come here. The word, transformation has been so overused in the presidential campaign lately. But there is no other word to explain what I feel every day.

Apollo vs. Dionysus

I was reading something on the web about Thomas Mann's infamous book, Death in Venice, which we had to read in our second semester at college. I didn't get it then, and I doubt I'll get it now.

But what caught me by surprise was that apparently, Mann, tried to show in the book the contrast of Apollo, the God of reason and wisdom, and Dionysus, god of wine, madness, passion. So, the protagonist, who is a calm and reasonable old man gets so taken over by his obsession of the young Tadzio, that he descends into madness, and finally dies. So, the book is fraught with references about symbolic stand-ins of Dionysus, who walk past him again and again on the streets of Venice. The story is based on Goethe's love for 18 year old Ulrike von Levetzow.

I took this message from the novella, that you are sometimes a slave to your own desire, no matter how respectable and in control you are.

I'll admit this, I don't get the concept of beauty. It's almost never only the looks for me, I need to have other things working for me there. But once in a while, you do become a slave, bound and gagged by your yearnngs and thoughts so much that you can't function, and eventually you become those you despise.

To modify a quote from The Usual Suspect: The greatest trick that Dionysus ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

And like that, poof, he's gone!

Band-i-Amir

I could go on and on about how wonderful the interconnected five lake region is, or I could show you. :-) It was freezing cold, the reason for my costume (layer, actually) change throughout the day.

Dragon Valley

Darya Azdahar, Dragon Valley, is about 30 minutes from Bamiyan city. Legend has it that in the valley lived a dragon, which required a daily diet of a young girl, and occasionally camels. Hazrat Ali, one of the four companions of the prophet, came and sliced the dragon in two with his sword and turned it into stone, and causing a mass conversion to Islam. From the two "eyes", you can see tears and blood running down constantly, one white and one red, results of underground mineral seeping through the mountain.

The mountain does resemble the scales of a dragon. You can also supposedly hear the dragon crying if you put your ear next to the cavity, although I didn't hear anything.
The cavity, i.e. the mark of the sword, runs for about 200ft, and is really impressive. I lowered my feet into it, then leaped up just in case the dragon began to heal after 1200 years.

City of Screams

This is a story of revenge and betrayal.

Before 12th century, Bamyan was part of the silk route. Even though in 10th century, the rulers of Gazhni declared Bamyan to be an islamic state, it retained its buddhist sensibilities. To protect the city from the traders, fortresses were built on both ends of the city. Shari Gulghula, the City of Screams, was one of the watch towers.

In 1221 AD, Mongol ruler Genghis Khan sent his favorite grandson with an army to seize the valley. The grandson was killed by an arrow from the other watchtower. Genghis Khan vowed that all man, woman and animal of this city will pay for this death.
He killed 150 thousand people of this area. A jealous local princess, in a lover's spat, showed Genghis the secret entrance to the fortress, which led to complete destruction of the building, save one lone watchtower.
No one in the fortress survived, and the city was abandoned for at least 50 years before people began to move into it again.

How Ironic

From UK's Daily Telegraph:

Afghan president offers Taliban a role in governing country

President Hamid Karzai has offered Taliban leaders the possibility of positions in his government if they agree to a peace deal which could bring fighting to an end.

The offer was made through his brother Qayoun at a secret meeting in Saudi Arabia of which Britain was aware.

Britain has been encouraging the Kabul government to talk to its Taliban enemies for more than two years and the Americans are thought to be coming round to the idea of a deal which would end the costly war in Afghanistan.

But The Sunday Telegraph has learned that the allies would insist that the Taliban would have to split with al-Qaeda and provide information on international terrorists in Pakistan and Afghanistan as the price of a deal.

Under the Saudi Arabian initiative more than a dozen former senior Taliban figures travelled to the kingdom with the approval of President Hamid Karzai's government.

The British Government has said little about the initiative in public but British military commanders and diplomats are known to favour talking to the Taliban as a way of ending the war.

In the last year the insurgency has worsened considerably, with UN figures showing a 40 per cent rise in civilian casualties and a 40 per cent increase in insurgent attacks in the past 12 months.

594. Moment of epiphany

Let me get this out of the way first. Paul Krugman won the Nobel prize. I am a big fan, have actually read some of his non-bush bashing work. I think it's well deserved.

Now on to my entry for today. I was standing on top of a hill overlooking the valley with the ex-buddhas. I revisited one of my favorite topics in passing. Well, something triggered it. Let's not go there.

So, the topic is, what do I regret? If you're a regular reader of this blog, you already know that my life isn't complete without thoughts of regrets, missed opportunities and imaginary dramas of people's past.

So, today's answer was, I should've been more generous when I was younger. I look back at opportunities where I could've said or done something a little differently, helped someone out, go out of my way a bit, and some things could've been different.

There, I said it. And without resorting to hail marys, I can safely go back to my own life, knowing that hopefully, in next 15-20 years, I won't at least regret this.

Trying to look good while freezing

I'm in Bamyan this week for a training. It's ok during the day, but the nights are freezing. On the first day, we visited the cave of the Buddhas that the Taliban's blasted down in 2001. Quite something.

592. Eid Cooking

One of the little known facts about me is that I'm a cookzilla. I love cooking up a storm and hosting people. Unfortunately, I hardly ever had the opportunity in last 15 years to host friends, since I never had a suitable place of my own, particularly when I was living with my parents.

So, this Eid, after several small Iftar parties during Ramadhan, I invited some Bangladeshi friends over for lunch, and cooked six dishes. It was difficult, and some of them didn't quite turn out the way I expected them to be, but overall, it was a success.
I'll definitely try it again.

It's no sacrifice

In the second debate between Obama and McCain, a 78 year old woman from Chicago sent in this question:

Since World War II, we have never been asked to sacrifice anything to help our country, except the blood of our heroic men and women. As president, what sacrifices -- sacrifices will you ask every American to make to help restore the American dream and to get out of the economic morass that we're now in?

OK, assuming that a 78 year old woman knows how to use email, and uses words like morass, this was a very interesting question, since the concept of sacrifice is unheard of in my generations.

This got me thinking about the sacrifices I've made in recent times. It's a relatively short list.

1. Aug 2008: Gave up my seat on the plane so that two women could sit together.
2. Sep 2008: Walked to a place instead of taking a car so that my colleague won't be inconvenienced
3. Oct 2008: Gave up my place for an afternoon so that my friend could have a private rendezvous

But that's about it, I think.

590. The Jewel of Medina

I am not a religious person, but after reading the Prologue of the upcoming Sherry Jones book, the Jewel of Medina, I really want to bitchslap some sense into this woman.

You can read this worthless trash in its entirety here. Very fitting, the link takes you to Fox News.

“Don't divorce me.” Weeks later, as I waited in my parents’ house for Muhammad’s verdict, I'd wince to recall how I'd clung to his hand and cried in front of Ali. “I love you, habibi.”

I meant those words as I’d never meant them before. I’d learned much during those hours in the desert with Safwan. Safwan, who’d promised one thing and delivered another, the same as when we were children.

“I love you, too, my sweet.” But his voice sounded far away, and his eyes looked troubled. I lay down and clutched his hand as though it were a doll, then drifted slowly back toward sleep.

As I slipped away again I heard Ali's voice, urgent and low. “Think of the umma, how delicate its weave,” he said. “A scandal like this could tear it apart. You must act now, cousin. Send her back to Abu Bakr for good.”

“Divorce my A'isha?” Muhammad’s laugh sounded nervous and faint. “I would just as soon cut out my own heart.”

Sherry Jones find no context or understanding of the historic figures, and instead uses them foolishly to create this complete trash bodice ripper.

I hope some fanatic actually does what I'd like to do to her.

Autism and vaccination

My cousin's son is moderately autistic, my MBA classmate's son is severely autistic. They are both happy healthy kids who are a joy to watch, even though they don't interact with you much. But at the same time, you can see the exhaustion, the burden on the parents, who need to be there for the lifetime.

I just read that actress Jenny McCarthy has started this crusade against greedy pharmaceutical companies, alleging that vaccines are responsible for her son's autism, and that she healed the autism by diet and detoxification. I don't know if it's true or not, but it makes me very angry at both sides of the debate.

As a public health professional, I recognize the danger of not vaccinating the child, you are leaving them open for measles, pertussis, polio, diptheria, tetanus and hepatitis. And while most of them are claimed to be eradicated, the chances of your child contracting them are quite significant.

Would you rather have a physically disabled child or a mentally challenged child?

I am glad that I don't have to make this choice. But if it is indeed the pharmaceutical companies' fault and negligence, I don't know what I would do.

Quote of the Day

I was encouraged by this comment by Bill Maher.

"Religious people look at me as you might look upon a retarded child," Bill Maher adds, quoting them, "'He's unenlightened. He needs to be saved. He needs to be cured.'"

I feel the exact same way. Every time I talk to my friends and relatives, they project this moral superiority over me when they "accept" who I have become but still want me to embrace religion.

Amazing Impersonation

Loneliness Makes You Cold

From BBC:

Loneliness and coldness are often associated in everyday language, but psychologists have found that social isolation does make people feel cold.

The University of Toronto team found people feeling excluded said a room was colder than those feeling included.

And people who felt left out also chose comforting hot soup, rather than an apple or soft drink.

A UK psychologist said the findings could help people feeling isolated, particularly in the winter months.

'Unpopular'

In the first study, 65 students were divided into two groups.

One group recalled a personal experience in which they had been socially excluded and felt isolated or lonely, such as being rejected from a club.

The other group recalled an experience in which they had been accepted.

The researchers then asked everyone to estimate the room's temperature.

The estimates varied from about 54F (12C) to 104F (40C) - with those who had thought about an isolating experience giving lower estimates of the temperature.

In the second experiment, the researchers asked 52 students to play a computer-simulated ball game.

It was designed so that some of the volunteers had the ball tossed to them many times, but others were left out.

Afterwards, all the volunteers were asked to rate the desirability of hot coffee, crackers, soft-drinks, an apple, or hot soup.

The "unpopular" participants were much more likely than the others to want either hot soup or hot coffee.

The researchers suggest their preference for warm food and drinks resulted from physically feeling cold as a result of being excluded.

10 years after Matthew Shepard

I woke up early for the presidential debate, but it got so boring (my new favorite pet phrase, I wasn't voted Miss Congeniality, although any pageant that had Sen McCain sounds pretty scary, unless it's Mr Leather, ok scrap that, that's also equally scary) I decided to use my time to blog about an upcoming anniversary.

Here's what Wikipedia says:

Shortly after midnight on October 7, 1998, 21-year-old Shepard met (Aaron) McKinney and (Russell Arthur) Henderson in a bar. McKinney and Henderson offered Shepard a ride in their car. Subsequently, Shepard was robbed, pistol whipped, tortured, tied to a fence in a remote, rural area, and left to die. McKinney and Henderson also found out his address and intended to burglarize his home. Still tied to the fence, Shepard was discovered eighteen hours later by a cyclist, who at first thought that Shepard was a scarecrow. At the time of discovery, Shepard was still alive, but in a coma.

Shepard suffered a fracture from the back of his head to the front of his right ear. He had severe brain stem damage, which affected his body's ability to regulate heart rate, body temperature and other vital signs. There were also about a dozen small lacerations around his head, face and neck. His injuries were deemed too severe for doctors to operate. Shepard never regained consciousness and remained on full life support. As he lay in intensive care, candlelight vigils were held by the people of Laramie.

He was pronounced dead at 12:53 A.M. on October 12, 1998 at Poudre Valley Hospital in Fort Collins. Police arrested McKinney and Henderson shortly thereafter, finding the bloody gun as well as the victim's shoes and wallet in their truck.

I am writing this from a country where more atrocities have been committed in the name of religion. But you expect a fundamental difference of behavior between a third world country seiged by poverty and a first world country.

Have things changed in 10 years? Just this week, a march for equality in Bosnia was cancelled due to violence by extremist activists. POTUS two years ago wanted to push through a constitutional amendment to ban equal rights for everyone. India central government this week voted against repealing sixty year old Section 377 of Indian Penal Code, which could put consenting adults in jail for ten years for consensual sex, even though Delhi High Court and the Health Minister recommended throwing out the law.

We live in dangerous times. Not because there might be some cave dwellers plotting in shutting down the world economy (the corporate world is doing a bang up job without anyone's help), but because there are people who think nothing wrong with dictating what other fellow citizens are or are not able to do in their private life.

Indicators for Confidence

I was skimming through one of the self help books, and this paragraph jumped at me. It describes ten core indicators of confidence.

Direction and values: You know what you want, where you want to go, and what’s really important to you.

Motivation: You are motivated by and enjoy what you do. In fact, you’re likely to get so engrossed in what you’re doing that nothing distracts you.

Emotional stability: You have a calm and focused approach to how you are yourself and how you are with other people as you tackle challenges. You notice difficult emotions such as anger and anxiety, but you work with them rather than letting them overcome you.

A positive mind-set: You have the ability to stay optimistic and see the bright side even when you encounter setbacks. You hold positive regard for yourself as well as other people.

Self-awareness: You know what you are good at, how capable you feel, and how you look and sound to others. You also acknowledge that you are a human being, and you don’t expect to be perfect.

Flexibility in behaviour: You adapt your behaviour according to circumstance. You can see the bigger picture as well as paying attention to details. You take other people’s views on board in making decisions.

Eagerness to develop: You enjoy stretching yourself, treating each day as a learning experience, rather than acting as if you are already an expert with nothing new to find out. You take your discoveries to new experiences.

Health and energy: You’re in touch with your body, respect it, and have a sense that your energy is flowing freely. You manage stressful situations without becoming ill.

A willingness to take risks: You have the ability to act in the face of uncertainty – and put yourself on the line even when you don’t have the answers or all the skills to get things right.

A sense of purpose: You have an increasing sense of the coherence of the different parts of your life. You have chosen a theme or purpose for your life.

Best week in Kabul

I've had my best week in Kabul.

This communication strategy that I've been working on for about a year was finally approved by the Ministry of Public Health on tuesday.

I didn't sleep much in the week leading up to it, averaging about 3 hours of sleep, but I feel very relieved, and felt that my sojourn here has been meaningful, and that I contributed something in the grand scheme of things.

This morning I have my speaker on loud, and listening to U2's New Years Day again and again. Life is good.

Living well is the best revenge

Alec Baldwin attended one of those weepy Diane Sawyer prime time news shows (they all seem the same to me) recently. This is what he said.

"I completely lost interest in my own life, truly, as a result of all this.... I used to pray to God every night, I would get in bed and I would say, 'Please don't let me wake up in the morning.' I thought, 'I just can't do it any more.'"

In a new book, titled A Promise To Ourselves, Baldwin details just how far he went in planning his own death, searching out state parks and out-of-the-way towns where he could take his own life quietly.

I know how he feels. 2008 marks the 10th year since I felt the same way, that I just couldn't do it anymore.

Except, life is so good now that I actually forgot the dreaded date this year, and was only reminded when I saw his interview.

Hail to the living.

581. Vocab Expansion

There are some exciting words which I would never have learned had I not been in Afghanistan.

Samples:

Kalashnikov: i.e. AK47 - a type of submachine gun made in Russia

IED - Improvised Explosive Device

BBIED - body bourne IED

VBIED - vehicle bourne IED

UXD - Unexploded ordnance

See a trend? :-)

Kumbhakarna

Kumbhakarna is the sleeping God mentioned in Ramayana who would sleep for six months, then wake up for one day, eat everything in sight, and then will go back to sleep for six months. He was a tragic character in Ramayana, since the gods played a trick, and when he was given a wish, one of the goddesses sealed his lips, and instead of asking for the seat of the gods, he uttered that he wanted a seat to sleep on.

I've been feeling sleepy and tired for whole last week. I had sore throat, runny nose, fever for four days. With a deadline looming, I tried to ignore this and pushed through, and got good results.

After my deadline, I had the opposite problem, I couldn't fall asleep. Mike, my housemate, gave me Nyquil, this sleeping cold medicine. And it knocked me out for 12 hours straight.

Instead of feeling bright eyed and bushy tailed, as the old ads in the 90s promised, I woke up completely disoriented. And you don't want to meet the Director of Policy and Planning at the Ministry looking like you are recovering from a hangover in the middle of Ramadhan.

Luckily, I got through the meeting okay, and made a strong case, and was praised for my efforts. I came home, ate everything in sight, and went back to sleep.

Lipsticks and Pigs

This has to be the funniest debate, if you can call it, I've heard in many weeks.

Let's try some more gender sensitive variations of this statement.

You can put ketchup on a snail, but it's still a snail.

You can boil a rhino, but it's still rhino. Only boiled.

You can hug a bear, but it's still a bear. It'll hug you back, and eat you.

Can we get this election over with? I'm tired of hearing how important it is.

Northern Clemency for Booker Prize

A shout out to my friend-in-law (i.e. Zav's husband), Philip Hensher, who has been shortlisted for the prestigious Man Booker prize for his book, Northern Clemency.

Philip beat out Salman Rushdie's The Enchantress of Florence, which was considered a forerunner in the long list, but was left out in the short list.

Northern Clemency is now competing (?) with five other novels

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry

Sea of Poppies by Amitabh Ghosh

The Clothes on Their Backs by Linda Grant

A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz

I haven't read any of them yet, but sending all the good wishes to Philip.

Wall to Wall Heaven

I slept for one hour last night. I was trying to meet a deadline.

Good part of the experience:

I turned in a good report, and the subsequent meeting went very well.

Bad part of the experience:

I binged on the Cure's Just Like Heaven, and now have been sick of the song.

Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow
"Why are you so far away?" she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you"

You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream

Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me

You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Just like heaven

Like an EQ virgin

There are some experiences, unless you experience it, you don't think of as something noteworthy.

This weekend, we had an earthquake, about 5.3, I think. I was standing next to a mirror, and it shook and made noise, which alerted me to it. People ran out of the building. I sort of stood there, and tried to remember if I've experienced another one before. Then it dawned on me.

I think this is my first earthquake!

And like losing your virginity, it was sudden, happened too fast to remember the details, and left you confused and stunned.

Youtube clip of the day

This is one of my most favorite movie songs, even though I'm not a big fan of the movie, Notting Hill

Enjoy.

Quicken Spare Change Challenge

Personal Finance Quiz
OK, I don't put too much information on online quizzes, but this was an eye opener for me.

Bigger, stronger, faster

I just saw the funny documentary Bigger, Stronger Faster: Side Effects of Being American this morning.

Chris Bell, this guy from Poughkeepsie, NY does a good job of making a point about steroid use, mixing in the touching family story about Mad Dog, his brother, who started with steroid, then moved on to steroid and pot, and then into ecstacy and other dogs, and fell from a career in WWE to performing for $15.

My first look of steroid was this impressive guy, Bill, in Chicago, who looked like he spent 18 hours in the gym. I met him only once or twice, then Paul told me that he takes steroids, and one sign of steroid was pimples in your back. Every time I saw someone at the gym who looked big, I looked for the pimples in the back. My lesson is, not everyone develops that symptom.

Since I walked and ran regularly, I had a decent lower body, but I always wanted to be bigger, stronger and faster too. I bought my weights and did my pushups. But never grew big, and also was hesitant to add more weights, since I didn't want to feel tired later or the next day.

It's hopeless. But the movie made me feel better about myself.

Annie mania

I woke up this morning and felt a craving for one of my favorite Annie Lennox songs: You have placed a chill in my heart. I just put it on repeat while getting ready for work, and I swear I have hair standing on my hands from her voice.

Sing with me now:

I wish I was invisible
So I could climb through the telephone
When it hurts my ear
And it hurts my brain
And it makes me feel too much
Too much too much too much

Don't cut me down
When I'm talking to you
'Cause I'm much too tall
To feel that small

Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Love is pure
And love is blind
Love is a religious sign
I'm gonna leave this love behind

Love is hot and love is cold
I've been bought and I've been sold
Love is rock and love is roll
I just want someone to hold

Milk Trailer

Wow, Sean Penn looks uncannily like Harvey Milk.


Let's hope the movie is good.

A Holiday in Goa

On my way back from Dhaka, I caught this small gem of a movie called Outsourced. I vaguely remembered that I saw a good review on NYT a year back, so decided to give it a try and was really caught up in the story.

Todd, an American call center manager comes to India to train people on managing call centers. He finds that he has to embrace Indian culture in order to find himself.

He has an affair with Asha, the bright employee played by Ayesha Dharkar. And Asha tells him after the first night that this affair is like a holiday in Goa, a guilt free tryst you have before you go off to marry the man your parents have decided on.

And true to the spirit, she goes off to her destiny, as Todd returns to his.

Now is there really a holiday in Goa? Can you really have a guilt free tryst, no strings attached and return to your normal life unaffected? Is there a free lunch?

All signs point to no. But you wonder anyway.

569. When love creates colera, anger, rage

My sister asked me what I was doing today for my birthday. I said, I am watching the film love in the time of cholera. She thought I was joking, and I had to explain that it is one of my favorite books, and I'm afraid that I am going to be disappointed with the film. And I was unfortunately right.

I was stuck in Penang airport in 2005 for nine hours, since my travel companion's flight was cancelled and I didn't have hotel accommodation. I brought the book with me, which I tried to read several times, but never got far. And after reading 40 pages, I understood why. The central love story between Fermina Daza and Florentino Ariza begins at page 40 or so. The movie, they ignore the beginning and introduces the famous line at 4 minutes and couple of seconds.

If you've read the book, you know the line:

Fermina Daza, I have waited for you for 51 years, 9 months and 4 days...

well, i don't remember the exact quote, but it's something like that.

Watching the movie reminded me of my fateful Penang/Langkawi trip where I was consumed by the idea of love, and couldn't reconcile in my mind why someone wouldn't love me like that. I was at the second most beautiful place in the world I've ever been to (the first being grand canyon, with the same travel companion), riding the cable car above the Langkawi rainforest, and all I could think was: What makes me not worthy of that much love? Why can't have the same passion like Fermina Daza?

Here's another passage that's often quoted:

To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.

Well, today, I just laughed at how ideas about love screws with your head.

Last night, I was sitting in my garden talking to Viani, who is half colombian, about love and other matters. And true to Marquez tradition, he presented a scenario about what kind of love he wants, the passion, the works, the commitment, the whole enchilada. And there I was, pretending to be Woody Allenesque, after only three years, and presenting the case against passion, and arguing for reason. A kinda sense over sensibility, if you will.

I don't know when, like a snake, I shed my romantic skin. After all, I grew up reading Suneel Ganguly, who taught me that to love someone is to become deserving of her love (Monishar Dui Premik), or that just losing one toe could make you end a relationship since he said again and again how much he loved that little toe of yours (can't remember the name of the novel off hand), or that if you want someone to survive, turning her into a tree might be an option (Tin Number Chokh).

And in last three years since 2005, I have read Anna Karenina, again at a vacation in Goa, which told me in a glorious prose the moment when you realize that the man that you have given your heart to, has eyes for someone else on the dance floor, for true love just can not be contained. Here's the passage that resonated with me:

But as she was dancing the last quadrille with one of the tiresome young men whom she could not refuse, she chanced to be vis-a-vis with Vronsky and Anna. She had not been near Anna again since the beginning of the evening, and now again she saw her suddenly quite new and surprising. She saw in her the signs of that excitement of success she knew so well in herself; she saw that she was intoxicated with the delighted admiration she was exciting. She knew that feeling and knew its signs, and saw them in Anna; saw the quivering, flashing light in her eyes, and the smile of happiness and excitement unconsciously playing on her lips, and the deliberate grace, precision, and lightness of her movements.

"Who?" she asked herself. "All or one?" And not assisting the harassed young man she was dancing with in the conversation, the thread of which he had lost and could not pick up again, she obeyed with external liveliness the peremptory shouts of Korsunsky starting them all into the _grand rond_, and then into
the _chaine_, and at the same time she kept watch with a growing pang at her heart. "No, it's not the admiration of the crowd has intoxicated her, but the adoration of one. And that one? can it be he?" Every time he spoke to Anna the joyous light flashed into her eyes, and the smile of happiness curved her red lips.
she seemed to make an effort to control herself, to try not to show these signs of delight, but they came out on her face of themselves. "But what of him?" Kitty looked at him and was filled with terror. What was pictured so clearly to Kitty in the mirror of Anna's face she saw in him. What had become of his always self-possessed resolute manner, and the carelessly serene expression of his face? Now every time he turned to her, he bent his head, as though he would have fallen at her feet, and in his eyes there was nothing but humble submission and dread. "I would not offend you," his eyes seemed every time to be saying, "but I want to save myself, and I don't know how." On his face was a look such as Kitty had never seen before.

They were speaking of common acquaintances, keeping up the most trivial conversation, but to Kitty it seemed that every word they said was determining their fate and hers.

Now three years ago, I would have gladly be caught in the hellfire like Anna and Vronsky, consequences be damned. I would be staying up all night pondering about everything the other person said.

Now I just want to get a good sleep and wake up refreshed. and the rage, the colera, the anger has vanished. Gone. Washed off. Done.

568. Tallying Collateral Damage

On Aug 22, the allied force killed 90 civilians, including 50 children in Herat, a western province. The armed forces tried to cover it up, until a high parliamentarian was sent to investigate and confirmed that it was indeed 50 children who were among the casualty. Even though strong rhetoric flowed all around, nothing came out of it.

Yesterday, another 70 people, mostly civilians were killed in another air strike in Helmand province, arguably the most difficult province against the war against terrorism.

This morning, a father and his two children were killed in a raid in Kabul, with the mother gravely injured. This resulted in a protest in the city. Here's the reuters report:

KABUL (Reuters) - Hundreds of protesters blocked a road in Kabul on Monday accusing U.S.-led troops of killing three members of a family, including two children, in a raid in the city, residents and witnesses said.

NATO and U.S. military officials could not be reached for comment on the allegation, the latest in a string of incidents that have angered Afghans and caused a split between the Afghan government and foreign troops.

Residents said U.S.-led troops carried out a pre-dawn raid in Hud Kheil area in the eastern quarter of Kabul, killing Noorullah and two of his sons, one of whom was eight months old.

"It was past one o'clock when the troops came and surrounded our houses," said Sulaiman, a resident.

"They threw hand grenades on one house and killed three family members," he said. Noorullah's wife was wounded, he said.

Local television showed footage of bodies and a damaged house.

"Are these two children al Qaeda?" an angry resident asked as the bodies were taken for burial. "We don't expect anything from the government because we don't have a government," Sulaiman said.

Several U.S. and NATO military bases are located in the area. Three people were taken away by the troops, residents said.

As a humanitarian worker, I find this completely against everything I stand for. And I'm personally disgusted by the way things are going. It is easy to be somewhere else and look at the statistics and think it shouldn't affect me in the broad scheme of things. But it is, in more ways than I thought it would be possible. And I'm outraged that the media is being a silent accomplice in all this, although having worked in the media for a few years, I am hardly surprised.

It's like this joke, cutting off your head to kill a headache. And with no end in sight.

I fear that in 10 years, the local people will be displaced to save themselves, only soldiers in a military base like Guam who would talk about how they brought about peace by getting rid of everyone.

An empty space does not talk. It's peaceful all right.

567. Melon on your face

Like Obama/Biden duo, I spend an inordinate amount of time talking about my roots as a way of bonding with other people. Biden, in his speech was referring to his father's working class roots, even though he's a highly paid corporate lawyer. Obama talked about being raised by a single mother, even though he led a privileged life I'm told. I, on the other hand talk about my village roots, even though I'm a city boy through and through, and haven't set foot in our ancestral home. I find that people find me easier to relate to when I go on an inspired rubric about the river eating away at my grandfather's tomb (true story), and how life is simpler in Shibchar (at least I think it's true). People just need to know enough to know that

a. I'm nice,
b. I'm non theatening.

And the country bumpkin persona is easier to swallow than my degrees, accomplishments, complications, movie databased, etc, I guess. But his fakeness is a city boy through and through.

I have no problem eating meat, just don't expect me to kill the animal, that's my brother's forte. I won't be able to tell one fish from another when they are whole. Only when they are fried, I can critique the taste and make suggestion for improvement. And I would sheepishly admit that I've seen very few fruits hanging on an actual tree. We have coconut, jackfruit and mango tree in our house, and we used to have bananas 15 years ago. But that's about it.
So imagine my colleague's surprise when I kept asking inane questions about trees during a picnic in Badakhshan. What's that? It's a walnut tree. Oh, we don't have walnut in our country. Then, like a politician, I opened the (on hindsight) pandora's box on how our village is also next to a river, and it is famous for fish and watermelon, and how watermelon are very tasty in our region because the sandy soil contains air bubbles that makes them grow big. They are all true.

Except for the fact that I've never seen a live watermelon attached to a tree. I was told that like onions and radishes they grow under soil and thus "bele mati" sandy soil is good for them. And I was about to dispense this pearl of wisdom when my colleague pointed out this vine on the ground and said, "Like this?"

I looked at the round things attached to the vine, and said, yeah, these are nice things, but you just have to taste the watermelon of my village to see how river banks are well utilized in Bangladesh. Not these things.

"Imteaz, these are watermelons!"

566. More on Badakhshan

I'm tempted to call Badakhshan the sunflower state. Because of the river gushing through the valley, there are patches of green lining the river banks, framed by the brown houses and dusty mountains. And often enough there's a bright yellow field full of sunflowers.

The guesthouse where we were staying had two hills on opposite sides of the river. We started calling them Safa and Marwa (the twin peaks of Mecca pilgrimage). So here I am lying down on Marwa, on the west side of the river. Rather, as Bren would call it, adopting the Imti position.


On another hiking afternoon, I sat on top of the hill and pondered the meaning of life. And life was good.

565. He said what now?

I was in Badakhshan, a northern province for a week. Even though I consider myself cosmopolitan and culturally sensitive, it was a shock to my system to say the least.

The first day of training, I sat down for lunch, and they served rice at a ratio of 2:1 i.e. two person one plate. It is a lot of food, but I'm waiting for someone to serve me an empty plate. Then I see this unknown participant pulling the rice plate, and pouring the veggies and salad on the main plate. I suddenly realize that there will be no empty plate, I'll be eating off the same plate as this fatherly figure, who finally sees me take something off the plate, smiles and says, ha ha, my friend, ha ha. If only making friends was this easy.


This stone in my hand is called Mumlai. It is made of different herbs. Since my friends were buying some, I asked what is the benefit of this stone. They said it's for joints, different pain, and sexual arousal. Then they said, do you want to buy some for your father? I kinda paused for a second, blurted out, that's ok, I have enough siblings. Then I realized what they meant.

I was crossing the river, and came across this sign right before the bridge. The hand painted Ahnuld was too good to pass up. So next time, I stopped, posed for picture in front of a few bewildered elders, and then jumped back into the cab.

Krakatoa 125 years later

I'm about 80% through of a fascinating book by Simon Winchester called Krakatoa: the day the world exploded, August 27, 1883. So today would mark the 125th anniversary of the explosion.

I randomly borrowed the book about two weeks ago, but brought with me on this trip, and ever since, has been mesmerized by it. The writer, who is a geologist, weaves together science, history, politics and of course geography and geology to paint a picture of life in the Indonesian archipelago, and how the explosion changed the world and specifically hastened the islamic revolution in that area and fall and decline of the Dutch Empire.

And since the book was published in 2003, i.e. after 9/11, there's also a commentary about the current state of the world. If I had a faster connection, i would have posted some excerpts, but for now I just want to post the entry.

Highly recommended reading for anyone with half a mind. One of the point that he makes in a tangent, but still pretty obvious, is that history repeats itself, and mankind makes the same mistakes over and over again.

Here's hoping.

563. Why I love, loove, lurve Woody Allen

Check out this New york times article by Woody: Excerpts from the Spanish Diary

JAN 2

RECEIVED offer to write and direct film in Barcelona. Must be cautious. Spain is sunny, and I freckle. Money not great either, but agent did manage to get me a 10th of 1 percent of anything the picture does over $400 million after break even.

Have no idea for Barcelona unless the story of the two Hackensack Jews who start a mail-order embalming firm could be switched.

MARCH 5

Met with Javier Bardem and Penélope Cruz. She’s ravishing and more sexual than I had imagined. During interview my pants caught fire. Bardem is one of those brooding geniuses who clearly will need a firm hand from me.

APRIL 2

Offered role to Scarlett Johansson. Said before she could accept, script must be approved by her agent, then by her mother, with whom she’s close. Following that it must be approved by her agent’s mother. In middle of negotiation she changed agents — then changed mothers. She’s gifted but can be a handful.

JUNE 1

Arrived Barcelona. Accommodations first class. Hotel has been promised half star next year provided they install running water.

JUNE 5

Shooting got off to a shaky start. Rebecca Hall, though young and in her first major role, is a bit more temperamental than I thought and had me barred from the set. I explained the director must be present to direct the film. Try as I may, I could not convince her and had to disguise as man delivering lunch to sneak back on the set.

JUNE 15

Work finally under way. Shot a torrid love scene today between Scarlett and Javier. If this were a scant few years ago, I would have played Javier’s part. When I mentioned that to Scarlett, she said, “Uh-huh,” with an enigmatic intonation. Scarlett came late to the set. I lectured her rather sternly, explaining I do not tolerate tardiness from my cast. She listened respectfully, although as I spoke I thought I noticed her turning up her iPod.

Read the whole article on NYT. It's a masterpiece!

562. Break time

I'm in Faizabad, Badakhshan for the week. Internet connection is spotty at best.

But I thought I'd share one of my favorite street signs here.

See you next week

561. RIP, LeRoi Moore

I think Jyo and Liki introduced me to Dave Matthews Band in the 1990s. Liki had the live recording CD, which I copied onto my hard drive.

From CNN:

LeRoi Moore, saxophonist and founding member of the Dave Matthews Band, died Tuesday from complications stemming from injuries he sustained in an ATV accident, the band's publicist said.
LeRoi Moore, a founding member of the Dave Matthews Band, died Tuesday.

Moore, 47, died "unexpectedly" at a hospital, publicist Ambrosia Healy said in a statement.

Moore was taken to Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center in Los Angeles, California, and had been rehabilitating at his L.A. home after the June 30 accident at his farm outside Charlottesville, Virginia.

The Dave Matthews Band was formed in Charlottesville in 1991 by Matthews, drummer Carter Beauford and Moore, an established saxophonist in the local music scene. Their first album, "Remember Two Things," was released in 1993 and featured what would become the band's trademark mixture of jazz, rock and world-music stylings.

"Jazz is probably my main influence, but at this stage I don't really consider myself a jazz musician," Moore is quoted as saying on the band's Web site. "I have plenty of space to improvise, to try new ideas."

One of my favorite Dave Matthews Band Song is from CRASH album, and goes like this:

When I step into the light my arms open wide
When I step into the light my eyes searching wild
Would you not like to be
Sitting on top of the world with your legs hanging free
Would you not like to be ok, ok, ok

When we're walking by the water
Splish splash me and you taking a bath
When were walking by the water
Come to my toes, to my ankles, to my head, to my soul
Then I'm blown away

I can't believe that we would lie in our graves
Wondering if we had spent our living days well
I can't believe that we would lie in our graves
Wondering what we might of been.

560. Life goes on

The Australian has a comprehensive article about the recent IRC incident, I thought I'd post it here. You can also read the article here.

I've seen a wide range of responses over past couple of days: people bonding together unconditionally, people showing signs of post traumatice stress disorder, and yet ignoring it, people strategizing to negotiate compensation package for being here, people expressing xenophobia, people extending kindness to strangers. I got a nice hug from a colleague since I was out of the office for two weeks.

My personal response is bewildering: I thought of the breakdown I had after my colleague Ahir's death back in 2001, and realized that I have developed a shell around me that protects from all the hurt and loss. Last time that gave way was my grandmother's death last year. Other than that, I've learned to accept death, I guess. Maybe I'm still in denial. We'll see. But this is the last entry on this incident.

Here's the article:

International Rescue Committee pulls out after killings in Kabul

August 15, 2008

KABUL: An international aid group which has worked in Afghanistan for 25 years said it was suspending relief work after three of its female aid workers and their Afghan driver were shot dead.

The killings, claimed by Taliban insurgents, came amid warnings about deteriorating security.

Aid groups warned this month of the extreme dangers facing their staff, saying 19 non-government workers had been killed in the first seven months of the year, more than in all of 2007.

The women were named by the US-based International Rescue Committee on its website as Jacqueline Kirk, 40, a British-Canadian of Outrement in Quebec, a dual citizen of Canada and Britain; Trinidadian-American Nicole Dial, 30, a dual citizen of Trinidad and the US; and Canadian Shirley Case, 30, of Williams Lake, British Columbia.

All worked with refugees in Afghanistan.

One Afghan driver, Mohammad Aimal, 25, from the capital, Kabul, was killed and another critically wounded in the ambush by gunmen who shot repeatedly at their vehicle near Kabul, police and their organisation said.

The IRC, headquartered in New York, said in a statement it was "stunned and profoundly saddened by this tragic loss".

"These extraordinary individuals were deeply committed to aiding the people of Afghanistan, especially the children who have seen so much strife."

The group says it has "suspended its humanitarian aid programs in Afghanistan indefinitely" following the slayings.

Afghan President Hamid Karzai condemned Wednesday's killings as "unforgivable".

In a statement, Mr Karzai blamed "enemies of the Afghan people who do not want the international community to help the poverty-hit Afghans".

The UN special representative in Afghanistan, Kai Eide, said it was "reprehensible that such selfless individuals working for the most vulnerable communities should be deliberately targeted in this way".

The women were being driven to Kabul in two vehicles when they came under attack about 50km south of the capital, Logar province police chief Ghulam Mustafa said. A car cut in front of their vehicles and the occupants opened fire.

Mr Ghulam said it appeared the attackers had broken the windows and shot the women and drivers at close range. The aid workers' vehicle was clearly marked with the IRC logo.

"There were signs of about 10 bullets on the vehicle but more bullets on the body of the victims. They were hit by dozens of bullets," the police chief said.

AFP, The Times

559. Price of senseless violence

I just got back to Kabul today after 9 days in Dhaka, and the first news made me dumbfounded.

3 female IRC colleagues were shot dead in Logar, just south of Kabul. Their car was ambushed by gunmen. I actually have met one of them two/three times in different places, last time being about three weeks ago. I have this sick feeling in my stomach and still can't wrap my head around this.

It's one thing to look at daily, monthly, yearly numbers and rationalize my existence here, but to have this happen to someone I know...

When will this stop?