How Ugly Betty Can Get Married in India

Here in India,  it is not customary for boys to take out girls on dates.   Unlike most males who must develop social skills with the opposite sex, as usual, these type of boys depend on their mothers.   As you can imagine, an Indian mother has a different criteria for a daughter-in-law than a son might have.  Some  mothers are only  looking for a maid, a repository of her DNA.  More about DNA later.  She will choose a bride for her boy in the following ways:

1.  Ask for a resume or curriculum vitae.  Yes,  the prospective bride applies for matrimony as a job.  Does she have an M.A.?  If she doesn’t, she’s not worth her salt.  To meet the needs of nonacademic brides,  savvy businessmen have provided sham MBA’s at pseudo-universities.  (International recruiters, you have been warned.)

2.  Ask for a professional photo.  Every prospective bride must buy a traditional outfit and parade to the photographer’s to get her pictures taken.  On these pictures, her future may be determined.  Usually the photographer knows how to make her look wheatish.  While American girls are trying desperately to look tan, the Indian girls are bleaching their skin.  No matter how beautiful, if an Indian girl is dark, she may be doomed.

No matter how educated and skilled the daughter is, if the poor mother has an Ugly Betty on her hands,  the mother may have to settle for any drunken workman as a son-in-law.

3.  Ask for the horoscope.  The son’s mother will take the perspective bride’s date and hour of birth to an astrologer.  He will sift her data with the boy’s data.  No matter how otherwise suited the girl may be, if the astrologer says that the planets don’t line up for a fruitful marriage, the girl is doomed.

4.  Did I mention dowry?  Did you think that the dowry was outlawed?  Silly rabbit.  Female infanticide anyone?  Today my rickshaw driver said he is just about cursed because he has two girls.  They are healthy and beautiful and delightful.  No one celebrated when they were born.  It will cost the driver a small fortune to get each of them married.  It will be all he thinks about for the next 15 years.

5.  Caste–the girl must be from the right caste.  If not, it is as if she came from Mars.

But another factor is looming on the horizon that could trump these five main factors–DNA.  Stephen Quake’s photo looks like a handsome man that any mother would be proud to have as a son-in-law.  He’s a scientist to boot.  But he just had a full-DNA work-up.  He found that he has a rare genetic predisposition to a sudden heart attack.

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You read it first here.  Soon, perspective brides will have to have a full DNA work-up.  The pretty light-skinned girl with the PhD from a high caste and a good horoscope may not be such a good candidate.  The Ugly Betty may have a fruitful DNA report.

It doesn’t have to be this way.  Boys can become men and learn to develop relationships and make good decisions.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

My grandmother had a musical gold cigarette lighter that played, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” The song is by The Platters.  Apparently, when your heart is aflame, smoke gets in your eyes.  Well, in the ASA, many of our hearts are aflame, but that is not what is causing our eyes to tear–it is the smoke that comes from a wood fire in an unventilated kitchen at the government pre-school center.   As a former respiratory therapist, I couldn’t help wonder the state of the kids’ lungs.  The cook herself would be in bad shape too. It has been estimated that most women who have to use wood fires to cook will have chronic respiratory problems by their early thirties.  Normally in their homes, there is no ventilation.

Ironically, this pre-school center has been blessed by a charity that supplies not only the Montessori toys but pays a Montessori teacher’s salary.  Also, this school had a new building with floor tiles that reminded me of Delft tiles in Holland.

How did we end up at this anganwadi?  My partner, Prema, came with me to our anganwadi.  She spent time with the teachers as I played with the kids.  I did my impersonation of Julie Andrews in the “Sound of Music,” and taught the kids “Doe, Ray, Me.“  Remember that Indian music does not necessarily have the Western seven notes.  I sang it over and over and over again.  Unlike when I sing with adults, no one told me nicely to be quiet.  The kids couldn’t get enough.  I had brought a portable stereo connected to my mp3 player so I could play the song.  It sounded loud enough in my house, but in the cacophony in the anganwadi, Julie Andrews’ voice was lost.

My singing wasn’t the best, but it gave the teachers a break in order that Prema could find out what was on their minds.  They wanted to see this Montessori anganwadi down the road which was supposed to be so much better than theirs.  But fortunately, our teachers have access to gas cylinders for their kitchen.  Their cook doesn’t need to collect wood for the children’s lunch.

See the Deccan Herald’s article.

Blue Cross Sings the Blues

Prince

I love dogs, and here in India, there are many dogs to love. I have a dog of my own, but we also look after a few dogs in our neighborhood. One was called Prince. He is the alpha-male. He has two wives that he guards carefully. From my count, he has sired about 40-50 pups. Since he is a black lab, the pups are beautiful. Because I would feed the mum, the pups grew healthy and many were adopted. But the monsoon pups were not strong. Even with nursing care, they died. So I had enough. Prince’s fathering days would have to come to an end. I needed to call Blue Cross.

I called Blue Cross two years ago after visiting them and making myself known. They called me and let me know when they were coming. I helped them find 10 dogs. One of the guys, Johnson, was very quick. In a few days they called me to tell me that they were bringing the dogs back. All had survived. I had little meals for them all. Today, they are happy beach dogs.

However when I called this time, the guy could only catch Prince. I didn’t hear any for ten days. So after having some friends help me who speak Tamil, we found that Prince was still at the Blue Cross and that I would have to take a rickshaw and pick him up at Velichery.

The Blue Cross kennels were not in the same shape as they had been two years ago. You could tell that the staff was overwhelmed and burnt out. I could understand. It was very sad to be there. I will spare you the graphic details.

They took me to Prince. He was half his size and the great alpha male was trembling like a frightened puppy. Even though he had never had a leash on him, he let me put it on. He knew me and was glad to see me. He got shots for distemper and parvo.

I had to put him on a rickshaw–another scary experience for him. But thank God Prince has a gentle temperament. He loved being petted. Sometimes I would have to pull on the collar. Eventually he calmed down.

After a half an hour, we approached our section of the city, but we were still a few kilometers from home, but he knew. He was so excited. When we got to the end of our street, I paid off the auto rickshaw driver who was so happy to see that Prince did well. We walked down the street. Immediately he marked his territory for a long time. At least he hadn’t been thirsty.

As we got to my house, I was surprised. His two wives were literally waiting for him with one of his daughters. There was crying and running around in circles then group hugs. Such joy!

I immediately went upstairs and got a nutritious meal–manitakali, raw eggs, curd and a little ghee as a treat. He needed to eat well now so he didn’t get sick and could heal.

The normally taciturn watchman actually smiled when he saw Prince. I explained to him that he had to look out for Prince as other dogs would sense his weakness and try to attack him.

Later on, I saw Prince resting in a enclosed vacant lot with his harem.

Mission Accomplished.

Marcel Marceau at the Anganwadi Daycare Center

I went to the anganwadi alone on Thursday. That meant my communication with the teachers would be limited to my elementary Tamil. It is a double anganwadi which means there are two teachers. These teachers are incredible. I couldn’t do what they do. They are my heroes.

As I approached the door, I heard unusual disruption. There was an inordinate amount of crying and screaming. It made me think of the song, “Mama Said There’d be Days Like This, My Mama Said.” So I knew I needed to pull a rabbit out of the hat. I entered singing the time-honoured song, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”  I wish I could sing it as well as this Indian lady. We kept singing it until most of the angry feelings had left.

Then I did what I haven’t done for many years: mime. When my husband and I were living in Paris, we got to see Marcel Marceau perform. He did David and Goliath, the Mask–which I modified for training exercises, and Adam and Eve. He was so incredibly inspiring. My husband and I actually dating while doing street theatre and mime. We used Marceau’s mime, “Adam and Eve.” (I wish I was as talented as this lady.) I can still do a pretty good snake with my arm. But one mime really struck me that he did–the box mime–it’s a mime where the victim finds himself caught in an invisible box. He bangs his fists furiously, trying to get out.

My husband and I did mime in various countries in Europe. In fact, I got my job working for Air France as a Concorde ground agent doing mime during the interview. In France, when we would put the white face on and start performing, hauty-looking people would suddenly change into impressionable children. You don’t know the French until you perform mime on the streets of Paris in front of the Sacre-Coeur. On the other hand, when we did mime at Colchester Castle Park, it went over like a lead balloon, and we became very self-conscious.  I think it may have had something to do with our next-door neighbour recognizing us and just saying, “Oh, hello.” and kept on walking.

In Italy, everyone already does mime when they talk, so it is one of the best places to do mime. One of the most rewarding places was in Helsinki, Finland. Finnish people the opposite of Italians–they aren’t what you’d call demonstrative. But when we did mime, crowds would come and we felt they were totally withus. In India, we don’t need make-up. We have white faces.

So years and continents later, here I was in a government pre-school with 40 unhappy kids and two tired teachers. So I started doing the mime. It is safe to say that these kids probably have never seen mime. It is sort of an abstract art. You have to concentrate to get it. I was taking a chance. The Twinkle warm-up was good, but would I lose my audience by trying something too high-brow.

These kids got it! They laughted at all the right places. Finally I motioned to one bright little girl to turn the “knob” on the other side of my “door.” She set me free!

Yes, these kids are always setting me free from the banalities of adulthood.  With them, you fly faster and higher than with the Concorde.

P.S.  I got to meet Marcel Marceau.  He was a passenger on the Concorde.  I must admit, I had fun giving him his boarding pass in a Marcel Marceau fashion.  He was very kind about my performance but did not insist I quit my day job.

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Chocolate Lover’s Version of Some Verses

(Inspired by my friend Bungi)

Exodus 3:8  and I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto The Promises Land, unto a land flowing with whipped cream and chocolate sauce.

Exodus 16:31  And the house of Israel called the name thereof Manna: and it was like oreo cookies, white; and the taste of it was like wafers made with chocolate.

Job 20:17  He shall not look upon the rivers, the flowing streams of chocolate syrup and chunky peanut butter.

Psalm 19:9 The Word of the LORD is so filling–like chocolate filling in a Dunkin’s donut.
Psalm 19:10  I want them more than a gold necklace, yeah, more than fine jewelry.  The word tastes better than a freshly baked black forest cake.

Psalm 119:103  How scrumptious are Your Words to eat! Yeah, they are more delicious than a piece of Godiva chocolate melting in my mouth!

Proverbs 24:13  My daughter, eat chocolate, for it is good; and the chocolate pudding, which is sweet to thy taste:

Proverbs 25:27  Just like it is not good to eat too much chocolate, it’s not good for men to search out their own glory.

Song of Solomon 4:11  Your kisses, Sweetheart, taste like Hershey Kisses.

Isaiah 7:15  Peanut Butter (the crunchy kind)  and fine Cadbury Chocolate (even though it’s owned by Kraft)  from the UK shall he eat, when he knoweth to refuse the evil, and choose the good.

Isaiah 7:22  and it shall come to pass, for the abundance of milk that they shall give he shall eat hot fudge walnut ice cream “Sabbath-days”–this shall every one eat that is left in the midst of the land.

Ezekiel 3:3  And the angel said to me, “Daugher, eat, and fill thy stomach with this Word.” Then did I eat it; and it was in my mouth as creamy chocolate double fudge.

Ezekiel 16:13  You were decked out with gold and silver; and your designer clothes were of fine linen, and pure silk, with embroidered work; thou didst eat chocolate mousse: and thou wast exceeding beautiful, and thou didst prosper unto royal estate.

Psalm 34:8  O taste and see that the LORD is better than chocolate: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

Job 23:12 I have not gone back from the commandments of his lips;
I have treasured up the words of his mouth more than imported Swiss almond choclate

(And who said that angel’s food cake can’t be chocolate!)

By the way the Hebrew word for honey is “d’bish” — all the Dubishes I know are sweet.

Psalm 139 — GEEK Version

Psalm 139 — Geek Version (Inspired by the Hebrew)

(this is dedicated to Ash who calls me “Sys-amma” (Systems Administrator Mama)

God, you beta-tested me, did a search in the heart database so there’s nothing you don’t know about me.

You know when I sit to watch American Idol and when I roll out of bed in the morning.  You get me.

You’re with me when I’m starring at the ceiling on my bed.  You know me better than my Blackberry.

You have a direct line to all my telephone calls, emails, twitters, facebook messages,conversations, and text messages.

If I could swivle around real fast from my desk, you’d be behind me. And if I could spin fast enough, I could see you in front of my computer.

You know how to handle me like no one else.  You’re written customized software for my processes.

This is just too cool and out of this world. It blows my mind.

I couldn’t get rid of You if I wanted to.

If I shot up to Heaven like a super hero, you’d already be there.  If I were in the wrong bed where I shouldn’t be, you’d still be there.

In the morning, no matter how early my radio alarm wakes me, you’re already awake smiling at me when I open my eyes.
If I went on a National Geographic expedition to the bottom of the sea where no man has gone before, you’d be waving at me outside the submarine window.

You take me by the hand as if I were a little kid so I don’t get lost in the crowds going to work.  You help me do the right thing in the office.

You keep me together with your Word and send me the help files on stuff I don’t understand.

Even when I give up, and fall into dark thoughts as I stare at the blue screen of death, your Word still shines through.  You show me where to download updated drivers.

My darkest and most hopeless thoughts can’t hide me from you.  You can still find me in the dark just as if I were in a good mood.

Without software engineers helping you, You calculated all my mood swings, stored them in a database that can be charted on graphs, so you know what I’ll do next before I do.

You were with me when I was just formed by You from a sperm and an egg while in my mother’s fallopean tube.
WOW GOD!  When I have to study Biology or Anatomy and Physiology and view vids, I can’t believe what You did when you made me.  It hit me– what a work of art you created!

You can see better than an MRI: my skeleton, beating heart and gurgling stomach, and the structure of my mind.  You know the secret of how my vascular system, nervous system, muscles and sinews were embroidered in the depths of
the earth.

You knew me as an embryo, and You carefully coded the scrolls of my DNA which you documented for Heaven’s database.
Even though you possess megabytes of data on me, you still think nothing but the best about me 24/7.

There isn’t enough gigabytes or tetrabytes,ram space or virtual memory to calculate your thoughts about me. If I coded all night and tried to stay away with coffee and coke, I’d only awake to see you still with me, grinning that
grin of Yours.

But Lord, get rid of the those trying to hack inside my soul.

They have developed viruses, trojens, and malware.

These people rising against your ethics, God: they make me sick.

I have no respect for them.

So I don’t fall and become like them, Beta-test me.  Defrag the operating system of my mind.  Edit the registry of my heart.  Know what I care about and the sites that I have visited. Test for any bugs of evil in me, so then you can lead me into your eternal thought processes.

Psalm 23 — Valley Girl’s Version

The Lord is my Sugar daddy, so I don’t need to surf the shopping channel at 4:00 a.m.  anymore.
He finds me the best vacation spot and gets out the chaise lounge next to the pool
He takes me to the spa and cleans the black heads, massages the kinks, then creams away all the wrinkles from my weary soul.
He coaches me to jog around on the right track because that’s just him.

Even when my world is falling apart and I have no idea what’s going on,
I won’t freak out because you are with me, so I’m not doing a solo.
What you say strengthens and comforts me and eases the pain and hurt and baffled feelings.
You made reservations for me at the best table at the  Ivy,  right in front of those people who sneer at me in their hearts.

On a bad hair day, you smooth away the frizzies, and sleek my hair down, and I can see a reflection of myself in your eyes looking so good.
My addictions to food, drink, smoking, and the internet are left behind because what you say gives me what I need.
Oh Yeah! Your goodness and kindness will always chase me like NYPD whenever I withdraw from you
And I’m crashing at your house tonight. But I’m not leaving. Postman, this is my last change of address.
I’m living with you for the rest of my life.

The Anatomy of Chaos in Grey’s Anatomy

I watched the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy. In one of my life times, I was a respiratory therapist and knew what it was to walk around with a beeper and be summoned for Code Blue’s. From all over the hospital we would come running to the room where a nurse had noticed that a patient was in respiratory or cardiac distress. No matter how we felt about each other, we all had to move in concert. I would get the ambubag. The intern or resident would be ready to intubate. A nurse had the electric paddles to bring the heart back. We were all ready to take orders.

This episode of Grey’s Anatomy was an accurate anatomy of a disaster due to a lack of team spirit. No one was looking to cover the other. There was no trust. Personal rivalries were still cooking in the forefront of everyone’s mind. A young mother died in the process.

On the other hand, the firefighters who came in to see one of their own who was burned had a camaraderie that demonstrated a working unit of professionals.

At the end, it was shown that it wasn’t even the dysfunctional team’s fault. It was the fault of the managing surgeon. He had not fostered teamwork. Although he had highly gifted employees, he did not encourage them work together. He felt as thought he killed this woman.

When will managers learn to foster team spirit at work? Why does fear allowed to reign at the work place. Why do team members turn on each other as the enemy and work against each other? Logic would tell you that you get more accomplished working together. No one has all the gifts and treasured skill-sets. No one is 100 percent on their game every day. There is so much to learn from one another.

It is up to the manager to deal with egos. But first, he will have to deal with his own. He will have to face his own fears and stop hiding his weaknesses. The truth will not only set you free, it will make you stronger and more powerful. You just need some character. If not, there will always be a plethora of unnecessary suffering.

Ten Signs that Showed Columbus He Wasn’t in India

Over 500 years ago, if Christopher Columbus had observed these signs, he would have known he wasn’t in India.

1. There was no sign of the British Raj. There were no pink men going around in tin hats speaking bad Hindi.

2. He saw women. The women of India would have been in purdah. The women he saw were wearing something like today’s  beach wear at Club Med. The women in India were/are wrapped in saris.

3. There was not the smell of curry. But to be honest, chilies hadn’t reached India either.

4. There was no Bollywood music blaring from a loudspeaker. But then in the West Indies, they would have had reggae music, no?

5. The beach wasn’t littered with trash from last night’s snack and drink like at Marina Beach.

6. When he got off the boat, there weren’t cab drivers offering him the scenic route and places to buy carpets.

7. No one tried to get him married to their brother’s sister cousin.

8. No one insisted that he and his crew come to their house for a masala dosa on a palm leaf (although they had the palm leaves).

9. There was no Keralite selling tea at a tea stall.

10. There were no off-shore IT businesses trying to recruit his crew.