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The Book of my lives; A Book, Reviewed

About two weeks ago I was to read couple of my poems published in Journal of Modern Poetry issue # 16 to an audience of poets at St. Augustine College Campus. Bhupen and I were about ten to fifteen minutes early. Our venue, The Chaplin Hall, was occupied by another audience who were intently listening to a reader at the podium.

We had read a little blurb affixed to the door before entering the room. The reader’s name is Aleksandar Hemon. He has won many prestigious grants and accolades. We peeked inside the room and ushered ourselves into empty seats. I did not know what he was reading from but assumed that it must be his latest book. In few minutes that I heard him I had no reason to get the picture of the content and the style of his writing. As a courtesy, we stayed on.

As he finished reading the excerpts from his creation he began to sign the books for those among the audience who bought his book. I without thinking bought one and had it signed by him.

On the way home I was beginning to cuss myself for having bought the book by an author I had no knowledge of. I knew I was not going to like it and therefore will not read it. I have been disappointed in almost all books I have read, especially if they are fictions. Dialogues in any book bore me to tears.

Well, I started to read this book. I read few pages every time I read it. And within two readings I began to like his style and the content; actually I loved it. On the third sitting I was so riveted that I refused to close the book without finishing it. And finish it I surely did!

It is more or less a memoir of a displaced Bosnian émigré; displaced from his own country and his adopted country as well; the USA. In his country due to changing winds and here due to new culture. It is a story of breaking-up of war riddled nation. It is a story of youths wanting to defy; change the nation if not the world. It is a story of friendships, experimentation. It is a story of family separated by circumstances. It is a story of colors, smells and sounds of times of growing up. It is a story of finding semblances of life and then losing it. It is a story of unfathomable tragedy.

Each chapter is a story; a life unto itself.

The stories became intensely absorbing because of the landscape it created. The backdrop of a society that was closed for so long to outside world makes it so; a communistic, a rigid, a constrictive society that youths want to free and change against the powerful regime and yet not want to lose the sense of where one belonged and came from. This sense of belonging matters profoundly. 

While not from such society myself, I still do identify.Most immigrants suffer displacements.

The author has the style I adore. I have not read one like this before. I will cite couple of excerpts here. At one point he writes:

"In this city, I had no human network within which I could place myself; my Sarajevo, the city that had existed inside me and was still in there, was subject to siege and destruction. My displacement was metaphysical to the precisely same extent to which it was physical. But I couldn’t live nowhere; I wanted from Chicago what I’d got from Sarajevo; a geography of the soul.”

At another point he writes "……..Peter’s outburst, shocking though it may have been, made perfect sense to me-not only did he deplore the waste of words, he detested the moral lassitude with which they were wasted.”

                                                          

Now this is the language from a man to whom not only English is a second language, but also the one who knew no English at all when he arrived in USA.

I can say two things; if I were to make as good a story in my life as his life made for him I had to live his kind of life; I have to live in his skin. Second, if I were to write as well as he does, I will have to be born again.

I am comforted by the fact that he shares with me the same beautiful skyline of Chicago.

Tuber Roses-রজনীগন্ধা

Tuber Roses-রজনীগন্ধা

Yesterday afternoon I received a bouquet of not Roses, but Tuber Roses-রজনীগন্ধা. Then, unexpectedly a Bengali friend who almost never calls, called. I had a pleasant Calcutta moment; several moments; actually, the rest of the day.

It became a very special day.

None of the flowers grown in American hothouses, even Roses, disappointingly, emit the scent they are known to have. Surprisingly, Tuber Rose fragrance has enveloped my entryway. Going up or down the stairs I inhale that familiar intoxicating perfume.

Thanks to all who made this experience possible.

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Down the Memory Lane -2

Vidula, Hemu, Thakore and Ba

During my post graduation studies my father died and I had to discontinue studies to earn some money. My professor, Thakore Mistry, who taught Agriculture Economics was writing a thesis on Poultry Farming in Gujarat for his doctorate degree. He already had one but needed an another assistant to help him tabulate his statistics. He was kind enough to offer me a summer job until I found another in a bank. 

This picture was taken, I was told, when he returned from USA.

His mother fought for Independence and went to jail for it. A beautiful cultured family.

He once asked me to do without God for a week and see if sky befell  me. It did not and I was a changed person.

Shortly after my arrival to USA he died of Leukemia and left a beautiful wife, young boy and widowed mother behind.

Down the Memory Lane

Mrs. Padma Vaswani

She was my Civic teacher in my high school.  I honored and respected her very much. In one of our classes she talked about recently released movie, "I want to Live". She asked us to see it, which I did not for affordability reasons. Referring to the plot she taught us, "justice system is not always just". I so loved her. When I left Calcutta for good she presented me with a shawl which I still possess and occasionally wrap myself in it.  I do not know where she is; if she is at all. Thank you Mrs.Vaswani.

Dinaz Cursetji

She remembered to send me her photograph
while on vacation in Darjeeling

Here is another person who impressed me during my impressionable age. Her name was/is Dinaz Cursetji. She was/is a Parsi lady and taught English in our college in Ahmedabad. Although I was never in her class. I was taken by her English and an air she had about her. I do not know where she is. She was the best friend of another person, below, who I was enamored by.

Nilambari and Vanraj fighting over her Camera

This was taken at a college Picnic in a scenic town of Oran on a river bank in Gujarat. Circa 1967. Nilambari and Vanraj Sheth. Nilambari taught Political Science which was not my subject but I will still attend her classes during my free periods. She was a Princess from the state of Mansa. She was very beautiful, with fair complexion and had BLUE eyes. Her name was appropriate for her looks. She never repeated the same sari in a year. Of course she was real Princess! Dinaz and Nilambari were best of friends.

Vanraj was my classmate in another subject. Very funny man, he was. I do not know where either of them are. I have forgotten the name of the third person, but I do remember she was Parsi. 

Memories; they are illusive when you need them, to one's chagrin!

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Glimpses of Seattle trip 10/19/13-10/26/13

Beverly with her daughter Kate, son-in-law Cliff and
grandson Lucas with Australian Shepperd named Phoenix in her
 Condo. We did not get to meet Kyle, another grandson, this time.

Once an Indian Princess now a Grand Dame, Beverly
showing her jewelry design using the elements from
gifts that she had received from her dear ones. The
pearl necklace that we had given her once is among
the recycled items. We feel honored.

Gale Chihuly's glass work museum. This

piece was on display outdoors. 

This piece was indoors

These giant steel wave plates were captured in a park

Famous Space Needle

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My Grandfather

Nandlal Veniram Oza; why Oza? My father, when he started his business decided to use our Gotra, Kaushik , as our last name. Oza spelled slightly differently like Ojha meant Kumbhar (Potteryman) which he did not like to be known as. So I have been told.

Dada-Nandlal Veniram

Undisputed Beauty

of  Kaushik family. 
She could be a star in Indian films.

Bhanu-->Anila-->Bhabhi

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Some Clever Lines-Many hilarious; I am still laughing

SOME CLEVER LINES:

On a Septic Tank Truck: 
“Yesterday's Meals on Wheels”

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In a Podiatrist's office: 
"Time wounds all heels"

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On a Plumber's truck: 
"We repair what your husband fixed"

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On another Plumber's truck: 
"Don't sleep with a drip. Call your plumber"

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On a Church's Bill board: 
"7 days without God makes one weak"

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At a Tire Store

 "Invite us to your next blowout"

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On an Electrician's truck: 

"Let us remove your shorts"

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In a Non-smoking Area: 
"If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action"

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On a Maternity Room door: 
"Push. Push. Push"

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At an Optometrist's Office: 
"If you don't see what you're looking for, you've come to the right place"

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On a Taxidermist's window: 
"We really know our stuff"

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On a Fence: 
"Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive!"

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At a Car Dealership: 
"The best way to get back on your feet - miss a car payment!"

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Outside a Car Exhaust Store: 
"No appointment necessary. We hear you coming!"

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In a Vets waiting room: 
"Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!"

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Sign over a Gynecologist's Office: 
"Dr. Jones, at your cervix!"

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In a Restaurant window: 

"Don't stand there and be hungry; come on in and get fed up!"

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In the front yard of a Funeral Home:  

"Drive carefully. We'll wait!"

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 And don't forget the sign at a  Radiator Shop: 

"Best place in town to take a leak"

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Sign on the back of yet another Septic Tank Truck:

"Caution - This Truck is full of Political Promises”

US Postal Service-Part 2

About half hour ago our nice mailman, Mr. W knocked at the door. He handed me the torn Time magazine in "We care" plastic bag and said he is sorry that the magazine is torn. He knew I had complained earlier and if I wanted I can do it again. These days all mails are processed by machines and therefore they do not have control over mail tearing. 

I told him I like to collect magazines and I would like to show him how many issues have come torn. He said he can show me so many torn mails in his truck he is delivering today. He was apologetic. I said to him that it is not his fault and it is not. I asked should we not fix the machines causing the tears? He said he just delivers the mail and I should write my complains to postal service. 

So it seems my complains have gone wayside. Signs of modern services. Wrapper says they care but I do not think they do.

At least mailman personally handed me the mail with an apology.

Should I be satisfied? No, I am not.

A Gujarati Song with Lyrics

ક્લીક કરો અને સાંભળોઃ (Click and Listen)
1970_Divaso_Judai_Na
-Rafi-Gani_Dahiwala-
Purushottam_Upadhyay.mp3

દિવસો જુદાઈના  

દિવસો  જુદાઈના  જાય  છે

એ જશે જરૂર  મિલન  સુધી

મારો હાથ ઝાલીને લઈ જશે

મુજ શત્રુઓ જ સ્વજન સુધી

ન ધરા સુધી  ન ગગન સુધી

નહિ  ઉન્નતિ  ન  પતન સુધી

ફકત  આપણે  તો  જવું  હતું

હર  એક  મેકના  મન  સુધી

તમે  રાંકના  છો  રતન  સમા

ન  મળો  હે  આંસુઓ  ધૂળમાં

જો અરજ  કબૂલ  હો  આટલી

તો હ્રદયથી જાઓ નયન સુધી

તમે  રાજરાણીના  ચીર   સમ

અમે   રંક    નારની    ચુંદડી

તમે તન પર રહો  ઘડી બેઘડી

અમે સાથ  દઈએ  કફન  સુધી

જો હ્રદયની આગ  વધી ‘ગની’

તો  ખૂદ  ઈશ્વરે  જ  કૃપા  કરી

કોઈ  શ્વાસ બંધ  કરી  ગયું

કે પવન ન જાય  અગન  સુધી

સ્વરઃ મહમદ રફી Sung By; Rafi
ગીતઃ ‘ગની’ દહીંવાલા Lyrics by: Gani Dahiwala
સંગીતઃ પુરુષોત્તમ ઉપાધ્યાય (૧૯૭૦) Music: Purushottam Upadhyay

Square Squared

Square Squared

"A Short Guide to the Middle East"

A friend sent following which humorously sums up the situation in Middle East. Of course, there is nothing humorous about what is going on in the Middle East or around the world today.

"A short guide to the Middle East"

US Postal Service

We have been receiving lot of torn mails with plastic covers saying "We care". I decided to visit the post office. After fifteen minutes of wait and couple of pages the person who attended to me said they will look into it. 

Let us see what happens in the future.

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Sleight of Hands-Genius

I friend forwarded this and I was mesmerized. Watch and you be mesmerized too!


http://www.youtube.com/v/9O9HfafzBPE?version=3&hl=ru_RU

Earth and its Moon

Orbiting probe Cassini took a picture of Earth and its Moon from the planet Saturn, some nine hundred  million miles away. Earth is just a speck in the universe! Does anyone have anything to complain about their worldly problems?! Aren't they just miniscule..............

http://news.yahoo.com/wow-nasa-probes-see-earth-moon-saturn-mercury-221321345.html

Dream or a Nightmare?

Last night I had two dreams. Usually I forget them next morning. But one of the two is retained, though faintly. 

In my laundry room I have double doors leading up to the back yard. The inside door is a wood door with glass window and the outside one is a metal also with a glass window. I dreamed that there was a human being in white clothing trapped between the two doors. On a closer scrutiny I realized it was just a white cloth but had all the characteristics of a human being; almost  "Shroud of Turin" like. It was trying very hard to free itself but could not.

There was such struggle to free itself that I woke up with sweat. I think I will call this a nightmare.

BBC News

Last night BBC devoted one half of its TV News hour on arrival of Royal Baby. The night before one half was devoted to Kate Middleton's labor. I am sure next night will be devoted to the naming of the baby speculations. Does world stop creating news because an expectant mother, a Royal mother, is about to deliver a baby?!!

I was disappointed and went through withdrawal for not having my regular dose of world News; like first cup of caffeine!!!! Perhaps, nobody minds a world without News. I will just have to grin and bear it.

Black Holes

In tribute to recently released NASA picture of what  Black Hole may look like. Several telescopes around the world were employed for years to create this composite. I had written a verse in 2013 about Black Hole which I believe still holds true for most part. Astrophysics evolves every passing year so does our understanding of the  universe.

Below are the recently released picture and my imaginary rendering of it done in 2013. As much as I love the real one, mine looks a little more 'romantic'.

Composite Picture of Black Hole-Courtesy Google search

Black Hole

Stars

Plummet into them.

Black holes

Inexactly

Worm holes

Voracious cosmic leviathans

Potent, indiscernible

Palpable and critical; pursuing

Unfamiliar laws of physics

Mothers and conduits to each galaxy

Through which perhaps,

Lies a parallel universe

The behemoths' gravity

Swallows galaxies plucking

Along time, space, light

And matter atom by atom

Flinging, stretching,

Eventually disintegrating

Incinerating them all

Through a unique and dark

Point of Singularity

Ultimately,

It matters not

If there is this or  

Parallel universe

On the either side

Of the Black Holes

                  
              charu

History and Cosmogony

These two subjects draw me in. What is common between the two? I cannot alter them to my liking. I can meddle with neither, only observe and take in. Perhaps, I can draw conclusions; but that is all. 

How refreshing!

Supermoon

Supermoon

I am quoting below few lines from Yahoo news by Denise Chow.

"On Sunday (June 23), the moon will reach the closest point to Earth in its asymmetrical orbit, and will appear roughly 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than the full moon at its farthest point from the planet..."

Tomorrow at 7:30am is the best time to catch the Supermoon, when the moon is at its largest during the year. But at 7:30am sun will also be up facing the setting moon. According to the metereologists tonight after sunset is the best alternate time to catch it. So I tried taking the picture with my smart phone from one of my bedroom windows.

While the result is disappointing, the event is recorded.

Oh, No! War Again?!

Oh, no! Another quagmire begins. War in Syria.Obama has agreed to support the rebels in Syria. While I do not know the details of American involvement yet, it is bad news; in my opinion.

Whatever is decided, I hope it is surgical. But knowing history of America's involvements in past I am not holding my breath!

Electrons



Electrons

Cram Night

I consider last night's poetry reading at Chopin Theater a big success. It was an estimable show. I enjoyed it. And, a glass of Cabernet was not entirely out of place either.

Thanks to C. J. Laity for implemetation of his great organization skills.

Bas Relief



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Alienation Among Aliens

It  seems to be a generally accepted notion,  that the home grown terrorists, that is, the people who have resided in the USA either as naturalized citizens or green card holders who enjoy almost all rights of a citizen except not be able to vote in elections tend to become  terrorists because they suffer from isolation. They do not feel totally accepted in their new homeland and the ties with the land they left behind is gradually severing due to distance and infrequent contacts. They feel like misfits. Naturally. Alien misfits become terrorists. Hardly.

It is also generally accepted among elite media as well as the security authorities that the USA need to do more to make immigrants feel less isolated, more welcome and totally assimilated. It is this nation's job to provide such ease and comfort. Not entirely possible. Someone even cited an example of Irish immigrants of early years who having suffered alienation by this country became communists. It is not quite an appropriate example. If the USA had provided assimilation, or if they had not left their homeland does one really think communism would not have sprung among them? The comparison is not only ridiculous but is quite outrageous.

My take on this is that yes, all immigrants feel like misfits to some extent, initially. They have adopted a land which is so different in customs, language, religion, food, dressing and laws from the land they left. I was and am still a misfit. Now for a long time.

The immigrants choose this land to be their land of opportunity and prosperity. The first wave of  immigrants do well; do well despite lot of struggle. They understand; transplanting is full of trials. They manage to survive the tribulations because they learn to separate their home life from the outside the home life. They maintain their original lifestyle undisturbed, uninterrupted and suffer no inner conflicts within the confines of four walls of their homes. And, I am very happy to say that this country preserves and respects the sanctity of four walls called home.

It is the young children of emigres who have the most difficulties. When they go to school they face different world than what their parents expose them to at home. The conflicts emerge in children's minds when they are taught at home, overtly, covertly  as well as sublimally, that the parents' customs, culture, dressing and religion are superior to that of the USA. The kids become conflicted and have enormous difficulties adjusting to this duality. For children to process any kind of conflicting duality is difficult. At the end what is taught at home wins out because of their love and adulations for their parents. Parents cannot be wrong!

The USA need not assume the entire responsibility for making misfits and thus the terrorists out of immigrants. The settlers themselves have and do contributed/contribute  a lot towards their own alienation and therefore bitterness.



   

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A Fold



Picasso

I see them. They are distorted. Yet, I find them appealing. I often question if I cut the distortions and rearrange them in their proper order would they be coherent? And the answer is, no.

They may cohere in one sense, perhaps, and completely incohere in another.

Picasso was unrivaled in his originality, in my mind. Here are few pictures of his paintings from the exhibit we attended. Perhaps, he made them grotesque only to make us face our own demons that reside within. 



Himself rendering the famous peice of sculpture that adorns Chicago street