What do you see?

"Your book is due back April 27th." She said handing a gray colored book.
"Oh, Thanks." I responded. I reached my right hand forward and took the book from her. I accidentally brushed her hand, cold. It isn't uncommon for women to have cold hands, most women nowadays suffer from poor circulation. But her skin was shockingly cold. I looked up at her, she was probably 64 give or take a year. Nothing about her seemed particularly special. Her white skin had grown saggy and spotty because of old age. Her eyes were strikingly green. Strange. Her eyes did not fit her face. She had young eyes. Behind layers of old aged skin, the eyes of an eighteen year old girl.
"Ma'am." Her voice shattered my thoughts.
"uh, yeah?" I replied still startled.
"Your book?"
"Oh...yes. Thank you." I answered regaining composure. I took the book and placed it in my purse.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asked folding her arms.
"Uh...yes...one more thing. What is your name?"
She smiled and said, "Annabella."
"Annabella..Annabella." I whispered the name twice. I wasn't sure if it fit her. "Annabella." I said the third time, this time situating the name to her face." I like it."
"Thank you. Ma'am are you ok?" She asked. Her face looked terrified.
"Yes I am fine. Goodbye Annabella." I then began to slowly walk out of the library. I looked down at my watch it was almost 3:30 PM, If I didn't hurry I would be very late. Annabella...Annabella...Annabella...The name kept ringing in my head. Such young eyes. Like she had never grown old. What was keeping her eyes?
Before I exited through the double doors I turned back and looked at her. She stood at the circulation desk. We made eye contact briefly and I read her life. I saw everything in those piercing green eyes. Finally with a flutter of my eyelashes we broke eye contact and I knew what was keeping those eyes.
...

"Did you see that?" Annabella Bianchi asked.
"See what?" The woman sitting next to her responded taking her reading glasses off.
"That weird girl that just came in. She asked me my name and then started singing it."
"No. I didn't see her. That is odd. Maybe she is on drugs. Those teenagers are all on drugs now."
"No, she wasn't a teenager. She was probably forty." She stated picking up a rack of books and placing them on a cart.
"She could still be on drugs." The woman added.
"Maybe. Strange. Alright Harriet I am going to put these books back on the shelf." She began wheeling the cart over.
"Have fun!" Harried shouted and Annabella gave her a stern look.
"This is a library!" Harried waved her arms in response.

Stages of Grief

I have always believed that humans are complex creatures. That we are more than what we appear on the surface. Each of us is finely crafted and we have layers upon layers. It's the only way to explain the range of emotions we all experience. In addition, people act so differently to situations.

Recently however I have discovered one thing, misery makes us all act accordingly. I guess, this is what my Psyc teaher in college was jabbering about when she said "Stages of Grief." I never cared to listen, I used to think Psych was like fake science...like economics.

But not anymore. I believe in you Freud. Oh powerful Freud, the Father of Pyschology. I have noticed two distinct ways of handling grief recently.
1. Overcoming 2. Drowning.

The first, of which I am all too familiar. Begins with the introduction of a shitty situation. You don't know how to react so you are in denial for some time.
Then, you are angry. You ask rhetorical questions like, "Why me world, Why me" or "Why do bad things happen to good people" ( you ask that question without even confirming from an outside source if you are good person or not. You just assume that since you asked that question you'd have to be a good person. Because bad people are ok with bad stuff happening to them because they know that they deserve it).
Then, something happens. Either you spend the whole night crying and Krishna/The Prophet/ Jesus appear to you in the early light of morning or a Friend/Stranger says something uplifting to you that really changes your life-then you assume that frined was really an Angel sent by God. Either way you start believing in God. You become very religious or spiritual. All of a sudden you are reading religious text, questioning your soul and preaching to everyone who will listen.
Then, you are on a quest to be a better person. You take care of your body, spirit, and soul. ( I always thought soul and spirit were essentially the same thing). But you realize that in order to be whole again, you must replinish yourself. You stop lying, cheating, and back talking. You are the path to nirvana.

OK this is the most important part, you carry on this charade for 6 months to 2 years. THEN you fall back into your old routine. Either you find what you had lost initially or things get brighter for you. All of a sudden you dont need God (psssh. he or she just held you down anyway) and you start talking about Peggy and how fat she is.

This is my critique on the stages of Grief. or atleast how to Overcome Grief. The thing is, we use these things as a vehicle to overcome grief but what we dont understand is that maybe if we continued down this path ...we would never feel grief again? OR maybe just maybe, grief is not a bad thing? Maybe we need to feel it to learn something about ourselves? If you can handle it, if you can handle accepting that whatever happened was somehow your fault. OR even a random event....maybe you are a stronger person than you once believed.

I believe in God, whole-heartedly, I always have. But God is not my vehicle. Rather I am God's vehicle. I do not hold God in my heart, rather I am in God's heart. Don't pick the idea of spirituatlity because it's an easy route to take. If God helps you through something, stay loyal.

“Your grandma is creepy.” He said jutting his chin at my grandma.

“No she is not! She is old!” I was infuriated, I pushed him and he fell on the gravel scratching his hands. Soon his mother rushed over covering the boy with her large arms.

“What is wrong with you?” She screeched as if he had lost a limb.

“He said my grandma was creepy!” I exclaimed. My grandma came waddling over and tried to subdue the lady by waving her arms frantically.

“You people have some nerve.” The lady said and rushed away. My grandma just looked at me sternly. She started yelling at me in Punjabi. I tried to explain to her that I was simply defending her honor. She told me not to. When I tried to ask her why she quickly shushed me and bought me a Popsicle.

We never spoke about this event at home. My grandma said it was better not to tell my mother and father, it would just upset them. I never understood what that lady had meant when she said “you people.”

**

“Steven you are so late.” I said staring at him as he sat down. I had been waiting at the restaurant for over an hour.

“Sorry babe, I got caught up at work.” He responded coolly taking a sip of his water.

“Why didn’t you call?” I asked.

“Chill, what is the matter with you? So I am a little late.”

“I have been sitting here for almost an hour and a half by myself. I look like an idiot.” I screeched slamming my menu on the table. “You think after dating for like three years you would stop acting so childish.”

“Oh God, I know exactly what this is about.” He said with a smug look on his face.

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to get married.”

“WHAT?”

“That’s it, you want to get married. I knew you were going to get weird about us moving in together.” Steven had just recently moved in together because Steven insisted. He said it was the only way we’d know if we were truly compatible.

“I don’t want to get married.” I yelled.

“Yes you do. You are so Indian about this stuff.” He replied nonchalantly.

“I am what?” I was shocked. What did that mean?

“You are so Indian all of a sudden.” He said again this time not even making eye contact with me.

“I have always been Indian Steven.” I uttered and then fell back in my chair.

**

I had arrived exactly fifteen minutes early. That’s what they say right? Arrive fifteen minutes before the interview. I walked over to the receptionist.

“Hi, my name is Aditi Sharma I have an interview scheduled for today.”

“What’s your name again?” She asked looking down at her keyboard.

“Aditi Sharma.”

“What?”

“Aditi Sharma.”

“Can you spell that please?” She looked up and rolled her eyes at me.

“Sure, Aditi, A-d-i-t-i. Sharma, S-h-a-r-m-a.”

“Ok, have a seat. Mr. O’Shea will be with you in a minute.”

“Ok. Thanks.” I sat down in the waiting area. There were three other applicants vying for the same position. I was nervous but confident in my abilities and experience. After twenty minutes the receptionist came to get me. I followed her into a large office. Mr. O’Shea was significantly younger than I had imagined. He looked about thirty eight; I saw pictures of his wife and children on his desk.

“Ok, Adeedee, is that right?” He asked. I smiled and nodded my head even though it was wrong I didn’t want to get into it. “That’s a rather peculiar name. What are you?”

“What am I?” I questioned puzzled at the way the question was phrased.

“Yeah, where do you come from? Your parents.” He asked shuffling through papers on his desk.

“Oh, well my parents are from India and I am from Queens.” I answered pushing my hair behind my ear.

“Oh that’s nice, India. Do you like Bollywood?”

“Yeah, I guess, yeah. Would you like a copy of my resume?” I said trying to change the subject.

“Oh, no need. So, why aren’t you wearing that dot? You know the red one?” He leaned in pointing to my forehead.

“Um, that’s only for special events.”

“Interesting, I thought it was a tattoo. You know my daughter has a lot of Indian friends, she is twelve. You guys are smart people. That nose ring you are wearing, does it mean you are married?”

“No, I wanted to get one; it has nothing to do with that.” I answered with my hands folded over my lap.

“Interesting.” He replied scribbling in his notepad. I wondered what exactly he was writing. Indian girl, dot less, wearing a nose ring and she likes Bollywood. I just fell back in my chair.

**

Thanks for nothing you pretentious bastards at Columbia J-School

Hope your program crash's and burns and ends up like your reputation for over charging on shitty education.

$68,000 for one year...whose idea was that?

I think its funny, click me for the true value of Columbia's J-School.

I am not mad.

Dear America Leave South Asia Alone

Thats it the title says it all. LEAVE SOUTH ASIA ALONE. Stop messing with my culture.




So PBS desecrated one of my holy books two weeks ago buy airing this cartoon called, Sita Sings The Blues.
Where they take the story of the Ramayana a blessed holy story and make it a cartoon. In which Sita sings blues songs dressed like a common prostitute freakshow. Don't believe me look to the picture. I want to know whose idea this was, like who said this was ok? I wouldn't take the bible and re do and title it, "Jesus Raps," and dress Jesus up like a gangsta. You know why...RESPECT. I respect other people's faiths so I don't be-little there religious icons. Don't tell me you did this so the story could be understood universally. BECAUSE if you are such a moron that you can't understand this timeless tale of duty, virtue, faith and love then honestly, I'd rather not have you part of my religion.


PCD took the beautiful song, "Jai Ho" by AR. Rahman featured in the movie Slum Dog Millionaire and made it a song about sex and reaching an orgasm. "Jai Ho" is something Hindu's usually utter during prayer. Thank you so much America. Thank you for ruining everything you touch.

Anoop Desai: Lucky Number 13 ?

Anoop Desai’s rise to popularity has been a steady one and although, the 22 year old graduate student looks nothing like a pop star, he sure has the audience buzzing with excitement. The judges voted this time around to select the final wild card candidates. To everyone’s surprise they chose not three but four candidate turning what was expected to be a top 12, into a top 13. When Simon Cowell announced the newly created 13th spot, Anoop Desai looked shell shocked. He placed his hands over his face and the crowd exploded in applause. The newly inducted top 13 idol expressed that this meant a great deal to him when he addressed his hometown. “I just want to tell Chapel Hill that I know we’re having a tough day today, but we’re all thinking of Eve and I love you Chapel Hill,” he said, referring to Eve Carson, a former student at the University of North Carolina. She was murdered a year ago on Thursday. Desai had mentioned Eve Carson earlier as well, citing her as his motivation to audition for the show. Desai is the 2nd Indian American to be on the show since its inception, the first being, the infamous Sanjaya Malakar. Malakar was a finalist on the sixth season of American Idol and despite negative reviews from the judges he managed to advance to seventh place. Desai however, seems far different from Malakar. After his rendition of “My Prerogative” it is clear that he is the real deal. Apart from being the judges favorite he has gained a huge fan following. No arguments here, “Noop Dogg” has got real talent. He might even become the first South Asian American idol.

Islamic Council Issue's Fatwa against Yoga.

In January, the Indonesian Ulema Council (MUI) issued a fatwa, or religious edict, banning Muslims from practicing yoga that includes Hindu rituals, such as chanting.

Yeah, they issued a fatwa. Now for those of you who do not know what a fatwa is, I'll explain, a fatwa is a ruling or edict based on Islamic Law. It's made by a recognized religious authority. In this case the Indonesian Ulema Council. I mean, its not legally binding but if you are a practicing Muslim and you do not follow them the end result could be fatal.

For example, in 2005 the council issued a fatwa against the Ahmadiyya sect of Islam. It stated that the sect is heretical because it does not recognize Muhammad as the last of the prophets. A series of attacks then occurred on followers of that sect. Coincidence ? I think not.

The council has defended its edicts, saying its job is to provide guidance to Muslims on issues of public concern.

I don't know about all this. I mean, to me this sounds like an attack on human rights. Ok so you think Indian practices like Yoga are going to destroy Islam, why don't you think of an alternative practice? Yoga for Muslims...where instead of chanting "Om Shanti" you chant, "Praise to Allah."

That could work?

Indonesia has a large Muslim population but they are moderate Muslims and recently the minority extremist have been pushing for the imposition of the Shariah. To me, it seems like that is why the council is issuing all these fatwa's. They are pushing extremist agenda.

Despite the fatwa Indonesia is set to host a 8 day Yoga Festival. Now, if Muslims don't want to participate, DONT.
But what scares me is that its never enough for these extremist they want the whole world not to participate. I fear for the safety of those who participate in this festival.