The gossip on gossip

There was this restaurant that was opposite my Grad school building that had this framed poster of a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt on Gossip. It read:

"Great minds discuss ideas;

Average minds discuss events;

Small minds discuss  people."

 Since I had a very sheltered childhood, and since I was more focused on enjoying my freedom as I got away from parental/grand parental supervision, I had been oblivious to discussing people around me. It has taken me a decade or so to understand the gravity of what gossip actually means.  One of the hardest things I do now is controlling this innate tendency to gossip. It is so easy to talk about people. Even though people are way more complex and multi-faceted than ideas or events, when we talk about them , we portray only a certain perception of them based on a singled out event. Whenever I have failed, I have regretted it as something in me cringes and dies a slow death. This happens even when I have spoken what I have perceived to be good about people who are absent.

https://www.npr.org/sections/13.7/2016/05/23/479128912/the-origins-of-gossip

I have been trying to detoxify my life by trying to adhere to the simple philosophy of the three wise monkeys: See no evil; Hear no evil and Speak no evil (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_wise_monkeys).  

It has been working out fantastically so far with cheat days every now then ;). Working hard on reducing the number and frequency of those cheat days is my challenge now.

Being an Adult

Sometimes I delve into the spiritual/philosophical realm only to find myself lost and at the edge of a catastrophic, depressive state of mind.  It took me weeks to recover from the last bout of such a state. While in such a state, the notion that every human being is unique seemed fallacious. Life in general seemed pretentious, insignificant, and false. It took me quite a while to 'unthink' such malicious, self- destructive thoughts. For the first time in my life, I had to struggle to focus on the positives, struggle to keep myself happy and appreciate the power of the mind. Was this what being an adult involves? 

I feel that I could go and on about how that made me feel. People around me don't like to hear about such thoughts and feelings. It makes them queasy and makes you repulsive. The insignificance of life is not something that anyone wants to hear about. Everyone wants to think that they are special and unique. 

I recently had the misfortune to kill a rat family  that had made our garage their home. While in the act of killing those rats, I thought if those rats thought that they were unique. Were they capable of a thought process as my own. By the way, the act of killing the rats was not at all a spontaneous act, it was quite a premeditated ordeal. I had researched (read googled) on how to kill rats the least painful way. For me suffering and pain are more dreadful than death itself. The uncertainty that death holds is quite appalling to me, Well, the thing that is certain about death is that there will be no more life as I know now. I have not yet completely recovered from the trauma of killing those rats but it made me understand the power of perception, If I think that the rats are pests and think of them that way, I could just about be at peace with myself. Well, that has put me in another precarious thought process. Being an adult is what I blame for such thoughts and experiences. 

An Anchor For My Feelings

Is it possible to find the positive in everything? Is everyone of us a mixed bag of positives and negatives? If it is your constant attempt to reduce the negatives  with a lot of introspection, self censoring, are you still being yourself? If I am myself, would I like myself? It has been my attempt to mold myself into a being that I can like and live with. I have been quite successful so far, apart from some naive mistakes of my childhood and youth, I have been good. I am honest. I try to refrain from speaking or doing anything that hurts anyone, even if it is the truth that I have. There are times that I have thought that the entire human race is a dishonest, selfish bunch and  every time I think that way I slip into a very dark place. It takes a lot of hard work to pull myself out of there by trying to see the positive. Then I wonder, is there a positive? Would the world be better of, if there were no humans? We manipulate everything around us to suit ourselves. Everyone thinks they are special, one of a kind, when there are more than a billion of us in this world! Why do people like to think  they are unique, then again, why do I think at all?

I do not like being treated as a woman more than being a woman. Although, I hate the word tomboyish,  that is what everyone called me while growing up. Although, when I think back, I see myself being a free spirit, a wild child. One not conforming to the rules set by the society. I still have a bit of that lingering identity crisis and rebellion left in me. As I grew older and go through the fertile period of my life, the feminine aspects of the body that I am born into take control. I learn to behave as a girl that the society prescribes. The more I try to comply by the societies view of a good woman, the clearer it is to me that my society sees a good woman as being subservient, and docile. That makes me hate being a woman. I have serious issues with gender roles and I can do nothing about it. For doing anything against it would hamper my quest for being good. I surely don't believe that Men and Woman are equal. We are different and have our strengths in different areas. Neither of the two sexes are superior. Women have the added burden or probably a blessing, depending on your perspective, of carrying forward human race. I do agree that it is good that there are these differences, it makes life more interesting and fun. Would it not be better if we could just have mutual respect between the sexes, acknowledging the fact that we are all in it together? Respect and appreciate the differences. Compliment each other than compete. 

Why is it that Men (the men I know) can afford to be lazy at home and not the woman. In the stone ages, men surely had the harder job of hunting in wild and bringing home the meal and women had to stay home and raise children and care for the men when they were back after their tiring work/ day.Why do the men (the men I know), think that they can expect to laze around and relax when work (putting the bread on the table) has become a combined responsibility? Should the responsibility of child rearing and other household chores become a combined responsibility as well?

 Trying to stay positive :) :
http://www.positivityblog.com/index.php/2006/10/11/10-ways-to-change-how-you-feel/

STRAWBERRY-BANANA SOUFFLE PANCAKE RECIPE

3 eggs separated

1/2 cup half and half

1/4 cup flour

1 pinch salt

1 1/2 tablespoons butter, melted

1 tablespoon grand mariner 

1/2 cup strawberries and Banana + 1 tbl. sugar 

Preheat broiler. 

Beat two of the egg yolks with the half-and-half (reserve the third yolk for another purpose). Add the flour slowly, stirring just enough to combine. Stir in the sugar, salt, melted butter and Grand Mariner.

Beat the separated egg whites until they form soft peaks. Fold them into the batter.

Heat a lightly greased 8-inch nonstick ovenproof skillet, or a heavy cast-iron skillet, over moderately high heat or until oil bubbles.

Pour the batter into the pan. Reduce the heat to medium and cook until bottom of the pancake is browned and bubbles appear around the edges, for 5 to 8 minutes. Arrange the  fruits gently on top of the batter. 

Place the pan 4 to 5 inches below the broiler and cook until the top of the pancake is brown and the center is just set but still soft. 

Gently slide the pancake onto a warmed serving plate, dust with powdered sugar . Serve with more sliced strawberries and raspberries.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

 In my opinion, we become who we are from watching our father’s behave and act when life is at its oddest.  I am about to share two such incidents from different junctures in my life that have left a deep impression on me. I will use those incidents to illustrate the main point of my speech, which is: Actions speak louder than words.

From my very first speech here, you may remember that I was raised by my grandparents and spending time with my father was something I yearned for.  You must have already heard that a Father is a daughter’s first love and a son’s hero. My story only conforms to that idiom. Let me describe the two episodes that happened while growing up that showed me how much my father cares for me. It is very mundane but they corroborate my belief and my faith in my father.

As a child, I spent some of my summer holidays with my cousins, in their homes. I felt especially close to the two of them, the daughters of my paternal aunt. I learned to cycle, swim, type, and dance with them at different periods. I was an only child at that time and I really treasured these special moments I shared with my cousins.

The first incident happened when I was about 10. I was spending one of my summer holidays at my aunt’s place in Bangalore. My cousins and I wanted to have Cup’O noodles as a mid afternoon snack one day. There was only one left in their pantry. My cousins decided to share it among themselves without considering me at all. I felt very sad that they did not even ask me if I wanted any. I felt left out. I felt like I was not a part of them at all.  I was not sad about not getting any Noodles. I did not even like noodles all that much and especially not Cup’O noodles. I was deeply disappointed as I realized that I did not belong to them as much as they belonged to each other.

That evening when I spoke to my father over the phone I did not mention anything about that incident. But, I surely must have sounded sad and depressed. My father took the very next flight from Cochin to Bangalore, which is where I was. He was there in my aunt’s house later that night. Him coming over for me, made me extremely happy. He took me outside and asked me what happened. I had tears rolling down my cheeks when I told him that I just felt left out and lonely. I also told him that nothing really had happened. He understood and consoled me. We went back home the next day. Now, when I think of that whole situation, I feel happy. I remember that incident so fondly, not because of anything he said to me but because of him leaving his work and everything, just because I didn’t sound happy. That incident has made me conscious of the fact that my happiness means the world to my father.

The second incident very similar to this previous one happened when I was about 19. I was pursuing my undergraduate degree in Chennai. One of my professors asked me out on a movie date. He even threatened me by saying that if I didn’t go out with him, he would give me bad grades for my practicals/internals. I was brought up in a belief system that taught me to treat Teachers as more important than Gods. The order in which one should offer reverence to is:  Mother, Father, Teacher, and then, only then, God (“Matha, Pitha, Guru, Daeivam” ). Even when I chanted a prayer before every, I pictured every teacher who has ever taught me. I worshiped my teachers. When such a revered teacher of mine, made such a preposterous proposition, I was in a dilemma.

  That evening when I spoke to my father I didn’t sound myself at all. My father rented a Taxi and drove down 750Kms from Cochin to Chennai and met me at my college in the next morning. He met the Head Of my Department. They spoke for a while. Later my father and I went out for lunch. I did not at that time tell him about the real issue that was bothering me. In fact, until I drafted this and shared it with him, I am sure he was oblivious of it.  Seeing him that day gave me the having confidence that my father is there to support me irrespective of what I get myself into.

My grandmother used to say that I have the best father in the whole world; a father who would even attempt to get me the moon to satisfy my slightest whim. Ever after that incident, I have never spoken to my father when I am even slightly disturbed for the fear of having him show up in front of me the very next minute.  The faith that my father is there for me, is my biggest strength. My father has demonstrated to me that I am the most important part of his life by his actions.  Actions do speak louder than words. I would suggest to everyone to let your words teach, but let it be your ACTIONS that do all the speaking. 

Ramblings from My Childhood

The most interesting aspect of my life so far has been my very peculiar childhood. I keep going back there to draw up inspirations for my speeches here. I have already spoken about various incidents from my childhood in my previous speeches. Today I am going to talk about my hobbies and pastime as a child. I was an only child for nearly all of my childhood. That meant that I had all my free time to myself. Unlike other girls of my age, I had no interest in dressing up, make up, or dolls. Instead, I preferred to climb tree, make bows from broken branches, arrows from midribs of coconut leaves and target practice on barks of banana trees. I loved to play and drench myself in the muddy waters in the paddy fields behind. I did not have friends, not even imaginary ones!  I was not imaginative enough to create imaginary ones and there were no children in my age group in my neighborhood for the real ones.

I might have been around 8 when this girl, Manju, who was about my age moved,  in to this new home next door with her family.  I went over and made friends with her almost immediately. We would play badminton and other more civilized games in the evenings. Every now and then, I got to take her out to the paddy fields behind and score her some shouting from her mother. On one such occasion I spotted a vegetable that was grown in our backyard growing in abundance in the water without any care or supervision. I wondered why nobody had paid any attention to this! Manju and I decided to go ahead and enlighten our folks with this new discovery of ours, but before that, we decided to test it to see if it was indeed the same thing. We both took a bite of the root. Within minutes both of us developed hives all over, threw up continuously and could not breathe.   We were both taken to hospital and were given antihistamines. After I was better, my grandfather took me out to the fields and asked me to pinpoint what exactly I had eaten. I showed him the plant. It was Wild taro, a plant known to be so toxic that even its sap is harmful. People wear gloves to touch it even. It looks just like a thinner version of the regular taro which is used extensively in the kitchen at home. I learned it the real hard way never to taste test strange substances, way before my first chemistry lab! I also learned that looks can be deceiving! Real life lessons learned firsthand! Manju and her family moved out shortly after. I wonder if I had any role in that decision of theirs. Maybe, my spirit was a little too free for them to contain and they were not interested in her learning such valuable lessons with me anymore.

I did not really mind my solitude all that much before, but having had Manju to play with for a while, I missed companionship. I went back to my usual loitering on and around trees, climbing inside our well, figuring out ways to get to the ground from the second floor terrace of our house without using the stairs. Climbing sort of had become my passion then. I admired the person who used to climb our coconut trees. Now, climbing a tree is easy. Anyone can do that! They have branches that allow for a strong hold or grip. Coconut trees are palms and thus have no branches. I took it up as a challenge to learn to climb coconut trees. I started on one that was may be 30 or 40 feet tall, probably quarter the size of a typical coconut tree. I learned that it was all about coordinating the hands and the feet movements. I plucked (wonder if plucked is the right translation,  it is said that Eskimos have 1000 synonyms for snow,   similar to that we, Malayalees, have 1000 names for the different aspects of coconut and coconut trees. The literal translation for what I want to convey, would be to drop a coconut. Anyhow, I will stick to plucked. I plucked my first coconut and was so proud of it that I had to share it with my grandmother, who promptly chided me for climbing trees. She said it was not an appropriate thing to do for a girl. I had not paid any heed to her words and continued climbing until the day that I climbed to the very top of a not-so-small mango tree. The thin branch decided I was too heavy for it. In a moment, I was lying on the ground with the tree top, bleeding from a straight line cut on my lower abdomen caused by the sharp corrugated edge of the severed tree top and covered in a million fire ants. My grandmother had heard the loud thud and had rushed to my rescue. I remember clearly that even at that distressed moment, my grandmother firmly reminding me that decent girls do not climb trees.  In her opinion, hobbies for good, decent girls were activities such as singing, dancing, and stitching, not climbing. She was eternally in an attempt to make a good girl out of me. As part of that attempt, I was taught south Indian classical music (Carnatic music) for 12 years, I cannot sing a single line in the right pitch, not now and not then. I was taught south Indian classical dance (Bharatanatyam) for about the same time. I was also taught to stitch, sew, and knit.  I remember, as my first stitching project and probably the only one I have ever undertaken, I stitched a yellow blouse for my grandmother with a crooked neck line and sleeves at different lengths. She would proudly wear it and embarrass me so often. In short, I cannot sing, dance, nor stitch. I always wondered what talent God gave me, and always concluded that God just forgot to include talent in my package! Nevertheless, I enjoy being me and would not have it any other wayJ!

Desiderata for Happiness

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. 

Be careful. 

Strive to be happy."

© Max Ehrmann 1927