Wednesday, April 28, 2010

My Turn to Whine

I flew today afternoon from Boston to Chicago on United, my trusty airline with whom I have flown nearly every week to various cities in this country. This was a one way ticket to Chicago after a multi-city itinirary. I went to the United kiosk at Logan Airport, and printed out my boarding pass and on it was the mysterious legend 'SSSS'. I didn't give it any thought (there are several other mysterious things on the boarding pass). But I found out that I would be screened in a special way at the security line.

The girl right in front of me at the security line was also selected for this random screening. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and a happy smile, but these were now marred by a frown and she was now muttering under her breath, "this is just ridiculous". We both stood in line and after what seemed a long, long time (actually about 10 minutes) came up to the front when we were whisked away by TSA agents.

The TSA personnel are almost always friendly and the guys who patted me down and went through my incredibly jumbled laptop bag (with 4 different adaptors and cords, 1 iPod, 1 earphone, 2 Blackberrys, 1 highlighter, 2 permanent markers, several expense receipts, folders, presentations, mouth fresheners, 1 necktie and many, many other such paraphernalia) did so with patience, directing every now and then a question in my direction as to whether I was doing okay there- which I was.

On parting I was given time to rearrange my laptop bag, and I noticed that my boss who had accompanied me through the line was waiting outside with an expression of weariness on his face. I remarked to the TSA agent that if a person were selected for the pat down, he or she may as well be stepped up to the front of the security line to save him or her some time, as well as alleviate the chagrin that inevitably comes from the extra scrutiny. The agent replied, "well, maybe you should just come ahead of time." I let him know that I was indeed ahead of time, but I came early precisely to get through the checks early. It would be only fair to let these randomly selected patted down folks move ahead in the line. The agent let me know that he didn't have any control over such things (I doubt that he had any control over the random selection- which came out of the United kiosk, but I think he did have the authority to make the call on who should move ahead of the line).

I was also assigned a seat in the last row of the plane. If I'm giving you the impression that I was outraged by all this, the truth is far from it. I was in good humor throughout, and still am. But most people dislike being patted down- the airline could help them by giving them at least first dibs on an Economy Plus seat (with extra legroom) and the TSA by letting them move ahead of the security line. Given such freebies I think people would want to be patted down (I know I would:)).

This is not a rant on a blog site. I've been in touch with executives from United in the past for our company's business- I plan to email them about this. I will post any positive or negative responses right here.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Film Review- Born Into Brothels

Last night we watched the 2003 Orscar winning HBO documentary 'Born Into Brothels' on Netflix Streaming. I had seen a similar documentary on an organization that did undercover sting operations to expose and bring to justice coerced prostitution in India and elsewhere. This one dealt with children of prostitutes living in Sona Gachi, one of Asia's largest red light districts.

The film focused in on a dozen kids who are introduced to us in a very personal way through the course of the movie. The filmmakers Zana Briski and Ross Kauffman shot the movie through several months of living and working in Sona Gachi. Briski, a theology major from Cambridge, spent a few years living with the kids, teaching them photography and eventually staging an exhibit of their works in India and elsewhere.

The film traces how the kids lives are slowly changed as they move into schools after months of red tape, social ostracism and concerns about potential HIV infection (as it turned out, non-existent) kept the kids from decent schools. It then traces Avijit Halder (now in his senior year at NYU) is praised for his work in photography and is selected to go to Amsterdam where his work is exhibited among a select group of kids with outstanding skills.

The movie ends with notes about how the kids are faring. Except a couple of kids who mvoed back into the sex trade (primarily due to their family's reluctance to let them study further), the others all fared well and as of today are doing very well in India and the United States.

I liked the fact that the movie stresses the significance of social change as a result of commitment and consensus. The parents of some of these kids earned some money out of the film project but one of them did not want her daughter to move out of the trade. In a recent interview she says, "'At this age, I have a flat, a laptop, costly phones and plenty of money. What do I lack?"

One wonders why these parents did not see far enough to understand the opportunities these kids had before them. They got some cash from the proceeds of the movie, and they had a good reason to keep their kids off the trade. Another kid whose aunt was raising her after her mother's death was pressurizing her to go into prostitution. While she wanted to go to school and learn, she wasn't allowed to; and moved back into the flesh trade.

Of course, cash isn't the issue- but perhaps in Sona Gachi the abilty to understand that life outside of the familiar if hellish street life is something desirable may be limited. Years ago as a summer intern in my second year of MBA I lived in Bombay for 2 months at the YMCA on Lamington Road near the Opera House. Although it is nothing to compare with Sona Gachi, it is a semi-red light area. You turn the corner from a nice-looking street and come up on this crowded area with tired yellow buildings built at the turn of the last century. Many evanglists came to preach at the YMCA, and several good friends who were committed followers of Christ lived there, but everyone (including me) turned our faces away from the griding poverty and the nightly circus that went on on the sidewalks, the women pacing up and down amongst the crowds, shifty-eyed, druken men moving in and out of their tenements. One day in the early hours of dawn we were woken by angry shouts from the streets below. We were on the 5th floor of the building. I looked down and a number of prostitutes were fighiting, presumably over money, screaming at each other, mouthing profanities, pulling each others' hair.

The HBO movie shows us a similar scene inside the brothel (a squalid, dark place which most of us would never see). It is remarkable how these women, all in the same tragic plight, would accuse each other of being filthy and immoral. The film shows us the faces of the listening kids, their expressions showing numbness and distress at the same time. Sometimes a picture like that takes you back to Lamington Road in an instant, shocking you without warning.

Margaret Mead once said, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." The more I live the more I see the truth of this. As I read the book Mountains Beyond Mountains on Dr. Paul Farmer, and understand how the battle over high drug prices in poverty-stricken Lima, Port-au-Prince and Russian prisons were fought, by a committed minority, and won decisively, and I see the pain and heartbreak that accompanies such commitment, the more I realize that a bunch of people promising huge amounts of money in aid through Government programs may not truly realize the insignificance of their actions. You can spend a fortune on the Third World and see the cash disappearing down a black hole without making the slightest difference to anyone's life- unless you know that at the other end are committed people with the ability to connect with people.

This movie was made on a shoestring budget. The kids went to school based on the creative energy unleashed by the filmmaker's commitment in teaching the kids the skills they knew. Who can deny that their lives were changes by the commitment of a few?

Postscript:

I had ended my post with te above paragraph, but I need to end with a nod to the music. Composer John McDowell weaves both Indian melodies, some from Bollywood and others from India's religious tradition, into the movie. The result is outstanding. One of the hooks, Gopala, doesn't leave my mind. As an aside I can appreciate why they chose this song. Gopala is a devotional to Krsna, his childhood as a precocious happy little charmer has captured Indian's imagination and affection for centuries.

You can see a vide of a live performance of this song here:



Wednesday, April 14, 2010

"Christ-Bearing" Scenarios in Hinduism- Part 2 of 5 (Sudama)

This is the first part of the 3 stories from Hinduism and second post in the 5-part series. This is about Sudama, a Brahmin who is a reincarnation of the immortal sage Narada in Hindu mythology.

Sudama looked up from his bed at his wife and three kids sprawled out on the dirt floor in exhaustion and hunger. Their lean bodies expanding and contracting with labored breaths in their stupor. He looked up at the heavens and wondered why he, a poor devout Brahmin suffered this way when he had given himself to a life of pure devotion. He thought of his childhood with Krsna who was revealed to him as an incarnation of Vishnu the object of his worship, the supreme deity that he lived each day to meditate on. Krsna had moved beyond the squalor and simplicity of the Yadavs, the cowherds he was raised with, and taken his place as a royal ruler at Dwarka in the splendor of a magnificent palace, devoted subjects and riding on the crest of breathtaking military victories against the forces of evil.

Sudama's wife looked up at him and asked him what he was thinking. "About Krsna, my dear. Didn't you hear of his siege of the Kuru kingdom?"

"Yes, I did." said Susheela, tucking the loose end of her tattered saree into its hip. "I was wondering if you could request him to help us."

Sudama was silent. Susheela looked into his face. She knew what he was thinking. "You don't have to, you know."

Tears came into his eyes as he looked at Susheela. They had no clothes except the ones they wore. The food was meagre, the alms they received from people they prayed for. There was little left and if they did not get some soon they will surely die. All this in the middle of a devastating drought in Mathura.

"I will go, my dear." Sudama stood up, his mind made up. Surely if anyone would help, it had to be Krsna. After all he had lived out his days worshipping him.

As Sudama prepared to go on his journey by foot, Susheela tore a part of her saree's end and packed together some crisp rice, mingled with the dust of their house, wrapping it in the worn cloth as a gift for Sudama's friend.

For days he walked through the forests that ranged between the cities of Mathura in Northern India to the Western city of Dwarka. As he approached the citadel, he looked up to see the goldem dome of its palace glittering in the noonday sun. But Sudama's mind was filled with awe on meeting his friend.

He approached the palace doors and the two Yadav guards glanced enquiringly at his appearance. He explained that he was Krsna's friend. The guards looked shocked, but deciding in their minds that this was a Brahmin in whom there is no falsehood, they decided to check with Krsna himself.

As Krsna heard that Sudama was at the door, he came to meet him himself, embracing his long lost friend.

Days passed as Sudama listened in rapt attention to Krsna's telling of his exploits, the lessons he had imparted to Arjun at the battle of Kurukshetra, the moral quandaries he had faced, defined and solved in war, justice, judgment and relationships.

In Krsna's company Sudama forgot his poverty and was filled with joy. As he prepared to return the thought of requesting a gift was far from his mind. Perhaps it was the unalloyed joy of being in Krsna's presence. Perhaps it was that a tiny voice at the back of his head kept telling him not to ask anything while the friendship was still pure and unworldly. Sudama simply did not ask for anything. As Krsna rode out to meet another evil enemy in battle, he packed up his belongings and bade farewell to Rukmini, Krsna's wife, and left for home.

As he walked back, Sudama thinks about his friendship and his heart is filled with gratitude. He finally reached the forested area where he made his home and suddely realizes what he had failed to do. Weeks had passed. Apprehensive as to whether Susheela and the kids were still alive, he turned the corner of the acacia tree that marked the beginning of the clearance which was his frontyard. He looked up and what he saw took his breath away- a magnificent palance in the place of his lowly thatched hut! Susheela had seen him coming up and ran out to meet him, dressed in a fine saree. Sudama realized that his unspoken needs were met in the worship of his Lord. He vowed to continue in his austerity as he felt that it was desirable and good to be away from the transient pleasures of life and to be utterly devoted to God.

"Christ-Bearing" Scenarios in Hinduism- Part 1 of 5

I'm putting together three beloved stories from Hindu mythology to illustrate the idea that Christianity is either the "fulfilment" or the "crisis" of Hinduism. The three stories are based on 3 personalities- (1)Sudama, (2)Harischandra and (3)Arjun. This is in 5 parts, this current post counting for an intro, then the three stories and finally their elucidation in the context of Christianity. Please bear with me as this will be a long term (1-2 months) project as I put the material together. Also do not be surprised if there are other posts in between.

My goal is to present Christ as the end of our desires. He is clearly the fulfilment of the Law and the Prophets in the hitory and tradition of the Hebrews. But if the Law needed to be fulfilled and thereby superceded, then the traditions of the non-Hebrew world could be understood to face a crisis of fulfilment at the end of their questions. This is the way I'm hoping to posit the Christian Gospel. So here goes.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Where's the Love, Arundhati?

In the wake of the Maoists' killing of 75 Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) personnel in India, so many thoughts come to mind. What makes the difference between the shrill desperate voices of rebels and the powerful redemptive works of people like Paul Farmer and organizations like the International Justice Mission?

Writer Arundhati Roy said last year that the Maoists were justified in their violence because the government has been unjust to them. Ms. Roy, no stranger to controversy, has been consistent in placing the blame squarely on the government (and by implication the relatively better off society that supports it) for several ills- capitalism, free trade, military purchases and upgrades (notably on nuclear weapons), large private or government projects that displace thousands of people from their own lands without adequately compensating them, the Kashmir issue and the social and economic inequality in India.

A few weeks ago she published an article in the Guardian about her interview with the Maoists, the first time a journalist received an invitation to talk to them.

A fair reading of Ms. Roy's articles convinces us of the pain she feels in coming to acquaintance with the tragic history of these peoples and the injustice they have been victims of. A writer by profession and "activist" on the behalf of oppressed people by calling, she gets this information and does what she does best- write articles about it. These articles are clearly sympathetic to the oppressed people, and the people they kill are frequently the "emerging superpower" (full of hubris), policemen who are trained to kill in cold blood, fight like a guerilla, use high tech weapons and training from Israel and other countries against the poor.

I wonder, has Ms. Roy ever thought about talking to some of these police men and women, their spouses, their parents, their kids? Some of these are ex-Maoists who help the police in tracking down violent criminals, trying to redeem some of their terrible past. Who are these people who are engaged in a war with the Maoists? Are they simply paid vassals of big government, corporations, landowners, et al- in short, glorified thugs who are only to eager to draw blood? If they were not around, would those of us who are not Maoists exist at all? For it seems to me that the Maoist vision of India- as so many such revolutionaries of the past have envisioned in places like Cambodia, Vietnam, North Korea and other places- that their vision of India is not so much cooperation but a reversal of dominance and power.

Ms. Roy often says that Maoist violence is triggered by events so horrifying that one cannot help but take arms against- case of rape, humiliation, murder, forced eviction and so on. I have worked with people in the slums and others who minister to them in large citites like New Delhi and Chennai. These people are largely peacable, going about their work but thankful for the opportunity to learn from the social workers I was with. We worked with the kids, giving them basic education, sometimes material benefits, support with getting jobs or setting up businesses, medical care and very often emotional and moral support. One of my most abiding memories is that of a little girl who had lost her mother to heart disease, refusing to come out of her tiny hut. When another kid let her know that we were there, she came out hugged one of our woman team members and cried for several minutes. Their trust and pain have changed me as a person. I see that the only answer to their pain is our love and commitment.

Back to my earlier question: what makes an organization like IJM or World serve go quietly about freeing bonded labourers in Tamil Nadu or sexual slaves in the Phillipines? Is it the rush of power that comes from leading them out of the unjust system? Or could it be the promise of a new world order in which every one could be equal?

Dr. Paul Farmer described his remarkable efforts in Haiti as the "Long Defeat"- a series of soul-wrenching battles which often seem destined to be lost. But hope, in his case rooted in his Christian conviction, gives us rumours of other glories and keeps us fighting.

One has to ask as the old Bud Light commercial used to ask- Where is the love, Arundhati? I thought once that you had the love. When you were heriocally and peacefully opposing the dam construction at Narmada. Besides your protest, I wonder what those long years achieved in getting the erstwhile residents of those lands to settle in communities that would have benefiited them. What have you gained for them that our society lost in the process of the dam construction? Yes, I know that the Narmada Bachao Andolan has materially helped them. Have you truly rallied the Indian people to be giving, to be generous and organize to help these people? No, you have simply raised a call to fight the good fight. Isn't it far easier to carry a placard and shout your platitudes from the rooftops than to actually sacrificially give of yourself to help people?

The Maoists can fight until the cows come home and achieve nothing in the process. The Phrase 'cooperation not competition' has been around in social networks for some time now- meaning that small communities organized together, doing things that build societies and economies will win the day. Those who simply want to fight the good fight will end up the way they have been ending up for centuries, whether they win or lose- create other inequalities which yet others will rise up to fight.