Sonal Shah - A case of political naivete

Let's be clear:  Sonal Shah is not a Hindu Fundamentalist.  She is, however, politically naive and was unable to grasp what any association with the VHP, BJP and RSS would mean for her and her commendable social work.  This is either because she is out of touch with ground realities in India, or felt she didn't need to make serious efforts to distance herself from what she may have perceived as just exaggerated leftist smear campaigns.  But while Leftists are more alarmist, ridiculous and unconvincing with their rhetoric (fascist, Hitler, etc), the underlying assertions, of her troubling affiliations and collaborations, are valid.  And with her recent appointment to Obama's transition team, the issue has inevitably come to the spotlight.   

The only comments, thus far, from the Shah family have been Anand Shah's recent statements condemning the Gujarat riots.  Who doesn't?  But what about condemning VHP and specifically CM Narendra Modi for his documented role in the massacres?  Why does he choose not to condemn the Sangh?  Most probably, because he feels Indicorps' work would be compromised as a result.  Most of their social projects are based in Gujarat.  They need to be on Modi's good side and, also, when your father does (or did) have leadership roles within these organizations, you want to respect your elders.  But sometimes a clear stand is necessary, and one must break away from those you love.  Obama did it with reverend Jeremiah Wright.  He was forgiven the moment he dissociated himself.  The same would have been true, and is still true, if both Anand and Sonal dissociate themselves from their parents and their own former collaborations and activities with the Sangh.    

But that would take guts, and would politicize an organization focused on "Service for the Soul".  But Sonal Shah's and Indicorps current stand is not neutral.  What is best at this moment, if she wants to salvage her reputation and that of her work, is to admit she made a mistake.  That she wasn't careful, that she believes firmly in the secular founding principles of the country and not an India dominated by those who wish to impose a Hindu state.  These very curt and brief statements would go a long way in allowing her to make the many meaningful contributions she is, and will continue to make, in her ascending and bright future.  

We need Sonal Shah.  I am saddened by those who want to bring her down, hurt her work, and are calling for her resignation.  Her work, commitment, vision and dedication to public service are laudable and all efforts should be made to work and dialogue with her, instead of destroying her.  Take it from someone who has had many, many brilliant dialogues with the woman (see old posts on this blog).  Her openness, ideas and life, are  exemplary.  I firmly stand behind her, wish her the best in her new role as advisor and ask now - for the practical concern of moving on from this controversy now and forever - that she make her apology and make clear her dissociation from the Sangh.  Saying you have no links, when your father has had a leadership role with the Sangh, when you were a former national coordinator yourself for the VHP-A, when Narendra Modi has been a guest in your house, when you have received an award from the man himself, all come off as unconvincing.  I realize her dilemma in this.  Sonal does not want to jeopardize her relationship with Gujarat, but she can't have it both ways.  A clear stance is necessary and I look forward to some official statement in the forthcoming days.  

America!

It's here in New Delhi, of all places, that for the first time in my adult life, I am proud to be an American.  So much has gone wrong in these past eight years and, though its hard to say, its probably why I write this from abroad, in a state of self imposed exile.  But now I feel different.  I want to go back to what feels like, my people.  Being of Indian descent and growing up in New York City has always left me feeling cold to America, the mainland as I like to call it, with its weird and strange ways.  The beer pong, the football, the strip malls and driving.  I was done with it.  I never wanted to see it again.  

I tried to come to terms with it, back in 2000, when I worked on a presidential campaign, public interest and grassroots campaigns that took me throughout 40 states.  Many long nights riding in my car, listening to Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska, eating beef jerky, drinking black coffee and chewing bubble gum, looking for America.  Through the purple mountain mesa tops in Utah, the star filled mountain nights in Colorado, the Ozarks, Oklahoma City, Birmingham, Louisville, I realized how beautiful being American can be.  But I still felt out of place.  Though people came from all over to join us and fight against the numerous injustices in our society, I still felt a distant sense of alienation.  As if I was on Mars.  

But today, in New Delhi, an elderly gentleman, got out his guitar during our victory party and sang "The times they are changin" and then "we shall over come" and I saw all those who had been there in the 50s and 60s, who lived through assassination after assassination, and riots and maddness, see the day they never dreamed was possible and in India!  Who knows what they were doing here, perhaps they were beatniks, or hippies, or in this day and age, software developers or social entrepreneurs.  But we were all together, in India, with everyone, singing and knowing a new day had arrived for the country we all loved at one time, in some way.  And now we're back, and it's a healthy and humble patriotism, one that acknowledges the tremendous responsibility and humility that comes with power.  For I agree with Obama, we are not great for our arms and wealth alone, it is our ideals, of democracy, and liberty and opportunity that truly make us shine and will make us shine on for years to come.  

We shall re-invent, we shall always change, we will always right our wrongs eventually, because we constantly surge towards a more perfect union.  There are miles to go before we sleep, but being awake has never felt better and never more sweeter.  I look forward to dealing with the likely perils of the future with courage and dignity.  Thank you Obama.  Thank you for taking the  tougher road instead of the easy, comfortable path of privilege and showing us what we can be in this great country of ours, America.  

I have decided from this day on, I will no longer be a hyphenated American.  In no disrespect to my motherland, or ancestry, but today I have become whole, I go from Indian-American to just American.  Not from the republic of New York, or New Yorker, today I embrace all of me through this great nation of ours, as imperfect and treacherous as it can be, I know it will consistently strive to perfect itself, if not in my lifetime, in the generations to come, we will get there, I know.  This is Gabo Arora, American, sending you his love from the motherland.        

Shoot The Piano Player - Truffaut

I have seen many Truffaut films, and always felt him to be less intellectually potent though more heart-felt in his film making than his contemporaries in the New Wave.  It was Godard that transcended the frontiers of the mind, body and soul through the power of his ideas.  But Truffaut acquiesced to emotions, more so than others.  Its as if he had less to prove and thus allowed for the camera to reveal his troubled childhood and prolonged adolescence through wayward images.  

Thats what 400 blows was about and every film after with Antoine Danoiel, his very on screen alter-ego.  But Shoot The Piano Player is something else entirely, again though, with an emotional feeling that is rare within the  hyper-logique and dialogue heavy tendencies of the French.  What turns out , on paper, to be a spoof on american gangster movies, in the end is more a reflection on love and losing your way in the world.

"I can't be in two places at once" is what the lead says to his brother, when asked why it is he is in a beat-up bar playing popular diddies for the masses when he is more deserving of the pomp and celebre his previous concerts received.  The expression and the dignity he leads his life is more important.  He may be down and out, but he plays the piano as the world moves around him meaninglessly, lost and searching he has found himself, with the piano, wherever he may be.  And that comes through.  In the end, after more tragedy, he is back at the piano, whenever things take a difficult turn, the piano, but eventually the piano is to him what the rock was for sisyphus :  a reminder of his own absurdity.   

The french are not as warm as the Italians, nor as cold as the Germans, but more innovative than both when it comes to culture.  But Truffuat does the unlikely, he is able to for fleeting moments, combine a warmth with his heady mindfulness.  

There is something to the kinetic energy of the film, a quickness, that doesn't give way to superficiality.  I don't know how he does it, but the film lingers, you are able to revel in the aesthetic while being moved by the content.  

Why?  After-all its just a film about love and love lost, and succeeding and failing in the world, but then again, isn't that what everything is really about?  But its how you play your tragedy and the humanity you allow in during the inevitable demise.  And your character, this film has that character.

The entire new wave started out as critics for Les Cahiers and what always astounds me is that they made films that are beyond criticism.  I can't imagine anyone saying anything bad about shoot the piano player.  

I have taken up photography or rather stealing my loved ones pictures...some photos from some travels through the motherland. Don't you wish you were here? Wish you were here. I was thinking about India, I am always thinking about India. It was during a re-reading of thucydides, the part where T, says extreme situations bring out the extreme in people, when in the the athens - sparta war people take to sleeping in sacred temples and killing each other for food. The lesson being that our goodness is only a result of our circumstances. But India is an exception to this rule (as it is to many, many rules). It is a cruel place, with many hardships but somehow the people shine, shine on.

My love to you from here. I am starting to miss you.

Gabo

My B Sides - for my groupies.

So below are all the postings that did not eventually make as official
blog posts over the past 2 years.

Purposely unedited, with spelling mistakes, poor thought formation,
but to cleanse and show to my loyal following the roughness and energy
of some of the work. I am at heart a beatnik and the raw comes more
often from a deeper honesty that the editing can often kill.

But you have to know the rules to break them as kerouac said. well I
don't know if I know them, but by breaking them, I am that much closer
to knowing.

Enjoy it, or ignore it, but its for you and only you.

All my love to you.

Gabo

PS - a big shout out to my loyal following in Romania.

ideas for short stories

Writing. if I treat this process as mechanical and put my time in I
will see the difference. I rush and do things too fast. Thats my
problem. i need to dedicate more time and not get emotionally upset
when things don't work my way. Things move only with hard work and
dedication done without attachment. Remember that. Just write then
give it a day and look over it and then you will see a big difference.
You can write those short stories....

How about on women. Cliche but women are universal. If I could
capture the many facets of women.

1. being a beautiful woman as a man

2. Monica Lucia, 35 year old fading beauty trying so hard to hold on
to life as it slips by

3. Renu bhabi , the beautiful widow frozen in time.

4. Isabel, the woman who loved too much

5. Raping a Nun.

Top ten - HA HA

Here, just to play to my cheesy american side, I will make a list a la
letterman of my top ten concerns for humanity (I am aware that such a
framework is stupid but I want to entertain you, which I also realize
is dangerous, given you may be contented by the amusement value of
this exercise which would mask the capacity necessary to feel the true
discontent necessary to make change, in your life and in others)

- China. From their fish, to their global adventures in pursuit of
natural resources, to their dangerous quality of goods, and to their
eventual inevitable aggression. Before we pack our kids off to fight
them, wake up!

- middle east blah blah. Important but lets not get caught in a
hyponotic trance by the poetry of 9-11 and the jihad. China, asia
even is a far more important part of the world to come to terms with.

- The FARM bill. obesity, ethanol, high fructose corn syrup,
immigration, third world poverty all come colliding in big time in
this.

- PHARM- med Complex, an 80 billion dollar a year industry.
America's make of 2 percent of the world yet consume 50 percent of
prescriptions. This is one of America's biggest exports. 10-20
percent of this usage is probably justified and a needed palliative,
but the problem is in the over-prescription and efficacy of medical
research.

-. ok, global warming, but its more than just recycling. Stop
driving! Stop the Agricultural industrial complex. With its
pesticide run offs, antibiotic, hormone pumped meat and dairy. Not to
mention the cruelty to animals. Kill them but don't torture them.

- The internet. I know, the irony of it, but really, a better
assessment is needed to understand this medium. Currently it is
unquestioned good. We need to come to grips with its seductions and
powers. Google, GSM, facebook, there is a concern about privacy and
also a possibility that one day we will live in one big pod. American
high school reading rates also dropping, we need to do a conscious
assessment of what the digital age provides and what it takes.

There are more, but this is what is on my mind.

So what are you gonna do about it? I am uncomfortable with the
"professionalization" of activism and campaigns to save the world.
Its important but the first step has to be personal, individual, you
have to feel the gains in your life, from understanding this
knowledge.

Into the Wild - random ideas inspired by one of the most important American films to come out in a long time

Into the Wild

Sean Penn's new film is profound on many levels.

Historically being based in 1991 after the fall of communism and the
end of history, no coincidence.

Pre SSRIs and all the mental health maddness. in this day and age
someone like him would be convinced that they were nuts or think they
were nuts and drug themselves up. Back then these did not exist.

Plays on the tradition of Thorueu, interesting to note that the Wild
was not hostile to him back then though we have gotten so faraway from
nature that it attacks and kiils us. In all of T's writing there is
not an element of a fear of surivival. American man at that time had
sufficient contact with nature in order to surivive. Penn's character
is saved by a bus, a piece of modernity in the jungle.

The idea of solitude in nature is a strange one. Striking that Penn's
character did not want to be around people. Can't take the American
out of the boy, individualism, alienation, go at it alone mentality.

The need to cut himself off from his family. It was what he
questioned least. It gave him the greatest sense of freedom. The
family, especially post 50s American family has been the greatest
source of destruction on children, with what they feed, the schools
they send you to, the stuff they buy you, the TV they make you watch.
you can be free unless you have no feelings for them. That radicalism
is needed nowadays, that no mercy, non sentimental way of living.

He is very clearly not a hippie in the limited sense of that word. he
does not want free love, does not want drugs, does not even want sex.
he doesn't care about any of those things. He is beyond that, not
interested, what he wants is a divine connection with the wild. Why?
What does it give him?

The modern world with all its trappings is absurd and frustrating,
especially for a 22 year old searching for the truth. That was where
I ws for a time. And i am still on that journey in many ways.

New York - so far so close

Big Apple Fashions was a huge success. Its fitting irony that my
father sold dresses to black women. That they adored him and he
secretly them. Like all Indians, my father was a bit of a racist. In
that Archie Bunker, loving way. New York egged on his prejudices.
The city is surprisingly tolerant to expressing verbal bigotry,
probably explaining why we all get along so well. Because we express
just how we feel about jews, the chinese, gays, blacks. If you over
hear any real new york crowd of kids on a school yard, faggot and
don't jew me out are a accepted part of endearing yourself to someone.
Political correctness was invented by upper west side liberals who
went to columbia and NYU. The rest of us used language to express our
endless frustrations.

My father was also an anti-semite. Jew this and jew that. He got a
c+ in graduate school in a course taught by a jew. It was his only
non A grade, and he became convinced it was because of the jew. In
the the class there were also my father's other indian friends.
According to him they got c+'s as well. I heard that story millions
of times. I got strange chills reading Mein Kahph years later with
Hitler expressing similar dismay over a C he recieved by a jew that
turned him off painting. Jews should be careful with grades they
give. man.

But my father loved Israeli jews, and the orthodox. He called them
real jews. Most of his interaction was at the falafel place on Jewel
aveneue, a hassidic enclave. Back then, there were not many options
for vegetarians when they wanted to eat out. My parents would eat
pizza or go for falafel. overtime these falafel joints became hindu
haunts. It was filled with yamacas, those hairy curls, turbans,
salwar kammezes, it was astounding how well we got along. I still
remember the warmth and friendliness of many of those people. They
would come sit next to my father and talk of india. Many had gone
there after their military service. India held a special place in
their heart for them.

I dream of Brando

In the Rajastani desert, this past summer, I had a communion with
Brando's spirit. He made me realize who i was: an actor and a
teacher. I couldn't believe that we got together but there he was,
standing by a window, over looking paris, asking me who I thought I
was. He did it with a sense of strenght, no nonsense directness, with
love and kindness.

I remembered this watching "The Ugly American" the other night, a
hallow film, made brighter and candid by Brando in the leading role.
He overpowers it with each move, perfectly doing what he always does:
be himself yet still convince you somehow of the role he plays. Its
as if brando is everything, takes on so many characters but what you
see, and what attracts you to him is his authencity. You know deep
down, he is always brando, and he winks and nods to you underneath
there but it doesn't take away from the character. He tells you to be
anything you want to be, as long as you know who you are and have a
strong foundation on that. Everything else is just play.

Live by the Drug, Die by the Drug

Live by the Drug, Die by the Drug

This modern world puts you between a rock and a hard place. It makes
you choose between your first born or your left arm. The calculus and
choices it imposes through its framework and rules is horrific. It
just wants you take the first step into the maze, and then its got
you. Take a drug, it makes you feel better, though now that you have
accepted this game, you have to work your way around the haphazard
science and the side effects. Try new ones, old ones don't work
anymore, keep uneasy, unstable, completely preoccupied with the state
of your health and mind.

Health, its the way to de-stabalize any resistance. How you gonna
fight george bush if you are sick? If we are not internally well, all
big changes are lost. Thats why they attack it, sickness is the basis
of domination in America. Their business is to make you sick and then
make you better. Providing solutions to the problems they created and
keep this cycle going. This is what is called economic growth and
progress folks. Wake up.

Always the lesser evil is justified in a world of such intense
suffering. Nothing is seen as being sacred, true, pure, the right
way. A good friend takes welbutrin to quit smoking, my expressing my
horror at such a choice is met with my not caring about how lung
cancer will end his life. My sister wants bariactric surgery, she is
obese and her diabetes is getting to her. Decisions decisions. I am
told I am an extremist and unrealistic. The day people stop saying
that about me, I know I will be doing something wrong. This world can
only be met with extremism and to be a realist is to be insane and
completely unhappy.

I met a great young woman, though a woman is a woman is a woman. Even
if they are activist revolutionaries. She doesn't believe in the
pursuit of happiness. And is not sure if anyone is happy. I felt so
sorry for her though she wanted to feel sorry for me. Its sickness
when we like feeling sorry for people. Patronizing, christian,
charitable, mind sickness.

If only you understood what its like to be alive, out in the wild.
But you are too scared to travel. To comfortable with your pain.

But these lame people, there only aim is to instill doubt in yourself.
Some doubt is healthy, but don't confuse doubt with fear.

I understand Neitzhe's frustration with people. We institutionalize
and justify weakness. We coddle people's problems, we take ourselves
way to seriously and fret when we have everything.

even if you got what you wanted, you would still be unhappy. Don't
you see that it has little to do with that? Our mind falls into
patterns and churns away good and bad.

Telling stories to myself

My friend, in explaining his justification for taking psycho-tropic pharmaceticuel medication for his mental disorder, told me a story.  About synapses and seratonin.  He is a bright guy, full of intellectual rigor and I realized quite suddenly that his decision to take this drug was because the story that was told to him about his brain made sense to him.  In fact, without that story he would not have taken it.  There had to be a story.  Now whether or not that story was complete, true, or false, is hard to assess.  Most of medicine for years and years has not been based on these stories but authority.  But the empowered consumers we are now, makes experts create elaborate stories about our brains.  And it works.  

Likewise, nations create myths, build histories bending the truth and in some cases lying outright (Israel) - but who cares, it works.  

Stories are powerful, especially the ones we tell ourselves.  

We all have them.  They either haunt us or give us a sense of worth.  But to what extent do they have to be true?  Fake stories also have their utilitarian function.  

As a child, my father used to call me a genius.  He used to say I could do whatever I wanted, that I was the smartest boy he knew.  Imagine the effect this has on a 5 year old.  I immediately felt a sense of responsibility, of having to always be the best, and prove my father right.  I often wonder how I would be if I wasn't given this encouragement as a child.  

In retrospect, I am no brighter than the average bright kid.  But my father with this story, he captured my imagination, and made me work to make it true.  

What stories do you tell yourself?  If we just break down all the narratives we have flowing endlessly in our minds, it would tell a lot about us.  I am not saying there isn't any objective reality out there, a truth, a certain way, but there are blurry lines, that can be crossed, smudged over that can make the difference, make the reality, reality.  

Positive affirmations work on this assumption.  As does Creative Visualization by Shakti Gawain.  These techniques work, I don't know how, but they work.  

The mind is such a powerful thing.  Its sad that most of us subject it to television and allow other people to fill it with nonsense and worse, so many people drink it away.  Maybe they are afraid of their powers.  Of what's possible.  For with power comes responsibility.  

Dear reader (you know I love to refer to you as such), I miss you, wherever you are.  I send an electronic rose for your troubles and sorrows.

((((((()))))))

But cheer up and take in the day.

I am here in Delhi awaiting the change of seasons.  What a marvelous place to be, even as bombs go off around me.  

I know I have not written in quite sometime.  It happens.  But I owe to much to this blog to abandon it.  Whenever I meet new people and they discover this archive, I feel as if they have had the privilege of entering and playing with my soul.  If they care, at least there is a written testament to what I believe in, what moves me, and the beauty of words.  

I met a girl in Lebanon who said my style reminded her of Henry Miller.  

Another girl wanted to fuck me immediately, while reading Blake.  

This all plays so well with my narcissism.

INDICORPS - A Wounded Brand

By far, besides my loyal following, most of the traffic I have received on my blog is due to the Indicorps controversy.  To this day I still get letters asking my opinion, people who had the same doubts I did about the organization, about whether Indicorps is connected with the Hindu right wing.  

All I can say is that whether it is true or not matters less and less as these rumors and doubts continue.  After awhile, it is about what people perceive you to be, there has to be a serious effort to protect your brand.  

I wrote Indicorps and had an extensive dialogue to work hard to clear these myths.  At this point I suggest they either change their name, post a statement on their blog, or higher a PR firm to enhance their reputation.  I don't think it is possible to keep ignoring this issue. 

But why the lingering doubts?  It is not just cyber surfing, I receive emails from people who WORK with them and have a great time but then feel uncomfortable hearing things from respected leaders of other NGOs on the ground.  

There is no problem with any of Indicorps work, it is their supposed affiliations and their at times questionable neutrality.  

To give you a feel of the controversy and to sum simply the problem I am posting my standard reply to a whole host of queries.   

Dear X,

It is murky territory.  They do great work, are extremely professional, but are people who do not want to take a stance or rock the boat.  Personally they are secular and liberal in outlook, but they refuse to criticize and at times for practical reasons will work with and collaborate with known abusers of human rights (Narendra Modi).

They interpret non-political as apolitical, meaning they focus only on their projects and will work with any government to get that work done and also to ensure that they can continue to do the work.  

My biggest gripe was their acceptance of an award from Narendra Modi AFTER the gujarat riots and Sonal Shah's name on the VHP america website as "national coordinator", which is still there by the way

http://www.vhp-america.org/dynamic/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=13

It is up to you.  Your volunteers will have no problem with them, that I can ensure you.  It is about the level of your principles.  

I really like their work and told them to make some clear statements of separation but they felt this would endanger their presence in India.  

That is the story.  How activist do you want your service organization to be?  Its a tough question.  But I suggest you engage them with any thoughts you have as they are very open about this issue.  Sometimes we need to make compromises and you need to decide if this is one of those times.  

with best,

Gabo 

Civilization and its contents

Bologna, Italy - June 23, 2008

And just like that I'm back in Italy where I belong.  In the beautiful scenery, riding my bicycle through narrow lanes filled with history and tradition.    My soul re-awakens as if emerging from falsehood with greater clarity and over-all happiness in just being.  Not anxious, not trying to force anything, just taking in the surroundings deeply.  When surrounded by immense beauty one can doing nothing and do so much just taking it all in. There isn't the same senseless American need to consume and move; running around like a chicken with its head cut-off. 

In America vitality comes from culture and creativity thus the energy, at times misused.  In italy you're given a head start, everything is combined with the depth of the past; within the active ruins of a once great civilization.  Every morning you wake up knowing through feeling that something great happened here.     

Maybe its greatness lies not in being being ancient but with something much simpler:

"The factor which renders Greece's mountains, villages, and soil buoyant and immaterial is the light.  In Italy the light is soft and feminine, in Ionia extremely gentle and full of oriental yearning, in Egypt think and voluptuous.  In Greece the light in entirely spiritual.  Able to see clearly in this light, man succeeded in imposing order over chaos, in establishing 'cosmos' - and cosmos means harmony." - Kazantzakis 

I wonder who I am at times.  Of what elements I am made of.  New York City and New Delhi though deeply influenced by the African American experience and Latin America and Italy.  

Italy the only place outside my two homes where I have felt at home.  It somehow combines elements of both.  Rational and passionate amidst chaos.  

Why do I forget about Colombia?  I am after all "Gabo".  I went searching for Macondo once and found it just like I imagined.  With the most handsomest drowned man.  But now I've left it behind, happiness there.  My leaving was proof I don't want the easy life.  That I come from great civilization(s) and prefer action to paradise.  Colombia was astoundingly new.  Completely refreshing and liberating to experience a society with no sexual hang-ups.  Passion, dancing, music, all sensually, effortless.  No girl sleeps with a man who does not dance.  

As I am both from Western and Eastern civilization, with both now controlling sexuality to a high degree or at the very least making an issue out of it, I felt respite from those worlds.  For the first time.  I was able to leave the spectrum, the pendulum, completely see things in a new way.  

The East and West define themselves in terms of each other but Latin America is off doing its own thing.  

  

Speaking of the greatness of civilization, a little "Report to Greco"

"Civilization begins at the moment sport begins"

"As long as life struggles for preservation - to protect itself from its enemies, maintain itself upon the surface of the Earth - civilization cannot be born.  It is born the moment that life satisfies its primary needs and begins to enjoy a little leisure."

"How is this leisure to be used, how apportioned among various social classes, how increased and refined to the utmost?  According to how each race and epoch solves these problems, the worth and substance of its civilization can be judged." - kazantzakis 

This ties in well with Betrand Russell's "In praise of idleness" but let us leave us something till next time, shall we?  And of course I will share more on my experiences in Delhi.  Letters from Delhi.  Peace and Love. 

Greenwich Village is Dead

I swear this area was much more than just a nice place to shop.  There was vibrancy to the ideas and ways of being.  It permeated the air and filled it with possibility.  

Now it's only about the restaurants, cute cafes, in short:  all about consumerism.

I wish I was being too harsh, but no.  Many people would agree, but mostly those who were here before, who remember the vibrancy, the eclectic mix.  The Village was a place you went for Bohemia, to rebel and start a personal revolution.  It wasn't all expensive.  Somebody knew somebody, who knew somebody with a rent-controlled apartment on St. Marks Place.  There were so many artists, so many people claiming disability; rejects and casualties of the 60s.  

But its okay.  I will still eat here and shop.  But I do feel terribly sad doing it.  At least NYU is still around, though its been invaded by vapid Californians.  Oh and there is the Film Forum, and the occasional beatnik who wishes to carry on the Village tradition, without touching his trust fund.

Oh and those book sellers in front of Bobst library.  Who thought me more than school.  Whose two dollar books fed my soul.

Pretty soon it will all be gone.  Either by bomb or Wal-mart.  

  

Dylan Goes Electric

If you get caught up in socializing, being the clown and performer, you lose track of who you are.  Only working to clear your thoughts and beliefs in solitude can give you the strength to face up to who you are.  Most people never realize this, they live years without hearing that inner voice, trusting in themselves.  They give up, drink and smoke it away.    

Class clowns suffer at our expense.  They become popular but really don't spiritually progress because people egg on their hurts for laughter and acceptance.  

"People stopped listening to the music", the Beatles answer to the question of why they stopped touring.  They were not getting better.  They turned into a spectacle.  To get good again they needed to introspect, to go into the studio, to not tour and have fans. They needed to get back to the essence and purity of who they were and what they did.  And the music soared out.  

The same phenomenon with Pink Floyd and the Wall.  The crowd, after a while, made them worse, brought out the worse in them.  You start being devoured by the same people who you wanted to love you.  Like Patrick Suskand's "Perfume", you smell so good people eat you, rip you to pieces.  The more beautiful the peacock the more susceptible a prey.

People fear being alone.  They lose faith in the power of solitude.  But without speaking we really hear.  Without thinking we understand.  Without touch, feel.  It all comes back to us.  

Nature, let it kill us, let it heal us, it is perfect. 

Happiness, the quest for happiness will kill us.  That was so 1990s, to find meaning and fulfillment in what one does.  Now, everyone shut up and get to work.  So you spent your 20s, the best years of your life working for a dream that never came.  Boo-hoo.  Well, now its too late, because you got no hair and your erections are a bit less full.  Do you have enough testosterone in you to do something about it?  How about drinking yourself to death?  Do some coke, or something, fuck some bitches, you will feel a bit better about yourself.  

Your problem is that you seek happiness from the outside.  Or you thought you would become happy following the rules.  You were wrong.  While you scorned the adventurers, called them lazy, irresponsible, you diligently went on with your dull life.  You didn't realize you were playing a lottery, how many people get sick, break down, or if they win even, they've lost that fire.   

Just follow your heart, be not afraid of anything.  There isn't much time anyway so stop trying to make others happy.  

I want to write clearly and well so that my words may be read by the future.  I am part of that tradition of mystics and troublemakers who through charisma and intelligence am able to bring more magic and joy into the world.  

Parents, keep your children away from me.  Like Socrates I will corrupt them though I won't be as easily persecuted as he was, nor will I accept martyrdom.  

To what do I owe my clarity?  First and foremost to never succumbing to feelings of being rushed.  Then to fasting, not just with food but to everything I may develop an attachment towards.  We cannot be a slave to our senses.  

If we allow ourselves to be still and empty we realize that there is something inside us that warms and guides us, an energy within, constantly replenishing and healing, giving vitality and joy.  This world tries desperately to snuff this out.  It is that fire, that force, that can change the world.  If only we harness it, are not afraid of it and let it shine shine shine, on.  

So beautiful, I never want to lose sight of this truth that springs forth.

Tell all the people that you see, follow me, follow me down.  

a greenwich village original

After an evening in NYU's library, writing and studying, I went for a beer at the Belgian beer bar, a place I frequented during my Village days.  It hasn't changed though everything else has.  I felt out of place in the library, I don't recall during my time there as an undergrad seeing that many people there.  What is more striking is that everyone now has laptops and cellphones with them, something we never had.  I wondered if the students are better off with these gadgets.  Are they brighter, more loved, more equipped to take on the world than my generation?

I doubt it.  And then I wondered what a waste all that plastic and metal is if its not making smarter, better people out of it.  Its just an add on, a tool, but the essence of brilliance comes from somewhere else.  

It reminded me of my religious studies professor, back when I was 18 and fresh, who felt the same way about Microsoft word.  People expected the word processor to produce greater quantities of brilliance when all it did was produce greater mediocrity, the great novels came out at the same rate as before.  The same is true with the digital camera revolution, or blogs even.  There is a democratization of the media and higher access but quality is the same.  Fundamentally these tools don't help us become brilliant, they just make life easier for already brilliant people to be brilliant.  

Why is that?  What is it that makes for great students, great art?

I still believe its books, specifically literature.  

I sat there with my fancy 8 dollar beer and pondered what I am sure most people alone drinking ponder:  is this all there is?  There has to be something more, my mind said.  There has to be some meaning, some structure to all this jumbled madness.  Does it only have meaning if my mind makes it so?  What is the independent nature of the world without my mind looking, interpreting, making sense of it all?    

I get those moments where I feel like I am waiting to die.  As if my entire life is one big preparation for death, when everything will be clear, or perhaps it will be too late.  I do everything I can in my life to not die with any regret.  There is nothing I want to leave undone, no desire left unexpressed.  

I finished my beer, unable to even flirt with the bartender.  I walked over to Joe's pizza and asked for a slice of pizza and then went to my version of sunday church, the movies at film forum.  And like always I came out happier, elated, marveling at the exquisite detail of a great film from 1971, "Sunday Bloody Sunday".  It meandered just enough and took risks without falling apart because it moved with such confidence.  I don't know if movies can be made in similar spirit now.  Everyone wants you to quickly get to the point.  But there was a time when the narrative held, and waited while the story took turns for aesthetic pleasure, or to go deeper into some sub-conscious yearning.  

I like the film forum, its a salvation of sorts, but I will say the people who go there are all the NYU film student types with their panama hats, big plastic glasses, tight jeans.  Fucking homosexuals.  

On the way back I picked up a copy of the village voice and was appalled at how bad its gotten.  What the fuck is going on?  Did someone die there?  Too many commas, too much nonsense, a complete waste of time.  Or maybe I am getting old, I don't know, thankfully the Times is still alive and with it and makes me smile from time to time, especially because I know they have developed a love affair with Queens.  You can just tell.  

if you haven't read it already check out the article on Flushing:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/02/arts/02expl.html

ex=1210392000&en=9fd2f7f9db1ba508&ei=5070&emc=eta1

We will always have Queens.  Not Paris, Queens, the times they are a changin and I am glad I am livin in it with you somewhere there reading this sweet heart.  WE will always have Queens and that seven train.  Fuck the village, the future is Jackson Heights.  

SAIS Commencement Speech 2008 by Gabo Arora

So finally this day is upon us, where in a
matter of minutes, we will have a degree from
Johns Hopkins' School of Advanced International
Studies, one of the world's leading schools of
international relations.

In the wise words of Bob Dylan: HOW DOES IT
FEEL? To be out on your own? With no direction
home? A complete unknown? Like a rolling
stone? But don't worry, as we hurdle into the
unknown; be comforted by the fact that before us
there have been others.

We are joining a proud more than 60 year
tradition of graduates who went on to be experts
in a wide variety of fields, ranging from the
foreign service to the private sector,
Multilateral organizations to social
entrepreneurship. The diversity of our
pursuits, if the rich history of this school is
any gauge, will be startling.

Besides where we are headed, these two years
have also given us knowledge, experience and
friendships that will last. I am trying to
remember what life was like before SAIS; do you
remember?

There is an extraordinary difference in
perspective that SAIS provides. Before SAIS I
didn't even know there was such a thing as
Realism, I just thought Henry Kissinger was a
bad guy. Now I realize he' s not so bad, he's
just a realist.

Oh Realism, the ultimate aphrodisiac.

And it's not just the curriculum and super star
professors that have been enlightening. It's
been us, the students, each one of you, with
your own stories and experiences and passions.
The accomplishments of this class are
noteworthy.

It seems that no matter what part of the world
you think of, any issue, anything, there is a
SAIS student you can find passionately involved
in making his or her own unique contribution.

Whether its someone writing an op-ed piece for
the Wall Street journal, providing insightful
and humane analysis after their experience
monitoring Pakistani elections or the person who
manages the innovative NGO he founded in Panama
which works to improve the environmental impact
of Foreign Direct Investment on the rural poor,

We have amongst ourselves both the answers and
the questions that we will need as we go forward
into the world. Lets not forget each other
along the long and winding road ahead of us and
more importantly not forget why we came to SAIS
to begin with.

Do you remember why you came?

For me that there was a school where my burning
questions about the world could be acknowledged
and addressed felt like nothing short of
salvation.

Having spent two years working in human rights
in Colombia, South America, I had become jaded
and confused. Despite all diplomatic efforts,
people continued to be killed; the situation
went from bad to worse.

There were so many forces at work in the
conflict - economic, social, cultural,
historical, that I realized I needed more, to
understand more, to study more, to be better and
more effective and also to gain valuable
perspective from people who had worked in
similar situations.

And then I heard about SAIS and I felt that
inner feeling I can only name destiny, call me.

I knew it was a school for weird people. People
who wanted more than just the 9-5 and usual
comforts and trappings of a bourgeois life.
People who needed to believe in something, do
something meaningful and work for their ideals
and values.

We feel less alone at SAIS in each others'
company, knowing that we all are not like the
rest and that together we can forge a new
future.

But lets not forget how we got here to begin
with and all the support we have received from
our loved ones. Our weirdness is probably most
difficult for them, though they may not admit
it.

I remember when I told my mother about going to
Colombia, trying to explain to her I wasn't like
all the rest.

It's hard explaining that to an immigrant who
came to this country with very little. Who
worked hard to put her son through school only
to have him tell her that he is going to some
far off corner of the world to help other
people. An experience I am sure many of the
parents here can relate to.

I was surprised how well she took it at first
about my going to Colombia. She said it was
great, she even seemed happy. A couple of weeks
before leaving I asked her, wait, but mom, are
you sure, you' re not worried that I am going to
some of far off dangerous place? No no, why
would I be worried? She said. Harlem is not so
far and its a lot safer now, uptown Manhattan is
a great place to be, I am so happy, I always saw
you as the Ivy League type.

No mom, I said, Colombia as in the war torn
country, to which she then fainted. It was a
tough time for her I am sure, my being there.
As I am sure it will be tough for many of the
parents seated here, as their children move on
around the world, doing extraordinary work, but
providing great anguish to them as they worry
about their safety or just miss having them
close to home.

I want to thank the parents here for all your
support for our endeavors, and my mom,
especially, who when I told her I was coming
here to study at Johns Hopkins wanted to be
re-assured that Johns Hopkins wasn't also the
name of some other far off war torn country.
(Well, at least not yet) I guess what made her
suspicious again was the fact that instead of
going to Baltimore I was off to Bologna.

(The world is a strange beautiful place, isn't
it?)

There is something special, even magical about
what goes on here.

While we were on this SAIS journey it was easy
to lose sight of what we are part of, how
special and privileged our lives are. Now that
we near its end it's probably dawning on us:

While the rest of the world is engaged in
survival, trying to get through the day, we have
pondered and worked towards understanding the
world and how it works. We build up the
necessary skills to deal with some of the
world's most pressing problems. Global warming,
terrorism, poverty the scope and multi
disciplinary approach SAIS provides to these
topics is astounding. We use political theory,
economics, history, sociology and anthropology
freely and fluidly to make sense of it all.

We have come together from many different paths,
from all over the globe, to study together and
learn from each other.

Its an extraordinary achievement, a capstone to
our formal education and most certainly only the
beginning to a lifetime filled with learning,
questioning and endless conversation, all for
practical aims, to make policies and judgments
that will effect the lives of numerous people.

All to make the world a better place, right?
Isn't that what we all want?

But our caring and good intentions are not
enough. Dictators, totalitarian states, Islamic
Jihadists, all also want to make the world
better, too.

Who doesn't want to make the world a better
place? Everyone does but no one knows exactly
how. Most people lose interest because they
feel that their efforts will be in vain. That
anything they do will have no impact. Or they
become so involved in the daily struggle that
they lose track of what is best, what is good,
what is right – all to survive and make it
through the day.

Is it a luxury now in this world to care to make
the world better?

What does that even mean anymore, better? Your
better may be my worse and if I ask people
randomly "over your lifetime have things gotten
better or worse?" What a variety of stories you
will get depending who you talk to, an Indian, a
Ghanaian, A German, a Bosnian, an Iraqi, a rich
man, a poor woman, a holocaust survivor, or
Roberto Benigni who would say "La Vita E Bella".

They will say yes, no, maybe or perhaps both,
that it gets better and it gets worse. For how
can one distinguish between these stories to
know "A truth?" Is there "A truth?" If there
are many, who is right?

Before even thinking of what is right and wrong
perhaps it is better to first listen, observe,
understand. For to make the world a better
place first entails understanding all of our
stories, our values, judgments, interpretations,
the data, the facts. To make the world better
we first need to understand it.

When I reflect on what the SAIS experience is
about and have to come up with a simple
definition of what it does and what we have been
doing here it's "To understand how the world
works." I know that is a lofty goal and perhaps
impossible, but that is what we try to do here
and the effort, the process, is at times more
important than the outcomes.

Because rather than provide you with "A Truth"
as studying medicine or the law might teach you,
we are taught here to think for ourselves (and
more importantly to be skeptical), to know the
different perspectives, form an opinion and
defend it with gusto.

SAIS serves as the center where we debate and
discuss what "Truth" means to us. This
dialogue, this process, helps us understand the
world, which, when combined with our training in
economics and international relations, gives us
the tools to have better informed opinions and
ideas.

Its only at SAIS that a returned soldier from
Iraq can be seen discussing Trade theory late
into the night with someone who just spent
spring break digging latrines in rural
Guatemala. Where people have gone from
protesting the World Bank to working for it.

Where the prize for best-dressed couple at the
Halloween party is given to an Arab and a Jewish
student, each dressed up in each other's
respective ethnic garbs. The Arab dressed as a
Hasidic Jew, with those curls, and the Jewish
student dressed as Yasser Arafat, with a fake
rifle to boot.

As funny or perhaps blasphemous as that may have
been, I can't think of a more poignant metaphor
for what goes on here. We come together to try
on not only each others clothes but also our
ideas or ways of thinking, to laugh a little, to
test the boundaries of what we hold sacred, to
question the dogmas we have been brought up
with.

Because ideas matter, especially in this realm,
at a policy school in international affairs.
Allow me to paraphrase a quote from Keynes to
put into context the importance of what goes on
here:

"The ideas of economists and political
philosophers, both when they are right and when
they are wrong are more powerful than is
commonly understood. Indeed, the world is ruled
by little else. Practical men, who believe
themselves to be quite exempt from any
intellectual influence are usually just slaves
of some defunct philosopher."

So lets get it right, lets not lose the strength
to keep trying, lets continue the exercise of
experimentation and figure out what we believe
to be true, what others hold true and reflect on
it because much is at stake.

Because at the root of most battles is the
answer people give to the question: is the
world getting better or worse?

Is the world getting better or worse? What is
your answer? SAIS has been here for over 60
years helping young leaders figure it out and
thanks to the support of numerous people from
all over the globe, we will continue to be here,
to serve and make proud and be grateful for all
of our efforts in this process.

Grazie mille, Thank you all very much and
congratulations to us, class of 2008.

.

--

--

I Dream of Queens

I can't describe it but I get a deep sensation of calm in the neighborhoods of Queens.  The rumblings of the 7 train down Roosevelt Avenue interrupts the habitual thought processes of my mind.  If I happen to be in a conversation I pause to take in the meaning of it all.  I exhale, listen, wait, as the train rides by.  Its but one of the numerous pleasures of Queens living.  That one can walk in the midst of immigrants, hardworking people with no pretensions is a huge relief from the hipster life of manhattan.  

Queens is what manhattan once was.  Home to neighborhood new york, filled with bustling vibrancy and the humility and joy of having little but having the city to fill your heart.  If you don't like or know Queens than you don't understand New York and probably never wanted to live here.  You prefer to live in a gigantic mall which is what Manhattan has become.  New York City has always been a city for immigrants and its vibrancy has come from their neighborhoods mixed with the bohemia it attracted.  El barrio, Lower east side, Harlem, all over-flowing with Jane Jacobian social capital.  Where everybody knew your name.

Even my mother's building in Queens is a constant door bell ringing children playing, recipe trading, tea drinking madhouse.  Filled with colombians, afghanis, pakistanis and the Koreans.  There is no peace, or better, there is peace in no peace.  

Now there are only contrived experiences.  Cute cafes and restaurants where you can meet your yuppie friends for sunday brunch.  There is little that is cutting edge in manhattan and even Brooklyn is now played out.  Queens and the Bronx are the final frontier for all those gentrifiers.

May they never win.  

I feel bad for them in their bubble experiences, alienation, high priced entertainment.  They move in from their horrific suburban lives to live essentially the same way in the midst of what they think is culture.  There is no creativity in their endeavors, if anything, they become refined consumers and define their sophistication by what they take in not what they provide.  They are those couples who live off netflix and are busy planning and organizing more than doing and being.  They have masters degrees, where plastic glasses and are busy talking about great restaurants.  They have succeeded in killing all excitement and spirit by pursuing success.  They have never lived a day in their lives with any risk.  

But I am not worried about New York.  It will be back, as it has constantly gone through its ups and downs.  It will always be some sort of cosmic force.  

In the meanwhile we have Queens.  Go to jackson heights, even long island city, parts of it, like "Local Project", filled with latin artists, korean drag queens and people who still believe , everyday, that the Dream is alive.  

See you on the 7 train.  

AMERICAN GIRL - NUMB

I was with a an American Girl the other night.  She was from LA with money, pretty and relatively intelligent.  Despite all this there was a constant look of unsatisfaction in her eyes.  She needed bigger better faster more to keep her attention from wandering.  She spoke of her ideal man, good looking, full of mystery and many layers.  I told her it seemed she was describing India rather than a man.  

She wanted it all because her wealth and her experiences have accustomed her to the very best, to the extremes of sensations and experiences.  Why hold men to any less standard?  They are like amusement parks, or television shows or drug experiences, they are no longer people.  They are pleasure driven action packed movies.  As sweet as cotton candy and as soft as cashmere sweaters.  They are better than their therapists and much more life like then their vibrators.  

The one factor common to most of these girls is the necessity they have in their lives to be shocked.  Their extreme numbness, a result of the deadening of senses by over-stimulation, leaves them unable to access subtlety.  The only way they feel alive is when something big, vulgar and shocking knocks them out.  

That is why food is big.  Everything big, to finally feel.  Look around American society and you will see this one factor in everything.  Big, intense, extreme, all to make people feel, to shock them out of numbness.  

Look at their films.  Look at the cars.  Look at the what people proclaim to like.  Nietzhe said look to what people worship to better understand them.  

It is a sad state of affairs, American Girl.  You were wild and free once, full of wonder and innocence.  Look what they have done.  What have they done to you?  They ripped you and bit you and tore you to pieces.  Sold you and fenced you and stuffed you with chemicals.  But now, I am here to protect you and hold and destroy you to make you whole again.  We will start with your medicine cabinet and then your fridge.  We will make you feel again.  Take you to the river and wash away your sins.  Its not to late.  

Women!  We need each other to make the world go round.