Adventures in Parenting?

Are you a Mom/Dad who has had to come with creative ways to be a good parent, while holding your day job? Has the rising cost of living in the Seattle area forced your decision to go back to work and send your kid to a day care? Have you had to invite family from overseas to come and watch your kids while you needed to work? Did you hire a full time nanny who watched your kids 24/7 while you and your spouse needed to travel for work?

If you said yes to any of these questions, and if you live in the Western Washington area, pls email me ASAP at quantumjourno@gmail.com. I'm working on an exciting project and I'm looking for your stories.

Tks!

Is this Mango or Papaya?

This past weekend, I went to Whole Foods for my usual organic produce shopping. This Goth cashier greets me with a smile, picks up my mango and goes, "I can't tell, is this a Mango or a Papaya?" I told her what it was. With a smile. I've got a very superficial understanding of the Goth culture, but I wondered if they don't know what it was because they won't eat tropical fruit? You know, how the Vegans won't eat dairy or the way my kid won't eat anything savory after 8pm?

NPR-JUNOON-NUCLEAR ENERGY

Last week, I interviewed Salman Ahmed- Junoon frontman, at the Tasveer event. My story aired on KUOW-NPR on All Things Considered and Morning Edition. I talked about music, Sufism, nuclear energy and peace between India and Pakistan. Salman is just the right person to talk about all this with! If you'd like to hear the story, see link:

http://kuow.org/DefaultProgram.asp?ID=13608

Punjabi Withdrawal

I'm lucky to have people here in the US who are as close to my heart as my own sister is. But none of them are Punjabi! And so I'm suddenly realizing how much I've missed talking in Hindi, laughing with someone on his Punjabi twang, eating samose and jalebian, and feeling that comfort that you feel when you're around people who are from the same place that you're from in this world!

I blogged about it, I spammed everyone with the name "Singh" on Facebook, but 3 weeks later, how many Punjabis I've met? 2. All online. Ya, it doesn't look pretty at this point.

Two nights ago, I saw a whole bunch of Punju folks at the Tasveer opening night gala. Here I was standing with my Boston Brahmin friends, chatting away, and there they were! Tall, rosy cheeked, fun looking Punjabi folk and I just kept looking longingly at them... Imagining all the fun things they must do... Bhangra parties, card parties, lassi and saag, Rabbi Gill, that never-say-die Punjabi outlook on life... It got so bad, I told my friends that I'd probably go talk to anyone who wears a turban! I'm having to CONTROL MYSELF from going down that path!!! LOL! Some Punjabi withdrawal!

But seriously, how are you supposed to meet people in town? The cultural orgs are all full of uncles and aunties, and unless you work with them, or go out partying at bars and stuff, it's pretty hard to meet people! It's not easy for us, still young, parents of a child type people... Something to think about... Will keep you posted on how my search is going.

QuantumJourno goes to Governor's Mansion

Tonight I met the Washington State Governor Christine Gregoire at the Governor's mansion, Olympia. IAWW celebrated Gandhiji's 138th birth anniversary there and I was invited as an Indian-American journalist to be a part of the event.

The who's who of the Indian community and biggies from Microsoft were present. The organizers raised $40,000 for a community center for the Indian community and Microsoft and Boeing matched the funds raised.

Just looved the feeling of being a part of this empowered community. The Gov was soo gracious, so articulate in showing how much the Indian community meant to her... The mansion has lovely artwork and a serene feel to it. I really enjoyed being there.

Race Relations at 4!

Ok, so I'm very happy with my son's pre-school. It's really nice, good curriculum, attracts a diverse crowd and mostly the kids who come there, come from families like ours, so it's a great match. He just moved to a higher class and had, for the first time, 2 Indian kids in his class. So, y'day I was combing his hair and he goes, "XYZ and ABC are both the same. They're both Brown." I stopped. I go, "And what are you?" And he touches his cheek, feels it for a sec, and goes, "I'm White, Mom. See?" and he gave it a little snap. And I go, "And me?" And he looks hard at my face and then suddenly exclaims, "You're BROWN TOO, MOMMEEE!" And then, "You've got eyebrows, MOM"!

So, at this point, I'm curious, that if he's merely noticed that people look different or is he taking it a level further and deciding to play/not play with them because they look different... So, he goes, "We have all kinds of kids in class. Black, White, Brown... I play with everyone." I just heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God! My son is ok. He does not judge anyone for looking different than him!" And then what do I hear? "Umm, but Mommee, I don't play with the girls. No girls can come to my b'day party. Not even you, Mom."

My face just fell. What Joy! A 4 yr old expounding on gender relations! Does it get any better than that?

"The Rule of ME"

Today, my son decided on a flowery, linen dress he wanted me to wear. But it was pouring out and I told him that the day was too cold for that. He goes, "But Mommeee, I'm trying to help you decide." And I said, "Beta, when you help someone, you have to tell them what's the right thing for them, not what you want them to do!?!" And he looks at me, all angry, lips quivering, eyes all dark, and snaps right back, "Ya, but this is the rule of ME!!!" and crosses his arms and runs into his room! I was so taken aback at the sheer cuteness of it all. Why do kids grow up so soon?

Diya making competition

Diya Making Competition

It's official people! In honor of Diwali- India's grandest festival, I'm holding a Diya making competition and you're invited! Deadline is Oct 25.

In India, we all have grown up going to the local potters days before Diwali, taking our time choosing these tiny, smooth, Mocha brown earthen pots. Remember how the first thing upon bringing them home was soaking them in water, and then sitting down to make cotton wicks with our grandmothers? If I close my eyes, I can still feel the coarseness of that cotton- so different from the Walmart kind- in my hands... I called my grandma "Beeji" and Beeji was an expert wick maker. She would always keep some Ghee in my mother's used "Nivea" tins, and that's where her wicks would go. For every one wick that I made, Beeji would make like 4!

The first Diya was always lit at the family altar, and the pride of place at our home was always given to diyas over candles. So, to honor that tradition and to harness the Indian community's tremendous artistic talent, I'm asking for pictures of your Diyas this Diwali!

If you've never made them before, they can be easily made from "Sculpy" or a Mocha colored "PlayDoh" type material easily found at Michaels. Link:

"http://www.michaels.com/art/online/displayProductPage?productNum=kd0814&channelid=">

Once you've baked them, you can use a hot glue gun to decorate them with crystals, beads, yarn, feathers... there's no limit to your creativity. I'll feature the Top 3 Diyas on this blog!

This can also be a wonderful family activity, and if you want to get your non-Indian pals in the Diwali mood, a great thing to do, esp. sooo far away from India!

So, whether you're an artist or a crafter, like the retro look, or a Red-Gold color scheme, or want to make Black and White diyas, GO OUT AND MAKE DIYAS PEOPLE!!! Oh and remember to enjoy the process too, and not just the result!

A-Z of Punjabi folk

A Punjabi friend sent me this on the Punjabi folk today. I think the real test of a community's sense of self worth is it's ability to be able to laugh at oneself. One of the may reasons I love the Punjabis. This "alphabet" is mainly based on the Delhi area Punjabis who've made Butter Chicken India's national dish. Enjoy! :

ABC OF PUNJABIS

A is for Adjust. Punjabis will always ask you to adjust whenever they want to push you around.

B is for Backside, and it has nothing to do with your bum, it is an instruction to go to the rear of a building, or block, or shop or whatever.

C is for Cloney and its not a process for replicating sheep, nor is its first name George. It is merely an area where people live e.g. ... "Dfence Cloney".

E is for Expenditure. Punjabis are never shy of spending money – the latest cars, gadgets, marble floors: Their ambitions are always expanding.

F is for Fackade, and even though it sounds like a bad word it is actually just the front of a building (with backside being the back, of course).

G is for Gaddi, and the way a Punjabi can pilot his gaddi puts any F1 driver to shame. (If the Grand Prix does come to Delhi there's no way Hamilton, Alonso or Kimi can overtake Balvinder, Jasvinder or Sukhvinder.)

H is for Ho Jayega Ji, and the moment you hear that you have to be careful because you can be reasonably sure it's not going to happen.

I is for Intezaar, and to know more about it see Priyanka.

J is for Jindagi, and if there's one person who knows how to live life to the fullest it's a Punjabi.

K is for Khanna, Khurana, etc, the Punjabi equivalent of the Joneses (e.g."Keeping up with the Khannas")

L is for Lovely, but unfortunately she almost never is.

M is for Mrooti, the car that an entire generation of Punjabis were in love with.

N is for No Problem Ji. To find out how that works see H.

O is for Oye, which can be surprise (Oyye!), a greeting (Oyy!), anger (OYY!) or pain (Oy oy oy...).

P is for Panch Minit, and no matter how near (1 km) or far (100 km) a Punjabi is from you he always says he'll reach you in panch minit.

Q is for Queue, a word completely untranslateable into Punjabi.

R is for Riks, and a Punjabi is always prepared to take one, even if the odds are against him.

S is for Sweetie, Bunty, Pappu and Sonu, who seem to own half the cars in Delhi.

T is for the official bird of Punjab: Tandoori chicken.

U is for when you lose your sex appeal and become "Uncle-ji"

V is for VIP phone numbers @ Rs 15 lakh and counting.

W is for Whan, as in "Whan are you coming, ji?"

X is for the many X-rated words that flow freely in all Punjabi conversations.

Y is for "You nonsense", when anger replaces vocabulary in a shouting match.

Z is for Zigzag. (Please refer to G, M and P)

Am I Colored or White?

This past weekend, a photographer from the NYT visited us for a photoshoot. Stuart has been quite a nomad, and regaled us with tales from his many travels around the world. He's also been to India a few times and has loved it. We really took to him and before long, he was doing his Indian accent impressions and then his English accent impressions, all to a willingly captive audience.

He told us this hilarious story that once his college roommate shared with him. The roomie's dad had arrived from India in the racially charged 60s for higher studies in America. At the airport, he sees these signs on the restrooms: "Colored" and "White". The sweet, innocent man that he was, he went to this fellow in uniform standing close by and asked him, all wide eyed and all, "Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. Am I White or Colored?"

And the guy took one look, thumped him on his back and said, "You Sir, are colored. That's it." And that was that! Imagine getting so much education with so few words...

What's That, "Aragorn" oil?

Last night I was listening to Seattle Kitchen- Tom Douglas' weekly cooking show with Terry R of Rover's on the radio. Terry was waxing eloquent on "Argon" oil. After hearing the name like 5 times, my husband goes, "What oil is that" and I said, "Maybe Aragorn oil? Like they smushed poor Aragorn from Lord of the Rings and made oil out of him. Those French people will eat anything"! HAHAHA.

Beyonce Halle Berry Combo? Nah. I'm Indian.

My interaction with people from other races usually takes place in very politically correct avenues like NPR, where a lot of people from different parts of the world work. Or when I go do a story, I'm the interviewer and they're my subjects, so race doesn't play a part. So, when I watch movies like Training Day, where I get to see a very bare knuckled look at the African American community, I wonder what they're really like...

So, I decided to explore this phenomenon. "How does a BadBoy-HomeBoy behave when approached outside of politically correct environs by an Indian gal". I had no clue what it'd be like, and that's more of a reason why I gave it a shot.

Hot hot day, I'm doing a story on the record breaking Seattle heat for NPR. I've got my recording equipment ready, I'm walking along GreenLake, interviewing kids, women, teens... When all of a sudden, I see these two BadAss African-American guys chillin under a tree. Huge muscles, bandanas, sleeveless tshirts, tattoos... Total BadBoy look. But Badboys also get hot, right? So, I went to them, asking if I could interview them for the story.

OMG! The guys just lost it. They were soo shocked at seeing me! An Indian chick! OMG! I was probably the first Indian person they'd ever talked to. One of the guys stuttered, "Uh, Uh, so wha... Am I gonna be yon TV or sumthin' " and his pal goes, "No dude, she ain't got no camera. It's Radio bro". And BadAss #1 embarrassed, goes, "Uh, so wha d'yu wanna know, how I'm stayin cool tuhday?" Which is when he proceeded to tell me about his loong naps, and his cold cold beer keg...

All the time, he was talking to me, he just kept trying not to laugh. He blushed. A 30-something man blushed! All those dagger tattoos for nothing! I wonder why he blushed. I mean I'm 112 lbs, petite, conservatively dressed, very polite Indian person. Not some Beyonce-Halle Berry combo!

I t felt like it was a joke or something that he got caught having a social conversation with an Indian!

I've lived in the US long enough to know that Indians and African Americans don't mix much. We don't go marry into each other, we don't name our kids "Jermaine or Jalicia" but we do name them "Joey" or "Jessica". My question is why? What will it take for us to become friends? Is there anything going on which will bring us closer?

Chai Tea Latte anyone?

Ok, so Chai in Hindi, means "Tea". I don't think Starbucks did a lotta research in naming this wildly popular drink. The Indian folks always smirk when they hear someone White ordering a "Chai Tea Latte". It's literal translation, afterall, comes out to : Tea Tea Latte. You wanna say, "C'mon, do you want Tea or a Latte? Make up your mind!"

Poor White folks, it's really not their fault. Damn Corporate Marketing! or should I say "Damn PR agency"! I often notice such glaring mistakes around me and even hallowed avenues such as NPR, are not above goofing up and mispronouncing names of Indian, Pakistani, Bhutanese and other South Asian cities... Like NPR, the other day asked a question on it's Geography quiz : "What is Manas"? One of the answers was, "a Bhutanese city". But it is said like "Maa-n-a-s". But they said it like "MM-NAAS".

Anyway, coming back to the Chai. You're cannot consider yourself an India aficionado until you can make a mean cuppa Indian chai. Our tea is full of herbs and spices and is much more than just a drink. It can warm you up if you feel too down, or cool you down after a hard day's work, cure your sore throat, relax your voice, even make your minor stomach ailments go away. It all depends on what are you using to make your tea. Herbs like Mint and Tulsi or Fennel seeds, when boiled as the base of your tea, cool you, as does a concoction made by boiling radish leaves for about 5 minutes, letting it cool and then adding some grape juice to it for taste. This will cool down any workaholic, gogogo person and you'll notice a positive change in your mood very soon!

Now, to warm a lethargic, moody, emotional temperament: Boil 1-2 cinnamon sticks along with 1 clove of clove for about 7 mins in 2 cups of water. Add a crushed Green cardamom pod and boil for another minute. Let it rest for about 3 mins and then pour it on top of your tea bag. Sweeten with honey and you're off to tackle a harsh blizzard anywhere. And with way less calories than a cup of hot chocolate!

For a sore throat: Use ginger. Boil a knob for about 6 mins in 2 cups of water or more if you want a stronger taste. Add rock sugar, pour over tea bag, let it steep for 2 mins and chug.

My Finnish friend Saila made me a cup of tea two weeks ago that I still remember. She used such fine cinnamon, cardamom pods, and cloves that my o my, that tea was unreal. I also add some orange essence to my kettle to wake up on extra Grey Seattle days. Works every time!

Ah! Getting to America! (With a Ninja in a Saree!)

Do you remember what your very first day in America was like? All the excitement of finally being in the USofA, touching this nearly mythical land with your BATA shoes... I bet you remembered and recited somewhere at the back of your mind, all those strange sounding cities you read about or saw in Hollywood films... Bruce Springsteen and Memphis, Tom Hanks and Phila-delphia, NY of course, (Anurag Mathur's 'The Inscrutable Americans' does a hilarious job), Miramax from Topgun, Dallas from the TV series, Chicago from Oprah, Miami and it's night life, LA, and then Seattle, from Sleepless in Seattle...

I first came to Houston from Delhi 8 yrs ago, as a newly wed bride, accompanying an elderly relative from my husband's family. My hubby's family came to America 40 years ago and this lady had been here for 25 years. My gosh, you'd think all Indian grandmas living anywhere in the world would be the same: Fuzzy, warm, smelling of coriander and Jasmine, feeding you Mangoes all the time... Oh no! You're sorely mistaken! This lady, in her 70s, was a Ninja in a Saree!

She started bossing me around as soon we said our goodbyes to my family and moved inside the IG Delhi terminal. The first order was to snag a cart for her substantial luggage, full of smuggled Mango pickle; Task number 2, to make sure I had a wheelchair arranged for her ASAP, and task #3, was to push it full force ahead! Me, a petite 95 pound woman, pushing a hefty 250 lbs lady in a wheelchair! My, I was crying both, at leaving my family and then having to do this hard physical labor within minutes of that! What a sight I must've made... hip Jeans, my 45,000 Red bangles, and gallons of tears...

Anyway, we got on the plane, and true to her Punjabi temper, she'd get really mad and start gesturing wildly if the flight attendant waited a second longer to bring her a blanket, food, snacks, drinks... My oh my, what a show! I felt so surprised by this person, I mean, folks in my family are quite genteel (at least in public :) ) I could totally not relate to this supernova of an aunty!

Then hunting for something to eat at the Paris airport at 6am, speaking in my tutti-frutti French was truly something! Everybody was talking about smoking, even at that hour and everybody was having coffee with croissants... I wanted to have some too, but oh no, what did I see? My companion proceeded to get her saree stuck in the escalator! So, here I am on a growling stomach, cold, trying to untangle it before it came all off, while she's cussing the French in her best English for not getting a wheel chair soon enough, making HER WALK!!! OMG, I remember thinking what a radical Grandma I'd run into!

Houston didn't come a minute too soon I tell ya. As if the indignity of getting my thumb print taken wasn't enough, this lady refused all help from the staff and asked me to push her through one maze and another of what the giant Houston airport is. I had had enough by then and promised myself that this was the last thing I'd do for her that day. You know, how you're raised with these ideas of being "sweet, polite, accha-ji, never saying no to your elders?" I was soo like that! Lamb to the Slaughter!

The moment I saw my husband, I felt this overwhelming sense of relief. And what's the first thing I hear from his aunty who'd come to pick up this grandma? She took a look at my strapping 6 ft tall husband and my 5ft frame, smacked her lips and said, "Chhoti hai. Too thin, Priyanka". I was like, "Step Away from Me Lady! Lean Mean Machine. Ever heard of that?!"

Sept 11 Remembrance

My heartfelt condolences go to the victims of Sept 11. This writer has no words to explain the bottomless grief that this tragedy has caused. I'm praying for the families and for America to heal well from this monstrosity of a tragedy.