Community Peace Rally for American Sikhs

San Joseans from all walks of life attended a community peace rally for Sikhs on August 9 at the Santa Clara County Government Center in downtown San Jose. It came in the wake of the death of six Sikhs in a Gurdwara (a place of learning and worship) in Wisconsin by a deranged supremacist. The hundreds of participating Sikhs were moved by the support and sympathy of Americans of all faiths and color. Although the occasion was somber, the evidence of common humanity lifted the spirits of local Sikhs and strengthened their faith in an inclusive America.

Leaders from Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist , Hindu and other religious and humanitarian organizations - NAACP, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Punjabi  - spoke at the rally. Posters reading “I Pledge Against Violence” and “When ONE American is hurt, we ALL hurt” underscored the message of the rally.

Speaker after speaker emphasized zero tolerance policy in America for hate, bigotry and prejudice. They bemoaned the culture of violence that seems to have gripped America. “Sikhs are peace-loving, law-abiding Americans,” said one speaker. “It is a terrible tragedy that a bigot chose to attack these gentle people in their place of worship. We must be united against such acts of violence anywhere. “

Another speaker, a lawyer and an activist, reminded the audience that the attack in Wisconsin was far from being an isolated incident.  “Just a few days ago, a gun freak opened fire in a theatre in Colorado, killing several movie goers. Columbine, Arizona, Virginia, the list goes on and on. Only a few psychopaths are breeding domestic terrorism. We have become hostages in our own country. Violent people are using the Second Amendment to kill. With violence so pervasive in the U.S. today, the idea that anyone has the right to bear arms has become outdated. As a nation, we must have the courage to amend the Second Amendment.” Otherwise, she said, bigots and supremacists will continue to target Americans who do not fit their narrow definition of who an American is.

Within hours of the Wisconsin shooting, domestic terrorists burned down a mosque in tornado-ravaged Joplin, MO. Fueled by hate and irrational fear and by irresponsible, conspiracy-theory-prone politicians, violence is rising dramatically throughout the United States. Collectively, Americans own 300 million guns, more than cars and more than there are adults in the country. Without effective gun control, as several speakers emphasized at the rally, violence of the type at the Sikh temple will become a daily occurrence in America.

Sikh children sang devotional songs and songs of peace at the rally. Sikh leaders spoke of resilience, love and unity, tempering their thoughts with practical ways to halt the cycle of violence in America, their beloved homeland.

U.S. Women's Soccer Team Will Win Gold in London Olympics

In the July 2011 FIFA Women's World Cup in Frankfurt, Germany, Japan beat the U.S. 3-1 on penalty-kick shootout. The match was drawn 1-1 after regulation, then 2-2 after overtime. To lose the world cup on a shootout was heartbreaking for the Americans but a glorious affirmation for the Japanese, especially since the land of the rising sun was still reeling from the disasters of the tsunami and Fukushima nuclear meltdown.

A year later, at the London Olympics, the U.S. women’s soccer team escaped with a near-miraculous 4-3 victory over Canada in Manchester. Judging from the way the two teams played, the Canadians had as much right to expect a victory as the Americans. For the duration of the regulation time, Abby Wambach, Alex Morgan, Megan Rapinoe and friends found themselves playing catch-up to their northern neighbors, led by the brilliant Christine Sinclair of Canada who scored a hat trick. U.S. players had to rally three times to tie the score.

Then came overtime and until the 122^nd minute, the score was tied at 3-3. In the 123^rd minute, Morgan converted a perfect cross from Heather O’Reilly with a midair header that found the sweet spot in the net. It is no exaggeration to say that it was a header heard round America, if not the world.

So a repeat of the world cup showdown from a year ago awaits soccer lovers. The U.S. will meet Japan in the gold-medal match on August 9 at London’s fabled Wembley stadium.

Here’s my prediction: United States will beat Japan. The thrilling victory over Canada has given the mental edge to Wambach and company who will be riding it to a hard-fought victory against their nemesis. Also significant will be the “avenger” role that will animate every U.S. player to help them redeem the haunting defeat at the world cup a year ago. (It is possible that LeBron James and friends may, just may, face the Russians for the gold in basketball in this Olympics, and avenge the infamous loss at the Munich Olympics 40 years ago). The force seems to be with the U.S. Women’s soccer team in the London Olympics.  There is no other way to explain the victory against the Canadians.

A Star is Born in Gabby Douglas

Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball at the age of 28 in 1947. It was a monumental milestone for a sport that had been segregated for over 50 years.

Sometimes we do not realize the progress we make as a society because we take things for granted. Can anyone imagine MLB without African-American players now? Yet 1947 isn’t that far back into the past, if you think about it. It is a year later than the initial age bracket of baby boomers.

There have been a few African-American women gymnasts here and there but until the magnificent Gabby Douglas came along, they were merely place holders, limited more by their mindset than by their talent. African-American girls were just not expected to excel in a sport dominated by fair-skinned Europeans, Russians, Asians, and yes, Americans.

The status quo has been turned upside down by a 16-year-old “flying squirrel” whose poise, grace and sheer ability earned her the crown jewel of the Olympics gymnastics program, the women’s all-around. Gabby is the little engine that could, the ballerina who refused not only to be shackled by history but soar above it.

And how she soared! A bird, a gazelle, a wunderkind with gravity-defying moves who left you gasping for superlatives. The favored Russians paled next to her. “What planet did this alien come from,” their stunned expression seemed to be saying when the four-routine program was over.

Gabby brought along a stirring and quintessentially American story to the London Olympics. It broke her tender heart when her parents divorced. She wasn’t sure she could overcome this emotional abyss. Then she moved from her home state of Virginia to Iowa to train with famed trainer Lian Chow when all attention was focused on Michigan’s Jordyn Wieber, the reigning all-around world champion. Although impressed with Gabby’s ability, even Chow didn’t think Gabby had what it took to reach the pinnacle of Olympics gymnastics.

But what tested Gabby the most was the whisperings of her own mind. No African-American had ever worn gymnastic’s crown jewel. Add to that the intimidating fact that a billion pairs of eyes would be watching.

If there were any doubts in the beginning, however, Gabby soon overcame them. When the barriers of the mind fell, only the sky, almost literally for this “flying squirrel,” was the limit. The result? A star was born, a dazzling and disarming star in whose light we were privileged to bask, from continent to continent.

Track and Field is yet to start. Undoubtedly there will be more athletes who will capture our imagination. Perhaps Usain Bolt will recover his brilliant Beijing form. Or maybe he will have to pass the torch to fellow Jamaican sprinter Yohan Blake. Famed Kenyan and Ethiopian runners are waiting for their moment in the sun. Michael Phelps has already become the most decorated Olympian ever.

But if a single athlete becomes the face of the London Olympics, it is Gabby Douglas. With her transcendent victory, she has opened the doors for girls for whom race will no longer be a barrier but a catalyst for success and glory, not just in the Olympics but in the wider arena of life.

Iconoclast Gore Vidal (1925-2012)

Gore Vidal was incapable of writing a dull sentence, hence his preeminence as an essayist. Whether or not you agreed with his views, and they were often radical, no one equaled him when it came to puncturing the pomposities of leaders, celebrities and mediocrities. He was a self-taught polymath who used his devastating wit to provoke, entertain and educate. In his books and essays, Vidal took on his country – the United States of America – with unrelenting attacks on its leaders for undermining the constitution and waging wars around the world. “I am so alarmed by what is happening with our global empire, and our wars against the rest of the world,” he said in an interview during George Bush’s regime, “it is to time to take political action.”

Although Vidal failed in his attempts at public offices in the two times that he ran - first in 1960, when he was the Democratic Congressional candidate for the 29th District in upstate New York, and again in 1982, when he campaigned in California for a seat in the Senate - his powerful pen skewered the shakers and makers of American foreign policy for decades. With his passing, Henry Kissinger is undoubtedly feeling relieved.

But Vidal did not spare the mainstream literary heavyweights either. He was the quintessential intellectual gadfly. Joyce Carol Oates, John Updike, Truman Capote, William F. Buckley, to name only a few, felt the sharp sting of his criticism. He considered their work pretentious and sophomoric. His fiery rejection of what he considered trite and transient was something he shared with Vladimir Nabokov.

Vidal was too negative and extreme for most peoples’ taste. Comedian Bob Hope used to make fun of his cotrariness in his skits. But Vidal’s pungent wit and biting one-liners made him a sought-after guest on TV and campuses around the country. No shades of gray for him; he knew exactly what he thought and felt and expressed himself memorably and forthrightly. “Style is knowing who you are,” he explained, “what you want to say, and not giving a damn.” He had a matching ego to go with his talent. “There is not one human problem that could not be solved,” he once said, “if people would simply do as I advise.”

When asked during an interview where the young Vidals, the young Mailers, the young Millers were in contemporary America, Vidal alluded to Eisenhower. “Eisenhower, in a rather great speech when he left office – he warned against the military-industrial complex which he said was taking over too much of this nation’s money and life. A part of it is that is never quoted – he said, in effect, that the universities and learning will be hurt the most because when place of learning and knowledge are dependent upon government bounty and subsidies for their very lives … we have a whole generation of teachers and they are not very good teachers. Some of them are very talented writers, but they’re quiet. They don’t want to rock the boat. They want to keep their jobs … They saw what happened if you got associated with radical movements … Now, they’re quiet as could be.”

Vidal was being unfair to many talented writers and teachers who took on (and continue to take on) the establishment (the late David Foster Wallace, to name only one) without fear but his larger point that we have become a politically partisan nation, indifferent to the essence of our constitution, is on the mark.

I did not read Vidal’s novels – somehow, I could not find them compelling reads - but his essays were something else. “Brilliant” is too small a word to describe them. Incisive, witty, universal, fresh, all delivered with incomparable verve, imagination and style. Just two of the thousands of quotable snippets that I recall off the top of my head now are “drones in their unchanging hives” and “presidents and paint manufacturers.”

Gore Vidal is gone but surely his essays will live on.

Will Michael Phelps Make Olympic History?

The short answer is, yes.

The long answer is, yes, he will surpass the 18-medal haul of Soviet gymnast Larisa Semyonovna Latynina (1956 Melbourne, 1960 Rome and 1964 Tokyo Olympics).

Phelps currently has 17 medals, including the silver he just won in the 400-m relay at the London Olympics. He still has 5 more races to swim. There is no question to that he will win at least 2 more medals to surpass Latynina’s medal count. Even if he cannot add to his 14 gold medals (8 of them at Beijing), it is unlikely that anyone will surpass his 14 golds in the near future.

But then, a prodigy or a phenom will undoubtedly arise somewhere, and what was once deemed insurmountable will fall by the wayside. Remember Bob Beamon's leap of 29 ft. 2.5 in. in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics in 1968? The record stood for 23 years, until 1991, when Mike Powell jumped 29 ft. 4-3/8 in. at the world championship in Tokyo. (But Beamon's jump is still the Olympic record).

After Phelps came in 4^th at the 400 individual medley in London, major newspapers in America and elsewhere printed hysterical headlines of disappointment and dethronement . But inevitably, skills fade, competition gets tougher, time takes its toll. That Phelps has been able to maintain his excellence spanning 3 Olympics - Athens (2004) to Beijing (2008) to London (2012) - is a testimony to his peerless gift. Longevity is a sure sign of greatness. Think Pele, Ali, Michael Jordan.

I just hope that Phelps will keep his word and retire after London. Most celebrities do not do well when the spotlight is no longer on them. The mind whispers: “Take just one more shot at glory. You can do it!” When athletes, whose best days are behind them, continue to act as if time stands still for them and they can bend their bodies to the dictates of their minds, the result is a sad spectacle, tragic even.

Phelps can nurture promising youngsters and prepare them for the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympics. That will cement his legacy as perhaps the greatest swimmer in history.

Opening Ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics

Zany and zesty. Cute and captivating. Silly and sublime. Whimsical and witty. Bonkers and brilliant.The opening ceremony of the 2012 London Summer Olympics was a mix of all these and more. Danny Boyle’s “Isles of Wonder” production was both English charm and Hollywood make-believe, the pastoral merging seamlessly with the digital.

After the spectacular 2008 Beijing Olympics, I wrote: “Imitation, Emerson said, is suicide. London will do well simply by being itself. If it can provide the color, food, music, and all the heartaches, improvisations and exhilarations of a messy democracy, and avoid going into debt, the 30th Olympiad should be a resounding success. The newly-built venues and stadiums must be converted into usable space - housing, office, hospital - within a month after the Olympics is over, with hopefully green technology leading the way. London must show the world that the host city doesn't have to be saddled with white elephants when the athletes and the visitors leave.”

Last night’s opening ceremony certainly gave viewers hope that Britain will come out better and stronger after the Olympics are over, even as the nation currently fights a brutal financial meltdown.

Some of the skits in the ceremony fell flat. I found “Mr. Bean” straining to be funny. It was like tickling someone to get a laugh. In contrast, I was blown away by Queen Elizabeth and Daniel “James Bond” Craig. For a moment I really thought the Queen had been practicing jumping off a helicopter, with 007 offering encouragement. To be able to infuse royalty with eccentric humor is a sign of self-assurance. The history lessons from the land of Shakespeare, Newton and J.K. Rowling were delivered with comedy in mind and so went down easily. And in this digital age, how can a Romeo secure the heart of his Juliet? By recovering Juliet’s lost iPhone, of course, and returning it to her. A kiss then is not just a kiss but a fusion of texting and longing.

The ceremony cost $42 million but by transforming an industrial wasteland in East London into a showcase for the best that England has to offer to the world, the money can be recouped many times over through jobs and housing once the athletic celebration of “faster, higher and stronger” is over. All in all, a "corker!"

Reducing Violence in Our Public Places

“Coming soon to a theater near you” has taken on a macabre meaning after the shooting in Aurora, Colo., that has left at least 12 people dead and 59 wounded.

24-year-old James Holmes is only the latest psychopath to spill blood in our public places. Remember Virginia Tech, Arizona, Pennsylvania’s Amish County, and scores of other sites that has made such violence routine? 13 years ago, on April 20, 1999, at the Columbine High School that is only 15 miles from the Century multiplex where Holmes unleashed his havoc, two students slaughtered 12 of their fellow students and a teacher before turning the guns on themselves. Columbine became synonymous with our out-of-control gun culture.

As a nation we had the right to claim that things change after Columbine, only that they haven’t. In fact, it is closer to the truth to say that we have regressed as far as gun control laws are concerned. One of the most feared lobbies in the United States today is the National Rifles Association. Their coercive power of fear is such that Congress has even refused to consider laws that would ban the sale of assault weapons capable of firing 100 bullets without reloading. That’s assault weapons, not your run-of-the-mill handguns!

The Second Amendment states that “A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” It is futile to expect that the Amendment will be “amended” anytime soon, not in the next 50 years anyway, but there is no question that the right to bear arms by someone does not preclude our right to be safe from that someone wielding his gun to settle scores.

Many of us nurse real or imagined grievances but we wouldn’t dream of acting on them by taking the law in our own hands, even considering the frightening fact that 45 percent of Americans own guns. Not so the psychopaths. Their inner demons lead them to murderous rampages on a society that they believe has let them down. And it is easy to do, because the hugely profitable gun shops throughout America make it disarmingly simple to arm them with killing machines. The system is as porous as it gets. Universal background check on gun buyers is a joke.

So how do we keep our schools, campuses, malls, theaters and other places of gathering safe, given that the right by deranged individuals to own guns is not going away anytime soon?

First, we must continue efforts by citizens like you and me to curb the power of the N.R.A. This is slow and painstaking work and it may take decades to bear fruit but we must trudge on.

Second, we need to raise our internal alert level by a notch, instead of expecting only the police and security personnel to keep us safe in public places. It is not a question of being paranoid; it is more a question of exercising common sense. If we see someone moving aggressively in a crowded area, for instance, clutching their coats or fatigues, we should raise an alarm. A little more watchfulness, a little more keenness in perception, just a little more sense of what is going on around us, can go a long way toward reducing the routine violence that is tearing our nation apart.

Turkey Crossing

I patiently wait in my car behind three other commuters on our way to work. It is a narrow 2-lane road. The stoplight is further down but we have stopped nonetheless, watching with wonder as a wild turkey guides its chicks to the other side. It takes its time with its brood of 4, supremely indifferent to us, but we don't mind, knowing that this will be the most meaningful experience of our day.

Wildlife officials introduced wild turkeys in the woodlands and hills of California’s Santa Clara County several years ago. The bird is not native to California but thanks to the farsightedness of park officials, these ‘modern’ turkeys have thrived. The region is rich in turkey food – acorns, nuts, berries, chestnut, clover, pine seeds and hickories. You come upon them unexpectedly, ranging freely in hills and cow pastures, the male puffing his feathers, spreading his tails and dragging his wings to win the love of a female. All you have to do is see a turkey in this mode to know exactly what ‘strutting’ means. Alas, a turkey doesn’t give his heart to a single hen but to as many as it can, twenty even, strutting (one supposes) with equal ardor for all. You can accuse a tom of polygamy but not of favoritism!

Turkeys nest on ground. Breeding occurs in March, eggs are laid in April and poults are hatched in May. Turkeys can fly up into trees to escape predators like mountain lions, bobcats, coyotes and even owls and eagles. Unfortunately these predators also abound in the hills and woodlands of Santa Clara County. I have seen carcasses of turkeys here and there several times on my way to and from work.
But such grim images are far from my mind this perfect summer morning as I follow the rather clumsy progress of this particular turkey crossing the street with his chicks. Even after the 5 of them safely reach the other side, there isn’t any open range to forage for food at this particular spot. Development has taken over what used to be pristine wilderness. New homes have usurped what belonged to the wild birds and animals not too long ago in the valley.

Still, seeing wild turkeys foraging in hills and by roadsides brings perspective to commuters rushing through life. Don’t hurry, they seem to be telling us. Pause and savor life while you can. Enjoy today. Don’t live only for tomorrow.

Doing the Right Thing in Syria

U.N. observers have confirmed the horrific massacre that took place in Mazraat al-Qubair, a farming village of about 160 people in central Hama province. Nearly 80 men, women and children were shot, hacked and burned to death by Assad’s bloodthirsty death squad known as ‘Shabiha.’ The observers could smell the stench of burned corpses and see body parts scattered about the village.

The massacre follows one in which 108 people were slain in the Syrian town of Houla on May 25. Reports have surfaced, particularly in Germany, that Syrian rebels were actually responsible for the Houla massacre but most sources close to the ground, including a UN Human Rights Council group, said evidence pointed towards militia loyal to Assad in the region.

Bashar Assad has been exploiting Kofi Annan’s peace plan to continue his genocidal suppression. In the 15 months of bloodshed, he has been instigating fear among the country’s 2.1 million Alawites – 12 per cent of the population – that they will be massacred by the Sunni majority – 75 per cent - if he were to fall.

As the moment of truth nears in Syria, the opposition has been at pains to assure the Alawites that they will not be targeted in a post-Assad Syria. “We are all in this together,” has become the opposition’s motto as they implore ordinary Alawites to defect.

For many pundits and policymakers in America, however, the situation in Syria can only be understood in the context of a geopolitical chess game.

Writing in the Washington Post, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger summarized his analysis of the Syrian situation this way: “Military intervention, humanitarian or strategic, has two prerequisites: First, a consensus on governance after the overthrow of the status quo is critical. If the objective is confined to deposing a specific ruler, a new civil war could follow in the resulting vacuum, as armed groups contest the succession, and outside countries choose different sides. Second, the political objective must be explicit and achievable in a domestically sustainable time period. I doubt that the Syrian issue meets these tests.”

In other words, let the killings continue because we are not sure who will inherit power and whether or not they will push America’s interests. A well-known columnist, writing in the Los Angeles Times, raises the same concern: “The situation in Syria is further complicated by the familiar question of who's the good guy. The bad guy is clearly Bashar Assad. But his opposition is a mixture of unattractive clerics and their followers, liberal reformers and left-wing radicals.”

The question of what is just and what is right do not figure in the equations of these analysts.

One consistent voice in the wilderness has been that of New York Times’ Nicholas Kristof who wrote in a recent column that “when a government devours its own people, as in Syria or Sudan, there are never easy solutions. That helps explain President Obama’s dithering … Yet the president is taking prudence to the point of paralysis … In Syria, we should make clear that unless the security forces depose Assad in the next 30 days, our Middle Eastern allies will arm the Syrian opposition. We should work with these allies, as well as with major powers like Russia and China, to encourage a coup, or a“retirement” for Assad … Stopping a government from killing its own is an uncertain business. But our existing policies in Syria and Sudan alike are failing to stop the bloodshed, and they also are putting us on the wrong side of history.”

Muslims are aware of the serious problems that can follow the fall of Assad. The path to openness and responsible governance after decades of tyranny and dictatorship is not achieved in weeks or months. Just look at Egypt and Libya. The peoples’ revolution is far from complete. It will take time for a new era to dawn. So it will be in Syria.

Besides, Western fear that intolerant religious zealots (always a minority but exaggerated by Western media) will find a way to turn the Arab Spring into a Winter of Despair is unfounded. Using a statistically sound sampling technique called “controlled snowball,” 186 opposition activists were asked about their preferences for a post-Assad Syrian government. 73% said it was important for the new Syrian government to protect the rights of Christians. While many respondents voiced support for religion in the public square, only a small fraction favored clerical influence in government. As to which country they would like to see Syria emulate after Assad, 82% chose Turkey. Perhaps the biggest surprise was that the U.S. earned 69% favorable rating as a political model, followed closely by France, Germany and Britain.

Bashar Assad may soon be forced to flee to Moscow as opposition forces overcome their differences and mount a united assault against the government. There will, of course, be chaos and turmoil. Some Syrians will be tempted to settle old scores. Sectarian conflict may raise its ugly head. UN observers may have to be deployed to ensure a peaceful transition so that one tyranny is not replaced by another.

But there is also reason to believe that Syrians will come out stronger through their trial-by-fire and forge a government of consensus, justice and accountability, with “malice toward none and charity for all.”

Ray Bradbury (1920-2012)

Scanning the latest double-issue of The New Yorker magazine yesterday, I saw a single-page piece by Ray Bradbury called “Take Me Home.” The Transit of Venus would begin soon, and I had just enough time to read it. I read it once, then re-read it, then read it a third time. The language was so lyrical and evocative and the word-images so vivid that I was transported to the porch of Bradbury’s grandparents’ boarding house in Waukegan, Illinois.

“I would go out to that lawn on summer nights and reach up to the red lights of Mars,” Bradbury wrote, “and say, ‘Take me home!’ I yearned to fly away and land there in the strange dusts that blew over dead-sea bottoms toward the ancient cities.”

Has anyone ever written anything so redolent about the red planet, or about the longing of a bookish boy wanting to hop on a balloon or a spaceship and soar away?

“While I remained earthbound, I would time-travel, listening to the grownups who on warm nights gathered outside the lawns and porches to talk and reminisce … it was the special time, the sad time, the time of beauty. It was the time of the fire balloons … I’d helped my grandpa carry the box in which lay, like a gossamer spirit, the paper tissue ghost of a fire balloon waiting to be breathed into, filled, and set adrift toward the midnight sky … Once the fire got going, the balloon whispered itself fat with the hot air rising inside …”

Surely you can see that fire-balloon! Not any fire-balloon but that specific balloon that the writer's grandpa had saved for him so that together they could set it “adrift toward the midnight sky.”

If the image is still vague, don’t give up. More stunning visual clarity is coming.

“But I could not let it go. It was so beautiful, with the light and shadows dancing inside. Only when Grandpa gave me a look, and a nod of his head, did I at last let the balloon drift free, up past the porch, illuminating the faces of my family. It floated up above the apple trees, over the beginning-to-sleep town, and across the night among the stars.”

Up, over, across. The words trace the flight of the balloon as lyrically as any poet or stylist ever could, carrying with it the enormous sadness of the boy who had just let it go.

“We stood watching it for at least ten minutes, until we could no longer see it. By then, tears were streaming down my face, and Grandpa, not looking at me, would at last clear his throat and shuffle his feet … Twenty five years later, I wrote ‘The Fire Balloons,’ a story in which a number of priests fly off to Mars looking for creatures of good will. It is my tribute to those summers when my grandfather was alive.”

After savoring the piece, I hurried off to see the Transit of Venus at a local observatory.

This morning I learned that Ray Bradbury has passed away at age 91.

I read only two of Bradbury’s work: “Fahrenheit 451” and “The Martian Chronicles.” What interested me even more than his work was his work ethic. Bradbury worked almost every day of his life (fans of Stephen King can identify), pounding out a thousand words a day on his typewriter. No computer or word processor for him. He was self-taught. The library was his refuge, his teacher. These days, people cite examples of tech icons like Bill Gates or Mark Zuckerberg to prove that you don’t have to go to school to make your mark. We forget that before tech titans, there have always been self-taught writers who made lasting contributions to literature and civilization. Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel Prize for literature without having ever seen the inside of a classroom while growing up.

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.”

Bradbury’s own words perfectly sums up what inspired and motivated him.

Go out tonight and look up. See that tangerine light overhead? That’s the planet Mars, with its “strange dusts that blow over dead-sea bottoms toward the ancient cities.” It is the celestial body that Bradbury made familiar to millions of us through literature.

Venus as a Beauty Spot

We gathered at the Montgomery Hill Observatory in the northern hills of the Evergreen Valley College (EVC) around 3 in the afternoon, all agog about the celestial drama unfolding in front of the sun. Venus was moving across the solar disk, something that would repeat 105 years from now, in 2117, making viewing it literally the chance of a lifetime.

Parents brought their infants (one of whom promptly let out a wail to the amusement of all), toddlers and teenagers. Several grandmothers in saris and flowing dresses lined up like kids to peer through the telescopes.

Inside the dome was the 7-inch refractor telescope that Dr. Celso Batalha, professor of astronomy at EVC, fitted with an H-alpha filter to let in only the red light (wavelength of about 656 nanometer) emitting from the sun. Outside the dome, he had also set up four 8-inch portable, parabolic Dobsonians with clear filters. He was wise to do so because the space around the dome was soon milling with eager and curious visitors.

My first view of the transit was through the refractor telescope. The dark, perfect circle of Venus making its shy entrance at the lower left edge of a crimson sun was wondrous, simply wondrous. I looked for as long as I could before the next person in line gently nudged me to remind that there were others waiting for a chance to glimpse the wondrous sight as well.

Last night I read a piece in the New York Times by a professor of astronomy named Jay M. Pasachoff who wrote that “people on Earth can see with their own eyes the beauty spot — as beautiful as Marilyn Monroe’s — bestowed by Venus on the Sun.”

The imagery seemed perfect as I was viewing the transit: Venus was indeed a beauty spot on the sun, and its changing location only enhanced the fierce beauty of the duo. I also reminded myself to look up a picture of Marilyn Monroe. The sun as MM? I bet no poet ever thought of that. Kudos to Dr. Pasachoff.

If there was a hush of awe inside the observatory, outside was noisy celebration. Kids and grandmothers gave running commentaries on the minute-by-minute progress of Venus’s journey from left to right as they squinted through the Dobsonians. Of course, the experience had to be preserved for posterity, and so everyone (and I mean everyone) brought out their iPhones, Androids and SLRs and tried to capture the celestial scene. It was no simple point-and click, though. Only at certain frustrating angles could the view be captured and that required endless trial-and-error.

A teenage girl grew impatient with her father who kept fiddling with his camera for the perfect shot. Finally she could stand it no longer. “He will be doing this until Venus has completed her journey in six hours,” she said to everyone around. “He will still not be done.”

The girl’s mother, also getting angry at her husband, corrected the daughter. “No, Casalco will still be looking for the perfect picture when Venus returns again in one hundred years.”

As laughter erupted, the otherwise-imperturbable Mr. Casalco sheepishly withdrew.

Through the Dobsonians, we viewed the bright-yellow sun and the backlit Venus in the clear California sky. There were clouds but they were near the horizon. I helped Dr. Celso adjust the eyepieces as excited kids kept moving them.

The atmosphere was festive and yet there was an undertone of sadness. This was it for us. No more view like this in our lifetime. I felt the chill of mortality.

Scientists have correctly predicted the transits of Venus that come in pairs of 8 years: 1761 and 1769, 1874 and 1882, 2004 and 2012. What will the earth be like in 2117 and 2125? Will we still be fighting wars? Will there still be 1-percenters and 99-percenters, tyrants who indulge in unimaginable luxury while the rest survive on crumbs? Or will our succeeding generations conclude that our ways were unimaginative and untenable, and after much sacrifice and soul-searching, design a peaceful world where everyone led a reasonably good life?

Who can say? The thought  that I came away with from the celestial drama was that we were a part of what we had witnessed, no more and no less, and that the fate of our earth was entwined with the fate of the big, beautiful star and the planet moving across it, not only in a scientific but also in a transcendental sense.

Henna as a Cultural Catalyst

Mehndi is the art of body painting with henna, a paste created by crushing fresh or dried henna leaves and mixing the powder with lemon juice. When applied to the skin, henna leaves a red-orange “body art” image that lasts for about one to three weeks.

The practice of henna has been a part of the culture of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East for hundreds of years. Botanists believe that the henna plant first originated in Persia, spread to Egypt and was carried to India several centuries ago, perhaps by the Mughals.

There are three distinct trends. African Mehndi art is bold and large and consists of geometrically patterned angles. Asian mehndi is characterized by fine lacy lines, with floral patterns covering hands, forearms and feet. Middle-Eastern mehndi uses elaborate floral designs on hands and feet. African mehndi is black while Asian and Middle Eastern mehndi is usually reddish brown.
Until recently, henna was used in the U.S. mostly as a hair dye but now it is becoming popular as a dye for the skin as well. Mehndi is nothing if not exotic patterns and intricate designs. Used in wedding ceremonies, engagements, rites of passage occasions, bridal showers and distinctive parties, mehndi is safe, painless and redolent of the mystery of the East.

An ethnic club of the Evergreen Valley College in San Jose recently held a “henna fundraiser” to promote cultural events to reflect the diversity of the campus. Professors and student flocked to see firsthand how this ancient art was practiced. After only a few minutes of observation, a long line of eager and curious “henna lovers” formed on the stage.

Spanish teacher Sara Jacome had brought her class to show what the art of mehndi was all about. “I want Hispanic students to learn about other cultures,” she said. “They need to know that there are many cultures in the world. They need to understand the similarities and the differences and gain an appreciation of the world’s diversity.”
Three experts painted henna designs on the palms, arms and feet of patrons. The cost varied from five dollars to twenty, depending on the complexity of the pattern. To show their commitment to culture, teachers patiently sat through the $20 design while most students settled for the $5 variety. The president of the college dropped by to lend his support, sponsoring several delighted students for henna tattoos.
A rainy day at the campus was lit up by bright henna colors and the glowing smiles of students and faculty. With the decent sum of money raised, club members are already preparing to stage some fabulous cultural shows at the college in a few weeks.
America is in no danger of becoming a cultural desert anytime soon.

May Day Reality

I missed my exit due to heavy traffic while returning from work today. After driving in a meandering loop, I finally got on the freeway, only to see a "work in progress" at the other exit that would take me home. A policeman stood guard to make sure no stray motorist was tempted to ignore the sign.

Not my day, I sighed.

It was a long detour and the expressway was dense with traffic. Road rage is not my thing but this departure from routine agitated me. It took all of about fifteen minutes for me to finally come to the intersection from which home was more or less a straight line. Relax, I told myself.

That’s when I saw her. I have rarely seen so emaciated a woman in America. She was standing at the corner, holding up a sign that read, “Hungry and homeless. Just trying to survive.” Sitting on the pavement was her dog, panting under a sun that was still burning brightly in the late afternoon.

Normally I don’t carry much cash with me. We are, after all, progressing toward a cashless society in which our phones will soon become our wallets as well. But I had some money with me, thank God, so I called out to her and handed over what I had. I noticed that she seemed not only hungry but also in some kind of a trance, as if she wasn’t aware of what was happening to her. The dog watched her intently as she walked toward my car, wary perhaps that she might slip and fall.

Afterwards, I thought about my missed exits. Few minutes of inconvenience had led to a shattering encounter. The image of this woman crystallized for me what was happening to my country.

Today being May day, people have been busy rekindling the “Occupy Wall Street” movement. The 99 percenters are holding protests in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, San Jose, Oakland and other major cities. Actually it is from coast to coast and continent to continent. Protesters have massed in front of banks and other financial institutions. They have also shut down ferries, bridges, harbors, ports.

The economic situation remains grim. Almost 13 million Americans are out of work. After showing some signs of life, the recovery has begun to sputter again. Away from the enclaves of wealth and abundance, the sense of gloom and doom is palpable. As Justice Louis Brandeis put it, “We may have democracy, or we may have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, but we can’t have both.”

The wealthy – the 1 percenters - apparently made a killing on Wall Street today. Their bank accounts have swelled by millions of dollars on May Day while hard-up worker-slaves are toiling to make $4-$10 dollars an hour doing meaningless and degrading “web-based” work, if they are lucky to find such jobs. Talk about irony!

Mortality rates have risen dramatically among the unemployed, as has the suicide rate. Unemployment rate now is a full 3% higher than the postwar average, and the percentage of working Americans has not been this low in 30 years.

Anton Chekhov wrote in one of his short stories: “The scoundrels are sleek and well-dressed, while honest men feed on crumbs.” But this is America, not Chekhov’s 19th-century Russia!

Tomorrow the Internet and the newspapers will be full of pictures of protesters laying siege to symbols of inequality and injustice in America. For me, though, the image of a lone woman holding up a heartbreaking sign of despair at a busy intersection in the heart of Silicon Valley summed up the immorality of what Wall Street and the banks have wrought with their greed, arrogance and outright thievery.

May the better people win.