No, this is not a nomination process for dads to dare to put pictures with kids to declare their love. I will leave that to mothers. 🙂
Jokes apart, this is an wonderful rendition thru some simple pictures by an Ukrainian lady explaining the unique relationship most dads and daughters share.
Very simple pictures. Very powerful images.

http://atchuup.com/dad-and-daughter-relationships-art/

I am not a movie person at all. Far from it. I can count on my fingers how many movies I have seen in the last twenty years. And I am pretty sure, I do not need a second hand for that.

But I have duly noted that there is a lot of energy in Hollywood (and outside – including but not limited to – my Facebook friends) about lack of diversity or worse, discrimination against non-white actors, writers, producers etc in terms of getting nominated for the Oscars. The best I understood of it – in spite of a plethora of non-white talent in just about every category, apparently, this is the second time in succession, no non-white candidate had been nominated.

Seems unfair. Seems something we – white and non-white – should be rightly angry about.

I am no movie buff, but it seems to me that these kind of things should be taken out of the hands of a few people who may knowingly or unknowingly become biased or even worse, corrupt! To start with, should we not avoid letting just a couple of guys decide the nomination? Methinks we should have tens – hundreds – no make that thousands of people who can participate in the nomination.

But the problem is the we cannot let ordinary people decide true talent. That would be like American Idol style text messaging going on to select a winner. Only people who are credible authorities in their field should be allowed to nominate. You know if you are a writer, then you can nominate only writers. But only after you have screen credits from at least two movies. For actors – since I do not think acting is that difficult 🙂 – we should make it a minimum three movies.

And we should also disallow any “gaming” of the system. We should let everybody put in five choices (in order of preference) – so that we capture the whole gamut – but no repeats allowed to unduly bias the choice. In fact, points should be taken away if anybody repeats a choice.

We should further have somebody overseeing that no aggressive campaigning is going on. We will call such a person a “czar” – because I love words where the leading “c” is silent. We need somebody with the track record of disqualifying nominations if they break rules.

Finally, who is going to do the counting? Lawyers are out. Supreme Court is out. While we are at it, let’s take Florida out too. We will get back to them when they finish counting their chads. Meanwhile, why not give it to some private company whose business is counting? Maybe an accounting firm? I like PriceWaterHouseCoopersLiebrandt because it completely messes up Microsoft spellcheck.

I think with that we will have a well democratized, unbiased process that is based on peer recognition. I think it is as simple as that.

Well, with one small problem. I found out after doing my research that the above is EXACTLY what is done!!!

Now I am confused. I know I am angry. I do not like the results. But I am not sure what I am angry with that gives rise to that result.

Am I the kind of guy that is supposed to vote for Trump? 🙂

You perhaps have seen the picture from yesterday marking eighteen years of our togetherness. You did not have to – but thank you for all the well wishes that have been “pouring” in. I distinctly remember the night the love affair started eighteen years back. It was a Wednesday. I believe it was at a restaurant called “On The Borders” in Irving, TX. The lights were dim. I was tired. And that is when I succumbed.

The back story goes this way – I was working in a startup company. Long hour days followed only longer hour days. On the upside, due to the constant interactions, I got to make some lifelong friendships – not just with my co-workers but also their spouses and children. On that particular day, Sharmila had a class in her University where she was pursuing a Master’s degree. I was one of the last people left at office pounding away code. And next to me was my friend pounding away code even more furiously to prevent my code from doing too much damage. And his wife was sitting next to him reading a story book. The four of us had been friends through thick and thin. Let’s make it through thin and thin – I have seen how we looked those days 🙂

Our usual routine used to be that eventually we would all give up and the four of us would go for dinner and go home to crash – or more likely the wives would go back home and we would go back to more coding at office. That particular night, Sharmila was not there. And my friend decided he was too tired to go to a restaurant. He just wanted Bharti (his wife) and myself to get him some food.

Like we had often done in the past, we went to the nearest restaurant – On the Borders and settled down to grab a quick bite and take a To Go order. She ordered a margarita. Now, I did not know, regrettably I might add today, much about alcohol – but even I knew though that margarita is something you order in a Mexican restaurant. Eventually a distinctly pink looking drink appeared before her.

Rather disgusted, I exclaimed – “What the heck is that?”
She – “Margarita”
Me – “Pink??”
She – “It is strawberry margarita. You will like it. You are a Bengali. And this is sweet”. And she went ahead and ordered a second one!

In the past, the three of them had tried many a time to try to get me to drink. With a success count coming up to a big zero. That night though, with all that C++ code swirling up in my mind, in a momentary lapse of judgment, I managed to take a sip. Bharti is the best person to describe what happened after that. Apparently, like an idiot I was asking after one single sip if I looked too drunk! Apparently I would move my head swiftly from side to side to see if my eyes would follow me. What did I know about how much I needed to drink to behave like an idiot?

Frankly through, I did not feel like anything was different. So, I took a few more sips and called it a day. The hardest part was for Bharti to get credit from my friend and Sharmila that she did manage to get me to drink. They simply won’t believe her!! Upon further reflection, maybe my insisting “No. She is lying.”, might have something to do with it 🙂

That was my start. The four of us enjoyed quite a few margaritas later thru the years. Then, goaded by Sharmila, I moved to white wine and then red wine. I stayed with red wine for most of my drinking life. And then thoroughly ungoaded, I have gotten into cocktails in the last couple of years.

Looking back, after having resisted all temptations thru high school and college days and even the first seven years of work, that was the day that opened the floodgates for me. I might have waited for 32 years to cross the threshold but heaven knows, I have made every valiant effort to make up for the lost time ever since 🙂

And yesterday was the eighteenth anniversary of that first sip!!

Somewhat of an unrelated point from the post – Sharmila and I are on our 23rd year of marriage 🙂 And that was not the anniversary I was referring to!! She was the photographer last night though!

Today is Saraswati Pujo in India. This is when we celebrate the Goddess of education (knowledge) and music. I also call it the Bengali Valentine’s day but that is a completely different topic to be discussed another day.

A common practice during Saraswati Pujo is to submit some of your text books or pens and pencils to the idol during the day of worship. The convention among us was to put in the text books of the subjects we feared the most of failing – hoping Goddess Saraswati will see us thru in the tests.

Today, as I took a picture at the end of the day when all the decorations were coming down in our local Saraswati Pujo in Atlanta, I could not help notice the number AP Calculus text books next to the idol (watch carefully next to the swan) 🙂

Finally finished this. Looking back on 2015…

I realize I repeat this wish every single Jan 1st. It is one of the messages truly worth repeating. Credits go to my dear friend Larry Mason who introduced me to this many moons ago…

“I wish you enough!”
By Bob Perks
I never really thought that I’d spend as much time in airports as I do. I don’t know why. I always wanted to be famous and that would mean lots of travel. But I’m not famous, yet I do see more than my share of airports.
I love them and I hate them. I love them because of the people I get to watch. But they are also the same reason why I hate airports. It all comes down to “hello” and “goodbye.”I must have mentioned this a few times while writing my stories for you.
I have great difficulties with saying goodbye. Even as I write this I am experiencing that pounding sensation in my heart. If I am watching such a scene in a movie I am affected so much that I need to sit up and take a few deep breaths. So when faced with a challenge in my life I have been known to go to our local airport and watch people say goodbye. I figure nothing that is happening to me at the time could be as bad as having to say goodbye.
Watching people cling to each other, crying, and holding each other in that last embrace makes me appreciate what I have even more. Seeing them finally pull apart, extending their arms until the tips of their fingers are the last to let go, is an image that stays forefront in my mind throughout the day.
On one of my recent business trips, when I arrived at the counter to check in, the woman said, “How are you today?” I replied, “I am missing my wife already and I haven’t even said goodbye.”
She then looked at my ticket and began to ask, “How long will you…Oh, my God. You will only be gone three days!” We all laughed. My problem was I still had to say goodbye.
But I learn from goodbye moments, too.
Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her departure and standing near the security gate, they hugged and he said, “I love you. I wish you enough.” She in turn said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy.”
They kissed and she left. He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say goodbye to someone knowing it would be forever?”
“Yes, I have,” I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.
So I knew what this man experiencing.
“Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever goodbye?” I asked.
“I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, the next trip back would be for my funeral,” he said.
“When you were saying goodbye I heard you say, “I wish you enough.” May I ask what that means?”
He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.” He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more.”When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them,” he continued and then turning toward me he shared the following as if he
were reciting it from memory.
“I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Goodbye.”
He then began to sob and walked away.

—
My friends, I wish you enough!

This Thanksgiving, I have been somewhat overwhelmed by a lot of of FB friends posting a standard body of text that basically reminds all of us about the less fortunate among us. And as a measure of support, the posts want me to copy and paste the same post on my FB page for an hour.

I absolutely respect everybody’s right to express their opinions and emotions in their own way, provided it is not meant to harm anybody. And if cutting and pasting a standard body of text for an hour gives anybody a sense of standing in solidarity with the less fortunate, I say “Go for it”. Any thought counts.

However, if you could spare a second to think for a moment more, maybe there is a more effective way of turning your compassion into something that is a little more meaningful? Does seeing your cut and paste text really make any difference to the less fortunate ones? Assuming they are trolling your FB pages to catch the text within the hour that it is posted? Is that even the way they want to be recognized by others?

Again, if that is what gives anybody the sense  of accomplishment or compassion or expression of the same, then do it. Drop that “I will understand if I do not see your name” part, though. That is too patronizing.

It appears to me that there are more meaningful ways to show the same compassion. I am sure you know somebody less fortunate. Somebody whose parents passed away recently. Somebody who lost a child. Somebody who is having difficulty making ends meet. Somebody who is struggling with health issues…. Why not log off that FB and call one of them up? Talk to them for ten minutes. Visit them if you can. Find out how are they doing. Everybody has a story. Bring it out.

And then, if you wish, write on FB about the call and the story. Now that is a post I am going share and put on my FB page. Forget one hour. I am not ever bringing that post down.

“Nasha zaroori hai zingadi ke liye,
Par sharab hi nahi be khudi ke liye,
Kisi ki mast ankhon main dobo ja Saqi*,
Bara haseen samander hai khudkashi ke liye!”

Roughly translated… (improvements welcome)

“Getting intoxicated is surely necessary in life
But alcohol is not the only way to lose your self
Try drowning in somebody’s intoxicating eyes, my Saqi*
It is but the most beautiful ocean you can die in!!!”

*Saqi refers usually to your lady companion you are drinking with