Where My History Begins: The End is the Beginning - 9/30/11

Because the creative side of my brain is abuzz, I am going to try something different with these posts. I'm starting at the end and will work back through the journey. Maybe putting it all down in print will help me understand the who, what, when, and where that occurred while I was there; and why I feel the way I do. In a strange way, I feel I am going back to the future.

I had to pick up the dogs today. They spent 11 days at the kennel while I was on the trip. I missed my babies after seeing all the stray dogs in India. I also missed my vehicle. For 10 days I had been chauffeured around so I was looking forward to being behind the wheel of my own car. As soon as my sister dropped me off at the house, I jumped in the Xterra and headed north on 35 to Argyle. I had the windows down enjoying the cool weather and the warmth of the sun as it beamed down on my left arm. And as is my habit, the radio was blaring some rock as I hit a nice speed. As I turned off the interstate to take FM407, I looked down at the mehendi adorning my hands and arms.

So began the flood of thoughts about this trip I had taken. Driving down 407, looking at the horses and cattle in the pastures, the wide open spaces; I thought about everything I had seen in Bombay. The clean, the dirty, the beautiful, the not so pretty. The decay, the life. The poverty, the wealth. Then it hit me, for a much as life here in Texas is so very different than Bombay, it is exactly the same.

Take the photo of the beautiful cup of coffee, carefully crafted by a barrista at Cafe Coffee Day. A great coffee shop, with cups and mugs for purchase. Sandwiches, sweet treats, great tunes playing. They are open until midnight. It's their version of our Starbucks at a much better price with much better coffee. My coffee at SB has never been so pretty. Not different from here at all. Yes, the first time we caught an autorickshaw to take us down...more for the experience than the necessity. In the coffee shop, you found the hip and trendy, the worker, the student...everyone you would find in our SB.

During the day, there were people going to the shopping malls. Malls that would rival ours; sleek, modern, beautiful. I didn't make it into one, but drove past and could see it filled with shoppers. Not so different from our trip to the mall if you ignore the traffic and congestion.

Petrol stations dotting the corners of intersections. Just like here. What I would have given for a QT and 52oz cup of unsweetened iced tea.

Barber shops busy on a Sunday night with men of all ages getting their hair cut. People strolling streets stopping in local food stalls for some street food. Slightly different from here, but to me not unlike zipping into a fast food joint for something to eat.

I visited a KFC and a McDonald's...no beef products (not that what McDonald's serves can really be called beef anyway) but still full of people...vegetarian and chicken selections. At Mickey D's you could have a Chicken Maharaja Mac or a McSpicy Paneer. Needless to say I had fries and a diet Coke.

Being back home and having settled into the daily routine of my life, I can appreciate the similarities I found in Bombay. But, there is a part of me that misses the differences....the incessant honking of horns as drivers warn each other; the high pitch whine of an auto rickshaw motor. I miss the crazy traffic that caused me to screech in fear, knowing that my untimely death was imminent. I no longer get to wonder in amazement how you can fit a family on a motorcycle; how a saree or shalwar kameez doesn't go up in flames as the women ride sidesaddle on the back of a motorcycle. I miss the challenge of crossing a street with oncoming traffic. I miss the curious stares of people as we pass by and me looking them with the same curiosity.

I miss smiling at anyone who was helping me and receiving a warm smile in return. I think I miss that the most. A smile that lit up the face and reached the eyes. I have photos of my new friends, each one of them smiling at some point...and every time I look at the pictures, I can't help but smile myself.

So you see, we aren't so different though 9,000 miles separate us. We all want love, happiness, security, comfort, peace, joy, and so much more.

While this trip had ended, I think the journey is only now beginning.

Where My History Begins - Intro

How does one begin pouring out her heart, thoughts, and memories of a business trip that she never wanted to take? How do you admit to being captivated by a country you had no desire to visit? How do you talk about a team of people who brought you to an emotional precipice with their compliments, kindness, and affection after knowing you 8 days?

This post and those that follow will attempt to share the most amazing time spent in a country where my history begins.

I have never really given much thought to my ancestral country. It has always been a distant place....a "third world country" full of abject poverty, hopelessness and no where I would want to be. I am and always have been an American of Indian descent with no connection to my Indian heritage. Until this trip, I could have cared less. I've always been very grateful that the British took my great grandparents, on both sides, out of India and plunked them in the Caribbean, regardless of the circumstance of that departure.

Now I think of it a little differently. I can only imagine the journey from India to the Caribbean on a ship; and quite frankly, I can't bear to think about how hard that must have been. Family, village, friends, left behind to go to a distant land to work. Did they leave to give themselves a better life or were they unceremoniously removed by the Brits against their will and forced into work bondage?

I'll never know, but I can only be thankful that God had a plan for them. If they had never left India, my grandparents, my parents, my extended family, and my sister and I would never exist. Until this trip, I had never really contemplated that point. When I think of everything that had to occur for me to even exist, I know how blessed I am. God, who knew my name before I was conceived, allowed these events to occur so that I may have the life I have today.

Who would have thought that I would travel back to India with my company to work there for a short time? I've come full circle.

Of Mike and Ends

4/8/2010

10/14/2010

Photos from two historic days in the life of this hockey fan. April 8 is one of the photos I snapped at the game. The October 14 photo was taken by someone else. Both days I was firmly ensconsed in the American Airlines Center to watch my Dallas Stars play.

April 8th, the last day I would see Mike Modano playing for the Stars in the AAC. For most of us fans, we thought we were looking at our star on the verge of retirement. The #1 American born hockey player, every record with the Stars. Northstars, Dallas Stars, it doesn't matter it was the Stars. 21 years with all incarnations of the team. He is, was, and will always be THE face of hockey in Texas.

But like all good things, they must come to an end. At that last home game, I, along with 18,000 fans cheered him until we were hoarse. Cried when he cried and felt our hearts break just a little knowing that he would no longer be flying down the ice with his sweater flying out behind him.

I was okay knowing that he was going to retire. Or so I thought.

I guess leaving the sport that is as much a part of your physiology as breathing is difficult at best, and excruciating at worse. I can imagine it would be like losing a limb. I guess Mike couldn't leave hockey any more than he could sever his own arm.

But never in a million years did I think he would don the sweater of the Detroit Red Wings. The Red Wings, like the New York Yankees, are a much hated and loved team. Personally, I hate them. So for my Mike to give up retirement from the Stars and sign with Detroit was a dagger in my heart. I was crushed...and ANGRY.

Mike giving voice to retirement and signing with someone else is like Emmitt Smith going to the Cardinals or Brett Favre saying he was retiring. It's just not right.

So after spending 6 months angry, I had to wait for my hockey therapy. Who would have thought that the home opener this year would be one for the hockey storybooks? It couldn't have been scripted any better. Dallas opened at home against Mike Modano and the Red Wings in front of a sold out arena.

You couldn't miss Mike when he stepped out on the ice for the skate around or walking out from the visitor's tunnel at the start of the game. It was surreal. My Mike wearing red and white. My Mike playing on another team. I was prepared to cry. I did tear up when the Stars flashed "Thank You, Mike" on the jumbotron and the camera panned to him. Huge cheers as he stood and acknowledged the crowd. I could have sworn he was teary eyed.

And as quickly as the tribute started it was over. And that's the way it should have been. 60 minutes of great hockey. The Stars dominated the Wings, and in the midst of it all, I forgot to watch Detroit's Mike.

So my dear Mikey Mo, you're free. My heart belongs to the Dallas Stars and while I have your rookie card and an autographed picture...while your jersey hangs in my closet and above all hockey players I will forever adore and love you; I set you free.

Enjoy the blip of time you spend with Detroit. Even if you don't know it, I do; Dallas will always have your heart and you will always be in ours.

Say Goodbye to Russet Shadows

He decided he wanted to move on down the road and not co-blog. "Our posts didn't overlap, you own the blog, blah blah blah" So if you follow this blog because he posts here, you'll have to find him elsewhere.

Diary of a MDW - 9/10/10

Dear Diary,

Its been almost a month since I decided to write about my journey. Russet thinks I wasn't mad or angsty enough in my original post. I suppose it was rather benign; however, I have been angry about being diabetic for a long time. Fear, annoyance, anger, depression...I've felt it all since the diagnosis. For the last couple of years though, it's been anger and deep, dark depression, oppressive misery. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. Gloom. Despair. And agony on me. Whoa, a HeeHaw flashback.

What Russet doesn't realize is that I have been horribly angry. I've been shooting the finger at diabetes, but not doing a darn thing about it. I've been living my life without a care while knowing that I have been shortening my life span by about 20 years if not more. I mask the anger well.

But something changed on 8/18. That day was the beginning of a new day and an answer to years of prayer. It was as though a switch had been flipped. With strength from Him, I started an eating plan to combat the trauma I have been inflicting on myself.

I cannot convey how incredible I feel. Everything has changed. I reminded myself that my body is a temple, forged by our Creator to be used for His Glory. I am also looking at life with fresh eyes. I may not be where I want to be in life, but I have to believe this is where God wants me to be. He is giving me the answers I need. More than that, I know He is guiding my every step right now. How do I know? Well, I have been on track for 4 weeks with my eating. I am seeing amazing results. Blood sugar readings are getting normal, my energy is up, depression is gone. It's a new me.

Funny, I'm upset that my new low fasting readings, which are half of what they had been are annoying me. I want to do better. I want to fulfill my purpose in this life. Sitting around and eating myself to death isn't the answer. I'm filling my body with healthy foods. Fruits, vegetables, whole grains, organic milk, grass fed beef, pastured chickens. Foods the way God intended them to be. In this 4 week period, I have eating prepared foods (restaurant) 3 times. 3 TIMES! Before, I could eat prepared foods 3 times in one day.

You know, it's good to be alive and a child of God.

Diary, I'll be back in another month.