Into the great wide open

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
-Longfellow, "The Reaper and the Flowers"

So the last of my four grandparents passed away last week. For anyone who knows me, it is safe to say I am a very loyal and family-oriented person. My emotional connections to my grandparents were very important to me, as is probably the case with most people. They had a huge affect on my life and what I am.

The first to die, passed away on (if I recall correctly) May 28th, 1989 (for those who have noted my penchant to remember birthdays, do you really find it odd that I remember her day of death? lol). She was my mothers mother, and was very dear to me. I still get choked up when I pass her house after a long night in the city (since Rob lives like 5 blocks from where she used to live). She was basically the first person to teach me about death and the impermanence of "now". Lord Buddha she probably was not, but to me she was the World. She taught me about determination, perseverence, and "beating the odds" (having been told by doctors somewhere around 1970 that she was going to die within 6 months...she ended up living 19 more years). She also taught me about being gentle towards others. My "Chiaji" was my inspiration.

My fathers mother was the next to pass away, many years later (August of 1997). My memories of her are very fond too. Up until I was 6 (when I moved to Rockville Centre, aka "The Rock", aka "The RVC"), we used to leave next door to my fathers parents. Thus, she was a regular fixture in my life. Always hard of hearing, but forever loving and caring, she is the person who gave me my "original name". For those who do not know, Jeetan was not my "original name" -quotes intended. In Indian culture you must name your child only after the Swami has given the proper initial that the first name should start with (in my case that was a "J" obviously). However, in 1978 America, this was unheard of, and therefore hospitals required names for babies (for identification purposes). Thus my grandmother gave me my original name: Jimmy Carter Sareen. lol My "Mama" was very funny. She would always have everyone laughing, always cracking jokes.

The next to pass away was my fathers father. Growing up (and I guess this is unfair to say, but I'm being honest), he was my favorite grand parent. Every time I would see him, he would have a glass of milk for me while emphatically stating "milk is good for you". My "Bowji" was the one who taught me the importance of religion. He didn't have to SAY anything, it was his actions. I used to love hearing him sing "Jairam Jairam, Jai Jai Ram" as we waited for him to open the door. I used to love telling him the stories I knew. I used to love wearing the Khara he gave me as a child (even though my parents never made me, I still wear one today).

My "Bowji" also taught me about working hard. The man was the hardest worker Ive ever seen. Up until he died at around 86, he STILL wanted to go to work. He would walk MILES every day. He was such a hard worker that when he finally retired from the American Embassy, he was still paid for 3 years cause of all the days he had accumlated. Senator Moynahan (than Ambassador Moynahan) personally used to praise him.

My fathers parents (my Mama and Bowji) moved in with us about 10 years ago, it is important to respect your parents.

Unfortunately the same could not be said about my mothers father. Family politics exist, but Indian families seem to always have them, and for whatever reason we had not talked to him since my Chiaji died. He was an impressive person. My moms parents were refugees from Pre-Partition India. They ran away for fear of death at the hands of marauding Muslims (interesting note: my parents fled, and were to take a train to India. My grandmother, ON THE TRAIN, told my grandfather that she "had to go back for her bangles" since they were given to her for her wedding years ago. Luckily, they went back for the bangles, because EVERYONE on that train was killed, and/or burnt alive).

My mothers father (also my "Bowji") and Chiaji made well resettling in India. So well that his business was revamped (my Bowji, and for that mattter, my moms WHOLE side, are Arts and Antiques dealers). Less than 15 years later (early 60s), my Bowji was invited to the White House to become Jackie Kennedy's Asian Art Advisor. His influence can be seen everytime one goes to the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Asian sector (especially the South Asian, Tibetan and SouthEast Asian parts...less so the Persian). He knew Hindi, Urdu, Pashtun, Farsee, and Afghani (if he was younger he would have been a PERFECT Secret-Agent for the US). My memories of him were of a dignified man. Unfortunately, he passes away with not many mourning or grieving for him. His funeral was a sham, and it hurt me more to see him die alone, than to die. There were many at the funeral, but even his close family, we had been distant for so long.

So there we are. I am not going to wax romantic about the notions of death. We must all go. We should all make the most of the life we have. :)

Wow, it's MY kind of Yogurt!

So, if you know me real well, you will know that I absolutely love milk. Perhaps, it is my Indian culture that compels me towards it. One really can NOT have an Indian meal without milk products being needed in their preparation (seriously, can you name ONE Indian dish that doesn't use either Milk, Yogurt, Butter Milk, Sour Cream or some other dairy variation?). On a larger level, perhaps it is my cultures veneration for the Cow. On the other hand, perhaps it is the memories of my grandfather making me drink milk everytime I went to his place (and, oh, how I loved to see them. The best part was when I would ring the doorbell and hear my grandfather singing the hymn "Jairam Jairam, Jai, Jai Rama" as he approached the door).

Whatever the reason may be, I love milk, and that can also be said for yogurt. My mother makes our own yogurt. The grocery store variety is NOT acceptable. It is usually too "Americanized" for lack of a better word. Only the Indian-style yogurt really satisfies my palate.

So over a year ago (might be almost 2 now), I started noticing how the Yogurt my mom makes tasted different. I can not explain it, but I will try. It tasted worse than the "Americanized" variety. If I MUST get Grocery Store variety yogurt I usually get Columbo. For whatever reason it is the closest to Indian style one can find. The American styles have a strange creamy taste to them. They are thicker and dont have that authentic sour taste that is familiar to me. The sour taste in American yogurts is quite a different sour. A sort of spoiled sour in my opinion.

You really probably don't understand what kind of a shock to the system this was to me. I have yogurt with almost EVERY Indian meal I have. If its time to eat Gobi-Aloo, I must have yogurt with it. If its time for Plow, I must have yogurt oozing on top of the carrots, green peas, onions and rice. If its time for Spinach and Cheese, I must have a side of yogurt to mix the spinach with the yogurt after Ive eaten all the cheese pieces.

For almost 2 years now I have suffered. I would argue I've gotten fatter because of this (not kidding). Not having yogurt has made me look to fast-food or other less healthy foods (than Indian food) to make up for the loss. It's the equivalent of someone giving up smoking so instead they poison themselves by binge eat Entemens cookies instead! I mean, no knock on Entemens, they taste great, but how good are they for you really.

I tried to do whatever I could to get to the bottom of the situation. I even asked my friend if she knew whether milk distribution in the area had changed (or perhaps there was a new law that caused the feeding habits of cows in New York to change...what are they doing to those cows! They MUST provide me with the right milk!).

A few months ago (and this shows how TRULY sensitive I am) I found out that indeed distribution of milk DID change in the area. The milk distributed now apparently is different than before and its been distributed for about TWO YEARS. Coincidence? I think not.

I know, you may be thinking: "Jeetan get a hold of yourself. There is no way you really could tell that they changed distributors by noticing how homemade yogurt tasted differently!". I disagree, yogurt is my life, and I've been eating yogurt virtually every day of my life. I could tell, and apparently I did.

Step one was complete: finding out why things were the way they were. Step two was to get MY yogurt back.

After months of tinkering, and messing around with recipes, tonight I have once again tasted the Amrita (for you non-Indians, the Greek Ambrosia should suffice to understand that statement)! Oh, how that sour, yet NOT sour creamy yogurt slid across my tongue; it surely felt like Heaven. I'm sitting here at 9:30 and thinking about going upstairs and eating the whole pot! (I can imagine myself stuffing my face with the bowl, reminiscient of how Winnie the Pooh stuffs his face into the honey pots. I've got the belly to pull off the comparison!)

Some might say writing about this, for that matter caring about yogurt this much, is just foolish, but as I said in the beginning, if you know me well, you'll know, I love my milk, and I love MY kind of yogurt! :)

Jeetan Meets LA-LA-Land

So I have a friend who historically has always talked about places he would like to go to, and/or live. Whenever the conversation comes up, I have always been vehemently opposed to living and even visiting that city known as Los Angeles, which means the City of Angels. To me the name itself is Orwellian, in that my impression of it would more accurately be labeled the "City of Demons". My mind has always pictured LA as a modern day Sodom to LVs Gomorrah. Succinctly stated, I have imagined LA to be more the City of LOST Angels.

Yet, this month came an event that so captivated me that attendance to it was all but mandatory: The World Baseball Classic. So there I was, ME, traveling to the City of Lost Angels (forever tormented by the Demons who control that city; a destination where the Angels of the midwest and elsewhere travel to become "stars", only to more often than not crash from the firmament into their hellish situations that I can not imagine is what they expected.

My impression of Orange County was not wrong I should say. I expected Orange County to be Nassau County if it was the size of Suffolk County, and that is exactly what I saw. The parts of LA I saw were nice. Justin and I hung out on the outskirts of the UCLA campus, which was very cool (nice campus), as well as at Manhattan Beach (which was very cool in the other meaning of the word cool. Pictures of Justin pretending to be the "Lone Polar Bear" will attest to that). The famous Getty museum was unavailable, but its older version was a nice site. Nothing spectacular, but still nice. The Greek and Roman face sculptures had piercing eyes on black granite (I can only assume) that I found fascinating. I suppose its a simple matter of the chiarascuro effect, but still, it was aesthetically pleasing.

As for the "main event". Going to Japan vs. USA was awesome. As I had suspected, the American fans just didnt get into chanting U-S-A. I have "felt" a general antipathy and anti-patriotism with regards to this event. I suspect it is really more a "we dont want to seem jingoistic" reaction, but it is quite stark compared to the nations of the rest of the teams in the competition.

For example, the second game we saw (a TRUE double-header it was!) was Korea vs. Mexico. The stadium was packed, and absolutely rocking. There was not a moment when either the chant of Me-Xi-Co or Dah-Hahn-Min-Gook were not trying to drown out the other! There was not a moment when this one guy who had this giant basin-drum didnt stop beating. The game was over 3 hours long! I dont care what other Americans think, but the WBC was an absolute success, and I know cause I was there. I could see the absolutel passion of the fans. This was Baseball on the World stage as it belongs.

It is fair to say that perhaps I do not have a comparable situation. Well, I am planning to go to the Cricket World Cup next year, so expect me to get a better understanding and comparison after that.

All in All, LA was as I expected it to be. The women are tall and blonde, the people seem a bit shallow. One of the highlights of my trip was driving down Rodeo Drive in a pimped-out Dodge Charger with the song "Rodeo" by Rage Against the Machine playing in my head (the lyrics go: "I'm rolling down Rodeo with a Shotgun, these people haven't seen a Brown-skinned Man since their Grandparents bought one!"). I truly felt and understood what Zack De LaRocha was saying.

Still, to be fair, LA is a very diverse city. I love the fact that it has a large Japanese and Korean population. New York's North-East Asians are mainly Chinese (and for that matter, mainly the Cantonese variety), and as much as I like Chinese culture (having studied its history, its art, and taken one year of Mandarin-Chinese), I have always found the Korean and Japanese cultures far more enticing and interesting (not to mention their women are FAR better looking than Chinese women, who I dont really find attractive -generally speaking of course). Perhaps it is the Korean and Japanese affinity towards Indian culture that drives me to them (Lord Buddha in particular). Either way, it was quite refreshing. I tried Korean food for the first time (something I had wanted to do BADLY for years, but didnt know anyone with the "know-how" to actually go with and do so). My love for Japanese food is well known.

Speaking of trying new foods. I am not a burger person. I will eat burgers if its at a barbecue, but I dont think I have had a burger from a fastfood place in 20 years until this past trip. Brian was kind enough to bring Justin and I some "In & Out Burgers" when we arrived in LA. WOW, I have never had such a good burger at a fastfood joint (and as my parents can attest, before the age of 6, I was a "Burger-connoseur" lol), and it was certainly right up there with some of the best burgers I have ever had. I wish they would bring "In & Out Burgers" to New York, but perhaps it is best they dont (I'm already fat enough).

When it all comes down to it, LA was "ok" and Orange County was cool; I felt at home in Anaehim, since it basically is Long Island. Still, I prefer the "RVC" to the "OC". :)

The WBC and fear of injury

So it continues, this random excursion into the unknown. There are so many topics to speak on that it seems I do not have the time to deal with them all. With that in mind, I would certainly like to take this chance on posting my thoughts on the World Baseball Classic.

There have been many nay-sayers, some legitimate, and some who are just Baseball-haters who take any and every opportunity to act negative towards it. The legitimate nay-sayers certainly have valid points and grievances, the biggest one of course being the time of year it is being conducted is distracting for team preparation, and poses the risk of injury. No doubt someone will get hurt in this tournament and it may affect the 2006 MLB season. For that matter, a Japanese player (3B) already has gotten hurt and is out 3 months (he jammed his shoulder diving into 1st base in attempt to beat out the throw).

Some people will look at the 3Bs injury as vindication. I for one must concede it will happen. But guys get injured all the time. Jeff Kent got hurt "washing his car". Lance Berkman got hurt in a pickup basketball game. Clint Barmes claims to have gotten hurt carrying deer up a few flights of stairs! Is this really the most bizarre injury? And is it not worth the gains?

The question than is what are the gains. First and foremost, is money. MLB, as well as local shop-keeps are making pretty pennies on merchandise, tourism, amid the overall excitement of this tournament. I for one am traveling 3,000 miles to a city I have never had interest in going to (LA) to see Japan play the USA. The Venezuela vs. DR game had thousands of travelers spending money at Disneys "Wide World of Sports" complex. San Juan, Puerto Rico is abuzz with news of the local Puerto Rican team.

The second affect is the promotion of the game. True, Australia, Italy, China, Netherlands and South Africa may not be at the same level as other nations in the tournament, but they are big markets all with varying degrees of exposure to Baseball.

For example, the Netherlands has a couple of legitimate Big Leaguers, and the Dutch Commonwealth includes superstars like Andruw Jones. Australia had a couple of All-Star calibre players in the 90s, and Italy has some serious talent (albeit first-generation players, not actual Italians...other than Jason Simontachi). Still, is it not worth trying to tap into these places? Is it not worth trying to get a foot-hold into the Chinese market by playing to their "National Pride" in getting beat by arch-rivals Taiwan, Japan and Korea? Watching Korean fans with their "thunder sticks" go crazy when Seung Yeop Lee hit a 2-run homer to take the lead over Japan was worth staying up that night to watch the 4AM-8AM game.

Still, South Africa seems to stick out in my opinion. True, South Africa too could be a gateway to a region of the World: Sub-Saharan Africa. The US is starting to get a stronger foothold on this region of the World (read about Angola), and the promotion of Baseball certainly could be a unifying factor (hey it worked with Japan). But look deeper and you may find the third reason why this tournament is worth doing. Australia and South Africa are big CRICKET nations. Cricket is the obvious direct competitor to Baseball since it has a similar setup/style. Cutting into Australias and South Africa's populace may have the indirect effect of promoting Baseball at Cricket's expense. Certainly not a bad move, though not a significant factor I assume.

The fourth factor is important too, and it is homage. Homage to all those Latin players past, and present who have made Baseball into an international sport. Homage not only to show them respect, but also to remind Americans how much we used to feel for this game. The passion of Latin players is so very evident, and the crowds are fervently crazy. I saw on tv a guy start yelling at his friend cause while the two of them were shaking the Dominican flag one end touched the ground. He could not fathom allowing that to happen and seemed irate. Such passion for nation and Baseball was evident years ago here in the States, and hopefully (especially after this humiliating loss to Canada) it can be revived.

As stated, there are many naysayers, but the tournament marches on, and with every game I watch I realize it is a great idea. Promoting the sport elsewhere will only increase the talent pool in the World and therefore in the US (Major League Baseball). Sure, it is not perfect, and the tournament was rushed this year (it was supposed to be in November of 2005, thus the second one is scheduled for 2009). Sure, it will indirectly affect teams for the upcoming 2006 season, and sure there will be an injury or two. I can not disagree with what is probably true.

Still, Risking injury this year is worth the price of enjoying Venezuelan dancers prancing about with flag-tshirts, or watching Dominicans jump up and down as "Big Papi" sealed the game. The risk is worth watching Ichiro Suzuki get hit by a pitch because of his ridiculous commment (he stated: "I want to beat them -referring to Taiwan and Korea- so bad that they feel they will never beat Japan for another 30 years"), and is certainly worth watching Korean fans "go crazy" when Ichiro made the last out in the Korean upset over Japan. Succinctly, Injury risks are worth the entertainment, as well as, worth the longer stability and popularity of the game of Baseball...of course unless, a New York Met gets hurt. :p

Salve Magistra: Emerson is wincing

So at the advice of a couple of friends, I have decided to begin a blog. I so very much wanted to avoid this nether-region of cyberspace, that in my opinion only gives individuals (like myself) the false hope that I too can "speak in my own voice", to paraphrase Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I suppose I am slowly coming to the realization that Bill Maher is correct, and I too suffer from this phobia that afflicts America: fear of not being heard. This phobia has created a slew of ills, not which the least has been exhibitionism. Thus noone was surprised when Ms. Hilton decided to help her families business out (and yes, Hilton Hotels gained tremendously. Once a hotel for "old people", with one trick -pun intended- Hilton Hotels was able to give itself a younger attitude, and clientele) by baring it all.

No doubt, Blogspot.com has filled this void within the heart of our troubled nation (and making a pretty penny off it I bet). When it all comes down to it, I must admit that acceptance of not being able to be heard, has drifted me to this sight. I dont doubt my actions are that different than a drinker finally succumbing to the acceptance that he/she is an alcoholic and allows this acceptance to become an identity.

I first began with the "gateway drug" known as Friendster. I than slowly diversified (bought the Jamaican quality stuff) with MySpace, and now I am about ready to pop veins with Kurt Cobain apparently. Who knows, when the party will end!

But anyways, I digress. I wanted to start off this blog with something important and creative to say. Alas, most of my "worthy" (and what is worthy to me is probably crap to the rest of the World) projects lay gathering dust; stillborn because I do not have the inner-strength, and/or guts to get over my perfectionism (Ah, Perfectionism, a quality so very valuable when given to those who work hard, but when bestowed upon the lazy and those who lack the stamina of their passion, can be quite restrictive).

Still, I would not like to disappoint. If I get decent feedback, I think I will start to post my various poems, short-stories I have accumulated through the years, as well as general opinions on contemporary issues (or non-issues as the want may be).

I would like to start with the famous song "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt. True, this is not the most important topic, but its on my mind, so here we are. I finally saw the video the other day (and NO, I did not see it on "Empty V" aka Mtv, but on Fuse....I miss Much Music so bad. Sometimes I feel like moving to Canada just so I can watch that station), and was not impressed.

I had heard the video was "good" or "great" or somewhere in between those benchmarks. I think its "ok". If I was the director I would have taken a different angle:

I would have had a shot of a man, gloomily walking through the streets of New York City, going down to the subway and entering a train.

I would have him focus his eyes across the train-cart. The camera follows on this girl, a rather cute girl, but (without sounding mean) "nothing special". The song continues and it mainly focuses on the girl noticing him noticing her, not to mention his actions.

To make a long story short, as the song nears the end he finally gets up and approaches towards her. You see her breath hold slightly in anticipation, only to have the wind knocked out of her as she realizes he has been eyeing this girl sitting next to her.

As the song ends "I will never be with you", the guy is with the other girl, and the pretty-cute but "nothing special" girl is still all alone.

Anyways, that is my first blog. Very uneventful I bet for most of you (who that maybe one or two individuals who ventured here for the sake of pity I bet). I promise to be far more creative and/or controversial (hey, when you can't impress with talent, than you might as well start a commotion!) next time I post. :)