Kavitha Ki Kahani

Observations

I’m a Charlie LeDuff fan. After reading Detroit: An American Autospy, I bought Work and Other Sins. I’m reading it during my breaks at work. 

It’s inspired me to start a small writing series about first impressions - not of people but of places.

I’ll be recording my impressions here without an address or picture of the location. Have fun figuring out where. 

4/26/2013
The bathrooms smelt like the piss of a hundred dissatisfied workers.

Cooking for One

The raindrops outside my window form long, transparent bars, that sway with the speed of the wind, and imprison me in my square room. There’s a storm warning in Anderson, a flood warning in Alma and the force that unites me to my distant friends is the craving for hot chocolate, fireplaces and an old book. 

Today is a lonely day. Grey in appearance, grey in mood. 

I walked into a crowded kitchen tonight as my roommates entertained guests. I hastily prepared the dough for orange butter cookies only to use the wrong flour. At 9 pm, I realized I hadn’t eaten dinner so I put some oil and garlic in a pan. I added potatoes, zucchini and tomatoes, chicken broth, red chili flakes and some parmesan cheese. I walked upstairs with my warm bowl of dinner to watch an episode as I replaced my soggy mood with tasty vegetables.

Cooking for one is a sad art. Although I have a lovely boyfriend, dear friends and 5 roommates, cooking for myself reminds me that I am actually alone in this land - miles away from home, from familiar spices, from my mother’s spread of love. 

Maybe that’s why I love potlucks and community dinners because a good meal with close company opens the door to comfort and conversation, making my worlds feel closer than they are for an hour in the evening.

The Poverty Myth

I wrote this article for the preview issue of Story for Good, a magazine published by Fireside International. I need to write more pieces about sociopolitical issues and development since I’m getting ready to go to graduate school in September. I couldn’t continue reading On the Road so I returned it for India Becoming by Akash Kapur. 

—-

Like the author, Salman Rushdie, I am “a tree of many soils.” My parents’ studies and profession have taken me to different parts of the world. I left a portion of my heart in each of the places I have called home over the past 23 years – Sheffield, Vizaq, Pune, Kodaikanal, Los Angeles, and Anderson to name a few. I am a flower forced to bloom with a phantom attachment to soil. 

Three years ago, I was introduced to the works of the famous Brazilian educator, Paulo Freire. Freire criticized the traditional model of education and encouraged dialogical education models instead. Many institutions treat the people they help as nothing more than recipients of aid. Freire encourages individuals to “reject their role as mere ‘objects’ [and] become ‘subjects’ of their own destiny.” His belief parallels the plot lines of many characters in fiction that refused to passively participate in their world. Many stories have moved me to tears but Freire’s words motivated me into action. 

I studied poverty, development, globalization, and growth on a daily basis in college. I often forgot that the statistics I analyzed were not just numbers but real people, some of whom are my neighbors in India.  Stories are more convincing purveyors of truth than cold statistics. 

When I recall the face of poverty, she is living in a cardboard box at an intersection in Pune, India praying that the monsoon rains spare her home. Poverty is a semi-naked boy who struggles to eat one meal each day and steals out of necessity not desire. The face of poverty is not exclusive to the East. I am still tormented by a sign a homeless man in Chicago held as I walked out of a mall, “Too Ugly to Prostitute.” 

I have seen the face of poverty in every land I have called home. Poverty is everyone’s neighbor in the developing world. Water runs loosely along the dirty tar roads, stray dogs and children punctuate the road in feces and the smell of all things rotten perspires in the air. Poverty is hard to forget.

When poverty is described as the shortage of a specific good – shoes, food, education or income – rather than as a force that deprives human beings of their individual capacity, it restricts the impact of development efforts. 

Poor people in the developing world often lack adequate footwear. If an individual or organization simply gives a poor person a shoe, the impact is limited to the lifetime of the shoe. The recipient is dependent on the giver for another pair of shoes. She still lives in her smelly quarter of the slum with more children than she can handle, but now she has a shoe supplier. Let’s consider an alternative method of “charity.”

When poverty is understood as “capability deprivation,” then a lack of shoes is seen as a symptom and not the main problem. When a donor invests in capability building programs – like acquiring a skill as a cobbler – then the woman in our story emerges as a participant, not a mere object, of change. She can now produce and sell shoes, earn an income, and provide food, clothing, and shelter for her kids. Which plot line respects the character’s abilities?

I believe the best way to “give” is to help someone become the main character in their own story. If the poor are always seen as a problem, and not as creative problem-solvers, then we will never address global issues adequately. The people we want to help must be involved in the process of creating change if we want it to be long lasting, effective, and respectful of all persons involved. 

People in need, whether poor or rich, are creative problem-solvers. If they are victims of the problem, they should be a part of the resolution. It’s a simple message but it requires us, the giver, to humble ourselves, accept that we cannot determine the path of action for someone else, and still commit to his or her development through emotional or financial contributions. 

Freire’s work awakened my consciousness. I now recognize that poverty is a myth because the poor do not lack capabilities, they are simply deprived of the opportunities to develop or use them.  

Fast Cars

I got my driver’s license today :) 

Here’s a passage from a piece I wrote two years ago called “Fast Cars.” I also call it the “Spring Break Scribble” because I wrote it on my iPod while taking a roadtrip with my parents to Ohio, Tennessee, Georgia and North Carolina in 2011.

Our little blue car is like a drop of royal blood flowing through the gray capillaries of the American body. When the moon takes over from the sun,  white platelets zoom past us in a hurry to fight and heal the troubles in their households after a long day in the office. The red blood cells carry oxygen to sustain an expanding economy through the night; oxygen to be spent in bars, malls, restaurants, long phone calls to attractive sounding call girls amongst other commodities. 

I’ve waited months to take the test (because of the 6-month, 50 hours of drive time requirement) so I am excited to be able to drive on my own. 

Forgiveness

I started my morning at 9 am with a mug of tea and a piece of chocolate. I’m watching Season 1 of Girls, looking for jobs and reading a book.

I came across an article, “How to Forgive and Forget,” by Kim Tingley on Real Simple. Here’s an excerpt (you can read the full article here).

For much of human history, forgiveness has been a religious concept, something worshippers prayed to receive from whatever god they believed in and tried to bestow on others in return. But in 1984, when Lewis B. Smedes, an influential Christian theologian, published a book called Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve ($14,amazon.com), secular therapists and researchers took note. Smedes wrote about forgiving not as a blessing you could confer upon those who had hurt you but rather as a way to heal your own pain.

Forgiveness is my mantra and even though I don’t master it like a craft, I work towards forgiving people quickly because hate, fear and anger are crippling anchors.

I used to bear a grudge for years but I’m a lighter and nicer person now that I value forgiveness more. So, I encourage you to read Kim’s article and check out the F-Word Exhibition as well. 

Here’s an excerpt from a book I’m reading. 

I’m looking for a new job so when I’m not looking for opportunities on career sites, I’m reading. I bought Kissing Outside the Lines: A True Story of Love and Race and Happily Ever After by Diane Farr two days ago, and I haven’t been able to put it down. I read it in the car, in the kitchen as my pasta takes an additional two minutes to boil, in the bathroom and before bed. Diane Farr uses a comical tone to describe her own experience of falling in love with a Korean and dealing with parents (and relatives) who were curious and cautious of the union. She also includes interviews of other couples in America who’ve dated outside the lines of their parents wishes. After dating someone of another race and nationality for two years, I’m at that point where I have to address my doubts, questions, goals and expectations for a better future. 

I recommend this book to anyone who is trying to sail one boat in two different oceans. When the tide is strong, hold on. When the tide is slow, sail towards the sunset.