"An Open Tank on El Camino!"

I stopped at shell on el camino ready to fill up my empty tank with 87 unleaded. as i swiftly unscrewed the lid of my gas tank and firmly affixed the gas pump to my car, i watched the rapidly increasing numbers on the pump compute my gas price and my gasoline consumption in dollars and gallons, respectively, as I responsibly nourished my car. :) with my errand complete, i quickly exited the station and caught a glimpse of yet another fellow el camino driver's open tank of gas, the black plastic cap with its cord dangling pitifully against the side of the car, with the car's gaping hole exposing its gasoline to the world! hoping to resolve the situation, i felt compelled to signal through "friendly" honking to the poor yet, now alarmed driver what was happening. through my frantic gesticulating, i pointed to the rear of his car. fortunately, the long-haired stranger rolled down his window as i rolled down mine, i yelled out in words what i had displayed through my facial and hand expressions, and his bewildered expression instantly dissolved. with a quick "thanks," we were on our separate paths again on a sunday in downtown PA. :)

-this mini-story captures a funny moment i experienced today which reminded me of the small ways you can help others, even strangers. to learn more about helping others, simply go to www.helpothers.org.

"A Sparkling Young Mother"

just last night, i attended my weekly charity focus wednesday and had the opportunity to be humbled as the "gandhi of sri lanka," dr. ariyaratne, graciously honored us with his presence, wisdom, and inspirational anecdotes. although (due to my ignorance), it was initially less than fortunate to not have the slightest idea that the group gathered in nipun's living room had come together to individually "donate" kind acts of service to the sri lankan leader and his cause to eradicate poverty in his homeland, an idea arose...i slowly slipped off the curvy silver bracelet from my wrist, handed it to dr. ariyaratne's nepali assistant, shishir, enclosed a small note, tucked a smile card within, and whispered to him that i wished to add a little sparkle to the life of a young village girl in Sri Lanka. he gladly agreed to bring it to a young teenage mother in sri lanka. now, as this small token travels thousands of miles and a couple of continents, i am thinking of the long-distance bond it is creating, extending from one sister in cupertino to another sister in sri lanka. i'm so glad i went and could enjoy the spontaneous opportunity to give! thanks! :)


-this anecdote describes my wednesday night meditation experience with a spiritually-inspiring service group of which i am a member. to learn more about spreading kindness and fostering stillness in your life, please visit http://www.charityfocus.org/

"A Kind Festival"

Walking along the streets of Castro,
A day of art and wine,
A time to smile with anonymous souls,
And browse at the paintings from Italy,
And try on flowery hair accessories,
And admire the photography from East Asia to Napa Valley,

While listening to an African American baby girl of two,
Belt out some soulful blues,
I heard the news of a Filipina woman,
Fighting for the tribal rights of California Indians,
And signed her political petition,

Then the musical notes of a guitarist arose,
And he received a series of dollars in his instrumental suitcase,
And while on my solitary stroll through this multicultural street,
I gave a dollar wrapped with a 1x2 inch smile,
With the hope that it just might add,
A little more than monetary value,
To this old man's day in the South Bay.


-from my smile-card experience at the annual Art & Wine Festival on Saturday, September 8, 2007 in downtown Mountain View on Castro Street. For more information on spreading anonymous acts of kindness through the delivery of smile cards and generous acts, visit http://www.helpothers.org/.

So, Is it a Grind?

It's a Grind is the name of the place,
and perhaps the name of your life sometimes,
but when you stop and take a chance,
and make someone else on the inside, dance,
it may be different and feel weird at first,
and it might sound a bit like work,
but all it took was a few dollars, an exchange of words,
and a little white tag,
to produce two coffee drinks,
which made a mother and son glad,
so, next time,
when you think your regular routine needs some spice,
maybe you could think about doing something nice?


-A tribute to smilecards-in the spirit of anonymous acts of kindness.
For more info., please check out http://www.helpothers.org/

"Ma"

Embarking on a journey halfway across the globe
for the love of a grandson,
Carrying with you
a wisdom of maternal strength,

from the time when dowries and domestic work
was your ticket to life
but your love for something deeper
had sprouted a Samaj of sisters
who toiled in the streets
without the basic amenities of sanitation,
with what felt to them as they walked in the gulleys
clad in soiled colors of saris
barefoot and unknown
a life of a will suppressed,

that you led them to unlock

through the marches of sisters
along Boring Road
who wore the branded scars of their husbands
the female voices of Mahila Samaj
collectively echoed from the streets of Bihar

and when you were behind bars
for a worldwide mission
a Pachamba House tradition had begun

As I saw you unlock your suitcase of compassion in our home,
a collection of pink and cream colored saris and madhubala prints unraveled
as soothing herbal tea leaves, kajal containers, and dangly earrings sparkled,
inside there,
you carried within,

the key to empower your homeland sisters

in this land,

to sing.

-July 8, 2007

in honor of Urmila Prasad-My Grandma who was the President of Mahila Samaj a women's rights group based in Bihar which fought for the socio-political and economic liberation of women.

"My Co-Passengers"

I drove along the 101,
listening to the somber solace of the repetitive chants,
from the monks of bhodgaya,
taking a piece of soulful wisdom along with me,

rolling on in my personal adventure
with the wheels of my silver civic,
I noticed the dark brown hides of the cows,
and maybe baby calves,
trucking alongside me,
caged in a moving wooden prison,
escorted by their driving warden,
seeing their black eyes, blank in oblivion,
not knowing where they came from,
unable to fear where they were going,
huddled together they stood in their docile state,
innocent and soft,
I was still, with them, for just a moment,
before we parted ways,

Me to the comfort of my destined home,
with my father awaiting my arrival
with a warm glass of his favorite chilean cabernet,
and my mother, with the enticing aroma of her spiced indian potatoes,
drawing closer to the warmth of a loving abode,
my fellow co-passengers trudged along,
aimeslessly,
to the trenches of their home,
of slaughter.

Flight 587

And Another Today,
A Crash in New York City
Is this a life of normalcy?
Are we forced to become desensitized
So we can get on with our lives?
Or live each day with the guilt that
Only luck saved our lives,
And we are fortunate to not have to say,
"Mi hijo esta muerto," today.

-in memory of the victims of Flight 587 which left JFK Int'l Airport in New York City on November 12, 2001 en route to the Dominican Republic and crashed into an apartment building in Queens at around 9:15 am. Around 150 Dominicans were killed. A total of about 250 people were on board.

An American Tragedy

And how can I explain
What I feel today
I grieve for you
Who burns the flame of life
the one reaching beneath the rubble
whose screams were never heard
the guy who went to work
the fireman who gave his fire
Father Judge who left a following behind
"Frasier" won't be the same without you
A tv anchor crying "what should the pilot do?"
A tragic phone call saying "honey, I love you."

Long Live Che

On T-shirts and buttons
Across the U.S.A.
A man of ideals
Drowning in an ironic capitalistic sea,
A bleeding crucified body,
In La Paz Bolivia lies this man,
Where the U.S. was part of the plan
So, now who reaps the royalties
of this dead man?

Rajiv Uncle

Is this the way life is today?
A slow degenerative consumption of the body?
A torture that wrenches the very heart of a family?
And if it is, then I don't understand life today.
Only 44 years and then he passed away,
He had so much more to say,
But it was already in the 4th stage,
How could it be this way?
He was the baby of a family,
that grew up where my mom used to play,
Always smiling and dancing freely,
A Director at Altera, his company,
A Father with a loving family,
A look like Kevin Costner
my brother and I used to say,
So happy, he was, I remember
that day,
Could you please tell me,
then, why he was taken away?

-in memory of Rajiv Kumar who died from lung cancer on November 24, 2001. He is survived by his wife and 2 children.

Aaliyah

A time of tragedy
When a star of today
Shattered by tomorrow
No time to digest the sorrow
What will her parents do?
What will her boyfriend say?
When their baby doesn't come home today?
No camera, cut, or mic can take away
What happened the day before yesterday
No time to get her B.A.
To be more than a face in L.A.
But listen to the songs and
Ambition of what could have been
A girl who knew how to do a lot more than sing.

-August 27, 2001- in memory of Aaliyah

The Vanishing Race

It does not matter if you let your hair down
Your chin held high without a smile,
Or tighten your hair into 2 long braids,
Or say that you didn't drink a drop of alcohol;
Or tell everyone your mom makes the best frye bread in town,
And that casinos and reservations were not always around,
And that the Alcatraz was not always a prison ground,
Or that parts of your ancestors are on display,
It does not matter what you say,
Even if dreamworks actually made nightmares
And the Road to El Dorado was
Actually The Road to El Infierno
And you can't remember the last time
Thanksgiving gave
Only when it took your lives,
Your land, your liberty,
With Treaties and lies,
Broken Promises,
Broken Bones,
It does not matter what you say,
Cuz' you're not relevant anyway.

An Ode to Mom

I hope you are enjoying your special day
because even when I'm miles away
or even when I feel stuck at home
It does not matter where I roam
because a mother will always lie miles ahead
as inside her I was born and bred
and a mom's love will always stand apart
because I hold a special place
reserved for her in my heart.