January 19, 2009 – 2:22 PM IST
Yesterday, discussing politics while stuck in Mumbai traffic, my friend Klaas asked me if I felt disconnected from the U.S., being abroad during Barack Obama’s election and now inauguration.
Unequivocally, I answered “no.”
It’s true that I have been disconnected in some ways. I can’t tell you how any of the Boston sports teams are faring, and I missed the wedding of two close friends and a family reunion. But, being in India has in fact increased the connection I feel to my country.
Previously, living in the U.S., I always thought identity tags like religion, race, gender and nationality just shouldn’t matter. Why not judge one another on character alone? Or as John Lennon put it, “imagine there’s no countries... no religion too.”
My upbringing made this ideal tenable. My parents are American with ancestry from at least six different countries. I was raised Jewish but celebrated some Christian traditions. My household was half-Democrat, half-Republican. The list goes on.
So why do I now feel so strongly American?
Living in India, I wear my identity on my face; it precedes my every interaction. Here in Pune, I’m an American before I’m anything else. It’s in what I know and what I don’t at my job and in my career-focused life goals. It’s in my pride in tomorrow’s inauguration of America's first black President and sense of possibility about the future. It’s in the privileges I’ve had through my education and the privilege I have to be here in India. It’s in the way I look at arranged marriages, gender roles and women’s issues. It’s even in the way I laugh when Aamir Khan, “the Brad Pitt of India,” takes a time out in the midst of his latest Bollywood flick to sing and dance.
In the process, I’ve discovered that American isn’t just a superficial tag dangling around my neck – it’s who I am.
January 19, 2009
Ready, fire, aim
January 19, 2009 – 1:48 PM IST
Yesterday I interviewed Shaheen Mistri, the CEO of Teach For India, to learn what it takes to lead a non-profit.
Without hesitation, she said that belief in your purpose is the most important factor. “It doesn’t matter if we achieve the objective in my lifetime or in three lifetimes – what matters is that I believe in where we’re going.”
Shaheen does whatever it takes to achieve her mission. Whether she is speaking to an audience of skeptical recruits, imploring another CEO to sponsor Teach For India or asking a team member to work through the weekend, she looks the person in the eye and doesn’t hesitate.
Second on her list is ability to take risk. Throughout my initial conversations with the team, the message was clear: “we are flying by the seat of our pants.” In my first call with Shaheen back in August, she tested my stress threshold. Ten minutes after the call she emailed me to re-emphasize: “I want to make sure you are okay with the lack of structure you’ll be coming into.”
It was a fair warning. Yet, in my first month here, grappling with what we were trying to accomplish in the given timeline, I thought she was simply a little crazy. I was well out of my comfort zone.
A college professor of mine, Tony Brown, taught a leadership course and was known for his unconventional style. When a class discussion got too academic, he would interject: “ready, fire, aim!” Now I understand what he meant.
Yesterday I interviewed Shaheen Mistri, the CEO of Teach For India, to learn what it takes to lead a non-profit.
Without hesitation, she said that belief in your purpose is the most important factor. “It doesn’t matter if we achieve the objective in my lifetime or in three lifetimes – what matters is that I believe in where we’re going.”
Shaheen does whatever it takes to achieve her mission. Whether she is speaking to an audience of skeptical recruits, imploring another CEO to sponsor Teach For India or asking a team member to work through the weekend, she looks the person in the eye and doesn’t hesitate.
Second on her list is ability to take risk. Throughout my initial conversations with the team, the message was clear: “we are flying by the seat of our pants.” In my first call with Shaheen back in August, she tested my stress threshold. Ten minutes after the call she emailed me to re-emphasize: “I want to make sure you are okay with the lack of structure you’ll be coming into.”It was a fair warning. Yet, in my first month here, grappling with what we were trying to accomplish in the given timeline, I thought she was simply a little crazy. I was well out of my comfort zone.
A college professor of mine, Tony Brown, taught a leadership course and was known for his unconventional style. When a class discussion got too academic, he would interject: “ready, fire, aim!” Now I understand what he meant.
January 2, 2009
New Year’s resolve
January 2, 2009 – 11:06 AM IST
The muses must have felt slighted when they discovered I was feeling low on blog content, because they delivered me a rotten story on a platter last night.
I was walking late at night, as I often do, down a familiar and quiet alley, and two young guys on a moped rammed into me from behind. At first I thought maybe they were drunk New Year’s revelers and would just carry on, so I gave them a scornful look and kept walking. However, they hopped off the moped, approached me and demanded my wallet.
Just a few weeks ago I chatted with my friend Dan about the various times people had tried to rob him during his 11 months of travel in Asia. He noted that he found people in India to be generally non-violent, and thus felt comfortable being confrontational when a few young men in Delhi tried to rob him.
With Dan’s words echoing in my mind, I said “no” and kept walking. The resolve of these two men to obtain my money was apparently not completely superficial. Thief number one grabbed my shoulder and demanded my wallet again. I pushed him and a shoving match ensued, reminiscent of a fourth-grade playground scuffle. Thief number two joined in for a moment and then, for whatever reason, thought better of it.
At this point thief one reached into his pocket and started coming at me again. I am not completely stupid, nor fearless, and the threat of a knife sent me backpedaling. Though it was dark I soon realized his hand was empty. We played fisticuffs once more until they apparently figured they were making too much of a scene and gave up.
I turned around and continued walking, belongings intact, but not before offering the two of them an emphatic “fuck you.”
The muses must have felt slighted when they discovered I was feeling low on blog content, because they delivered me a rotten story on a platter last night.
I was walking late at night, as I often do, down a familiar and quiet alley, and two young guys on a moped rammed into me from behind. At first I thought maybe they were drunk New Year’s revelers and would just carry on, so I gave them a scornful look and kept walking. However, they hopped off the moped, approached me and demanded my wallet.
Just a few weeks ago I chatted with my friend Dan about the various times people had tried to rob him during his 11 months of travel in Asia. He noted that he found people in India to be generally non-violent, and thus felt comfortable being confrontational when a few young men in Delhi tried to rob him.
With Dan’s words echoing in my mind, I said “no” and kept walking. The resolve of these two men to obtain my money was apparently not completely superficial. Thief number one grabbed my shoulder and demanded my wallet again. I pushed him and a shoving match ensued, reminiscent of a fourth-grade playground scuffle. Thief number two joined in for a moment and then, for whatever reason, thought better of it.
At this point thief one reached into his pocket and started coming at me again. I am not completely stupid, nor fearless, and the threat of a knife sent me backpedaling. Though it was dark I soon realized his hand was empty. We played fisticuffs once more until they apparently figured they were making too much of a scene and gave up.
I turned around and continued walking, belongings intact, but not before offering the two of them an emphatic “fuck you.”
A dry spell
January 2, 2009 – 10:22 AM IST
I hit a dry spell for blogging in the second half of December. It’s hard to say why with any certainty. There are a few possible reasons.
1. My thoughts have been turned inward lately. Or forward. I’ve been fixated on and distracted by the impending end to my stay in India, and whatever is next..
2. The well of content has been dry, or at least I have perceived it to be dry.
3. I have been insufficiently diligent. I’ve been spending my time with people – talking, doing, being – but not writing. I have learned that writing can happen only when I sit down and do it. Sometimes I forget this and wait around for the words to come before I make the time to write.
I am currently reading Steven Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Habit one is proactivity – spend time thinking about only those things that you can change, and then take action. Covey would tell me that reason three is the culprit here, and I suspect he would be correct.
I hit a dry spell for blogging in the second half of December. It’s hard to say why with any certainty. There are a few possible reasons.
1. My thoughts have been turned inward lately. Or forward. I’ve been fixated on and distracted by the impending end to my stay in India, and whatever is next..
2. The well of content has been dry, or at least I have perceived it to be dry.
3. I have been insufficiently diligent. I’ve been spending my time with people – talking, doing, being – but not writing. I have learned that writing can happen only when I sit down and do it. Sometimes I forget this and wait around for the words to come before I make the time to write.
I am currently reading Steven Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Habit one is proactivity – spend time thinking about only those things that you can change, and then take action. Covey would tell me that reason three is the culprit here, and I suspect he would be correct.
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