ONE LONG JOURNEY

COMING SOON: One Long Journey hashtag#memoir by Lohit Datta-Barua
All proceeds will go for Orphan Welfare. It will be available through Amazon. I hope you will spread the word and share on your post or FB page.  I want people to buy it for the sake of a few desperate children..  Thank you.

"One Long Journey is a contemporary Pilgrim’s Progress with an Engineer’s Eye for detail. Through the dilemmas of birth right, survival, the caste system found in India, strange places and even stranger societies along the way, Lohit Datta-Barua tells his story of Salvation. Can he forgive himself for the death of his mentor in a car accident? Will he discover who his parents really are?
For anyone making a journey (aren’t we all?) this is a practical guide to negotiating dismay along the way and in its profound moments a spiritual guide to claiming our destiny. One Long Journey is a compulsive read – a most rewarding story."
(Dr Robert Charles Bennett, PhD English Literature, Leicester, UK)

Extraordinary story of Lohit Datta-Barua, born into poverty along the banks of the Brahmaputra River in northeastern India, then to America with $8, he built a career as a world-class engineer and a force for social justice. Rewriting, editing, design/layout/production by Jonathan Slevin, a publisher, journalist, author

Hurricane Harvey and Houston

To Friends and Fellow Houstonians,

Now that hurricane Harvey is almost behind us, first of all I want to thank all the people - 1^st responders, police, coast guard, volunteers, FEMA, emergency management, rescuers, shelter providers, Red Cross, donors, and on and on - for a tremendous job and team spirit helping thousands of victims of this disaster.  It makes Houston proud and sets an example for the nation.

Having said that, a question lingers in my mind.  I have lived in this area for a long time.  Hurricane is nothing new to us.  Hurricane season comes every year.  Every 8 – 10 years we also experience a major devastating hurricane causing flooding and destruction.  Since Carla, Camille, we have had many such hurricanes, not to speak of the ugliness of Katrina that the whole world had witnessed.  Yet our approach to such recurring natural disaster has been reactionary.  We only wake up around hurricane season and spend billions of dollars to rebuild, to save lives, and watch the disaster unfold in disbelief.  Insurance companies dole out millions and then they have to raise premium. 

Could we not think about somewhat of a long term solution to such annual tragic episodes?  Could we not spend this kind of money for a better answer?  Specifically for Houston, could we not add one or two more reservoirs like Addicks and Barker so that we don’t have to release water for fear of a breach and then cause more flooding?  Could we cut more bayous for drainage to avoid overflow of existing bayous?  Could we not add more pumps to pump out access flood water (including that from reservoir and bayous) and dispose it may be 100 miles away through a pipeline system in open land or prairie?  No, I am no expert in this matter.  But I am an engineer and I firmly believe every problem has a solution; may not be perfect, but it could be lot better than what we have today.  It can minimize human miseries and loss of lives.  Should we continue on the same path, wait for the next major hurricane, and jump through the hoop again?  I earnestly request the city of Houston, Harris County, and the state leaders put their heads together for a long term solution.  Otherwise, it may be de ja vue all over again someday.

Paris Tragedy

It has been a long time since I posted here.  I felt compelled today to scribe my thoughts here today. It is hard to believe what the world has become - a violent place.  The latest episode has been played out in Paris by terrorist attack.  No ideology, no amount of anger should make anyone take an innocent life.  However, like entropy violence against the innocent is on the rise.  Call it whatever, war has never been a solution, may be a temporary band aid.  There is a root cause to every problem.  Treating the symptom without treating the root cause will not cure this dreaded disease.  When there is insurgency or terrorism, the immediate response is to fight that with force.  Again force is a temporary solution.  It ends up breeding more insurgents or terrorists or cynics.  How does a child who sees his or her parents blown away erase the picture from his or her mind?  People are not God.  They are made up of anger, hate, love, etc.  Only love and understanding can overcome hate and anger.  Terrorist can be a relative term.  A terrorist to one may be a patriot to another.  There are ample examples in the Middle East.  Many non-Israelis at one time perceived many Israeli leaders as terrorists.  Yasser Arafat was a terrorist in the eyes of Israel.  Force cannot win hearts; it can only suppress it temporarily.  One has to look beyond the guns to find out the root cause.  Generally it is out of fear of losing one’s identity or economic decline or high unemployment or religious orthodoxy or fanaticism.  Only in such situations extreme elements of the society gets sympathy from such sections as they feel that only these elements are their saviors and no one else cares.  If you want to stop large scale migration from one country to another, you have to stop ongoing war in that country or improve the living conditions of the country, or help remove oppression by their own rulers so that there is no incentive for the people to live their birthplace.  Problem solving cannot be a reactionary approach.  It has to be a well thought out root cause analysis.  Granted, while one is looking for the root cause, there can be temporary measures like using force to contain violence.  In the long run though, a civilized society’s aim should be to use less and less of brute force.  One has to find a sound balance between short term measures and long term solutions.

Fatherhood

A boy becomes a man.  He makes love with his beloved, and one day he becomes a father.  Cycle of life begins anew.  Obviously, that is the easy part, i.e. becoming a father.  However, I am not sure if some fathers have truly earned the title of fatherhood.  I wonder if some fathers realize the true meaning of fatherhood.   To a true father, the child, the family comes before anything else.  Fatherhood is a sum total of joy, tears, responsibility, sacrifices, and continued learning.  Besides, you don’t have to be a father to earn the respect that goes with fatherhood.  A foster father, a grandfather, or a father who raises an orphan is a father too.  There is no text book on Fatherhood.  Besides, book-learning will not necessarily make you a good father.  Fatherhood is an on-the-job training that will test your metal to see if you are worthy of the fatherhood title.  Fatherhood means knowing the meaning of love, even if it is tough love or unspoken love at times, knowing the responsibility and making the sacrifices with expectation of no return for the sake of the child to turn that child into a responsible, compassionate, self-reliant and decent human being so that that child someday can be a responsible parent and earn the respect for parenthood.  Mythological Lord Krishna was raised not by his own parents, but by Nanda and Yashoda and therefore He is better known as the son of Nanda and Yashoda.  I was raised by my grandparents and to me, in reality my father is my grandfather although I carry the genes of my birth parents, but they had no role in my growing up.  So, on father’s day and mother’s day I only reminisce the time I had with my grandparents.  They have been gone for many years now.  But even when they are gone, they have been always with me.  I am not sure I measure up to their standards.  I am still a work in progress, although I am a grandfather myself now.  You never stop learning about fatherhood.  You continue learn from your children and grandchildren about love, truth and sacrifice till the end of your time.

Magic of Time

Magic of Time
Lohit Datta-Barua, Humble, Texas

A few wrinkles
A few gray hairs
All sign of time
Someone dies
Someone is born
Someone begins to climb
Invincible he feels
The old hunchback gazes down
Looking frantically
for missing sands of time
And he trembles in fear
By the old cemetery
As he waits his turn
The king falls; some rejoice, some cries
The beggars die and no one minds
New born arrives; pain turns to smile
Winter gives way to spring
Love fills the air
Thorn birds sing in love
Broken heart bleeds in pain
Life, love, ascent, descent
Welcome, farewell
Time shapes us all
We come and go
Not of our own will
But at the mercy of time
That plays the tune
And we dance to it
until the end of time

Remembering a friend

Some people dream only.  Others work hard to fulfill that dream.  Yet at times those dreams never come true, not because of lack of effort.  It is the invisible arm we call destiny that takes a person away robbing his or her dream almost as a cruel joke. 

It has been over 33 years since I lost my dear friend Satyesh (Banikya) and the love of his life, Manjuma in a freak accident in the snow-covered road of Ithaca, NY.  They had left behind a gift of their love, a 6-year old daughter – orphaned.  That’s when one wonders if God is love why such things happen. 

MOTHER'S DAY

May 12, 2013 - Today is Mother's day. Happy Mother's day to all the moms all over the world. I got up early this morning not to forget to do what I have been doing for years for the mother of the house, i.e. my wife. She is the mother of our two lovely daughters who left the nest many years ago. One of them is a relatively new mother herself. So, before my wife woke up, I cut some pretty flowers from our yard, fixed some simple breakfast, a simple gift and a card – all set on the table. She was happy, but I wasn’t sure if she was surprised as I have been doing this for years. I gave her a hug and we had breakfast. After that I went for a long run thinking about my own mother. People say that she was my grandmother. I could care less. She was the only mother I ever knew and no one else can take her place. Come to think about it, I did not do anything for my mother (we used too call her Aai). We were selfishly thinking about ourselves, our needs, our heartache. My mother used to get up at the crack of dawn. She would take a shower with cold water from a bucket, summer or bone chilling winter. There was no hot or cold running water. After shower she would prepare tea and snack for the whole family. After she was through with breakfast and cleaning, it would be time to start cooking lunch, then afternoon snack, and then it would be time to prepare dinner. There was no stove – gas or electric. She used firewood. At times they were wet. It smoldered and smoked with no flames. It took longer to cook. Her eyes would water from smoke, but she never complained. Summertime, between lunch and afternoon snack, if she found a little time she would lay down to rest on the verandah where there might be a cool breeze coming from the direction of that mighty river flowing close by. She cooked and cleaned. She washed dishes and mopped floors. She washed children’s clothes and hung them from a string to dry in the sun. I do not know if she ever got any rest. When we were growing up, we never celebrated birthdays or anniversaries. I really never knew her birthday. There was no mother’s day or Valentine’s Day or anything like that. We never even said ‘I love you’ to her. Finally I too moved long, long way from my mother’s old house to a place called America. Cancer had almost devoured my mother from inside out. Her memory was a blur. She finally passed away almost 40 years ago and I wasn’t there. I suppose she decided to join her old man. Mother went away toiling like a slave for us. I hope she is having plenty of rest in heaven. We did not really do anything for her. I do not believe she ever expected anything from us. All she wanted from us was to be compassionate, responsible human beings. I do not know if we measure up to such standards. “Mother, I just wanted you to know that I love you. I hope you will excuse us for not remembering to say that when you were with us. You have been the greatest mother on earth. I do not have a mother anymore. But I just remembered you on this day and wanted to wish you “A Happy Mother’s Day”. They do not deliver mail to heaven. But I hope you can hear what my heart is saying. Love you, mother.”

Progressing or regressing?

I am back after a temporary hiatus to pose this question. In the urban jungle certain people act as barbarians even at a place that was considered back ward a few decades ago, but that had exemplary civility, compassion, honesty, and peaceful co-existence. The case in example – public molestation of a young girl in Guwahati where I grew up as a kid. This is totally un-Assamese and an unacceptable degradation of a society that used to pride itself in its value system. Only a few decades ago people were poorer, but they showed decency to other people, especially to women. There was no dowry, no bride burning, and corruption was unheard of or at least not out in open. Now, on a national level, corruption is rampant robbing the poor majority of a decent livelihood. When someone challenges these, the people in power condemns these as Maoist activity or sees foreign hand instead of accepting the problem and making an honest and urgent attempt to solve this. Where there is a will there is a way. By the same token, in the world stage, the world community is becoming impotent. Massacre goes in places like Syria by its own rulers. The world simply watches on helplessly just like the people in Guwahati were indifferent and did not come forward to protect the little girl from victimization. The world talks about progressive civilization and human rights while allowing injustice, inequality/discrimination (on the basis of gender, sexual orientation, color of skin, religious belief, age, national origin, disability, looks (so called ugliness discrimination), …). So, it is time to do a little soul searching by so called civilized society about the basic question – are we progressing in spite of relative material richness. Perhaps our souls are getting poorer as we accumulate wealth at the cost of others. Perhaps human beings are on a self-destructive path.

Thinking of Irony on this day

They sacrificed, suffered, renounced everything and gave their lives to save others. Jesus, Buddha, Mahatma … The others made a mockery of them. They built churches, mosques, temples, synagogues with gold and marble in the name of those who had renounced everything. Marble walls and gold domes don’t feed the hungry. The new flag bearers live in pomp and glory intoxicating the masses with false glory and pride so that they can control the lives of others. They divide the masses telling their followers that their God is better than the Gods of others. The masses become addicted to the religions of the new flag bearers. They lose their senses and fight for religious imperialism. Hindus, Muslims, Christians – all fight. They forget that there is only one God regardless of what name you assign. They forget that there is only one religion – humanity. Those who gave their lives for others look down from heaven, cry out once again and the mortals fail to hear. The children of God are lost forever in the wilderness.

Moderation - Life's Lesson

It seems everything in life is paradoxical or contradictory or a circle without a beginning and end. Too little or too much of anything is not good for any living beings. Yet we get sucked into that one way street only to complete the circle starting all over, may be in a different setting because of influence of time. Only time seems to be moving in one direction. Everything else goes in cycle – only period varies. City life and its glitter and gold lure us to accept the fast pace, gather wealth, and be immersed in a material world. Urban noise desensitizes us. Most of our waking hours are spent sitting (in a car, in a plane, in front of a TV, at our desk at work …). Those who are able to gather wealth (others who would also love to be in their shoes and try tirelessly to get out of their own fish trap) eat, drink, and waste more than they need to. They try to live in a germ free environment so that they can live longer. Then reality hits. They become obese. High blood pressure, diabetes, cholesterol, stress, stroke, cancer begin to defy their modern living. They begin to worry about frailty. Then they seek a gymnasium to work out. Aerobic DVDs, exercise show on TV, commercials for medication and weight loss program bombard us. They become health conscious, a little late in life. Now they go to the other extreme. They become de-toxication, cleansing, health food freak and try to go back to the basics. They buy expensive bike for exercise. They get on treadmill to walk on. They talk about camping, hiking, and getting back to nature. They rediscover birds, animals, nature, solitude that was part of their simple life to start with. In summary, we leave our simple life to collect wealth so that we can get back to the life we once had.

Moderation, common sense is the key. Too little food will starve you, too much will make you obese. Too much hard life, too many germs, and too little food will kill you. Too much food with too much sitting around will kill you too. Germ free environment will not develop your immune system, because your body does not need to prepare for foreign invaders. Vaccines are a small dose of disease introduced to your body so that it recognizes these intruders and become prepared for such intruders in the future. Too much germ will kill you too by overpowering your immune system. Everything has a limit. In predator free lands when predators were first introduced by humans, the native species had no way of knowing the predatory behavior of these alien species. The native species got wiped out. So, we need moderation in everything – good or bad, so that we sharpen our survival skill and live a long, healthy life using the lessons of the past and the present.

There is so much truth in the old Greek saying, “It is not good for all our wishes to be fulfilled; through sickness we recognize the value of health; through evil, the value of good; through hunger, the value of food; through exertion, the value of rest.”

Dual Role

Many of us play dual roles in real life – one faking happiness, smile, and laughter to others while hiding the sadness of the other self inside. In that sense most of us are acting on the world stage. I suppose we learn this from our childhood when adults’ fake happiness even when they are hurt to keep the child protected from pain. It is contradictory to normal feelings and seems at odd to them. Soon they too learn this role. The real self plays in private in our own green room or in dreams. So, many live through this acting until the end game when they tend to regret for not expressing their real feelings. That is life. Many try so hard to be accepted, to make others happy that their invisible tears drown their hearts; minds wander like a lost soul doing the things routinely to insure that their outside world is intact even if it is at the cost of being a victim of its own sorrow.

Once a runner, always a runner

After a hiatus for a few years, I signed up in July 2011 for the 2012 Houston Marathon after returning home permanently from my assignment in Angola. The motivation was a self imposed challenge – Could I do it at my age? What little running I had done in the past few years was only to stay somewhat healthy. HASH run in Angola every other Saturday could not be called true running. It was more of a fun walk/jog/run with motivation for most expatriates was to drink beer at the end of the run and socialize. It was also a break from the work-eat-sleep routine in an alien land as we did not have much of a life. So, here upon my return I was making perhaps a “stupid” decision to run the marathon on January 15, 2012. It was going to be my 8th. As with my Kilimanjaro trip in 2008, I also decided to raise some fund for a charity. I had a flash back of a little girl with cancer that I had worked with many years ago through Sunshine Kids Foundation. I remembered how happy she was to be able to take all the rides at the Astroworld including rock climbing. I was tired and dizzy trying to keep up with her taking those rides. But she was the happiest little girl that day and for me my aches and pains were worth it. So, I decided to raise funds for Sunshine Kids Foundation through my marathon run. Money started coming in. Now I felt like I could not back out. I could not let my sponsors down.

I started running in the neighborhood on weekends. Sometimes I would even go for a short run through the darkness in the morning before going to work. As a prelude to the marathon I decided to run the Houston Striders’ half marathon in October 2011 (which I had done many times in the past with a decent finish time). This half marathon turned out to be my worst ever. I struggled. I was almost starving towards the end; my legs did not want to move. I finished, but my time was terrible. Now I had 2nd thought about my marathon prospect – could I even complete the run, let alone worry about my time. I was more determined than ever. I started jogging more regularly. However, priorities change. I was about to be a grandfather. My wife and I traveled just about every weekend to SFO. During those breaks, I tried to jog in the nearby park. In between I got a severe cold and cough. The baby arrived; it was a joyous occasion. However, I stayed away from the baby or approached wearing a surgical mask. My running almost took a back seat. The marathon was approaching fast. Finally only in the last four weekends prior to the marathon I ran for a decent amount of time, but not enough to be ready for a marathon. The week before the marathon was a rest week and I literally survived on spaghetti that week to do carbo-loading.

The day arrived. For the first time I was truly worried. My family advised me time and again not to be stupid and walk away if necessary. I do not like walking away once I set a goal. I prayed in my own mind to give me that extra ounce of strength to be able to finish. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, my wife dropped me off at the starting point. There was a sea of humanity – for marathon, half-marathon, 5K. Soon the gun went off. We started moving. I was proudly wearing my Sunshine Kids baseball cap and the running shirt. My nick name Red River was written on my bib. My strategy was to go slow and goal was to finish the run. I did not care about my time. My competition was me. My friends (and adversary at the same time) were my old legs that I had depended on for over 60 years. We took off. We went through various neighborhoods. There were people standing by the roadside – cheering for us. They were beating drums, cymbals, or anything they could make any noise with. “Looking great, you can do it, got to get back before 12 for the game (Texans playoff game that is)” - they yelled. There were Elvis impersonators, belly dancers, and bagpipe players along the way. Volunteers offered water or Gatorade at every water stations. Unlike thousands cheering for their sons or daughters or parents or spouses, I had no relatives alongside the road. Yet I would hear “go Red, go” from the bystanders. Children would extend their hands for High Five and I would oblige as I pass them by. Slowly, but surely my legs were getting tired. We passed the half way point. They would say – “It is downhill from here on”. For me that was another half-marathon to go. Soon they would try to encourage by saying to join the party at the “Wall” (around 20-mile point). We stop and gulp down a little banana or a slice of orange. I would also pull out my little liquid energy pack from my pouch attached to my waist, tear out a corner with my teeth, and squeeze it in my mouth. Only 2-3 miles to go, yet it seemed like a million miles. My legs were telling me how I was torturing them. One was about to cramp up. I take a little Sports Cream out of my pouch and rub it in. Another runner stops by me. “Can I get a dab of that?” – He says. “Sure” – I say. There were people now barely walking or hobbling hoping to get to the finish line. There was couple of blind runners that people cheered on. There was a runner on a prosthetic leg. They were the inspiration. I continued on. My pace was getting slower and slower. I could now smell the finish line as I pass the downtown buildings block by block. I took a deep breath and increased my pace with whatever mental energy I had. People cheered on. I ran to the finish line. As I stepped on that finish line, the Finishing Clock was staring at me telling me how poorly I did. I did not care. On the other side, someone congratulated, someone hung the Finisher medal on my neck. I made it. My old legs, my heart did not fail me. I am grateful. Someone asked me to get on a weighing scale just to see if I had lost more than usual amount of weight (apparently a normal practice these days at the marathon). I was fine. I picked up my finisher shirt and a mug. I called my wife to give the news. As I waited for her, I had a hot meal served by the marathon organizers. My hats off to the thousands of volunteers and organizers! Ethiopian elite runners grabbed all the top positions. I was happy with mine. I was glad that I did not let down my sponsors and was able to raise funds close to $3,000.00 for the Sunshine Kids. My stomping on the pavement for five hours was worthwhile for me personally and I would also like to think that my effort would help a few unfortunate children with cancer whose suffering I could hardly imagine.

Yes, I did not have to walk away in defeat. I promised my family that it would be my last marathon. But, once a runner, always a runner! I will continue to run to stay fit as long as my old reliable legs would allow me to do that.

It’s a man’s world and still an unfair one:

It’s a man’s world. Being a male I too am indirectly a contributor to that unfairness as I have not stood up actively for gender fairness. 50% of the population is still unfairly treated or exploited regardless of their contribution, sacrifice, hard work, etc. without due recognition. My mother had slaved away her life for the family in another world at another time. She had no say. Nobody recognized her sacrifice. Women continue to sacrifice. Woman conceives babies (yes, generally out of love and a sex act) in a moment of love between a man and a woman. That’s where it just about ends. After that it’s the woman that carries that precious baby in her womb for long 40 weeks. She suffers pain, sleepless nights, significant bodily change, emotional change, hormonal change. The baby grows inside the security of the womb sucking life sustaining nutrients. The woman bears through the long ordeal because of an unexplainable love in anticipation of the newborn. One day the woman delivers the baby through excruciating pain. She survives, but her job isn’t over. The father still cannot nourish. It is the mother again who has to nourish the baby with her own milk. Yet the newborn now becomes the flag bearer of the father carrying his last name. The baby has no choice in selecting the name. It’s the male world that determines whose family name it will carry. The baby has no choice as to what religion he or she wants to choose. The religion is again given by the patriarchal world. Baptism, circumcision – they have no choice. The mother is forgotten just about. She faces hurdles all the way. She can aspire to be the president, the best surgeon, and so on. Her gender, her ability to carry a baby, maternity leave gets in the way in a man’s world. I believe if Hillary Clinton was a male, she would have had a better chance at being the president. Obama made history (and perhaps it was overdue) – with the word of hope and change. An idealistic younger generation got carried away emotionally and voted for ideals ignoring experience. Others were afraid to be labeled as racist. Hillary could have made history too (which is way overdue). But that 50% will have to wait for a female President just because of their gender. I have two daughters. They have the best education. Their offspring will not carry their names in a man’s world. I cannot change the world, and I want them to stand tall in a man’s world. I want the world to seriously think about the age-old unfairness to women and do something about it. I want to see true gender equality. Perhaps it won’t happen in my life time.

I am still here

It has been a while since my last post. Time flies. Another year is about to say good bye. Another Presidential election is on the horizon. Euro zone is in trouble. Greece and Italy are in financial turmoil. At the US home front, economy and unemployment are giving Barak Obama a massive headache. He is not the inspiration he was less than four years ago. There are Tea Party and Occupy Wall Street phenomena. My favorite singer, Dr. Bhupen Hazarika from the mighty Red River passed away. So did Andy Rooney. May their souls rest in peace! I am about to be a grand pa. I am excited, although by no means I feel old. I had my annual physical and my doc thinks I am in good shape. I think I have a little more time and I keep trucking on. I have a few more items on my bucket list. My long journey has been very eventful. Perhaps soon I will be able to tell my story, only if anyone cares to listen.

Homecoming

Finally, I have returned home to Houston on June 1, 2011 after a little over two years in Angola. In two years it begins to grow on you. In mere two years it feels a little strange here – Houston seems unusually hot, certain people I used to know at the office have left, a few even passed away. The stuff on TV is about the same – lots of drug commercial aimed at the baby boomers, partisan political rhetoric and news on crime. Unemployment and deficit are high. Extreme right still seems to think they have the monopoly on virtues and only they can solve the problems. I even saw a “Nobama” sticker. The Space Shuttle made its last voyage to the space station. No one knows what’s next. The good news is that soon I will be a grandpa, but I don’t feel old at all. I am planning to run another Houston marathon in January 2012. Then again, why not run for a cause? So, I am trying to raise some funds for Sunshine Kids (kids with cancer). It won’t put any dent in the miseries of the children or the world. But if it puts a smile on one child’s face for one day, it may be worth it. I am slowly adjusting to my homecoming. No more running on Ilha by the ocean to Pointe Final. Life goes on.