Brain Hickey

A brain hickey, like a real hickey, is something that leaves its mark. The opposite of a brain fart (when you have a mental disconnect and can’t think of the simplest thing), a brain hickey is a thought so profound, so deep, so mentally tantalizing that it sticks with you. Maybe you’ll change your life because of the enlightenment you experience. Or maybe you’ll just think about what I said for the next few days and then it’ll gradually fade, like a real hickey.

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Location: Cleveland Heights, Ohio, United States

I have three sons, a dog, and a very supportive husband. I get to write whatever I like as long as I don't ask him to read it.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Potty Mouth, addendum

So you all know how I feel about food and bathrooms, that they do not go together under any circumstances. Food in the before stage should not be in the presence of food in the after stage.

That said, on another seemingly unrelated subject, I am rather annoyed by product placement on diapers. Really, who are the ads for? Does Pampers really need pictures of Elmo and Big Bird on them? Are babies really going to notice them? Frankly, having characters on pull up diapers makes kids (namely mine) prefer to wear his Go Diego Go pull ups rather than his truck underpants, which may be getting in the way of potty training. Do these corporate sponsorships help defray the cost of disposable diapers, or are they still way expensive? Would plain, non-charactered diapers be cheaper (perhaps by saving money on the printing) and why isn't that an option?

So anyhow, the other day, there I was, changing my baby's diaper when I looked at the design on the diaper. There was a picture of Blue - of Blue's Clues fame - surrounded by cupcakes. How wrong is that? It makes absolutely no sense. For one thing, a baby wearing size 3 diapers 1) doesn't know what a cupcake is, and 2) is too young to eat them. And a mother putting a baby in a size 3 diaper 1) isn't appreciative of the fine artwork on said diaper, 2) is not thinking about cupcakes right after changing a soiled diaper, and 3) does not appreciate the association being made between a fine piece of cuisine and excrement.

I know, you probably figured out that this is what I was thinking about when I first described the diaper, but I just had to get it out.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Mango Trees and Family Leaves

Mango Trees and Family Leaves

A Play in One Act

By

Nivi R. Engineer

CAST:
SINHA – elderly Indian man
NIVI – thirty-something Indian female

SETTING: Front porch in front of a house in India. The house is whitewashed with several doors and barred windows. Lush tropical greenery can be seen as well. Chairs set up stage left, with NIVI sitting holding a journal and pen staring toward stage right. SINHA, an elderly man wearing a dhhoti, white kurtha and sandals, walks in from stage right in some manner (fog, lighting, whatever) indicating that he enters as part of a dream. He is a slim, Indian man with a full head of white hair.

SINHA
Nivedita.
NIVI
[rises and walks to him. Touches his feet then her head and heart] Great-grandfather Sinha. Shall I get you some tea or snacks?
SINHA
No. Please sit. I have come to talk to you. [both sit] You are a writer.
NIVI
Yes.
SINHA
It is in your blood.
NIVI
So it seems.
SINHA
And here you are, talking to an old man who died when your mother was a child, sitting in a home that was torn down five years ago and turned into apartments.
NIVI
Yes. Why is that?
SINHA
Because you seek the truth. Your true family history. Not just the stories you’ve heard your mother tell, or from the places you’ve visited in the past, but from all the people who have helped shape who you are – people whom you barely know and yet who love you nonetheless.
NIVI
But how can I learn from what no longer exists? How can I fight progress?
SINHA
There is no need to fight progress. Change is inevitable. You bemoan the loss of the house where you spent many summers as a child. I miss a time when Hindus and Muslims fought side by side against a common enemy. Now that the enemy is gone, they are content to fight one another. That is not what we fought for. That is not why we wrote against the British and went to prison for it. Did you know I was in prison when your mother was born? My first grandchild and I couldn’t see her.
NIVI
Yes, I heard. But my mother admired you for that – and countless other reasons. I grew up hearing about your generosity and integrity. Mom was always so proud of being related to you, of being your descendant. She raised us to live in a manner befitting such a good family.
SINHA
That must have been difficult.
NIVI
Well…
SINHA
But you seem to have taken that to heart.
NIVI
Not completely. I don’t think I should behave well in public just because my family has historically been good. That means that anyone from a ‘bad’ family has an excuse to live an immoral life.
SINHA
Well stated. But then, why would one behave? Fear of God?
NIVI
I don’t think religion should have anything to do with good behavior either. I mean, at their core, all religions are the same. They tell you to be nice to each other, to care, and to believe in the parables told as part of their books. And yet, in the name of religion, for the sake of a higher being whose goal is peace and salvation for mankind, people commit unspeakable acts of violence against their fellow man. Because in the hands of man, religion has become a competition, and there cannot be peace until only one religion remains. But then, man will find another competition, another reason to dislike his fellow man.
SINHA
So you lack hope.
NIVI
No. On a small scale, with my interactions with the people I know, I believe in the goodness of mankind. But it doesn’t seem to hold true on a larger scale.
SINHA
It does. All around the world, people are good. The bad are few and far between.
NIVI
Then it’s the media, sensationalizing the few stories there are and making us believe that we need to legalize concealed weapons.
SINHA
My newspaper told people what they needed to know. The exploits of the British regime could not stay hidden. We Indians were educated, highly intelligent individuals who allowed strangers to run our country because those of us with the most knowledge were given privileges withheld from the masses. The rich were reluctant to risk losing everything. And so things stayed the same for far too long. But when the masses speak, change will come.
NIVI
But was that change really worth it? Is India really better off now than it was under British rule? Politicians are resoundingly corrupt; poverty and illiteracy are great, and the best minds leave for America.
SINHA
Ah, but we are young. We are mere infants in the age of nations. Sixty years is nothing compared to how long India has been around. This era simply awaits its next Ram or Krishna who will lead it out of its troubles.
NIVI
You mean the Hindu ‘yug’? [Author’s Note: The ‘u’ in ‘yug’ is pronounced like the ‘oo’ in ‘foot’]
SINHA
Precisely.
NIVI
And that is what people in India hold onto? The hope that someone will come along and make everything better?
SINHA
The hindus, anyhow.
NIVI
And you don’t find this disturbing? That now, instead of the British, India is held hostage by corrupt officials?


SINHA
Are you here to destroy a dead man’s hope or to restore your own? I know politics and religion are not what trouble you. Speak your mind.
NIVI
You were a great writer because you could passionately rail against the British. You were changing the world. You were fighting for your country’s freedom. I live a life of comfort. My freedom, my home, my life, nothing is at stake. Where do I find the passion, the struggles that drive good writing?
SINHA
Good writing need not come from living a hard life. It comes from observing life and understanding people. It comes from having your eyes open to the experiences around you. Good writing comes from your heart, from your imagination. But most importantly, it comes from writing. Dream these dreams. Travel your past in your mind. Draw parallels with your present. Ask questions. Be a part of the world around you. Live. Writing comes from living. And so I leave it to you.

[SINHA rises and walks away, offstage left. NIVI sits staring at the disappearing figure for a while, then picks up the journal and starts writing]