borderland Blues

This is my 4th year at Zurich Film Festival(ZFF), an annual event end of September that I look forward to with great anticipation each year. It is a treat for cinema lovers and I especially enjoy watching international films and documentaries that otherwise I do not get to watch. What I cherish the most from these festival events is the chance to meet and listen to the directors, producers, film makers, caste and crew during Q&A sessions.

Yesterday night we opened our personal account of 12th annual ZFF with a documentary film borderland blues.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dwdzx9BR0g4

It is made by Austrian documentary film maker Gudrun Gruber who currently studies documentary film making at University of Films and Television in Munich.

http://www.gudrungruber.com/en/bio.html

Gudrun's work explores migration from various perspectives. Her prior work engages on stories of illegal migrants working in green houses in southern Spain and the identity conflicts of migrants and their struggle with belonging. This documentary film made as part of her course work discusses politics and perspectives on US-Mexico border in the state of Arizona.  For me, it had some additional appeal in context of the statement of an american presidential election candidate who wants the president of Mexico to build a wall along this international border. I wanted to know more about this international border and what is going on there.

This 73 minute documentary film kept me glued to the screen, there were many moments of deep despair and few humorous scenes which made me shake my head in disbelief. I kept evaluating my own position, my views, my arguments and reasons as opposed to those expressed on the screen by various protagonists of her film. I felt extremely worried with the political discourse and the expo on intelligent technology with day and night vision and radar to scan the topography for any human movement. The death toll of almost 2600 people while crossing the border between 1991 to 2003 made me realise that this is just the tip of the iceberg. There is immense amount of suffering which doesn't culminate into death but which still affects human lives in much higher numbers. The self-proclaimed NGO of ex army men patrolling border and supporting border control officers, the humanitarians leaving water cans and food at strategic points for those trying to cross the border, the farmers and ranch owners worried about drugs being smuggled across into their cities, the native population in O'odham land being divided by the no man's land, the film successfully brings together varied perspectives on sensitive topic of illegal migration with immense neutrality. I think that is the biggest success of the film maker to narrate the story without taking sides or favouring one perspective over the other. She leaves you with many questions in your mind, the answers for which you have to find for yourself... but one thing is clear, the problem is not restricted to US-Mexico border, it is a universal narrative, whether in Europe or Asia... the world today is broiling with border conflicts, continuous flow of refugees, countless number of people putting themselves in grave danger in hope of finding a safe place, the alienation and disappointment, the deaths and suffering....

The Q&A was in German so I lost a lot of details but I believe movie clearly succeeded in creating a storm of thoughts in my head. I am a immigrant/emigrant myself, albeit a legal one. In some ways I can relate to these dreams and hopes of good life, but as a social scientist, I also can understand the  social and cultural conflict it creates, the fear of the host country and societies that they might lose 'their' way of life. There is ongoing debate on what successful integration should be like and is it possible to truly integrate two strikingly different cultures and ways of living... integration is often considered and expected to be the primary responsibility of those who are migrants, but it cannot be just the one way traffic... and the host societies need to demonstrate large amounts of patience, deep commitment to social welfare of the citizens as well as refugees and asylum seekers. I understand the fear of bad elements entering a host society but can we ignore the suffering of many innocents to not allow the bad apples. I know I am no expert on politics or migration studies but the film definitely pushed me to question my own assumptions, prejudices, fears and arguments. That doesn't mean I found my clear position. I guess that will take a life time of reflection and work... 

My dad: my first role model..

It is no wonder that I want to start this series with the story of my father. I am proud to be his daughter. He was the first feminist role model in my life together with my mother..and a large attribute to my flourishing life today goes to these two.... This one is for you dad... I know I never said this to you while you were alive.. but I am going to say it now.. I am deeply indebted to you for making me who I am today.. I am proud that you are my father and I carry you, your ideologies, your simplicity and your way of looking at life with me in each step of life...Thank you for being my father, my role model..

My father came from a humble family background. He was the cherished, precious son of a lower middle class Hindu Brahmin family with three daughters. What I know from the stories told in the family, his birth was a big joyous event, the boy was conceived after three girls but I think, his birth also raised a lot of expectations, expectations his parents had from their first 'son'... he did not fulfill most of their expectations, he rebelled and chose a path of life that was not approved by his parents. I am sure there was quite some pain involved... he dropped out of school, he ran away from home, he hung around friends from lower castes, he learned how to drive auto rickshaw instead of finishing high school.. he started smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol by the age of 18 and all this behavior of him caused a lot of pain to his parents... and he also suffered quite some pain, the pain that stayed with him throughout his life. He never blamed anyone for his failure in professional life, he took responsibility for his alcohol dependence... my father was not educated in the formal sense of the word but he was highly forward thinking and encultured.. in my mother tongue Marathi, we have two distinct words.. सुशिक्षित आणि सुसंस्कृत . The first word means well educated and the other one indicates well cultured, I dont know if such a word exists in English.

My father married my mother against the approval of his family. His family was concerned that my mother was more educated than my father and earned more money. May be they were concerned that she is not going to be one of those women that could be subordinated and controlled.. my mother is far from it. It also seems that they had trouble with my mother's profession. My mother is a trained nurse and worked in a tertiary hospital in three different work shifts. In those days, the profession of nursing was frowned upon in Brahmin community for a variety of reasons. Traditionally, widows were trained as nurses by British nursing schools to give them an honorable life. It was also assumed that 'good' women do not spend nights out of their house. Being a nurse meant my mother will work in night shifts and she will work in close collaboration with male doctors. The family of my father in some ways saw my mother as a more powerful and hence potentially dominating and threatening woman, not someone that you would chose as a wife for your son. My father was convinced that my mother was the right partner for him and they eloped. Their married life started in harsh context, without support or blessings of his family and with constant criticism.. my father's family ridiculed him for many years for being his wife's pet... it hurt him a lot but he never felt any remorse or anger towards my mother.. he was very proud of his wife who was a strong woman, determined and who would take powerful steps for the welfare of her family. He said it again and again to her and to others how lucky he was to have her in his life and he gave all the credit of his happy healthy family to his wife.... He accepted with open heart that his wife was far better and stronger than him in every walk of life. He never felt threatened by her success or her persona, rather he always felt huge pride in her accomplishments..

I am their first born daughter...during that pregnancy, my mother had explained my father how X and Y chromosomes define gender of the baby and had made it clear to him  that she doesn't care about the gender of the baby.. all she wanted was a healthy child.. he wondered why was she explaining him all this for he truly believed in and hoped for the same.. a birth of their healthy child.. boy or the girl did not matter... my birth was a great moment of joy for both of them.. they celebrated it on a grand scale in spite of limited financial capacity and on the backdrop of criticism of his family... 'these two are celebrating birth of a daughter as if it is a son...' they just wanted to make a clear statement, our daughter is our first child and we are very happy with her arrival...during their second pregnancy, they both decided together not to use ultrasound technology to know the gender of the baby and were happy to have two daughters if that would be the case..

I grew up in a family where my father shared all the household responsibilities with my mother equally... he was highly involved in child care, he used to cook for us, get us ready for school. He learned how to tie my hair even though I hated and disapproved his not so perfect way of tying my hair..they could not afford child care so they started working in opposite shifts so that one of them will always be there at home for us. So my mom would work in morning shift and he would take afternoon shift.. this meant, the two never had a day off together. It definitely affected their personal lives but they were clear about their priority towards us. Cooking, laundry, cleaning house, taking us to school, everything was shared.. my mother loved cooking so he would let her cook but he always cleaned the kitchen afterwords.. once she was finished cooking, he would tell her to leave the kitchen and sit down and he used to serve her meal... I have so many fond memories of those shared tasks in the kitchen.. he used to chop vegetables and get things ready so that she could cook in less time... it was no wonder that both me and my brother had to do our share in housework. We were treated equal..I hated working in the kitchen but my brother was always happy playing and experimenting with my mother while cooking.. and that was fine as long as I then took over other tasks in the home.. I was never forced to take up cooking because I was a girl and my brother was never reprimanded for being so interested in cooking...only thing they told us was that we should not get caught in any stereotypes on what is the domain for men or women, boys or girls, each one should be able to and willing to do anything that needs to be done... that was their life skill education for us...

My father and my mother always told us to critically examine every tradition, every custom and not to accept everything just because some religious scripture, some powerful men say something or ask us to do something... they instilled this critical questioning skill in us. They made us think independently from very young age. We were encouraged to question their actions and behavior as well and they took that in a positive spirit. They also taught us to make our own decisions after careful consideration. They wanted us to make mistakes and  learn from those. They gave us freedom to chose our professional calling. They asked important questions that gave practical grounding to our decisions but they never imposed their dreams or their hopes on our lives.. our education and decisions related to that, my dad mainly handed over that to my mother.. he was honest, he said, he did not understand much about higher education and hence my mother was appropriate point person for us to discuss those issues with... We were also given a lot of financial responsibility for the household from very young age. My parents used to hand over the money and the budget for the monthly household costs to us and we were to run the expenses. It made us realize how to use money wisely, how to save little bits but in a sustained manner...one distinct difference of our childhood was we were never taught to be afraid of any one, even of our parents. Our father never used corporal punishment which was seen as a normal way of disciplining children in those days. This probably has to do with the way my father was disciplined by his father. We learned that my father was often beaten and even starved as a child to discipline him and to modify his behavior. That might have left strong impact on him. But he chose to use different ways to bring us up..

In my adolescence, my father asked my  mother to explain to him about menstruation in girls so that he could be prepared to support me in case I started my periods while my mother was at work and he was the one at home.. when I look back at sensitivity of this man, even today, I feel deeply overwhelmed and moved by this gesture of my dad. Both me and my brother were taught to treat people from all castes, religions with utmost respect and trust. We were also encouraged to have friends from different social environments and from both genders. They always told us that there is nothing wrong to have friends with opposite gender as long as you know what the friendship means for you and what are the boundaries of that friendship. This was valuable lesson at home especially when at school and in society, we had seen people presenting the friends who were boys as being girl friends just to be safe at home... my father had great ability to connect with other people, he would make friends easily and he fully trusted life and people in general. There were many instances where people whom he trusted took advantage of him but he was never bitter, nor did he doubt everyone else based on these few bad experiences. He also demonstrated strong empathy in his everyday interactions and treated women, elderly and not so well off with great respect. He had very few material needs, he would share his food and clothes with those who had nothing. He believed in giving his share to the world without expecting any returns. He was deeply supportive of a young boy who used to clean dishes in his office cafeteria. This boy was studying in night school and every year as he passed his exams, my dad was equally proud of this boy as he was proud of us.... he was a very simple man and he could find joy in most simple things... he had a gift to find something good in every situation and he had ability to find reasons to smile in most difficult and trying situations.. I remember distinctly his smile, a smile so pure and straight from heart, a genuine smile... a smile that would shine in spite of a lot of pain and suffering that he had gone through and that he had caused...

Like every parent-child relationship, we had fair share of conflict and troubles and I have not always been kind to my dad. I have hurt him many times, sometimes out of anger, or frustration.. but as I grow older and reflect on life, I realize more and more what a special man my father was.. I realize how much he has influenced my life, how many of his personality traits I share with him. I also feel a huge burden of guilt for my insensitivity towards his suffering, his alcohol dependence, I did not make enough effort to understand and listen to his struggle, I saw him as a weak man. It took me many years, diverse life experiences and his sudden death to realize what a strong man and loving father he was.. I never expressed my gratitude towards him while he was alive, I took his contribution towards raising us for granted... I am ashamed of my arrogance and narrow understanding of strength or a greatness of a person... I have learned over decades now that success of a person is not just in the money he has earned or material success he achieved in his life time but rather in the  legacy he has left behind... and my father left behind quite a legacy, a legacy of simplicity, humility, trust, empathy.... Thank you dad for being such a strong role model in my life, for teaching me what it means to be a good man... I am trying to lead a trustworthy relationship with myself and the others around me and your life is definitely a guiding light for me...... I know you are happy watching us grow.. and mature with each passing day with each new life experience... Thank YOU....

Looking for something good in every man I see or meet..

I have been overwhelmed with turn of events that took place in India in last few days. The documentary film 'India's Daughter' was released by BBC ahead of time as India issued a ban against its release in India. This hour long film investigated and analyzed the events that took place in Delhi in December 2012 and tried to shine light on complex socio-cultural-economic context in which sexual violence against women in India is situated.

Like many viewers around the world, I was deeply sad, troubled and shocked by the atrocities of human behavior and lack of remorse or insight. I was boiling in rage and anger and I realized I was beginning to hate the male gender all over again. This was a warning sign. I needed to do something for my own sake so that I do not see all the Indian men in the same way as I see those convicts and their lawyers in the movie. That will be highly unfair to men in general because not every man in my country agrees with their world view. And to look at each Indian man with anger or paranoia is dangerous for my own mental well being.

I decided to consciously change my train of thoughts. Every time I feel, the anger and resentment piling up inside my mind, I decided to think of Indian men in my life who have set positive example towards gender equality and women's rights. As I started thinking about these role models, I realized, I needed to compile their stories for myself, an easy reference to turn to whenever I feel low and lost. That is how this idea of series of blog posts took shape..

The men described in this series are real men. I have met them in various walks of life, both personal and professional.. They have shaped my life and they have contributed to my journey. They are not extra ordinary heroes, but they are silent heroes of everyday life, champions of women's rights in everyday life. May be their sphere of influence was small and confined to the family but none the less, I do believe that any social change starts with us, the individuals and the families which shape our early growth and development...

I will not use their real names but it will be quite easy to recognize who they are as I describe how their path crossed with mine. I do not mind that their little positive actions and contributions will be read by the anonymous readers of this blog, I would rather like that.. I wish I could go to each one of them and express my gratitude for them in spoken words but that is not going to happen. Instead, I use the written words and the medium of blogosphere to express my gratitude..

I do admit, this effort has a selfish motive. I am doing it for my well being, to make peace with the ongoing emotional struggle, to prevent myself from being poisoned with anger and hatred towards the other gender.. but while doing so, I also take my responsibility seriously: responsibility to not harm any man intentionally either through my actions or written words...

I am curious, how will this series take form.. I guess we will see...

my new affair

I am in love with Umlaute... they are cute and adorable.. I did not even realize how fascinated I am with them in my rudimentary attempts to write a few words in German, till a friend pointed it out to me yesterday..

It seems I put them wherever my heart fancies even though they don't belong there..

well, may be I need to explain what Umlaute are.. these are those two adorable dots on top of a, o and u. Typically these become ä,ö,ü, additional three alphabets in German and in Swiss German. Do not ask me to pronounce them correctly, I simply cant. My German teacher used to exaggerate his facial movements to make us understand the difference in sound of this holy trinity of German language but every time he did it, it just cracked me up.. I never knew if it was his comical face or the sound of those alphabets.. but I just could not stop giggling inside my belly and trying hard not to blurt out laughing loud or fall off my chair in my bout of epileptic laughter... to be honest, I never attempted to pronounce those ä,ö and ü. Why should I? They were having party inside my imaginative brain... and felt no need to enter this world through my primitive vocalization.. I was also happy to play with them in my brain and have a bash, a creative bash...

but written words is a different story... I can express myself better in written words, even thoughts or sounds that I would shy away from vocalizing through my throat, flow effortlessly through my written words.. and so do Umlaute.. For example, my most favorite and first learned Swiss German word is 'Schlüsselblüemli'.. what a beautiful word!!! It sounds like a musical note to my ear but I cant pronounce it. So I just bug my friends to say this word to me again and again like a child pestering his mom to continue reading a bed time story and refusing to sleep.. But  I write the word 'Schlüsselblüemli' as often as I like. I not only like writing the word Rösti, I also eat it with great joy every single time.. I play with Umalute in my words... because they look like little persons to me..

let me explain what I mean.. Imagine each alphabet is a person, a little person.. what Swiss German will describe as Männlli, may be a personalli is a better word but I don't know if that exists. ... so each alphabet has also a personality of its own.. some are naughty, some are geeky, some are bit depressive, some are always ready to play, some are snobbish, some are shy and some are obsessive compulsive.. now imagine my ä,ö and ü.. to me they look like little naughty but friendly aliens.. with little antennae on their heads to communicate with their world... or little angels with a halo over their head, or just prankster kids pulling tricks on poor souls like me who are terrible at phonating all these hard sounds of foreign language...

but I imagine these three to be like me somehow... for example, I am very sure that their antennae start beeping crazy in joy and excitement, even turn green and blue when they see Rösti or chocolate muffins or potato chips or any tasty vegetarian food any hour of the day... they get all mushy and humble when they see a beautiful sunset, new leaves of spring, or a tiny wild flower.. they cry while reading a letter from a friend or watching a movie or enjoying a book.. they also feel sad and struggle to express their sadness and instead start fanatically organizing something at hand... they can be pleased easily and they can break into an ear to ear banana smile at smallest of a joy coming their way... I like these little special characters because I can relate to them and they give me a means of expression of my own kind... so I use them generously as I go about my way in attempts to learn the language and smile along with them.. I leave them behind me as a trademark, just the way we all leave a mark, a legacy behind us in every person, every object we interact with in our life time... and I amuse myself when idle by imagining various tricks my ä,ö and ü could pull on me... and trust me they are very very naughty and funny and crazy when it comes to pulling tricks... and they also have nonverbal communication strategy through size of those dots, colors and distance between the two dots. Everything has a meaning and deciphering that meaning is no less than scholarly work that I do for earning a living...

So I leave you all with a line rich in Umläüte.

Häve ä beütifül weekend...

mankind on move

It is not a sensational statement if I state that we live in a globalized world. I think the term globalization has lost its charm because we just know it, we take it as a standard, there is no more academic debate whether globalization is the phenomenon of late 20th century... it is a fact almost universally accepted that we live in a globalized world...

But sometimes I still get amazed by the complex personal and national identities (and stereotypes as well) this has led to. How these identities collide in everyday life.. for example, I received an email from someone who lives in Sydney Australia, who says she is of Chinese ethnicity and she is born first generation New Zealander. She is visiting Europe in summer. What an interesting way of defining herself? and what it must be like to be her, to belong to so many identities but still feeling somewhere in between, being in a constant search for feeling comfortable in some community, some group, some country, some continent?

Another example, my train ride from Zurich to Basel this morning, I had to listen to a conversation (rather loud and public) between fellow passengers, a man and a woman. The man defined himself as an artist, he comes from Guatemala and holds Guatemalan passport. In his words, he has lived in New York and New Delhi and many places in between. He speaks English and French fluently but feels that he is loosing Spanish, his mother tongue. He was talking to a young woman sitting opposite him on the train. The conversation started with him trying to guess her nationality. He claimed he loves to play this game and is accurate 85% of times. In this case, he was wrong even after 3 guesses. She is from Poland but has lived in the UK for 10 years, has also lived in Ukraine and Russia and her family currently resides in Ukraine. She speaks fluent Polish, English, Russian and tiny bits of German. Her family has expanded into many parts of continental Europe through marriages and relationships. It was interesting to overhear the conversation between these two for 50 minutes. They talked about their lives and identities but they also shared their experiences of having lived in many countries, positive as well as negative. They had strong opinions about cultural differences and they also had strong preferences on where do they feel truly at home.

Talking to strangers in public places such as trains is quite common in India. At least that is how I have experienced it and remember it and I don't think that habit has disappeared in last 5 years. But in Switzerland, I rarely see such interactions. The fact that these two talked for the entire train ride was quite unusual and they acknowledged that this was possible because neither of them was Swiss. I am not sure about that statement. But this is what they both believed.

I want to meet someone who has never left his place of birth, nor has his family moved anywhere.. you know the true locals...  I would love to listen to such a person and understand their story and experience.. does that even exist? if we look at human history, movement and more recently migration in search of food, shelter, love, growth, stability, safety is as old as story of mankind... it feels like we all have been moving all along, strange because deep down inside us, the reason to move was to find an anchor, a place to belong, a place that can be our home.. some of us found it, some others are still searching but may be there are some who never had to search for such an anchor. They just knew they were in a right place ... I am really curious to meet such a person...

A little boy lost in his book

This morning, on my tram ride to work, I saw a little boy sitting by the window, deeply engrossed in his book. I could not stop myself from starting a conversation with his mother. Generally I am afraid to talk to strangers in Switzerland because it is not a common practice here that a stranger starts talking to you that too in English.. But today I made an exception..

I grew up in company of books. They fueled my imagination and curiosity about the world. They also inspired me to get out my comfort zone at a very young age.. Reading a book still gives me an immense joy. But when I look at all the multimedia and games that predominate the childhood today, I feel a dull ache in my heart.. Nothing against the play stations, video games, computer games and clutter of i pads, smart phones, kindles and computers, they have a role of their own and advantages too.. but still loss of books that can be smelled, touched, held in one's hands and carried in one's school bag makes me a bit lost... I do admit that in last decade or so, all I read was professional literature.. and that affected my brain rather adversely.. so recently I decided to bring books back in my life, to give them their deserved honored place... I started borrowing and buying books that have nothing to do with my work life.. and they make such a difference...

So seeing this boy this morning lost in his book resonated deeply with my own life... and my compliment was well received by his mother.. boy was not interested in talking to me.. I am sure his book was more interesting.. but the mother shared my feelings.. She said she grew up with books and is very happy that her son shares that passion... she also noted that it is pretty rare for boys to be fond of books.. and she hopes that her boy would continue to be friends with books..

I wished them both happy reading hours and walked out of the tram feeling happy and inspired to write this blog post... when i was a child, my mom told me-'if you want to be a good writer, you need to read a lot of good books'.. I agree but I want to add, being able to observe everyday life and noticing such little experiences also helps me write...

Keep reading and stay happy... Have a great day ahead...

Flying high with K & L

Today I want to write about K & L. Trust me. I am not making up random alphabets. These are real ladies and to protect their identity, I have to use their initials. It is just a coincidence that these two seem to follow an alphabetical order.

I have not met either K or L in person. But for last 10 days, I have been following their performance. They are pilots and they were competing with 34 other men. It is quite sad that in this sport event, there are so few women. But I truly believe that both these ladies actually shined through the contest for their skills, technique and sportsman spirit. It is not always the number that matters but what one brings on board that puts them a class apart.

Apart from the fact that, these ladies rule the sky in their own ways, I am also fascinated by their passion for flying. They are my inspiration and role models. I always wanted to fly but somehow it never felt possible. It was one of those million dreams and desires in my non-ending bucket list. So watching their performance each day in some ways was fueling my dormant dreams. Though, I have nothing in common with them, I still felt strongly connected with them. I am proud of these two. What was even more inspiring for me was the sportsman spirit K demonstrated.

I know one thing about myself. When I set a goal, I want to give it my very best. I think this personality trait also makes me a bit competitive, performance focussed. May be, this is the outcome of having survived through cut throat competition in professional life in India. There was no room for being second or making mistakes as I knew there were thousand others who would then walk over me. I am not criticizing that competition nor do I want to discuss it here but I want to acknowledge that somehow I forgot to enjoy what I was doing in pursuit of being perfect. I have had successful professional life in many different parameters but I still feel that I am not good enough and I really hate that about myself. I have difficulty to cope with disappointments or failures. And by failures, I mean being 3rd instead of 1st or having made few mistakes that probably no one but myself had noticed or registered. It is getting better with age and through conscious work on myself but I still feel that tension, that stress. There are moments when I am engulfed with fear that I may not graduate on time and that my published papers wont be good enough. I set the bar of expectation for myself very high even though it is not needed. I ask myself why do I do this and how can I change?

K could have been the overall champion yesterday if her last flight would not have a technical problem. This is what I have been told. I imagined myself in her place. I would have been so disappointed and angry at myself even though I knew what happened was beyond my control. I would have been visibly sad and overcritical of myself. But what I heard about yesterday was the stride in which she carried herself, how she seemed to have dealt with disappointment that no one could notice it. I mean, it is natural to feel disappointed and may be she was and she is. But I think what I learned from her example yesterday is that there is another way of dealing with minor set backs in life as long as you believe in yourself and you truly enjoy what you do. The parameter of success is tailored to your needs. It is not the medals, publications or championship titles but the process you went through, the joy you experienced, the inspiration you felt and the dreams that you keep alive. Wowww K, what a precious contribution of reflection you made in my life. Thank you..

So how does this translate in my case? To graduate, I have to publish three good quality academic papers in relevant journals in next 13 months. Following what system demands out of me, I could strive to go for high impact factor journals (external parameters of success) and focus all my efforts and energy on achieving that goal. Or I could focus on quality of my work, fully engage in my data analysis, enjoy many good and bad experiences I have had in this educational adventure, take this as an opportunity to learn how to write good papers and most importantly take good care of my physical and emotional well being. I may not get 'summa cum laude' that I am generally habituated to, but I can still successfully complete my project, learn essential skills and walk further on my academic path. I want to take the later path.

And as usual, I have to dangle a carrot in front of myself to stay focussed and persistent. I promise myself flying lessons as a present for successful graduation.. that sounds fun.. may be one day P will join K, L, M, N, O.. whoever.. and have fun up in the sky for sake of pure joy...