Monday 14 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle Day 8


Spring is finally here! And if you are in Buffalo, that will be good news enough.

On that note, sorry for the hiatus. I had a few exams on Friday, a really busy Saturday, and really just not enough mind space. But I'm back! And I'll try not to let any more gaps seep into my Chronicle.


I've found a truly awesome piece of news today, on what has become one of my favourite sites for good news: http://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/. An Italian designer has created WarkaWater - 'towers made of bamboo and fabric... to harvest potable water from the evening air.' He was inspired after a visit to Ethiopia, where he saw 'how women and children are forced to walk miles every day for water'. The towers were designed by Arturo Vittori's VittoriLab. They cost approximately $550 each and can harvest 100 litres of water a day.

Sounds too good to be true? Check it out here: http://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/inspired/amazing-towers-in-ethiopia-harvest-clean-water-from-thin-air.html
and here: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/this-tower-pulls-drinking-water-out-of-thin-air-180950399/?no-ist

Ok, so I've been doing this for a week now, and I'd like to know: how are you liking this Chronicle? Also, please, please, please, answer the polls on the sidebar to the right, below the Search bar. If the answer choices aren't visible, let me know and I'll clarify them. I've tried changing the font colour but it hasn't worked. I would really like to know what readers think of the blogging choices I've made.

Thursday 10 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle Day 7



Today is the 20th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide. While that is probably a terrible way to begin a 'Good News' post, there are two reasons I mentioned it:
1. While I do not believe in focussing on tragedy, I do believe in deliberately shaping the present and the future by keeping in mind injustices committed in the past and ensuring that catastrophes of this magnitude do not occur again. Also, I think these people deserve a prayer and a moment of silence, if only to remind ourselves of the power of human resilience and persistence in the face of horrific circumstances, which leads me to my second point:
2. 20 years on, things have improved. Grace Hightower and Coffees of Rwanda employs over 500,000 coffee farmers in Rwanda. This vast venture is helping people rebuild their economy and regain their livelihoods. Costco buys 20% of Rwanda's premium crop. Starbucks is another major buyer. Rwandan president Paul Kagame believes in 'trade, not aid' and under him, the Rwandan economy is growing at about 6% annually. President Kagame's goals for 2020 are: 'to boost GDP sevenfold, find paying jobs for half of Rwanda's subsistence farmers, nearly quadruple per capita income to $900, and turn his country into an African center for technology' (fastcompany.com). More than half the population is under 18, which means that Rwanda has a huge human capital opportunity. Kagame is actively recruiting investors and brainpower: The Presidential Advisory Council consists of experts in sectors ranging from 'life sciences to telecom to economic-development consulting'.  There is still a large population in dire poverty, and Rwanda has a long way to go, but things are definitely hopeful. In Kagame's words:
"We will not forget the genocide, but we will not be defined by it, either."

Sources/Read more at:

Wednesday 9 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle Day 6


Severe spinal cord injury leads to a permanent loss of function and sensation because the connection between the brain and the lower body has been lost. However, researchers have now found that 'by using an electrical device to stimulate the spinal cord below the site of the injury, it is possible for paralyzed people to assert limited control over muscle movements' (Good News Network). This means that there may one day be a way to further restore function in these people.

Read more at:
http://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/health/spinal-cord-injury-may-not-mean-permanent-paralysis.html
and
http://brain.oxfordjournals.org/content/early/2014/04/07/brain.awu038.abstract
and
http://www.philly.com/philly/health/topics/HealthDay686587_20140408__Milestone__Therapy_Produces_Leg_Movement_in_Paraplegics.html

Tuesday 8 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle Day 5


Oregon State University Researchers have discovered a method to use the sun to produce both the materials for solar devices and the energy to power. This could significantly reduce the carbon footprint of producing solar materials. It could also reduce the cost of solar energy.

Read more at: http://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/earth/science/breakthrough-discovery-uses-sunlight-to-create-solar-devices.html

Monday 7 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle Day 4


Afghanistan has had what Reuters calls a 'landmark election' (presidential) that was largely peaceful, with far fewer Taliban attacks than expected. Out of 12 million eligible voters, 7 million turned out to vote (58%), far more than the 4.5 million who voted in the last election in 2009. Six officials trying to rig the vote were arrested, along with people who tried to use fake voter cards.

I don't things are going to magically change very soon, despite my penchant for optimism, but let's hope that this is a glimmer of a new beginning, and that someday, those 'few' minor attacks (including the death of dozens in weeks preceding the election) become the exception rather than the norm.

Read more at: http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/04/05/us-afghanistan-election-idUSBREA331N920140405
and
http://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/civics/relief-in-afghanistan-after-largely-peaceful-election.html

Sunday 6 April 2014

Reflections on New York


A month ago now (time flies), I went to visit my dad, who was in New York on a business visit. I reached the night of Feb 28th. I was in New York until the morning of March 3rd.

I was tremendously excited. First, because I was going to be seeing my dad in New York. Second, because I would be seeing the Lion King Musical on Broadway, which my father has raved about a number of times.

The night of February 28th, we ate in an obscenely expensive Indian restaurant (Nirvana). I guess you can chalk it down to my need for Indian food, and my dad's desire to pamper me silly. I was very excited and very talkative. I'm not always garrulous, but if you know me, you know exactly how I am when I'm in a chatty mood. Anne Shirley has nothing on me.

We had booked tickets for an afternoon show on the 1st. We had a heavy breakfast, and wandered around the streets a bit, with a vague notion to go to Macy's, where there was a spring sale (Spring! Ha! I was wearing approximately four layers of clothing, and my father refused to take off that ridiculous black headband you see in the photos below - even for photos. I had to resist the desire to guffaw inelegantly whenever I saw the words SPRING SALE emblazoned across store windows). I saw quite a lot of Times Square, and promptly lost a glove as soon as we set foot in Macy's. Again, if you know me, this will come as no surprise: since the start of 'spring' semester here in Buffalo, I've lost a pair of gloves and a muffler, one of those things that looks like a monkey-cap, an umbrella, earmuffs, and God knows what else that I can't even remember. This is why I hate the winter here - all the stuff you need to take care of at all times. Apart from the bitter cold and the crazy wind, of course.

Anyway, we promised ourselves we'd come back to check the lost and found in Macy's (located on the eighth floor - maybe they hope people won't take the trouble to go and check, so that they can sell off that stuff too?) We went into the Minskoff theatre. I was going to see an actual musical. On Broadway. I'd wanted to see a Broadway show for years.

The Lion King musical was truly spectacular. The music was evocative, and more elaborate than in the movie; it had far more African languages, and the live performance made it more powerful - particularly The Circle of Life. The props were brilliant, and the rendition of the stampede scene was innovative and impactful. It was like seeing the movie a different way. The boy who played young Simba was perfect - playful and active. The only character I couldn't quite accept was Timon. Most of the actors said the dialogues with the same intonations as in the movie, so it was like seeing it come to life. Timon, however, delivered the punchlines in a somewhat different manner than in the movie. Not that it was bad, just that I kept expecting him to say it a certain way, and he didn't.
The settings and the props deserve special mention because they were elaborate, vivid, colorful, intricate and magnificently done. The largest prop was an elephant that was carried by, I think, four people.

At Grand Central Station

We walked around the predominantly Broadway streets after that, explored Times Square a bit, and went inside Grand Central Station. I saw posters for Wicked, Les Miserables, the new Aladdin musical, and plenty of others that I didn't know of. I think August Osage County was playing too. It was a bright, exciting street. I'm glad I don't attend college in NYC, because I have a feeling I know what I'd blow all my money on if I did.

One of my dad's oldest friends lives in NYC, and we went to his house for dinner. I ate lots of good, homemade Indian food, watched Mulan, and generally had a cozy time before heading back with my dad to our hotel. Unfortunately, there was a bunch of drunk, raucous guys on the metro with us; they rather spoilt things for me. They were stupid and loud and vulgar and just plain horrid. I tried to ignore them, but for some reason, I couldn't, and I wondered yet again why some people feel the need to be so completely inebriated to enjoy themselves, and why on earth it is that people like to swear so much. I believe firmly in the power of language. I think we should use words with care and respect. When they're flung around, they lose most of their meaning; and yet they retain something. When it is profanities, I feel as if everything you say becomes so much harsher, even if you don't really mean what the words you're speaking are supposed to mean. Call me a prig, or naive; I wish people had some standards in speech, even if it is the 21st century.

I thought that there would be so much to do in NYC that we'd be running around trying to catch everything. My dad wasn't really interested in the museums though, and surprisingly, that really cut down things to do the next day. Both of us had already seen the Statue of Liberty, and didn't want to waste an entire day on it. We thought of taking a tour bus, but they worked out scandalously expensive if we only wanted to sit in them for a few hours. They only sold day or two-day passes. Sometimes it seems to me that everything in this country is designed to make you spend more.

We ended up roaming the streets for hours. We did check the lost and found at Macy's. Unfortunately, I didn't recover my glove. I still have that single glove. I was too miserly to buy another pair since winter was almost over (or so I hoped), but I keep the one, and used this technique: bury right hand in deep pocket, wear glove on left hand, and cover nose with shawl using gloved left hand. Making do this way is generally my form of atonement whenever I lose something, which means I make do a lot.

We checked out the Empire State building, but didn't go inside. Again, both of us had been inside before. Plus, with so many taller buildings around now, I have to admit that I didn't understand how much of the skyline we'd see from the top, anyway.

In front of the Empire State building

It was a pretty cold day, and the sky was grey in a rather dismal way. I got to see a lot of the city's downtown in a way I rarely do on usual tourist trips, because we walked so much. I got a general sense of the city, its architecture, and got to see things up close. When I visited NYC in 2007, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the skyscrapers, and how you can see nothing but building whichever direction you turn, and however high you look. This time, I felt more closed in. Maybe it was the weather, but I felt a little claustrophobic. NYC is a fascinating city, but I wouldn't want to live in it (at least downtown), boxed in by all that concrete with only that tiny square patch of sky. I need space.

What caught my interest this time around was the buildings themselves, rather than their size. They are extremely modern, of course, and yet the inordinate use of red brick gave it a rather old-world feel in a very unique way. Or maybe that's just me, because we don't seem to use that much brick in India.

After hours of wandering, we decided to take a cruise: far cheaper than a bus tour, and we'd still get to see the skyline, as well as the Statue of Liberty. As we got near the docks, the city began to get dirty; I mean literally: there was sewage water, a bit of a stink, and garbage. I have to confess that I was shocked; sewage and garbage had no place in the image of busy, efficient NYC that I had. Clearly, Mumbai is not unique in this regard.
On a cruise, in front of the Statue of Liberty, which you can see a glimpse of in the background

The cruise was nice. Our captain also acted as a guide, giving us an audio tour via speakers. I saw Wall Street, Manhattan, the red-light district, the rich residence-streets (which I don't remember the names of), everything from afar. We also saw the building where Leonardo DiCaprio and Hugh Jackman live (they are neighbors), and the captain warned us that the water would be icy cold, in case anyone got any crazy ideas. He gave us brief histories of everything, including how Wall Street got its name (there was an actual wall at some point), and where immigrants used to be processed. We rushed out to get photos when we got close to the Statue of Liberty. I have a photo where you can clearly see it, but I look better in this one, so obviously I posted this one.

We were exhausted with all our walking, so we went straight back to the hotel after the cruise. I was rather depressed at the prospect of going back to uni the next day (not to mention that they had cancelled my flight that night, which meant that I'd have to fly back the next morning, missing two classes), but I resolved to forget it as long as I possibly could, which is generally my defense mechanism, and also why I'm always late for class on Mondays (don't tell me that Sunday nights aren't traumatic experiences for you, too). We watched Larry Crowne on my dad's laptop, which is watchable, if somewhat trite and pointless. I ate the fried rice that my dad went out into the cold to get for me, delayed bed time as long as possible, and woke up the next morning with that feeling of loss you have when a much anticipated event flies by much too fast. I was a little late (of course), and we when got down to the lobby, I couldn't find my passport, so we emptied my entire bag. Of course it was inside the entire time, and I got a round scolding for just throwing it in anyhow instead of keeping it accessible. I suspect that this is the point at which I lost my earmuffs because I never saw them after that.

It was a wonderful trip; I was excessively pampered and it felt so good to be with my dad. Does anyone else get this feeling of safety and comfort with their dads? Whenever I'm with him, I feel like he'll take care of any eventuality, like there's nothing to worry about. It's an awesome feeling. That trip was a gift; my dad didn't have to spend so much on air tickets so that I could see him in a different city for just a weekend. But he did, because he wanted me to enjoy myself, and hopefully also because he wanted to see me (kidding, of course he wanted to see me, who doesn't)!

The Good News Chronicle Day 3

London-based FastCompany has created the 'Ooho' an edible water 'blob' that is a substitute for ecologically unfriendly plastic water bottles. Anyone remember the blobs served in the bar in Bug's Life? That's what these look like.

Let's hope these come to fruition, and replace water bottles, which are absolutely toxic to the environment in terms of waste. In the meanwhile, remember to segregate waste and recycle.

Read more at: http://interestingengineering.com/the-future-of-bottled-water-lies-in-an-edible-water-bottle-blob/

Saturday 5 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle Day 2

Hello everyone,

On today's Good News Chronicle, we have:
Kenguru, an electric vehicle designed especially to serve disabled people on wheelchairs. It allows independence and mobility.
Kenguru was developed in Hungary, and funded in Pflugerville, Texas, US by Stacy Zoern, a lawyer and wheelchair user who got tired of the difficulties faced by people in wheelchairs.


Friday 4 April 2014

The Good News Chronicle and a Serialized Story


Hey everybody,

I have two ideas for this blog in addition to what I already do. I will continue to post book reviews and general reflections, but I also want to start two series of posts:

1. The Good News Chronicle: I am of the opinion that our news sources are overrun by tragic and catastrophic events. In other words, our 'news' seems to be almost exclusively bad news. This seems to me unfair. Of course we need to know what's happening in the world, but surely there's some good news somewhere? Why are we so disproportionately shown the terrible side of things? Sensationalism? I don't know about you, but I have no desire to become cynical and apathetic. I believe in hope and idealism, because it isn't the cynics who change the world; it is the idealists and visionaries. With that in mind, I have decided to consciously look for the good things. I will post one piece of good news everyday - it could be about an organization helping people, about a medical or scientific advance, a newly invented ecological alternative, acts of kindness - anything that makes you smile and think - ah, humanity is alive.

2. Serialized Story: I'm sure you all realize by now that I enjoy writing. This semester, I'm taking a Creative Writing class, which has been a lot of fun so far. With a view to develop my skills, and also to decide exactly how much and what kind of talent I possess, I have decided to begin a story here, on my blog. I have begun original stories and novels before, but they haven't always developed very well. So for this, my first really serious attempt at a long story (maybe even of novel length, who knows?), I have decided to recast a very well known fairy tale in my own mold: Cinderella. My Cinderella concentrates not on fairy godmothers and perfect princess, but on one extremely intelligent young woman who is determined to make it out of a very bad situation: at almost any cost. It will not have much to do with the original fairy tale except for the premise of a fatherless woman forced to live under the thumb of a cruel stepmother. We'll see how it goes.

For an example of what my Good News Chronicle will look like:

Scientists have found that 'Earth is not the only orb with oceans.' (The Economist) In 2005, American spacecraft Cassini saw water shooting into space from cracks in the surface of Enceladus, one of Saturn's moons. This may mean that Enceladus has an ice-covered ocean on its surface.

Read more at: http://www.extremetech.com/extreme/179834-saturns-moon-enceladus-has-a-huge-ocean-of-liquid-water-scientists-confirm
and
http://www.economist.com/news/science-and-technology/21600083-planetary-science?fsrc=scn/fb/wl/pe/planetaryscience

I am aware that 'good news' today was more interesting and speculative than 'good' per se, but I thought it would be a good start. I personally prefer events of large impact to individual acts of goodness and kindness.

Tell me what you think of both ideas in the comments below, or on Facebook or Google Plus.

Tuesday 1 April 2014

Those halcyon days

My uncle, my brother and I on a trip around California in May 2007

I have a chronic Peter Pan syndrome. I cling to childhood - to Disney, 8 o' clock bedtimes and my beloved children's classics. It hurts when I don't enjoy something I liked as a child - as if I've suffered an irrevocable loss - as if I've lost a piece of that childhood I'm trying so hard to hold on to. I have a slight, irrational terror of the adult world. When I'm confused by life, childhood seems to me a golden dream - and adulthood a cold, somewhat dreary reality. A significant part of my struggle as a teenager was, I think, my developing adult intelligence fighting against the child I steadfastly refused to let go of. It was so much more comfortable to think in black and white, and of right and wrong as two firmly demarcated, unshakeable categories. To believe blindly and faithfully that everything the 'elders' told you was unquestionably right. To believe in a world full of sunshine, where the good thrive and the evil are swiftly punished, is the privilege of a child with a happy, wholesome, slightly closeted upbringing. Amidst an age group where everyone seemed to be in a tearing hurry to grow up, I was the exception. I had no desire to watch R-rated movies; I still listened to Disney songs. Reading dark, depressing, layered literature as an eleventh grader made me wish I could analyze Heidi instead. I preferred Tom and Jerry to anything 'bawdy'.

The reason I found it so hard to let go - why I still sometimes feel a yearning that's almost physically painful for a time when everything seemed far simpler - is that I had a perfect childhood. I was gloriously happy. I was smart and bright, cheerful and imaginative, and everybody loved me. I devoured book after book, and my parents encouraged me, buying me whichever book I wanted - after checking that it was age-appropriate. I was a huge dreamer - I day-dreamed on the school bus home, sitting on the steps in front of my house, before going to sleep, while in the lift - everywhere. Huge, grandiose, colourful dreams that involved me saving the world, or conquering it as an artist, a singer, a writer, a scientist - whatever caught my fancy that particular day. They generally ended with me giving marvelously eloquent speeches that everyone cheered on. I also had dialogues with famous people, fictional people, literary characters, even dead authors. I befriended Anne and wrote letters to Jawaharlal Nehru (after reading some of Glimpses of World History). I was, you see, capable of anything. There was no doubt that I would change the world, after winning laurel after laurel. It was only a matter of deciding exactly what I wanted to do.

My life was exciting, because I recast every little incident in dramatic hues in my head. I was convinced that everything that happened to me taught me indispensable lessons and shaped my life in ways that biographers would comment on when I was famous. As you can see, I had a slightly swollen head.

It wasn't just my head, though. I lived in an apartment with large open spaces, and I had many friends. As a kid I played outside for hours. We had innumerable games that always ended with the 'denner' (I'm not certain how we arrived at that word. I guess it could be taken to be equivalent to the person who's 'it' in a game of tag) chasing everyone else. We played 'make-believe' and pretended that the route from the basement into someone's balcony was a 'secret passage'. We created dozens of clubs. With one went we went so far as to elect a leader (we passed around pieces of paper with all the members' names in them, and everyone had to tick who they wanted) and make medals and trophies to be awarded to the winners of subsequent games. Unfortunately, we abandoned the whole enterprise soon after. I fear the oldest members of the group got a little too old.

My brother and I were the closest of friends. As really little kids, we would wander around hand in hand. I got terribly offended when a friend suggested I go to her house to play without him, because he always broke her crayons. "How would you feel if I asked you not to bring your brother?" (She didn't have a brother so this argument really had very little impact on her). The curly-haired little brat was the apple of my eye. I told him the stories from all the books I read, and he listened open-mouthed. He would fall asleep with his hand curled around my finger. When he got to be what he considered too old to do this, I felt bereft; I would sneak my finger into his warm hand after he had fallen asleep, and watch in satisfaction as it curled around my finger. He would tell me about the animals and people and machines he had seen on National Geographic and Discovery; I would listen, my mind unfairly wandering off to whatever book I was presently reading. I read aloud to him from Hilltop Hospital (anyone else adore these?). Our favourite story was the one about Ruby the Vampire bat, where the twin ambulance drivers Ted and Ted, have very funny back-and-forth dialogues. We memorized Mulan word for word. We played, fought and talked on long drives to holiday destinations. I felt genuinely sorry for people without siblings.

I had everything. The world was my oyster. Was it any wonder I fought aggressively the necessity of waking up?