Havish 3.0*

On June 2, 2007, Rama and I enjoyed a grand party thrown by Prapoorna and Kiran for their son Havish's third birthday+ at their residence.

Havish strikes me as a wonderful kid who figured out the meaning of life soon after he was born! I always see him joyous and full of positive vibes. He is a personification of Hakuna Matata! Also, his happiness increases with the number of people around him. About origin of the name Havish, Kiran explained that Havish is Lord Shiva with a specific attribute. I was amused when I noticed that the name Havish is an anagram of its source, Shiva(h), as in శివః!

* Same level of sweetness from day one, upgrades include superior voice recognition and speech synthesis!

+ Belated birthday party, for convenience. Havish was actually born on May 22, 2004 at 7:47 AM (memory by association! - Boeing announced about a week before Havish's birth that it was considering manufacturing an advanced 747 (747A). After I came across this news, 7:47 AM got stuck in my mind).

TAGHeuer Woods?

When I came across this advertisement, I was thinking, it could have been titled "TagHeuer Woods" for pfun - But they probably thought that a pun would have a diminutive effect on this other wise classy sales pitch.

Waiting for a Happy Ending

A commentary published in Austin American Statesman on May 5, 2007.

Five years ago, as he was preparing to invade Iraq, President Bush told tales of how Saddam Hussein was inches away from nuclear weapons, and how the Iraqi regime had vague but threatening ties with al Qaeda, and how his strategies were all about responding to 9/11. It was as terrifying as any ghost story, and the fact that his evidence was as insubstantial as any ghost didn't slow its repeated telling around the campfire of prime time.

Four years ago, on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln, he told the story of "Mission Accomplished," saying: "Major combat operations in Iraq have ended. In the battle of Iraq, the United States and our allies have prevailed. And now our coalition is engaged in securing and reconstructing that country."

It was the story of a new, entirely different kind of war, a war in which, "With new tactics and precision weapons, we can achieve military objectives without directing violence against civilians."

It's a story that's gotten harder to tell, and certainly to listen to, as it keeps getting repeated. On Tuesday, issuing his veto of the emergency war funding bill that included deadlines for cutting back the U.S. presence in Iraq, Bush told his story of how the surge came to be.

This surge, he declared, was the recommendation of military leaders, and any limitations on it from Congress was a matter of politicians trying to take the war over from the professionals. "Members of the House and the Senate," he said sadly, "passed a bill that substitutes the opinions of politicians for the judgment of our military commanders.. . .

"That means America's commanders in the middle of a combat zone would have to take fighting directions from politicians 6,000 miles away in Washington, D.C."

Outside the lines of the president's favorite narrative, this war from the beginning — even more than most American wars — has been a war designed by politicians with limited interest in military opinion. Generals who suggested that it was all going to be harder and take more time and men than the president's story included were downgraded and ignored.

Because the president and Vice President Dick Cheney and Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld — three politicians who designed everything about the war — insisted that it would be a short story, the military was never prepared for the length of the struggle, and lacked the equipment and armor and manpower that would be needed. While Bush now tells a story of military direction, in reality this has been a war of civilian planning and military improvisation.

"The real tragedy in Iraq," said House Majority Leader Steny Hoyer, D-Md., "is that it was the politicians in Washington, not the generals, who set our strategy in Iraq."

The military was left to deal with the results. Now Bush tells the story of a surge generated by the military, a surge that he calls "Gen. (David) Petraeus' plan" and insists "Congress ought to give Gen. Petraeus' plan a chance to work."

And because the president can have his stories told by many tongues, Republican politicians like Rep. David Dreier, R-Calif., insisted after Bush's speech, "This isn't the president's plan. This is Gen. Petraeus' plan. This is his plan we're talking about."

Yet the surge plan was devised in Washington, D.C., by civilians, guided not by military necessity but by calculations of how many additional troops could possibly be available. Petraeus was then brought in to try to make it work.

If Petraeus had suggested that what the plan really needed was 100,000 more troops, it would have been made pretty clear whose plan it was. Yet Bush, the politician fundamentally responsible for the operation of this war, now weaves a story of military planning to be protected from politicians' interference.

It's one of a series of stories that George Bush has told us to make sense of our situation in Iraq. So far, none has had a happy ending.

Phony Customer Service

To the extent possible, I stopped using telephone customer support. Those press 1, press 2,... voice prompts can eat up time. For some companies, the trick of pressing zero repeatedly (or not pressing anything) for reaching a live operator quickly, would kick us out of the system. I am having a lot better luck (in saving time) with live chat on the web. With automated banking etc., luckily, I rarely call customer service these days. Here is an interesting article on telephone customer service in the Wall Street Journal.

Tired of computers answering your telephone calls for customer service? GetHuman.com and NoPhoneTrees.com are two Web sites designed to help callers connect to an employee and bypass automated systems.

GetHuman.com maintains a database of "tricks" and telephone numbers for 500 consumer companies, from airlines to banks. Consumers search for companies by industry or name. For some companies, like Alamo Rent A Car, the site simply gives a phone number that should connect "direct to human." Other firms require special codes. To reach employees at MetLife Bank, for instance, users are instructed to "press 000 rapidly and repeatedly, ignoring messages."

To talk with people at the Federal Trade Commission, callers are told to "press 450 at each prompt, ignoring messages." Volunteers test the numbers at least every quarter, says Lorna Rankin, the site's only paid employee. And if a user says a code no longer works, Ms. Rankin tries to find a new trick the same day.

NoPhoneTrees.com, a similar service provided by Chicago health-care technology company Bringo, verifies more than 400 entries for roughly 250 companies monthly, and will spot check a number whenever users complain.

With NoPhoneTrees.com, users search for a company or department on the site -- say, Delta Air Lines' Baggage Service Center. You enter your phone number and hit a button that says "fetch." The site rings your phone within seconds to verify that the request is legitimate.

Bringo's site then navigates the company's phone tree, calling you back when it connects to a person or when the call is placed in queue for an employee.

Fourth on Lake Austin

Austinite Trey Ratcliffe is one of the winners of the Smithsonian magazine's fourth annual photography contest. His photo, "Fourth on Lake Austin" won in the category of Americana. Ratcliffe was a finalist for another photo, "Across the Line" in the category the Natural World.

The winning photo was a Fourth of July photo taken on Lake Austin and processed using a technique that creates a high dynamic range (HDR) photo. Using a combination of multiple exposures and specialized computer software, HDR photographers can create a painterly, vibrant image.

This year's grand prize winner is a photo of the Tukituki River Valley in New Zealand (below). The photographer is 18-year-old Joelle Linhoff of Minnetonka, Minnesota.

Memorial Day Weekend 2007

Thanks to Kiran's Invitation and initiative, Rama and I joined a very nice and fun-loving desi group from Houston and camped at Lake Whitney on May 26th and May 27th. Sridhar garu and his group have done an excellent job in selecting the location, planning, and organizing a camp for this large group (41 in total).

Our secluded camp ground was just a few feet from the bank of lake Whitney and we couldn't ask for a better and scenic location. Evening of the 26th was very nice with no rain. We enjoyed mingling, playing dumb charades, barbecued corn, plenty of food, and drinks. A group of kids and adults entertained everyone with their dance to heart-thumping music. Murthy garu's dance was classic! We stayed up until 2:30 AM. Again, hearty thanks and the credit goes to the organizers.

I made a very nice hike through the park on 27th early AM. Waking up to the real nature sounds of light rain on the tent and chirping of birds was awesome. Though it was raining, as I had proper rain gear, it didn't bother me - actually, it was kind of nice. Walking by the prairies, watching a few herds of deer and a couple of raccoons, carpets of wild flowers like blue bonnets and Indian paintbrush in a quiet and deserted wilderness preserve was very refreshing.

Anytime I hear the rain falling on leaves in deserted areas, I recollect my reading of the book Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Specifically, the narration of Huck and Jim floating down the Mississippi in their raft. I remember vicariously fantasizing the experience while reading the story slowly. Incessant drizzles and down pours failed to dampen the campers spirits as we managed to have fun during the breaks.

I recently learned that one of the happy-campers in our group is an entrepreneur whose story was featured in Houston Chronicle. Venkobarao garu urged the group to give iRazoo a try and I am going to do that. Here are some camping photos.

The camp site


Prapoorna and Rama hard at work (pitching the tent)


The camp


Camp fire


Birthday cakes


One of the dumb charades teams


Kiran, Havish, and Prapoorna snuggled up in the tent


Picnic Table


Rama and Prapoorna

Why Do ABCDs Excel at Spelling Bees?

Evan O’Dorney of California won 2007 Scripps National Spelling Bee championship today on spelling "serrefine" correctly. Words in these competitions are very hard as their pronunciations are pretty tricky (ex: epaul'ment, schuhplattler, and girolle). As usual, ABCDs performed very well. Kunal Sah couldn't manage to get into the final rounds. So, he needs to find another way for realizing his dreams. One of the kids (a 12-year old!) was very creative when he was asked about his plans on participating in the Spelling Bee - "to Bee or not to Bee, that is the question!".

While watching Spelling Bees over the past few years, I found it interesting to note that ABCDs always excel in this competition. I wonder if we have genetic predisposition for spellings, along with Japanese cars and Dockers pants. Talking about cars, I noticed that the number of American cars parked in front of our Hindu temples (based on my limited observation) are less than ~5%! In general, foreign cars dominate the local brands in the US, but not by this margin. Coming back to the Bee, here is an interesting article on ABCDs and Spelling Bees by Mr. Tunku Varadarajan. This reminded me of one Desi character (can't recollect his name) in the documentary movie Spellbound.

When an Indian-American 13-year-old won the Scripps National Spelling Bee last week--the fifth time in seven years in which a child from that ethnic group has won this stirringly absurd contest--my first reaction, naturally, was to ask why such a striking pattern of success has emerged. (Indians are 0.66% of the U.S. population.)

My second reaction was to suggest to my wife (just as gobsmacked as I by this year's bee, in which winner, runner-up and third place all had their origins in the Indian subcontinent) that Indians must have vast space in their brains for memorizing spellings, since very little of their cerebral room is taken up by social subtleties or a sense of humor.

My third reaction, since we'd just seen a charming documentary called "Mad Hot Ballroom"--in which a team of Dominican schoolkids from the Bronx had vanquished all comers in a citywide ballroom-dancing competition--was to say that, just as the Dominican children in the movie had clearly "got rhythm," the Indian kids at the bee had just as clearly "got spelling."

Of course, any suggestion that any ethnic group has "got" anything--other than a mother tongue and a native cuisine--is open in this country to vociferous attack. So I shall look for other explanations for why young Anurag Kashyap, this year's winner, was--yawn--yet another Indian kid who can spell "appoggiatura" on television before a national audience without breaking into a sweat.

As scientists will confirm, there are reasons why empirically observable patterns occur: In the case of the little Indian-American spelling champs, an arguable one is that this ethnic group has pushier parents than any other tribe, all very eager--no, make that desperate--for their kids to succeed at school, or at anything that looks remotely like school.

This attitude draws on a particular Indian cultural trait, bequeathed to broader Indian society by the Brahminical upper stratum: Success at letters is the sweetest sort of success, the achievement nonpareil.

For millennia, India was a land where the poorest scholar was held in higher esteem than the richest businessman. This approach to life proved disastrous for modern India. Jawaharlal Nehru, the country's first prime minister and a Brahmin to his manicured fingertips, had such contempt for business (and for profits) that his economic policies condemned his people to two generations of stagnation.

But Nehru would have approved of spelling bees. Indian pedagogy relies heavily on rote memorization--the result of a fusion of Victorian teaching methods imposed by the British and ancient Hindu practice, in which the guru (or teacher) imparted his learning to pupils via an oral tradition. (The Victorians, for their part, regarded correct spelling almost as a moral virtue, and certainly as a caste "signifier," to use a clumsy anthropological term.)

So the act of sitting down for months with dictionary on lap, chanting aloud the spellings of abstruse words and then committing them to memory probably taps into an atavistic stream coursing through the veins of Indian bee-children. A friend tells the story of how, in his childhood, he'd had an Indian boy home for a sleep-over. He awoke in the middle of the night to find his guest poring over the host family's Random House dictionary. "I own an Oxford dictionary," the boy had said, by way of bizarre, nocturnal explanation. "This American dictionary is so different!"

If all that sounds too much like saying that there's a "geek gene" at work here, let us consider another explanation for the Indian spellers.

There are certain cultures--particularly Asian ones--that produce child prodigies. Relentless parents, goading their children to success at the youngest possible age, are but one explanation. These are all cultures in which, traditionally, children have begun work early, in which childhood as we know it in the West is an alien idea. Indian kids are potty-trained by two. In America, that would be regarded as precocious. Pressure is brought to bear much later on purely American children than on those kids whose parents persist in old-world child-rearing ways long after they immigrate to America.

And here, perhaps, is the last piece in the Indian-American spelling-bee jigsaw. Educationally, Indian-Americans are the cream of the crop of a fifth of humanity, thanks to U.S. immigration laws, which, for decades, let in only doctors and engineers and mathematicians. So these children are the kids of parents who themselves competed--probably at a ferocious level--to get into the best Indian schools, and then to get here.

So there you have it, neatly explained. Master Kashyap--singular fellow!--is a product of a complex set of processes. Only a part of his success, I'm pleased to report, is attributable to matters deoxyribonucleic.

Finally, I learned a new word from the Bee that describes W's war team very well: Kakistocracy