Through a glass, darkly

Even my most enthusiastically atheist friends, I believe, would be hard pressed not to admit the incredible (in the sense of not believable, defying all logic) events surrounding my admission to graduate school over the last few months. Perhaps, some would attribute it to luck or happenstance. But, those who know me well will realize that it was nothing less than a divine miracle that will take me to California to start a PhD in economics in the fall.

More broadly, the last five years of my life have been a living proof of the words of Paul in the New Testament, “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” What appeared to be devastating blows, evidence that God was ignoring, or worse, uninterested in me, now, with the reflection of time, seem to add up to a carefully laid path. For me, it is a reiteration of the lesson that short term disappointments might be steps to our long term progress and that my sense of what I want and desire at any given moment is only loosely related to what I need in order to continue toward my ultimate goal.

Five years ago, when I graduated from university, a less than perfect test score on a standardized test kept me from following most of my friends into graduate school. I was very disappointed. I just didn’t have what it takes to get a PhD. Instead, I took a job in Boston, a city to which I had never been. This in itself was a miracle as several of my more intelligent and better qualified friends did not get job offers while I inexplicably did. My time in Boston led me to people that I needed to meet; people who have been and will continue to be central to my life. Had I been accepted into grad school when I first applied, I never would have made it to Boston (the grad schools in Boston were way out of my league).

I had planned to retake the test and reapply to grad school after my first year working in Boston. However, one year quickly turned into two. Still not ready to apply to grad school but ready for a change, I acted on a suggestion from a colleague and good friend which led me to another job. I will forever be indebted to this friend as the job and the amazing mentor that I met there would forever change my life (see previous post).

I learned a lot during my time at this new job and also had a chance to work with the youth in my church in what became one of the best times of my life. Still thinking that I needed to go to grad school, I planned to retake the test once more after I had been at the job for one year; this would set me up to apply again and to start grad school after completing my second year working at HBS (the position was always meant to be a short term appointment and my mentor, as great mentors always do, encouraged me to move on to bigger and better things).

I studied diligently for months to be ready for the test; I tried to prepare myself mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I had to do well to live up to my own expectations and to the perceptions of all those who supported me. The day finally came. Nervously, with feigned confidence, I faced the test, my nemesis, again. When the long struggle was finally over, my results popped up on the computer screen. Shock set in. I had gotten the exact same score on the all important quantitative section as I had five years previously. My heart sank. I was devastated. This sealed the stamp on my head: I wasn’t good enough to go to graduate school in economics. There was no one I could call to comfort me. No excuses, no posturing. I had given it my all and I had failed. As alone as I ever have been, I left the testing center and walked into a grey drizzle near South Station in Boston. I briefly considered the bridges and waterways nearby. Why God, why? I had done everything I could. What do you want from me? Must I accept that I am just not good enough, not smart enough? How could I face telling everyone who believed in me that they were wrong; that their unfailing, charitable encouragement of me was a waste?

Unable to apply to grad school as intended, I needed to find another job. My new plan was to work for one more year, study once again, and take the test for the last time. Another failure would be a clear indication that I needed to do something else with my life.

A breakup with a girlfriend and a random connection from my advisor led me to India. Culture shock and isolation provided time and motivation to study once again, take the test, and reapply to graduate schools.

And, through a very circuitous five-year route, I’m back to where I was when I graduated from college—intent on starting graduate school in the fall. My score on my final attempt at the test was not of my doing; I had never achieved a perfect score on any of the practice tests. So, why the divine help now? Why not five years ago when I first took the test? Why not a year and a half ago when I suffered a crushing defeat on a dark day in Boston?

Amid the unanswered questions of my life, two things I do know: 1) I never could have gotten into such a good program as the one I’ll be attending in the fall if I had started straight out of university. 2) I wouldn’t trade the people I’ve met or the experiences I’ve had over the last five years for anything in the world.

Even now, I wonder: Why must I start over again in California when I wanted so badly to go back to Boston next fall? But, I realize that I do indeed see through a glass darkly. Not being able to see the future often drives me crazy; trying to trust even in the face of disappointment and disaster; having to reinvent myself and rise from the ashes after each failure. However, with the benefit of hindsight, I don’t think I’d want life any other way. Thank God for divine intervention and guidance to help us grow, even when it is against our will and even when it presents itself as tragedy and tribulation.

True Power and Lasting Influence

Last month, I finally finished my graduate school applications. In many ways, it has been an exhausting, five-year long process, filled with discouragement, indecision, and procrastination. I applied to a few schools as a freshly minted undergraduate but the results of my efforts were less than stellar. However, this time around, I had a powerful guiding force on my side; the influence of an inspired and inspiring mentor was invaluable

I’ve long been conscious of the importance of mentors in the lives of young people. For several years, I’ve volunteered with various organizations as a mentor for youth in difficult circumstances (typically neglected or abused children). In my church, I formerly served as a youth leader for about 14 congregations in the Boston area. It has always fascinated me how even the most distant, jaded, intransigent, defiant, belligerent teenager still seems to crave adult attention and will eventually respond positively to a committed mentor; how much difference it makes when he knows that someone cares. Even if he tries really hard to hide it, you can often see it in his eyes and read it on the subtle lines of his face—that desire to connect, to be known, seen, understood, valued.

Recently, I’ve realized the importance of mentors even for those of us who might be considered adults. Often, we need a trusted individual to convince us that we can do something and to instill within us the courage to keep fighting towards a goal. My former supervisor at HBS is probably the best mentor I’ve ever come across. He has served as a mentor not just to me but to countless of his MBA students, doctoral students, other faculty, and the wider school community. Not only is he one of the hardest working people that I know and the undisputed greatest teacher at Harvard Business School (an institution known worldwide for its teaching), but he also somehow manages to maintain an enviable work-life balance. Although his name is not famous, he has inspired and shaped some of the best and most promising business leaders in the world. From our very first meeting he has demonstrated undeserved confidence in my abilities. Because he always expects the best of people (in all aspects of their lives) he galvanizes everyone with whom he comes in contact to be and to become better than they otherwise would. When someone credible who you really respect and trust believes in you—in your talent, in your potential, in your ability to work hard—it makes you feel like you can accomplish anything. You increase your efforts in order to live up to his expectations; somehow, the confidence he has in you pushes you to new heights that you could not reach alone.

If I do manage to get into graduate school, it will be largely as a direct result of the letter of recommendation that this former supervisor wrote for me. If I could one day be half of what he is—in terms of intelligence, insight, writing ability, clarity of thought, organization, productivity, teaching skills, efficiency, concern for students, humility, and common sense—I would be content. Already, the fact that such an amazing person believes in me is a major coup, more than I ever could have expected. As I continue to work with young people, I will follow his model—always expecting the best from them and encouraging and enabling them to live up to those expectations.

When I was in Boston, I volunteered with AFC Mentoring. I got this shirt on a campout for mentors and mentees in 2007. Check out their website here.

Seventh Star

I spent the weekend at the Seventh Star Home for Destitute Children in Madurandakam, about 2.5 hours from Chennai. It is run by a man named Paul Vijayakumar who has taken in about 37 children who are orphans, semi-orphans, abandoned, destitute, or whose parents have leprosy. The kids range in age from 5 to 19, are super cute, and very respectful. Their English is about as limited as my Tamil, which allowed me to practice my nonverbal communication skills. Paul's 5 year old son is mentally disabled and there is one other girl who has some mental disabilities. In addition, one of the boys is severely physically handicapped.

The facilities at Seventh Star are pretty basic, even by Indian standards. They have two buildings, one of which includes a few rooms for Paul's family. There is a squat toilet in the area where the family lives and a latrine in the courtyard; Paul is currently working on finishing some more latrines. There are no western-type showers; only buckets and taps. Most of the children wash under the faucet in the courtyard. Paul has a very big heart and is trying his best to keep the place running. The LDS humanitarian missionaries here are working with him to start some kind of a business. I was asked to meet with him to talk about his idea of starting a bakery and candle making operation (unfortunately, too many people here mistake me for some kind of an expert or something). What the place really needs is a plan for sustainability (if anyone likes volunteering in difficult living conditions, I'm sure Paul would love to have you).

On Sunday, I attended church with Paul and several of the children at a small congregation housed in a building of another orphanage (Pathway). There were about 10 adults and about 60 youth and children present (most of the youth were the older Pathway children). It was a wonderful experience to be in a church setting surrounded by great youth who are so eager to learn.

As I've visited various orphanages and non-profit organizations in India, Africa, and the U.S., I've often been presented with a difficult dilemma: is it better to donate time, money, and other resources to an organization that has capable, talented leadership and is (usually), consequently, well-capitalized already or to one that is really struggling and could greatly use the extra help. Well-manged operations are more sound administratively, structurally, and financially. In general, they either are or quickly become sustainable. Perpetually struggling organizations, on the other hand, often have much greater relative need. However, organizations that are already sustainable or have the potential to rapidly become so are more likely to efficiently use the resources and to ensure that any investment has a larger positive impact on the desired target group. Not that I currently have many resources to invest, but I'm often left to balance desperate need versus potential greater impact and efficiency. If it were a traditional for-profit enterprise, there would be no question about where I would put my money. Should it be any different in the social sector? What then happens to the disadvantaged group (especially if they are young children) that the unsustainable non-profit was meant to serve?

Seventh Star


The founder, his wife, and some of the children.




Sabitha, a very cute little girl.


Modeling some clothes that my family sent.






Teaching the children to play Uno.




Uno!


Sleeping

More pictures can be found here.

Answers, please

I’ve recently become cognizant that my time in India is quickly waning. When I think of returning home, I’m flooded with a mixture of emotions. I’m anxious to see my family and friends, but there are definitely many things about my life in India that I will greatly miss. I’m sure the India nostalgia will persist forever, just as has my enduring love for Africa.

Living in India has been a difficult experience for me; in some ways even more difficult than the two years that I spent in Italy. (I’ve never been sick so frequently, for instance; despite its reputation for disease, I never once got sick while living and traveling in Africa.)

I felt very strongly that I should come to India. And, since I don’t generally trust feelings, I spent several hours reasoning through the events that transpired that led to my coming; I can only conclude that it was somehow divinely appointed. However, I’m still not sure why God brought me here. No doubt that I’ve learned a lot and progressed immensely while in India. But, I’d hate to think that the trip was necessitated by purely selfish self-developmental reasons. I know that I’m extremely hard-headed but surely God could have found an easier, more efficient way to humble me? Then again, perhaps not. I am pretty stubborn and maybe he decided drastic measures were in order.

It is also possible that the purposes of my exile in India will only reveal themselves in the coming years or perhaps remain a mystery forever. For now, maybe I will have to be content with the time spent here and the relationships gained. Still, a little further guidance from God on the issue would be propitious. Maybe I should work on my listening skills?

Minority Report

Growing up vegetarian in a meat dominated culture (and family), I’ve always been in the minority in at least one way. I was strange, different, weird. Excluding some friends who experimented with vegetarianism in high school, I knew no other vegetarians until I was 19 and living in Italy (Mormon vegetarians in Utah, it turns out, are very rare). By this time, my minority status was enhanced further as an American Mormon in a Catholic European country. Years later in Africa, I would often find myself as the only white person in a bustling, crowded market. Being vegetarian, Mormon, and from the West made me unique even in cosmopolitan Boston. Now, I am daily the sole non-Indian on a constantly overflowing bus as I travel the hour from Mugapair to Nungambakkam for work. Being always in the minority has taught me some important lessons and profoundly shaped my identity; my sympathies for minorities and underdogs go deep.

I wish that everyone could be in the minority at least once in their lives; what a different place this world would be if each individual could experience the powerlessness, isolation, distance, and otherness that often come with minority status. When you have been in the minority, it is easier to understand the tendency of immigrants and other outsiders to congregate together with those of similar backgrounds. To meet someone who is like you is very affirming and there is often an instant bond of trust and understanding amid the general incomprehensibility of society.

I believe the morality of a group can be directly and easily discovered by observing how they treat their minorities. Insecurity seems to lead to intolerance and demands that everyone conform to your way of thinking and doing things. Compassionate, dynamic cultures are characterized by their ability to learn from and incorporate the best of what their minorities have to offer while maintaining what is beautiful in their own traditions. After many years, I’ve finally realized that no matter where I go in the world, I will always be a minority on at least one dimension and likely on many dimensions simultaneously; my diet, religion, political leanings, skin color, and birth place virtually ensure it. I’ve come to accept this. I just hope that I can always be open-minded enough to learn from those who are different from me. And, more importantly, I pray that I will always be aware and conscious enough of the potential isolation of others that God can somehow use me to make them feel included in the larger whole.

Roadside market, Zambia 2003


Zambia, 2003


Zimbabwe, 2006


Zimbabwe, 2006


Sikochi brothers, Zimbabwe 2006


Not just veg (vegetarian), but "pure veg."


"High Class Veg" - as if there was any other kind!


These buses often have so many people hanging from the doors that the entire bus tilts to the left as it travels down the street.


A Christian church in Orissa. Christians are a small minority in this area and faced violence, vandalism, and other persecution in August and September of this year.


Christian church, Orissa 2008


An LDS church in Bangalore. Anti-Christian sentiment ebbs and flows in Karnataka (the state in which Bangalore is located). In September, 70 Christian churches were vandalized in the span of a few weeks. During this time period, two Mormon missionaries were abducted, beaten, and jailed. They spent two days and two nights in a prison with 5,000 other men, many of whom were incarcerated for murder. Several church members who tried to come to their aid were also accosted and persecuted. According to their leader, in such situations "fear is the real enemy, for it is the only thing that can defeat hope."

Sacred Puri

Orissa is one of India’s poorest states; the proportion of people living below the poverty line in the state is nearly double the country’s average. It is located on the eastern coast of India, just below West Bengal (Calcutta). In the far western part of the state, tribes still live as they did thousands of years ago. I spent December 16-19, 2008 in Orissa, flying into the state capital of Bhubaneswar (which I still don’t know how to pronounce correctly) and proceeding the 1.5 hours to the coastal city of Puri. The airport in Bhubaneswar is small with only a few airplanes on the ground at any one time and passengers walk the 400 meters across the runway to board their plane directly. Interestingly, this small semi-rural airport also hosted the strictest security I’ve yet seen in India.

Unfortunately, Orissa was marred in August and September by violence and vandalism against the small Christian minority after they were blamed for the murder of a Hindu leader and some of his followers (see here). The majority of Christians in the state are destitute, illiterate, powerless tribal people who make an easy target for the machinations of politicians.

In contrast to media reports from other parts in the state, the city of Puri was relaxed and welcoming. According to two different sources, Puri is one of the four most sacred cities for Hindus (although my sources were conflicting on which cities constituted the other three). The city is home to Jagannath Mandir, a temple dedicated to Jagannath, whom Hindus believe to be the Lord of the Universe and an incarnation of Vishnu (Krishna). Built in 1198, the temple attracts hundreds of thousands of pilgrims from all over India each year. Non-Hindus such as myself are not permitted to enter; however, according to my guide book, within the temple can be found statues of Jagannath, his brother Balbhadra, and sister Subhadra (see here for images). “The brothers have arms but no hands, while smaller Subhadra, sitting in between, has neither. Priests continually garland and dress the three throughout the day for different ceremonies. Incredibly, the temple employs about 6,000 men to perform the complicated rituals involved in caring for the gods. An estimated 20,000 people—divided into 36 orders and 97 classes—are dependent on Jagannath for their livelihood. The kitchen, with 400 cooks, is reportedly the largest in the world.”

Each summer, Puri is home to a huge festival, called Rath Yatra, in which the statues of the three gods are placed on huge cars and pulled through the city. Again, according to Lonely Planet, “The main car of Jagannath (origin of ‘juggernaut’) stands 14m high. It rides on 16 wheels, each over 2m in diameter—in centuries past, devotees threw themselves beneath the wheels to die gloriously within the god’s sight. Four-thousand professional temple employees haul the cars, which take enormous effort to pull and are virtually impossible to turn or stop…Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims (and tourists) swarm to witness this stupendous scene, which can take place in temperatures over 40 degrees C [104 degrees Fahrenheit].”

Puri is also home to a beautiful beach (much cleaner than the beaches in Chennai). Also unlike Chennai, hundreds of Indians frequent the beach for swimming and relaxing and a carnivalesque atmosphere prevails. As the city’s main attraction doesn’t permit the entry of non-Hindus, the city and the beach are surprisingly free of foreign tourists. I was content to be the only white person wandering down the warm beach Wednesday evening, although the lack of foreign tourists means that the local hotels and restaurants aren’t so great at catering to Westerners and few people speak English proficiently (the hotel where I stayed doesn't stock toilet paper, for instance, but was nice enough to buy some for me when I asked).

On Thursday, I took a three-hour round trip ride on the back of a motorcycle (don’t tell my mom) from Puri to the small village of Danda-Mukundpur. I’m now convinced that the best way to see rural India is from the back of a motorcycle. We stopped along the way to buy a fresh coconut (costing about 13 cents) on the side of the road; the vendor sliced open the green fruit with a machete and placed a straw inside so that we could drink the refreshing juice. Afterward, he cut the hull in half so we could eat the white, slimy coconut flesh inside. This was my first trip into rural India and I found it beautiful and the people very friendly.

An enormous temple which is a place of spiritual power for thousands of devotees, beautiful beaches, and welcoming people make Puri a great place to visit—definitely worth a return trip. Next time I’ll be sure to bring my swimming suit. However, as the only white person on the beach, I’ll have to be careful that my iridescent glow doesn’t attract too much attention.

A beautiful, warm beach in December!


A Krishna Temple down the street from Jagannath Mandir.


Jagannath Mandir.


As non-Hindus are not permitted inside, this is as close as I could come to seeing the interior.


The entrance of the temple at dusk.


Rural village of Danda-Mukundpur.


Playing cricket in the street.


Personification of village hospitality.


Playing cricket in the fields.

More pictures can be found here.

Bustling Bangalore, center of the flat world

If there is any place where the old India meets the new, it is Bangalore. Thomas Friedman wrote extensively about the city in his 2005 book as typifying the new “flat world.” Bangalore has been called the outsourcing capital of the planet and is full of IT companies and BPOs (business process outsourcing firms). It is home to the legendary campus of Infosys, a computer company started with $250 by seven individuals in 1981. It is now worth $20 billion and employs over 90,000 people. According to Lonely Planet, when you enter the campus (which isn’t accessible to the public) “it’s as if you’ve slipped through a wormhole into an alternative India, where neatly trimmed lawns sprout shiny glass and steel structures. The workforce (average age 26) cycle or use electric golf carts to get around the 32-hectare campus, passing five food courts (serving 14 types of cuisine), banks, a supermarket, basketball court, putting green, and state-of-the-art gyms. There’s even a hotel! The point of all this is to prove that Infosys (and by extension India) can compete on equal terms with the developed world—the level playing field of Friedman’s ‘flat world.’ And with bumper-to-bumper traffic crawling along the highway outside, nowhere seems to sum up the contradictions of modern India so succinctly.”

I visited Bangalore on November 15-18, 2008. The official name of the city is now Bengaluru, but unlike the Madras to Chennai and the Bombay to Mumbai name changes, Bengaluru hasn’t really caught on and everyone still calls the city by its colonial name, Bangalore.

This marked my first time flying within India and I was somewhat surprised by the lax airport security (compared to the U.S.). Not only did my shoes and belt remain on my body, but I didn’t even have to empty my pockets or take my laptop out of its case (on the return trip I did actually have to dis-encase my laptop but my shoes remained on my feet). I was also allowed to carry any liquids I wanted right onto the plane. While this was pleasant and convenient for me, it does make one a little nervous traveling in a country where terrorist attacks are not infrequent (as was recently tragically demonstrated in Mumbai). A substantial snack (bordering on a meal) served on the short one-hour flight was another pleasant surprise.

The beautiful, recently constructed international airport is a testament to Bangalore’s rise and new-found wealth. About an hour bus ride from the main part of the city, the airport is adorned with beautiful fountains, art sculptures, and meticulously manicured lawns. Although there is not much of historical interest in Bangalore, I’ve been told that it is a great place to live as you can find anything from anywhere in the world in the city’s trendy shops and restaurants. There is also an active social scene catering to the many young working professionals. I saw the city’s transformation firsthand as I wandered down a dilapidated old street and stumbled upon a beautiful new mall. The white granite structure housed several high-end brand stores which were much too expensive for me. An escalator led to the roof of the building where a terrace, populated with elegant restaurants and a beautiful multicolored fountain, overlooked the city.

The rise of the Indian economy is attributed, almost universally here, to the deregulation and government reforms of the early 1990s. These changes, coupled with a large, educated, English-speaking population, have unleashed Indian’s entrepreneurial potential. With starting salaries higher than those of their long-employed parents, young IT professionals and “call center yuppies” are fueling the rise of a large Indian middle class. The best IT firms now wield so much power that some have dubbed them the ITocracy. Jobs viewed with disdain in the U.S. confer substantial status and are highly sought here. With so many people in the country, competition for jobs at top companies is fierce; many applicants have special training in “American” English and advanced degrees from top universities.On the other side of the world, many Americans are increasingly frustrated as they try, unsuccessfully, to communicate with their credit card’s back-office support team in India. Next time you find yourself in this situation, struggling to make yourself understood, take a moment to reflect on the fact that the person on the other end of the line likely speaks three or four languages in addition to English, is probably more highly educated than you, and is working many, many hours each day to provide a better life for himself and his family. This may not decrease the level of your annoyance (I myself try to avoid using the phone here), but at least it will provide some perspective.

Iconic symbol of the West.


The beautiful Lalbagh Botanical Garden.


Temple within the garden.


Glass house at Lalbagh.






I found a family of monkeys in urban Bangalore near the LDS church.


View from the top of UB City. Unfortunately, you can't see the fountain so well.


City view from another roof-top restaurant.

More pictures.