New York....

I am still alluring over my New York days. I miss Manhattan. I wish Columbia had accepted me when I applied two years ago. Now why all these thoughts? Simple, I was in Mid town for the weekend.

When I was flying back, my flight mate was giving a friendly look clearly dropping me a hint that he wants to talk to me. So as I was cracking and grinding Lays Potato chips, he looked at me for one more time and told me- 'You can make all the noise you want- I don't care'! (Now, I did not ask him for his permission, Did I?). He was flying to New Hampshire. His wife/partner and children are sitting in the front row. He told me about his past with IBM and that he is retired now. He also mentioned he was flying from Dominican Republic. I was least interested in what he was talking. But he did tell me something that piqued my interest. He used to live in Manhattan before he moved to New Hampshire. He told me that the block he lived was the city itself for him. He told me about the grocery store who did free delivery whenever he called them, his favorite dry cleaner and so on. He also told me how he was ill one day and that his neighborhood coffee shop hand delivered a coffee for him.

Before I came to America, I lived in a city similar to Manhattan. We had shopkeepers who delivered us Quboos (Pita bread), Yoghurt, Leban Up right at the tip of a phone call from my mom. They even recognized our entire family members voice. My flight acquaintance definitely made me nostalgic. I remembered my good old days. Good old days, where everyone around you knew who you are. But then, I landed in California one day. That was the end to my manhattan style of living. My new friends were highway 280 and 101. My tailor, designers, favorite shop keepers who gave me warm greetings and who saved the new designs for me was replaced by Macy's, Kohls, Ross and so on. The store keepers who recognized my voice even before I had to say the building name and flat number was replaced by Safeways and Seven elevens. Everything seems huge. Similar looking concrete blocks everywhere- they called it- Best buy, Safe way etc. There was so much silence.... Anyways, enough for now :).

Lets toast to my flight stranger, whom I probably will never meet again....

My parents 30th anniversary- A glimpse to my childhood.

Time flies! Wondering why am I telling you this now? Read on :)

My parents are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary today. I know they will be married to each other for eternity. 10 years ago I did not have the same feeling about their marriage. They were married but not married to each other. Not that they were seeing someone else but just not into each other. I come from a very traditional family in middle east. Divorces are not common; even these days.

Dad is a busy business man. Mom a housewife. Dad traveled the world and sure he had his share of erotic fun with other women. (But the surprise is my mom strictly believed he is completely monogamous with her). I have my own share of instincts to think so. Mom never traveled with him, neither did we kids. He bought us a lot of toys and chocolates though. We loved them.

Mom is a short, petite, pretty woman. Married at the age of 17, all she really owned is us (we kids). We never had a social life like other families we saw around us. We never went to theme parks, never been to a movie theater, never saw an English movie or heard an English song before. We never learnt to dance or was applauded to enjoy any form of art. We went to an Indian school and we got back home to study more, eat and sleep. We are Muslims, thus Quran played an important role in our lives. I never enjoyed reciting it much but it was more purposeful than fun, I was told.

On and off, we saw our parents argue. I never heard my mom raise her voice. But I have heard my dad. My vague childhood memories of my parents include distance between them, a time when my mom tried to commit suicide and a time when my mom threw a handful of paprika powder into my dad's eyes as her share of anger and frustration to the life she is living.

Years passed and I have seen peace, happiness and togetherness in them. Even for once, I never asked them why they used to fight. Guess they assume, we have an idea why they fought. All I know is my dad used to drink and my mom is completely a terror if he drinks and come home. She might not shout but she'd talk things that boost up anyone's anger. (I know this because I have been a victim to her way of anger for a life time now).

This is a glimpse from my past. I have a lot of good things to say that is in my parents life now. But its still a small percentage of the total life I lived to be totally highlighted on a day like this if you are wondering- why is she not talking something good about them.

I grew up 'with' my family till high school. Not in a boarding school, not with my grandparents. I am seeing them happy from almost 2000 miles away for years now. But childhood really matters. And what and how your parents were to each other and to you matters even more.

This post is dedicated to all the family who have set good examples to their children, just to tell you how much I look up to you people.

This post is dedicated to all the parents who brought new lives into this world amidst your problems and what a shame that you didn't/do not know how badly they are getting affected/ is affected.

You never know what your children turn out to, despite how you shape them. But it doesn't excuse you from not shaping them. You are their heroes. But you got to wait till they grow up to tell you what kind of heroes you are in their lives.

YaY or NaY to working for a Public Defender?

I mentioned to you in my previous blog that I am a law graduate. I went to a small private law school in India. The end result of my 5 years stay in India was a law degree. Soon after my graduation I packed my bags to a new destination. To America!

I plan on going back to law school again to study further. But before I go back, I am looking to work in the legal field. Anyways the immigration attorney I am working with has come up with a reference. His partner at the law firm is friends with the public defender. We found this opportunity after searching and talking to people far and wide. It is hard because I don't have an American law degree, neither am I admitted to any bar in U.S. Other than volunteering, I cannot work anywhere for money as I do not have a work permit. But I don't care at this point. Right now, I just want to work in the legal field.

Larry (my immigration attorney) called me on Friday evening to tell me that the Public Defender would like to meet with me and I should give him a call to schedule an appointment. As soon as he hung up the phone, I gave a call to the public defender and we have decided to meet on coming Tuesday evening.

I have an idea of what a public defender does. And that worries me. Honestly, I don't know if I should fight to free a criminal. I do not know if I should fight to reduce the punishment of a rapist? I have been thinking a lot about it. I so want a job and here I finally found one but then I am unsure of it now. On Friday night, I went to a farewell party and happen to meet an attorney whose father was a public defender. She told me that it gives you a perspective from the other side. Tuesday is not too far away anyways. I have decided to meet with him and talk to him, even if it is just for the heck of it. I will keep you posted.

Meanwhile, let me know your thoughts. How fun is it to defend a criminal? Do you feel it is morally wrong to get into something like this? Is there a good side to being a public defender?

Share your thoughts,

A word to my fellow bloggers and readers...

I knew the world is round since childhood. But I sure did not know how much will I scroll round and round in this world. It has been a journey so far. A journey, I have decided to share with you.

I am a 26 year old living quite high up in the globe (United States). I graduated from Law School in 2005 and all I know is time has passed; its 2009 and I am yet to do something magical with my diploma.

I wished and I truly did, if I could write about my life. This blog is an action (finally) to the dream I saw for years. I still do not know, if I want a world full of people to read my random rambling but I do know that I will be very happy to hear from someone who is following my blog. So do write to me, if this blog ever fancied you.




PS: I am not a blogger. Not yet! The last time I wrote a piece was a year ago- an assignment I had to turn in the next day while I was a masters student. There is much to say about the program I was in. Hopefully, I will come back to it someday. And if it really matters that you came across some grammatical errors- don't be surprised. English is 'just' my second language.