Bintan pix

BINTAN hols

Here are the kids at Bintan.
Click here for more photos

A Japanese haiku for you

bigger than I, you, me, us
beyond the meaning of elementary, mathematical, modal or syllogistic logic
sharing, growing the other to bring more and growth to oneself

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHs2agRpzWA

Monday nights

These are the girls who were at Dimpy's bachelorette - top row Julia, me, Careina (my second year dormmate with Dimple), Ki Mun (Dimpy's friend from Mercer), Mishka (in my study group) -- first row, Kruti (2004 HBS), Dimple (my roommate for two years at Harvard) and Sheeba. We had a low key bachelorette -- no strippers, not much drunk drinking :P We indulged in a horrendously pricey but oh-so-good day at the spa. Without a skip in my step, after my lovely massage, I waffled down a pound of the best banana chips I ever had.

Here's a picture of Dimpy and me a month or two into graduate school. This was a picture taken at the first dorm party the dorm had. She had curly hair then and I had a waist -- in case you didn't know, waists often disappear once a mammal reaches adulthood, around 33 human years. We thought the guy in the middle was a nice guy and he still is except that I know now that he is a real sleaze with the girls! No wonder he was so friendly to us then!

THE BITTER PILL

Don't get too excited
You won't see me in a real wedding gown too soon
It's just a glimpse, taken at a bridalshower

I'm told it wont last long
Their shot at everlasting happiness
This glare of bitterness, gives me a headache

My echoes of this obsession becomes a problem
Do I think its a magic happy secure pill
Better take the bitter pill, than be unprepared later

Its not about the lack of offers
Some of which have come around
Many of which cannot be taken lightly, much of it so tempting

As for magic, happy secure pills
However bitter has been swallowed
Call it Ecstacy, I'm happy to do that before any marriage
Just for the sake of it

Part 2: This is a diary of our lives...

well, then it's up to the Han sisters to contribute.... ; )

Sunrise

Sunrise - view from my window 730am

A little angel awakens

This is a diary of our lives - not a study of political science or international relations!
Here is a reflection of where we came from, where we are now and where are we going.
20 years down the road - do we want to read about the Thai coup and the IR in Singapore - I THINK NOOOOTTTT! I took Min's counsel and removed the hidden comments so we get a chronology of events and ideas, thoughts and inspirations.

What do you want to be remembered for - this space is that snapshot of you.


dear sisters
welcome to the new rebranded hansisters blogspot. blog on...

HER

Sometimes her throat will ache
dry
closing up
a stick against her soft tonsils

Her tongue too big for her mouth
the pain unabated even though she swallows

Sometimes her eyes so tired
her nose all blocked
Cannot breathe

And the world stops
Muted noise
Muted nuclear feeling
of the stick pushing up so hard
so hard up her throat

Sometimes her eyes will blur
And gollops of tears will fall
her heart contracts so tight
her feet turn cold
Face, so tight
Lips, hardened lines

She turns to the trees
The soft wind
brushing against the green leafy fur
against the strong hard barks
Through the tall brown pillars
so strong so old so there

Green brown stretching from ground to sky

She breathes in
Life green age balance

She feels the tears wet reassuring
Flowing down cheekbones
weaving smoothly swiftly
They bring me comfort

The condemnation of Eve

When Eve first bit into the apple and passed it to Adam
She was condemned and labour pain was the vengeance
But the suffering was far deeper and intense
Her perpetual plight as maternal source
For where she would seek to protect,
Her children would feel smothered
Where she would lay a safety net to soften their fall
They would say she had no confidence in them
When she would lie down with her child and hold the 2-year-old
baby, silently weeping for its future without a father
She would be be said to be suffocating it and draining
it of its skills in corporate adulthood success
Where she would be humbled and ask on its behalf for food,
and shelter, she would be shamed by them
For did she not believe in them
Did she not have pride in them
Was it her pride pricked or theirs
Where she could not speak in words as eloquent or
as quick or in thoughts as complicated
She would be deemed as a thing of the past
having fulfilled its role, incompetent and abrasive
emotional ineffectual, no longer needed
She, lying there with one thought, only of holding her own
Eve's eternal punishment, greatest sin
ceaseless in time, perhaps only recognised
on her departure is her unconditional love.

Dear treasured family,
Thank you for being there for me
Thank you for energetic discussions
Thank you for loud, boisterous debates
Thank you for forgiving me
Thank you for loving me
And Thank you for letting me be me
but know that
I’ve never denied your existence,
resented your priorities
Or asked for more than I’ve received
(other than occasions when I’ve asked to use the family car)
I am blessed in many ways
And one of those ways is the beautiful four sisters I have
And two brothers-in-laws who have wisdom beyond the family
I bask in the universe’s abundance
(has anyone seen my shoe and bag collection?)
And have no need for wont
I am successful in ways you never imagined
Beyond the corporate dream and creative circle
And I have to say this,
My relationship with my mother will never be the same
She’s crossed the line this time
And until she apologises to me
Nothing’s going to be water off a duck’s back
There was once during Chinese New Year,
Father turned up at Arcadia before we were to go to Ah Boh’s house
I was wearing new garments including an ultra-hip, torn jeans (it was the 80s! It was so coooool) But I got screamed at by him – he said "Why are you dressed like a beggar? Don’t think u wear torn jeans you’ll get a bigger ang pows"
For years I wondered where this came from? I was 12 – I surely hadn’t developed an acute sense of how to elicit sympathy.
For many new years, I asked what set him off?
Now I know.
Mother has no ability to appreciate the good things in her life or see the blessings in other people’s life …
It hurt father,
It’s hurting me now.
So to end off:
I’ve always beat to my own drummer
Walked the untrodden path
And taken unexpected turns
No need to question why I am
I am a product of my parents, my sisters and my family.
With love

We're in BUSINESS again

This blog re-lives!!! Now in better PINK! Revamped, Refreshed, Revived!