a beginning and an end

I jumped onto the cardboard box to try and clamp it shut, pushing down as hard as I could to tape it all up. Sights, sounds, and sentiments were bursting at the seams, gushing out from my box of bitter memories.

I had broken a sweat using all my might to tape it up. Even used two rolls of tape this time for extra reinforcement. I finally had it all closed, 

only to impulsively rip it open again.

It's nice to be able to look through it all. To know it's there for me to explore if I feel the urge. The part I hate yet can never seem to avoid is questioning why it's all there. I'll find one piece and ask myself whether I could have avoided its arrival into my collection.

bleed scrape bleed itch bleed pull bleed scratch bleed (the soundtrack to my ceaseless gnawing at emotional scabs)

You're forcing me to put you in there, too. You want me to throw you in that box along with everything else that's done, finished, and relegated to my past forever. You've come today with a ribbon for me to wrap it with once you've stepped inside and closed it shut, but I'd rather have you here, alongside me, as we sit on the foot of my bed sifting through all of this together.

I now know how my grandpa feels.

I remember once when I was younger, one of the males in the family cut his hair. That's taboo in the Sikh faith, because uncut hair is supposed to be the physical manifestation of our inner convictions. I never quite understood the particularly dramatic reactions, such as the one displayed by my grandfather. I still don't - especially considering how the decision to wear an article of faith or subscribe to a particular religion is such a positively personal decision. Still, I sensed the disappointment; I can understand how it might have made my grandpa feel dispirited and saddened at the thought of someone close to him rejecting the tenets of a culture which has always been remarkably revolutionary and beautiful. A culture that has always stood up for the oppressed by defending women and those with lesser means. A culture which I find truly remarkable for so many reasons. However, wearing a turban/keeping one's hair is undeniably a personal decision.

Eating animals, however, is not a personal decision. A personal decision is divorced of the sort of ramifications and prerequisites that eating animals in this country currently necessitates. When you eat meat, we're not only considering that an animal had to die - we are considering how that animal had to suffer, physically and emotionally. 

When my vegetarian friend - a close friend - abandoned his vegetarian diet, I felt a sorrow I hadn't felt before. I think I know how my grandpa felt. 

Please reconsider.

Take-aways from the 2013 Animal Rights National Conference

At the 2013 Animal Rights National Conference, I had the pleasure of engaging both my intellectual and emotional faculties during the various workshops, lectures, and social gatherings. It was my first time attending the conference, and it was particularly gratifying because I achieved the one goal I sought to fulfill during the weekend. I certainly hoped to learn more about the movement, acquire some more skills for leafleting, and also make a new friend or two; my primary objective, however, was to leave the conference with at least one paramount piece of insight. As I stated, I achieved this goal, but in quite an unexpected manner.

This year's conference contained a debate between Bruce Friedrich and Gary Francione, two abolitionist vegans who work toward animal liberation - just in very different ways. Francione believes that supporting welfarist reforms (phasing out cages, providing more space for animals, etc) are counterproductive and encourage complacency. Well, that's the diplomatic summary, at least. In my personal perception, I see Francione as the Ann Coulter of the animal rights movement: someone who probably sincerely believes they are right, but due to their extremist views, gets much more attention than otherwise warrants (and consequently thrives off of it).

Friedrich's points were extremely articulate, pragmatic, tactful, and both his content and delivery were quite cogent. Francione, on the other hand, adopted a much less respectful demeanor during the debate. Content aside (which I, personally, viewed as reprehensible), I was particularly struck by the negativity he espoused. We are all working toward the same goal, and that should be a cause for some degree of celebration despite the uphill battle - why leave the audience members with such a sour, unpleasant feeling?

I was encouraged by a friend (a remarkable fellow Humane League activist) to share my thoughts with Francione, which is precisely what I did. I very respectfully approached him and and said, "I know you must be busy, but do you possibly have a moment for some feedback?" He immediately retorted (very briskly) by saying, "What do you disagree with?" I proceeded to courteously explain to him my vantage point. I said, "I feel like conferences such as this one are incubators for future activists. When you emit so much anger, you run the risk of alienating people who find such negativity off-putting." Once again in an undeniably curt manner, he said to me, "there's a difference between anger and passion. Hopefully one day you'll learn the difference."

The major insight I took away from the conference was the value of humility. My father always tells me that the best leaders are those who never stop learning from people around them. My interaction with Gary Francione solidified this concept in my head - that the people who radiate humility will always be the most influential, and those who isolate themselves from any and all opportunities to be better are cutting themselves off from true success. I was truly astonished by the arrogance emanating from Francione, but I feel very proud to say that those whom I look up to most in the movement, including the entire staff at The Humane League are some of the most humble, compassionate people I know who realize the value of always trying to be the best version of themselves possible - for them, and for the animals. 

The Failure of Self-Correcting Mechanisms

Homeostasis: the tendency to move toward equilibrium. Glide straight into place, achieve balance.

I long for interpersonal homeostasis. For our two beings to strive for that steady footing that our individual bodies have mastered so effortlessly. Can not our hearts and our souls master that sense of evenness and stability which is innate in our flesh and bones?

You'll supply what I lack. 

When you falter I'll step up.

If only it were so simple.

This osmosis of love and affection - it exists in the mind of a child whose body works tirelessly on tasks and small missions through her arteries and vessels, never failing to correct an imbalance or mend a scar. But when I try to mend your scars, I am slashed with recalcitrance which my body cannot heal.  No homeostasis. Only hurt.

This osmosis of love and affection - when you feel empty I will give you love; when you feel lonely I will give you warmth; when you are lost, I'll earnestly impart whatever direction I can. Emotional transactions take time.  My alms to you will not be supplanted as quickly as my body gives my thirsty cells water.

You stopped caring.

You always used to show concern when I would listen to Bright Eyes. I would always listen to Bright Eyes when I was sad. Then, eventually, you stopped showing concern. Perhaps because I began listening to them more frequently. My sadness was almost too overt that it glossed over you.

Defying the Odds: A Short Story

Whenever I have a business function where I need to kick off the event with some simple but epic story comprised of some struggling youth, destined to make it big despite having to tackle status oriented barriers - destined to "rise above" and make something honorable of his or her self - I always think of this one instance from my childhood from when I was in 8th grade. The year was 1975. We needed to build a projector, and the standard procedure consisted of utilizing two lenses.

But, I could only afford one.

Growing up, I had two shirts, one pair of pants, two underwear, and a pair of shoes. My small, dilapidated flat in Kanpur housed my parents, as well as me and my little brother. It suited us well. We were never the type to complain. We had what we needed, and we rarely wanted anything we did not have. You hear about so much social pressure these days - this 90210 bullshit - to look a certain way, to emulate certain personalities, even when it doesn't resonate with who you truly are. Looking back on it, I had the important things in life.
I couldn't afford to buy any yo-yos or basketballs, occasionally resulting in scorn from the town bullies, but that was nothing new. I had learned to cope with all of it. My most sacred tool was my ability to make school my getaway. Whatever boredom, anger, or despair I felt, I was somehow able to transform it into the fuel I needed to work effectively and discipline myself. Whenever I needed an escape, I could turn my back on the world and focus all my energy on my studies. I was among the sharper tools in the shed.
So, using my impeccable mathematical skills, I configured a formula that would allow for the construction of my project using one lens. I knew I would be able to successfully make my projector operational; the hard part would be convincing my teacher it was possible.
I had prepared a half-hour long disclaimer I was to recite to my stubborn teacher which consisted of how passionate and determined I was in regard to our assignment, how I admired his outstanding teaching abilities, his conviction in challenging his students to live up to their full potential, etc. He wasn't moved in the slightest. Not that I expected him to be. He merely basked in his enormous ego. As I expected him to.
Finally, I arrived at the part where I was proposing to complete my experiment with one magnifying lens, only to be shot down instantaneously with an adamant "No! It cannot be done."
It was as subtle as a sawed-off shotgun.
However, after what seemed like an eternity, I had convinced him it was indeed possible. In addition to possessing academic excellence, I was quite the persuader.
I went with my mother to the appliance shop where there were wiring materials, computer parts, lenses, bulbs, and old men who should have croaked decades ago lounging around smoking hookah.
I assembled my project as soon as I got home. I needed a metal ring to encase the lens, which I sneakily acquired from the broom lying in the kitchen. (It was the metal binding that held the straw together.) I went to the recycling to find a cardboard tube - all that remained from what used to be a roll of paper towels, and I used this for my project, too. I meticulously inserted the lens into the tube, and then reached for some tape to secure it ----
I made the mistake of working over a concrete floor.

Within an instant the lens had fallen through the tubing and onto the ground, shattering into dozens of pieces, the edges of which were lined with sharp, serrated shock and guilt. The shrill sound of the glass hitting the floor hasn't escaped me to this day. It's one of those things you play over a million times in your head, wishing you had faster reflexes for your hand to swoop in and catch the falling object, like the hero in all those Bollywood movies magically appears and catches the beautiful girl. You play it over a million times in your head and ask yourself why you didn't hold the bottom of the tube, "तेरा दमाग खराब है*?"
My mother came in and slapped me. There were tears all around, and I felt so fucking guilty. My mother reluctantly brought me to the store, again, as I couldn't stop sobbing.
We ended up having to buy that second lens after all. I had replayed the argument with my teacher in my head countless times, thinking to myself that if I was just going to end up buying two lenses, I would have passed on the unpleasant encounter with Mr. Sharma. Most of all, I felt awful for wasting my parents' money.

I got my project in on time, successfully using one lens, as planned. I remember writing my mother an apology letter, and she still has it to this day. I wrote her that letter 38 years ago. I had no idea she kept it until recently when we ended up reminiscing about the incident, among other memories during my last trip to India. I asked her if she had kept my math notes and immaculate schematic in preparation for the project, when she admitted that she had sold it decades ago along with all my other papers and books for recycling money. It just made me realize how far we've come since then. You can really go places when you set your mind to it.

___________________________________________

*Punjabi saying for "are you stupid?" Literally translates to "is your head cracked?"

The Animal Activist Handbook

    The Animal Activist Handbook (by Matt Ball and Bruce Friedrich) holds many useful pockets of truth and pragma amidst some arguably more obvious pieces of advice. I particularly enjoyed reading it because I personally feel as if when I gain more and more earnest conviction for what I believe in, the more my passion can radiate outwards to inspire others. This delightfully quick but very powerful read strengthened my conviction for helping animals in two crucial ways - it reiterated the extent of the suffering which animals are enduring this very moment, but it focused on how this should not be as overwhelming as we initially perceive it to be, because changing hearts and minds is more doable than we might assume.

Perhaps the part of the Handbook which resonated with me the most was the statement that "our lives should be an advertisement for a purpose driven life." I very much identify with the notion that we should live as if others would follow our example (check out the blogpost I wrote along the lines of this type of philosophy: http://humanwashingmachine.blogspot.com/2012/08/animal-rights-filtered-through-sartre.html), and the Handbook mentions how when trying to get others to do the same with regard to animal welfare, its as basic as helping people to understand that the compassionate choices we vegans and vegetarians hold dear to us are simple extensions of the values we all already hold. It demystifies, de-radicalizes, and eliminates the foreignness associated with eradicating meat from our diet. Since a cruelty-free lifestyle does not require one to "forsake modern life or overthrow a government," this method of helping others to see that society is designed to conceal the realities of meat, divorcing it from the actual animal, helps people to disassociate veg eating from connotations of extremism, militance, and unfeasibility.

There would be felony charges if what happens to farm animals happened to dogs and cats. Facts like this, compounded with the realization that the horrible videos we watch are just "discrete representations of continuous suffering" often take us down a dangerous path; I, for one, have often been too abrasive and confrontational with the people closest to me regarding vegetarianism/veganism. I can rationalize by saying my hostility was simply a means to a more ideal end, and I hold the people closest to me to higher standards (which is true and I don't regret it), but nonetheless, the Animal Activist Handbook highlights the importance of adopting an attitude of empathy instead of succumbing to a combative mindset. This could not be more crucial in today's society where stubbornness and enmity are all too pervasive and people revel in keeping up their defenses; kindness, understanding, and love are truly the only ways to win. The Handbook details an analysis of Malcom Gladwell's "Tipping Point" theory, looking into people who turned mere fads into deeply permeating trends, and, not surprisingly, those who held friendly, optimistic demeanors were consistently responsible for said feat. It is easier said than done, but if your motivation is derived from your awe-inspiring potential to make this world a more loving place, it is your obligation to sublimate your anger and disgust - it is your obligation to remain truly positive and hopeful.

Sikhism + Veganism

Last night, on Wednesday the 29th, my school's Sikh Association put on an event in remembrance of the 1984 massacre against the Sikhs. It was an emotional night for me. Sikhism has played a huge role in my life - both the absence of it and the presence of it in my daily life have equally shaped me. I was particularly reflective last night because of the continued mentioning of the value of the Sikh turban throughout the event. Sikhs (mostly men, but also some women) wear turbans as a physical signature of their identity - it is a way for us not to shirk away from our duties, to be proud of who we are and to show that to the entire world. It is a way for people to recognize us, so if someone is ever in need, they can decipher a Sikh and know they will go out of their way to help. 

When I was in high school, my hair was shoulder length and all the colors of the rainbow. Eventually I started growing my hair out, and now it's back to its full length and I wear my kara - a bracelet on my dominant arm, which reminds me to act with righteousness and to do good deeds. Last night reiterated to me the value in standing for something, but not just doing so privately. I will always maintain it is better to exude with pride what it is you stand for than to keep your convictions living inwardly, where it cannot radiate outward and inspire others. 

Arguably, my more visibly punk exterior from the past was a way of displaying my convictions, and should not be seen as being of lesser value than my current manner of presentation, but I take pride in the way I look these days because I have evolved to see how my faith has shaped my current ideologies and practices in ways I once did not realize.

Immediately following 9/11, my mother and I put pamphlets about Sikhism in our neighbors’ mailboxes, wrote articles for the local newspaper, gave public service announcements and talks at schools and on the radio, and overall worked tirelessly to prevent the hate and discrimination that was being targeted toward my community. Sikhs were being murdered - innocent family men who happened to wear a turban as an article of faith were being beaten, taunted, and even killed. I remember when I was nine and helping my mom distribute literature at the supermarket, my mother asked a woman “Do you know about the Sikhs?” The lady responded by saying, “I’m sorry, I just moved here from Pennsylvania.”

Ignorance is a disease, and we all have our own ways with which we can quell its spread. There is still much to be done.

My mom's work is still ongoing, and it's proven necessary in light of the Oak Creek shootings in August. A large portion of the fuel to fight my fight is drawn from the brutality I see against beautiful animals whose chances to live a fulfilling life are cut terribly short; but, the underlying motivation to be aware of the fight to begin with comes largely from my faith.

All Sikh temples, called gurudwaras, offer a free meal which all people from all walks of life are encouraged to enjoy. The meal is called langar, meaning "anchor," because we all sit on the floor to eat it as equals, effectively anchoring us to a base of humility. The meal is always vegetarian. Two of Sikhism's biggest truths are to share what you have with others and to live a life of truth (the third is to meditate). In my case, I try to share the right I enjoy to an adequate standard of living with animals who are denied sunlight, safety, food, water, comfort, company of family, and the ability to deliberately secure what they want as a product of their impressive volitional capacities.

I think all Sikhs should be vegetarian or vegan for a number of reasons. Sikhism's gurus - or teachers - are the only religious leaders to fight and die for the protection of other faiths; Guru Tegh Bahadur, the ninth guru of the Sikhs, was martyred for Hinduism as well as Sikhism during a time when India's Mughal rule was attempting to impose Islam on all people. Therefore, inherent in Sikhism is the necessity of dismissing the all too prevalent concept of "otherness." During a time when women would be burned alive upon the death of their husbands, Sikhs spoke out against the disgusting notion that a woman was nothing without a man in her life, showing the revolutionary focus on 100% equality more than 500 years ago. Guru Nanak, our first guru, was born into a Hindu family but rejected the caste system practiced by the predominant religion of the time. His fundamental appreciation for the equality of all was resounding, eventually leading to the Sikh way of life. Living a life of truth, a staple of Sikhism, involves introspecting upon the role we play in society, our relationship with ourself and our world, and evaluating whether our deeds are as pure and positive as they can be. Our relationship to animals is a paramount issue worth reflecting upon, as many neglect this aspect of our lives despite the magnitude of its consequences.

Sikhism's progressive nature, fiercely egalitarian platform, and rejection of hierarchy - when extended to their logical conclusion - ideally would lead to the realization by self-identified Sikhs that non-human animals should not be seen by us as commodities with instrumental value, but as companions, placed here by God, to be respected for having inherent value.

Humility and Choices

"I had no idea it was as terrible as that! We've got to do something!"

These words were spoken by Harry Truman upon learning about the brutal murder of Isaac Woodard, an African American WWII veteran who had been killed upon returning home to the United States. Truman went on to say: "My very stomach turned over when I learned that Negro soldiers were being dumped out of army trucks in Mississippi and beaten. Whatever my inclinations as a native of Missouri might have been, as President I know this is bad." He went on to expand the Civil Rights component of the Justice Department and pass anti-lynching legislation.

I love this anecdote so much because Truman did not let fears of alienating his Southern constituents override his desire to do what he know was right. He also admitted to his previously imperfect views.

Humility is one of the best attributes one can possess. Humility is an absence of the ego, it is a relinquishment of one's pride, and in a great many cases it fosters the most beautiful endeavors for justice and the most powerful emissions of love the world has ever known. When deliberating a personal decision, I believe the right answer is always known from the onset; in other words, it is always felt, first, viscerally, before the mind has time to process it or rationalize it or in many cases, ignore it. 

To grasp firmly on to that elucidation of what is right before our ego tries to distort and skew it, before our ego tries to vindicate our previous course of action which we now know to be flawed, is one of the most noble goals.

Human Liberation, Animal Liberation

A great many issues in this country which begin as inherently moral have become so highly politicized that any discussion surrounding them becomes dry and heavily saturated with platitudes. The food industry is not one such area in which only soundbytes and clichés dominate the conversation. When I first became a vegetarian, and then a vegan, my personal reasons for doing so were largely governed by the abysmal treatment of animals in factory farms, with the health benefits as a close second. However, the arenas of vegetarianism, veganism, and the food industry as a whole, are multifaceted, and are as much about human rights as animal rights.

According to the University of Windsor's recent study on the psychological effects on workers in the slaughterhouse profession, profound trauma has emerged in countless individuals whose job it is to kill the animals which we consume. In short, it is not an overstatement to say that the work these men are employed to perform destroys their psyche, sense of inner peace, and overall well-being. In fact, the book Slaughterhouse: The Shocking Story of Greed, Neglect, and Inhumane Treatment Inside the U.S. Meat Industry, is a great read which not only chronicles the plight of billions of animals, but of the workers who suffer through a significant mental and emotional toll. 

The Texas Observer Article "PTSD in the Slaughterhouse" summarizes this phenomenon perfectly. The fact that these workers are required to take life but forbidden to feel the emotional ramifications of such a task leads to substance abuse, anxiety of many forms, often resulting in domestic violence. Incidentally, the meat packing industry has been the only industry to be singled out by Human Rights Watch for broad workers rights abuses - a testament to the fact that much, much more needs to be done to get society to view the food industry more holistically. The desensitization to which these workers are subjected  adversely affects their ability to adjust into a society where killing is "bad," and a general fondness for animals is "good." 

My personal opinion is that the human spirit is not designed to adapt to such brutality. For the very same reasons why I believe war is unnatural, for the very same reasons I believe that our inclination for compassion innately overrides our propensity for hostility, I wish to see an end to the barbaric practice of slaughtering animals in such a mechanized and inhumane fashion. So, why am I a vegan? I aim to reject cruelty to sentient beings, both non-human and human. I reject the speciesist approach to food consumption, but also view the issue through a human rights paradigm. 

View the Texas Observer article here: http://www.texasobserver.org/eat-your-words/item/18297-ptsd-in-the-slaughterhouse