political asylum for Dr. Shazia

(The following is a letter to Joseph Volpe, Minister of Citizenship and Immigration of Canada after an inicidental reading of a NYTimes article. Look at the picture. This is the face of victim. Look at her eyes. These are the fire of courage.
If you love your neighbors, write yourself to Minister@cic.gc.ca. Complacency in the presence of evil is no small sin.)

To whom it may concern,

As a Canadian citizen, I am appalled that the Canadian government refused to consider the application of Dr. Shazia of Pakistan for political asylum in Canada. Her courageous refusal to stay silent after a shocking rape incident, despite barbaric tactics by local community and government to keep her and her husband away from the spotlight, is nothing but heroic and inspirational. As a country known for racial tolerance and peace keeping efforts throughout the world, it deeply saddens me that such cold-heartedness has been shown by Canadian Immigration.


http://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/02/opinion/02kristof.html

It is my hope that the true North strong and free will once again show its true colors and shower its benevolence upon the unfortunate. It will show the rest of the world that at least one North American super power is willing to do what is costly but righteous, instead of simply the profitable and self-righteous. Show President Pervez Musharraf that the world is watching his country’s despicable acts, and that being an American puppet does not automatically legitimize his inhumane, Stalin-like dictatorship.

Your sincerely,

a nomad's view of church and state

i sympathize with my comrades' confusion with the boisterous harangues surrounding the recent yanks' partisan battle over the selection of a new supreme court judge, vacant by the retiring and well-deserved Sandra Day O'Connor. through the looking glass of a foreigner peeping in, it is perhaps only an appointment of a referee of domestic disputes and business tussles. yet the American conscience knows this is the birth of a determiner of morals, a champion of modern thoughts and an equalizer of rights & freedom all rolled into one. Let me digress.

In the nation's formative years, our founding fathers had the sage insights that any church's muddling of political affairs would inevitably over time lead to power corruption, gross deception and finally, manipulation of the masses. the untried alternative was true separation of church and state. yet without a religion to provide the absolute basis of ethics, a nation will be without moral foundation like a ship without an anchor, floating wherever the societal ebbs may carry it. this is perhaps the quintessential reason for the creation of the American constitution. 200+ years gone by, and countless additions of amendments A-to-Z provided clarifications, extensions and reinterpretations, yet the basic political philosophy of ruling by the republic, elected by the people, whose task is to execute according to the rules of engagement defined in the consitution, has not changed.

Fast-forward to January 22, 1973. In a historic ruling of Wade vs. Roe, the Supreme Court ruled that Jane Roe has the right to abort an unborn baby due to a fresh interpretation of Amendment 14 (right to privacy), despite existing Texas laws against abortion except extreme circumstances. The landmark ruling of this case by the highest legal authority of the land set the precedent for millions of abortions performed in the US annually.

Without taking a stand on the abortion issue (IMHO, a necessary evil), it is clear the Supreme Court stands to determine ultimate outcomes of controversial moral dilemmas of our time, based on its current and sometimes unorthodox interpretation of the constitution. throwing this understanding onto the backdrop of today's American political environment, where dogmatic religious right continues to wage battles fiercely with laissez-faire humanist left -- poor citizens often are bombarded to choose one of two extreme ideologies, and we see why supreme court judge selection is a dog fight till the last hound standing. is it a well-intended experiment gone horribly wrong? In the brave new world, if it doesn't work the first time, try try again. (Though, "In the long run, we are all dead," said Keynes).

why i watch movies

"if dreams are like movies, then memories are like films about ghosts," (1)

i like films. i like curiling up in the corner of my beat-up couch, in the dimly-lit and comfortably well-worn apartment after an honest day's work, and staring at the oddly squared flashing screen quietly telling strange and exotic tales. grappling a hot cup of green tea and a warm blanket in the winter, a glass of ice prune juice in the summer, i let myself be temporarily transported to fanstatic imaginary realms. some frighten me like the menace of the self-mutilating, demon-possessed child in "Exorcist"; some anger me like the man-made　apocalypse during WWII in "the Pianist". some invigorate me like the long-endured and awaited triumph overcoming tragic circumstances in "Shawshank Redemption"; some mesmorize me like the restrained but subtly expressive HK 60s ambience in "In the Mood of Love". Mostly though, movies that make the deepest impressions are ones that touch me a personal way. All of us in everyday life, an event takes place with us as first persons, we experience it, and are left with impressions -- thoughts and feelings stemming from first-hand experience of the happenings that linger if only momentarily. like traces of alcohol that remain after a sip of red wine, they are reminders of moments that flash before our eyes, then slip hurrily by and are gone forever. some residues stubbornly remain long after, some float away gently like dandelion in the autumn wind. yet they all serve their purpose, expire and evaporate. having acquired a taste of paradise but is now gone, we seek more. movies are engines that manufacture impressions. they make us laugh; they make us cry. they make us presidents of the United States, and prisoners-of-war in Vietnam. our lives are artificially enriched if only fictionally, but we can still cherish our impressions, which are personal and real. this is why i watch movies -- to breath the air of the Himalayas, to touch the soil of a Roman coliseum, to hear the birds of the Amazon, to taste the fruits of the Caribbean. afterall, films are the business of selling experiences, and we are in the interest of living them.

1. "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby", Counting Crows

walking in the morning sun in Amsterdam

Waking up early with a tired mind and a relaxed spirit on a quiet Saturday morning -- effects of jetlag still wrecking hovac in my body, I decided to take an impromptu stroll in the still unswept streets of Amsterdam. Sun had long been shining bright since 6am during Holland's long summer days, and the rain cleared early enough the night before that only small puddles of various sizes and shapes were scattered on the cobbled floors. After a night of exuberant excitement -- of which I was oblivious, the narrow street was uncharacteristically stoic, tranquil to the extent that my rubber-soled shoes lightly drumming the foot path was rhythmically audible. Suddenly I realized my hands hung liberated; after a few days of deciphering Dutch on blindingly colorful, glossy maps, it didn't occur to me that some forms of tourist survival guides would be necessary. Instead of thinking and deliberately taking action, I was ready to just be. The fast-familar scenery was now comforting. I begin to see how one can fall in love with a foreign land.

Of course, shops were still closed, but obviously early-bird merchants were readying their shops already. Most notable, perhaps, were a few young apprentices in a bakery, visible behind a tall glass panel, who were diligently laboring at the art of bread making. The concentration despite a restless night and a hope for a promising future were conveyed through the repeated movement of shaping and pounding of the dough. I smiled wryly, acknowledging this was a road I once traveled myself. Without disturbing their serenity, I walked on.

morning has broken

at the crack of dawn when the first rays of a radiant sun break through the darkness that has engulfed the night for what seemed like eternity, the air can be filled with such hopes and promises, and the accidentally awaken ones gently rub their swollen eyes and wonder if maybe today is the beginning of a new world remarkable, brilliant and magnificant. the silence of a cold morning, tainted only by the yawns of a passer-by street cat, keeps the drifters entrapped in their Utopian homelands and wraps the coming hours in a protective blanket of anticipation. oh, how I wish time halts at this imminent moment of events unfolding, revealing only tempting hints of what is to come but holding the floodgates of inevitables at bay. is it not the anticipation of joy and happiness that is the gold currency that drives us, not the actual mundane repetitions of unfulfilled dreams, heartbreaks and dispppointments? Wishful thinking, I cautioned myself. I roll to my side as the pre-destined hours march in: army boots, military drums and shoulder-strapped rifles.