Yin Yang

Beautiful snow fall has paralyzed Seattle for the last three days. Busy streets have become ski slopes. Kids are out of school and enjoying the winter resorts just outside their homes. I am stuck in the house with nowhere to escape and I can’t help but ponder on one question. When the whole universe is moving towards chaos why is there so much order in life? And this time it’s not a deep philosophical question but rather a practical question. Why do we organize everything around us? Why does our house have to be squeaky clean with everything put back in its place? In most cases there is only one answer: because She wants it!! And “She “could be your girlfriend, wife, mother or any other woman in your life.

 Just by the virtue of being a woman “She” has a minor case of obsessive compulsive disorder. In her world, everything in the house has a place. The kitchen counter and sink are always completely empty. The bed is always made and the flat sheet folds just enough over the comforter, such that the embroidery on it is perfectly aligned with the border of the comforter. The pillows on the sofa are not meant for comfort but are for decoration, two pillows should always be on the arms of the sofa and the third is placed in the center with its edge pointing up. The TV remote control is always placed in fancy wooden remote holder, which is placed on the left side-table.

When men are at home they have a minor case of motivational deficiency disorder (She prefers to call it laziness). For us the house is a big playground and a sports bar, a small piece of world that we can rule. Cups are for drinking coffee and glasses are for drinking wine, its perfectly fine to just rinse them before use, why bother washing them everyday? The kitchen counter is a perfect place to keep important piles of bills/letters, car keys, and wallet. Men are introduced to a bedroom only after they start living with women. For us a bed has a transient existence and it could be a couch, a sofa that faces the TV or a hammock on warm summer day, so dressing up a bed is just beyond comprehension. The pillows on the sofa have one and only one purpose that is to serve their master; they have to be a headrest, a footrest, a backrest or anything else that enhances their masters TV viewing pleasures. We know the power of remote control, some of us even think that it was the biggest invention since TV, but give me a break a remote does not need its own space. 

Men and women live in different worlds, which is why they have the expression “men are from Mars and women are from Venus” and tying the knot is like uniting these two extreme poles of universe.  I am sure that by this time you are wondering what all of this has to do with snow in Seattle. Well, it never snows in Seattle and when it does, life comes to stand still. So I am stuck in the house for the last three days and there is nowhere to escape. My office is closed, all the bars are closed, no racquet ball and even my dentist called off the appointment. For the last three days, I have been organizing our closets hanging pictures, installing drapes and vacuuming carpet. It’s like learning a language that I don’t understand.

But that's all just fine, because without Yin this Yang’s life would be full of chaos!

According to Chinese philosophy Yin and Yang are fundamentally opposing principles of universe. The balance between Yin and Yang is thought to be critical for existence of this universe. Yin often represents the female form and Yang represents the male form.

Yes We Can!!!

I have never been happier to admit that I was wrong. I did not think that a black man could win elections in America but Barack Obama proved me wrong. My skepticism was not because I think there is rampant racism but because we often tend to take decisions based on perceptions than on reality. And Xenophobia forms a major component of our perceptions when we judge others. Xenophobia which is defined as” the fear/hatred of that which is foreign” has plagued mankind from the very beginning. The displacement of natives and aborigines by the Europeans, slavery, the crusades, the holocaust, 9-11, the Babri masjid tragedy and genocides in Somalia Darfur and Bosnia and the recent terror attacks in Mumbai are all examples of the hideous nature of Xenophobia. Yet xenophobia has been an important factor in survival of humans and animals in general. A strong sense of self and rejection of the foreign has been a key component of the evolution of life. In fact it is so deeply ingrained in us that it is present even at a molecular level. The first lesson our immune system learns is to recognize self proteins from non-self proteins which is how our body is able to fight bacterial, viral and other foreign proteins without attacking our own “self” proteins. Globalization is the only cure for xenophobia. As cultures are melting into each other, through the internet, TV/movies, free trade and immigration, people are realizing that their biases are only skin deep. Obama winning the election is a shinning example of how much progress we have made in defeating xenophobia.


On a personal level Obamas win has given me hope again. Hope, that was lost somewhere on the streets of Mumbai. During my recent visit to Mumbai I was shocked to read advertisements which were targeted against “foreigners”. There were boards with picture of a white man which said “Yeh Mumbai ka nahi Canada ka hai: (he is not from Mumbai; he is from Canada) or with a picture of Sikh with caption saying “he is not from Mumbai; he is from Punjab. Mumbai is the epitome of cultural, religious and economic diversity. Heck!! Mumbai has even formed its own dialect called Bambaiya which is an amalgamation of Hindi, Urdu Marathi, Gujrathi, Konkani and English. So it hurts that a handful of politicians are ruining the beauty of this most diverse city in the world. It hurts even more because India (and the sub continently civilization in general) has be a beacon of cultural liberation and equality for ages. Dr Zakir Husain was Indias first minority President in 1967, at a time when the US was deeply entrenched in segregation. India (Indira Gandhi 1966 to 1977 and 1980 to 1984) and Pakistan (Benazir Bhutto 1988-1990 and 1993 to 1996) both elected female prime ministers back in the 60’s and 80’s which is a stunning contradiction to the backward image of these countries that is portrayed in the “modern” western world, compared to that the US will have to wait for at least 8 more years before they can elect their first female president. And of course there was Mahatma Gandhi who was like a shining light house in the gloomy World War II era. Gandhijis influence extends way past his fight against apartheid in South Africa or his non violent struggle to free India. Gandhiji has influenced many of the modern leaders like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Dalai Lama and even Barack Obama. We surely need more leaders like the Mahatma in this present war hungry world.
As president Obama makes his own history, these recent acts of bigotry in Mumbai will remain only as very tiny stains in the marvelous history of this great city of the world. And I have just one thing to say to the religious and political leaders who want to use bigotry and racism for personal gains: “Yes we can!!!”

The Magic Shoe Box

The Magic Shoe box
I am back in the US after a month long (short) stay in Pune. Just like every other visit to Pune, this trip was also an emotional roller-coaster. And those beautiful moments shared with loved ones are now mere memories that are fading away quickly under the onslaught of my daily grind. There is one memory though that is clinging on to me very dearly and I still wake up at night thinking about that one moment that stormed into my leisurely comfortable India trip.
It was another lovely Shravan (post monsoon) day in Pune. I had just stepped out of Marzorin after eating a chicken roll, a chicken burger and shared a cheese sandwich with Shilpa. The heavy showers had just passed and the sun was peeking out of the clouds as if to seek my attention. Shilpa and my mother wanted to do some more shopping and I was lost in my own world trying to soak in much of the ambiance around me. I was reminiscing about how years ago, I had spent some wonderful Christmas and new years nights at the same spot. All this while, as I was foolishly chasing the time long gone, there was a voice calling out to me. It was a voice of a little kid who wanted my attention, and he finally got my attention because he spoke in English. He said “Sir it will be only 2 rupees”. I looked back at him because this was the first time I had herd a beggar in India speak in English. Our eyes met only briefly and as I was turning away he said “Please let me polish your shoes it will only be 2 Rs”. He kept following me with a little plastic bag in hand as he kept pleading to polish my shoes. There was no way that I was going to let this kid polish my $100 REI shoes, so I grabbed a 10 Rs note from my pocket, handed it to him and walked away. To my utter disbelief the kid kept following me and as I turned around he gazed in my eyes and holding the note out said “Sir I am not a beggar, please let me polish your shoes”. At that moment my ignorance came crashing down and surrendered to the pride of a 10 year old self respecting street boy.
I motioned Shilpa and my mother to carry on their shopping and I stood embarrassed and speechless as the kid started to polish my shoes. In the next 10 minutes I got a glimpse of his world. His name was Ajit (invincible) a fitting name because he clearly did not let his situation defeat him. Ajit went to a mission night school where he learnt 3rd grade English and Science. Ajits life was a constant struggle, he came by bus from Hadapsar (which is around 10 km from the place we were at). He carried a white bag which had a shoe brush and some white solution. He had to walk the street for 4 to 5 hrs to earn just 15 Rs a day. To put that in context it had taken me only around 30 seconds to gobble up the cheese sandwich which cost 25 Rs. With the 15 Rs that he earned Ajit had to support his 5 year old brother, a 2 year old sister and his mom who stayed at home to look after his siblings. Ajit was very curious about my life he wanted to know everything about me, where I lived and where I worked. Just as our conversation was drifting, Ajit looked up and said “Bhai (brother) I feel very sad when people think I am a beggar. Since I carry this plastic bag and follow people around they assume that I am begging but I don’t like to beg, I am just here to earn money”. His words came like a hurricane and striped me off of my cozy existence. I felt naked to my core as I was desperately searching for words to cover up my ignorance in handing him that 10 Rs note. Before I could respond he said “Bhai if I had a shoe box I could sit in my own spot and would not have to follow people around and then perhaps, people would not think that I am a beggar”.
I had no idea what a shoe box was, and asked him how much it cost. He replied that it was “very very expensive” and after further probing he said that it would cost around 350 rupees. We both stayed silent for sometime he was almost done polishing my shoes when he said “Bhai would you consider buying me the shoebox?” I hesitated and then asked him where we would get the shoebox? He asked me to follow him and we started walking along main street. As we walked the fog in my head started to evaporate and I started thinking rationally again. I noticed another boy carrying a bag just like Ajit and I remembered the stories my friends had told me about how they had been duped in India and China before. Slowly I was getting convinced that the little boy was trying to con me and I was determined not to fall for this dirty trick. We finally reached the end of main street and Ajit pointed to an older boy who was sitting in the street polishing shoes. Now feeling completely aloof I walked up to the kid and asked the price for the shoe box. He replied that a big one would cost 320 Rs. I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I could pay only 150 Rs because that was all the money I had on me. I was smiling wickedly in my mind, I knew that these con artists will fall for my bait of 150 Rs and right at that instant I would walk away without paying a single penny. Well I was wrong again, the older kid replied the best he could do was sell the box for 270 Rs. He went on about how he had purchased it for Rs 250 and how he would make sure that he would replace or fix it if anything went wrong (Which I thought was epitome of the capitalistic influence on mostly poor India). Now I was in real predicament because I only had two 100 Rs notes with me, so I bargained again and offered to pay 200 Rs for the shoe box. The kid shook his head and replied that 270 was his final offer. I was ready to use this excuse to get out of this situation but one look at Ajit made me change my mind. The disappointment in Ajits eyes was real. They say that eyes are windows to ones heart and my heart was telling me that the pain in Ajits eyes could not be fake. As I do in most difficult situations, I let my heart take control over my rational mind. And before I knew Ajit and I were walking back trying to find Shilpa and my mother.
The walk back was long and hard. My rational thoughts kept on reminding me that I was acting on impulse. They kept on telling me that I had not committed to anything and I could still walk away. They reminded me that my money would be better spent through a donation to a reputed charitable organization. But at the same time my heart was weeping for the suffering that filled Ajits life. Ajit was talking continuously on the way back but I was in such a hypnotic trance that, I can barely remember my conversations with him and I barely remember the details of how I got more money from Shilpa. However, I remember vividly the spring in Ajit steps as we re-approached the shoe polish boy and the sparkle in Ajits eyes after I bought him the shoe box. It was not the same sparkle of excitement I see in kids eyes when they get a new toy, but it was a sparkle of hope that lights up the dim surroundings.
Ajit could not hold his excitement back. He showed me where he would put his brush and shoe polish. He pointed to the spot where he would sit daily. He was ecstatic about his official elevation in status to a shoe polish boy. Then suddenly he paused and looked up at me with tears in eyes and said “Bhai I will never forget this day, Bhai I will pray for you everyday”. His moist eyes and quivering lips still haunt me, and constantly remind my ignorant mind not to judge people that quickly. Then he said “Bhai I do not know how to pay you back for this”. I could not find an adequate response and mumbled something back to him about how he should remember to help folks when he grows up. It was almost time to stay good bye when Ajit made a last request. He said “Bhai let me please do Bhavani (auspicious term used for the first client/business) by polishing your shoes on the new shoe box. So right in the middle of the foot path (side walk) he was polishing my shoes again for a second time in less than an hour. The only difference was that this time his eyes were gleaming with pride of being a real shoe polish boy.
The shoe box was magical for both of us that day. It was magical for Ajit because it gave him hope of a better life. I pray to any and every god out there that his hope will become a reality someday. I know however, that it’s my heart wishing things again, and my rational mind tells me that my impact on Ajits life was over as soon as we said good bye. Something tells me that, more than likely Ajits life will for ever continue to meander below the poverty line. The shoe box however, was indeed magical for me and that moment has left such deep imprints in my heart that it is bound to change my mind forever, whether I like it or not.




















Ajit with his shoe box.






















Ajit polishing my shoes on his shoe box .

(I have struggled quite a bit on whether I should upload theses image or not. The only reason for uploading these images is that if anyone who reads this blog, happens to be on main street, they can identify Ajit and get their shoes polished.)

Maya

Buddha by Deepak Chopra is a powerful book. I finished reading it a few days back, but I am still carrying it in my subconscious. The book revolves around the life of Buddha and touches repeatedly upon “Maya” the central theme in most eastern philosophies. So my mind has been freely wandering again in the enthralling web of Maya. Maya is an intriguing concept, which is quite difficult to define. Yet it (or she or he) touches upon some of the most basic concepts of universe and humanity. I am a true agnostic and I only believe in things that can be proven by rigorous scientific data. Yet there are some questions that are so confounding that they almost shatter my beliefs to the core. If the whole universe was created in an instant with a “Big Bang” what was before that? Is there really a time and space continuum in which everything that is going to happen tomorrow has happened already in a different time dimension? And the most interesting question is, if the whole universe is moving towards disorder then why have LIFE, which the most ordered state of matter.

All these questions churn up my mind into an uncontrollable storm and that’s when I lean on Maya for support. Maya in literary term means “the ultimate illusion” and suggests that this material world is just an illusion and that our greater purpose in life is to try to find the truth of our existence. Every soul is born and (according to some philosophies) reborn to pursue this quest of truth and as we embark upon this journey, all our perceptions of the material existence of good and of evil collapse one by one until our soul meets the ultimate truth, becomes part of this ultimate truth to attain enlightenment (Nirvana). A few special souls like the Buddha, Jesus Mahavira and other modern day messiahs have reached this destination while most others are struggling to escape the intricate web of Maya.

I have spent hours talking passionately to my friends about Maya. Yet when I reflect back on my thoughts I see a hypocrite, because I am more tied in to the material world than most people. For example, a little while after we had crazy debate about Maya, a friend nonchalantly asked me “So are you going to buy an iphone? And without even thinking my response was “Yes of course”. I immediately knew that my Maya had lost the debate. I like to sample the pleasures of life whenever I can afford them. I have no guilt in enjoying few hours of euphoria that I get from a glass or two of wine. My idea of playing sport is buying the kit and then quitting and finding a new sport after a week. (So email me if you want a set of golf clubs that have been used only once!!!) I am an epitome of material existence and I can never see myself sitting under a banyan tree trying to find out the true meaning of life.

Yet I have learned a lot from Buddha’s struggle towards enlightenment. I have learnt that just thinking about Maya and the true meaning of life takes you away (even if just for a few moments) from your day-to-day existence. Just today when I was faced with an unfavorable situation at work instead of reacting to it immediately (and probably making it worse) I let my mind drift into the mist of Maya and when I got back that unfavorable moment had passed away. It was almost as if I had transcended time and traveled to the future. Taking that time out I was able to remind myself that there are things in life that are lot bigger than the rat race we are all trying to win. Sometimes disengaging our mind helps us get a better perspective about the mundane things we worry about. Thinking about Maya is like a short vacation that our mind needs every day.

So cheers friends and keep those discussions going. But, remember after all is said and done, its all just Maya!!!!!!!

The Four Walls

So here I am sitting in a bar in San Diego, having dinner alone. Ultimate fighting championship (UFC) is playing on the only big screen TV that adorns this place. This is only the second or maybe the third time in my life that I am eating dinner all by myself in a public place. So to hide my loneliness I brought my laptop and a book that I have just started reading called Buddha by Deepak Chopra The violence on TV and the dim lighting has filled this place with such darkness that it is difficult for me to read Buddha. Hence, I am going to use the little light that my laptop screen is reflecting to reflect upon the part of the book that I have read so far.
Buddha is a story of Siddhartha a divine child who was born in a royal family of king Suddhodana and his queen Maya. It was prophesied that that Siddhartha would become the greatest ruler ever and rule the four corners of this world. However, if Siddhartha every got exposed to grief sorrow and suffering he would become ruler of his soul and become a great sage an ascetic who would be totally disconnected from the material world. After hearing this, Suddhodana with the help of his advisor Cankhi, devised a plan to shield Siddhartha from any sorrow or grief. So anyone who was sick crippled or old was driven out of the kingdom and four big walls were constructed around the palace to screen Siddhartha from the outside world. Siddhartha would be confined inside the four walls for the early part of his life. Suddhodana thought that shielding Siddharth from pain and suffering of the real world would lead him to his real destiny as the ruler of this world
Suddhodanas plan bore some early success as young 18 year old Siddharth was crowned the future king, and that’s the book so far. I have been wondering though if just like Siddhartha we all have the four walls around us. Walls formed by expectations of our parents, elders, loved ones, teachers and the society that we live in. Our parents and elders are trying to live their unfulfilled dreams through us. Our teachers see us as yet another branch of their legacy. Our loved ones want to make us their possession and the society wants to stamp its authority all over our existence. Many decisions that we take are made within the confines of these walls. We are asked to become doctors or engineers anything less would be the end o the world. We are told to marry within our caste, sect, religion and color or be prepared to face the wrath of the society or of god himself. Success is defined by the amount of money we make or by the car we drive or by the neighborhood we live in. It makes me wonder if we are running towards a goal that’s not really our own or living somebody else’s dream and calling it our own.
Have you ever wondered where your life would be if without these four walls? I have and the answer scares me.

My Blog Express Starts Here......

So here I am after some mulling and self coaxing, climbing on the blog-express. Interestingly, when I told a friend about this aspiration the first reaction was "Great!!!! but who is going to read your blogs?" and my answer was "Does it really matter?". Now after thinking about it more, I am not sure if it does matters or not? First however, I will try to answer an easier question. Why write a blog at all? The answer lies in one of our most basic desires, a trait that sets us apart from other living beings, which is our need to express ourself. We Humans are programmed to express and blogging is yet another way through which we announce ourselves to the world. Which is why the caveman in France's Grotte Chauvet who lived during the ice age 30,000 years back was painting pictures on the walls of his cave. Life must have been quite a struggle for this ice age man as he was fighting against hunger, wild beasts, weather and elements and simple things like a decaying tooth could have been life threatening for him. Yet as he struggled for day-to-day survival our ice age ancestor was creating cave paintings so refined that they have shattered our myths about a more modern origin of artistic sophistication (Science, 20 November 1998, p. 1451). No one knows the reason behind these paintings, could they have been a part of an ancient ritual or an ancient burial? Or some form of ancient communication or education system? Or were our ancestors just expressing themselves? Just satisfying the urge to express their creative instincts by painting their version of the world around them. The more intriguing question is, did this cave man crave for an immediate audience when he was making this painting or did he know that the painting would be his legacy long after he was gone?

One can argue that drawing and painting were forms of communication. Maybe the cave paintings were meant for warning the young ones about the friendly and not so friendly animals , which would have been critical for their survival in a savage world. But I cant even begin to comprehend music. The most extreme case of our creative imagination and expression. Music which is intricately abstract and yet so close to our soul. Really how did music evolve ? It certainly cannot be essential for our existence (although many would argue otherwise) and yet it engulfs our existences. The origins of music are even more ancient than the cave paintings. The first flute uncovered in a Neanderthal* excavation site dates back to 43,000 BC . Amazingly the holes in this neanderthal flute, made with a bear bones, are perfectly aligned to make diatonic sounds http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/specials/washington_2000/649296.stm (or check this for a more recent flute http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2004/dec/17/highereducation.arts). Were are ancestors just mimicking natures sounds or was music some form of war cry or means to attract prey. Darwin "The God" (of my religion) had suggested that origin of music was largely an outcome of courtship displays (http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/miller/miller_p4.html ). I cant fully agree with him on this one (Even I am shocked I made this statement, but I know "The God" will not send me to hell for this digression). Its hard for me to believe that the sole purpose of music was to attract a mate and if it was, how could it have evolved into Britney Spears singing Oops I did it again, Oops wrong example, I actually meant Symphony No. 40 by Mozart. Maybe music is a our attempt to tune into the primal sound of creation. Sage Vishvamitra from Hindu mythology is thought to have heard this vibration during one of his trance, which he tried to capture in the vowel Om (Om is thought to be the root of Amen, Ameen and Shalom http://www.healingsounds.com/articles/planetaryHS.asp ) . But I find it hard to believe that the driver of rickshaw humming the tune of his favorite bollywood song as he listens to it on his radio, is thinking of the ultimate resonance of this universe. The reason why music is so close to our heart is because it mingles with our emotions. Joy, sorrow, jealousy, bereavement, love, lust, pain, pleasure and attraction are like the octaves of our music, which when played together, form the very fabric of our life. We connect our music with our emotions. We let music carry us back in time to the "good old days". We use music to soothe us, almost like a companion, when our mind is filled with sorrow. We use music to create an ambiance, a mood, a state of mind. As the story goes, when Tansen sang raga megha malahar it would rain in Akbars court. And as Darwin suggested we use music for courtship, as we play our favorite love duet, affectionately, for that special someone.

But, its not just our music or our art, but everything we do has a touch of our individuality and expression. The colors we choose for our house, the car we drive, the ringer on our cell phone and the clothes we wear (and sometimes chose not to wear), shout and announce our presence to the word. Just like foot prints in sand, wherever we go whatever we do, we leave our imprints behind us. Like soap bubbles floating in air, our emotions transcend space and sometimes time, as they are expressed as music, poetry, dance, a smile, a tear or a blog. Being a social creature we make a conscious effort to "fit in" with our group, our community, our religion or our country. We let our actions express our allegiance to the world around us. We worship and imprison our god in the faith of religion around us. We sing our national anthem in chorus, at our school assembly, as we claim ownership to the land that our ancestors fought for. We cheer as bunch of men chase a football on a cold Sunday afternoon just because the rest of the world is also watching. We hang lanterns and decorate our homes for Diwali, Christmas, Hanukkah or Eid, so that our house does not stick out as a sore eye. We express our allegiance to the culture around us and want the world to know it. When the leaders, the rulers express their power, they want the world to know it. Taj Mahal the epitome of love, Pyramids the reflection of immortality and the Eiffel tower the essence of architecture all demand our attention, our awe, adulation and our submission to their supremacy. Most times we express ourself to seek attention and admiration, we want the world to notice us to know that we belong here. So many times when we express ourself we seek an audience an applause or an acknowledgment. Yet there are times when we shed tears to wash out our sorrow in solitude. Or laugh out alone when no one is listening. I certainly don't want an audience when I am ripping my rendition of fields of gold in shower. Subconsciously we are programmed to express our emotions even when no one in watching.

Is this desire to express our selfrooted in our need to leave a mark on this planet that we visit only fleetingly? Are we subconsciously trying to prolong our battle against time leaving behind our creations lingering, as time wipes out every evidence of our existence? More question than answers, but what about this blog. Does it matter if anyone reads it? To answer that question let me first share a habit with you. Every morning I walk into a Starbucks coffee shop as if, to express my allegiance to the metro-sexual culture around me. I look down upon Dunkin doughnuts and Tullys because they are just posers or because their coffee sucks or because they don't donate 2 % of their profits to poor kids in Sudan. Yet my drink, a tall sugar free hazelnut cappuccino extra dry that I have been drinking for the last 8 years is distinctly my own. The baristas at Starbucks know me not by my name but as a guy who drinks a "tall sugar free hazelnut cappuccino extra dry". That cup of cappuccino has a flavor of my choice my trade mark, my expression. Sometimes when I go to Starbucks with my friends, I order my cappuccino for them, many times they add their own touch by asking for fat free milk or a wetter cappuccino, and its okay because they are taking my choice and making it their own. None the less in that one cup they are able to experience a taste that is a part of my daily existence. This blog is like that cup of coffee, by writing it I am climbing onto the blogging bandwagon and yet this blog represents my thoughts, a space in my mind that I explored briefly and then expressed it in words. So even as I am tempted to say that it doesn't matter if anyone reads this blog and that this is just an outlet for me to organize my random thoughts. I will say that, I always meant for someone to read this. And if you have reached so far, I at least have have one audience. Thank you for visiting a small piece of my mind, I hope you found it just like yours.

Himanshu

* Neanderthal was our enigmatic alter ego, a Homosapien that some believe we modern humans (cromagnum) drove to extinction. Others believe that the neanderthals melted into the modern humans through cross breeding. I have always preferred love over war so I lean more towards the second hypothesis (I do flinch however, when I look at whats happening around us today)