Steve Jobs is gone, but his entrepreneurial spirit, stubborness, resolve and spirit is always present. His genius has shaped the way I work now and hope to transform my business in the future. As I was driving to work today, listening to BBC, I heard something brilliant. There are three Apples that have transformed the world. Eve, Newton, and Steve Jobs.
You will be missed.
আমাকে দুঃখ দিয়েছ
তোমার খারাপ কথা
আমার চকের জল নয়
কিন্তু আমার বাখ কাদ্জে
জীবন হচ্ছে প্রাণ
আমার দুখ্হ তুমি চিনতে পারছ না
আমার চকের জল অনেক পরেছে
যায় দিন আমার বর এসেছে সে দিন আমার জীবন আরামব হইছে
Ingredients: (made by hubby)
1 medium red onion
3-4 cups of organic chicken broth
2 tsp of cumin seeds
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp of garam masala
Liberal amount of black pepper
Liberal amount of paprika
1/4 cup of tomato paste
1 can of chickpeas
1/2 of a red bell pepper
1/2 of a green bell pepper
Pack of organic chicken breasts
2 cups of basmati rice
1/4 cup of black pitted olives
2 tsp of sea salt
1 tbsp of olive oil
Over medium heat, using a large skillet, heat the olive oil for 2-3 min. Do not spread the oil over the pan.
When the oil is heated, put the cumin seeds in the center of the oil. Toast the seeds for another 3-4 min. They should turn a dark brown.
Next add the chopped red onion. Sauté over medium heat for 5 min.
Add the peppers. Sauté for another 2 min.
Add chickpeas, olives, tomato paste and broth.
Add all ground spices and mix well.
Add rice and heat mixture covered over low flame for 15 min.
Add diced chicken and heat covered again for another 5 min. The pink should completely disappear from the chicken.
Sprinkle salt and heat covered for another 2 min.
Voila! There you have it. A chicken and rice with a little bit from India and a little bit from Spain. A hybrid biryani-paella.
Chicken and rice was my favorite during summer camp and I had to redo it the way I like it. Buen probecho!
We come unbidden into this life, and if we are lucky we find a purpose beyond starvation, misery, and early death which, lest we forget, is the common lot. I grew up and I found my purpose and it was to become a physician. My intent wasn’t to save the world as much as to heal myself. Few doctors will admit this, certainly not young ones, but subconsciously, in entering the profession, we must believe that ministering to others will heal our woundedness. And it can. But it can also deepen the wound. - Abraham Verghese in Cutting for Stone.
We all know it’s been ten years, but the decade mark is poignant and for me reminds me of where I was on that day and where I am now.
I remember 9/11/01 vividly. I was single and unhappy. I had my heart broken recently and I lived by myself in a small apartment in Washington Heights. I just started working for Gouverneur Hospital and had a new-employee orientation since I was (still) a city employee. I woke up that day, watched the news about the primary elections, showered, dressed and walked outside to the subway station. I had a long ride but had to get the “F” train to get to Roosevelt Island where Coler-Goldwater Hospital and Nursing Facility is located. Since there was no easy way to get the “F” train from the “A” train, I got out at 34th St. and walked over to get the train at the Manhattan Mall. As I walked the block, I looked up at the sky and remember thinking, “It is such a beautiful day”. My train ride was uneventful, but outside there was plenty happening since the first plane had already struck the first Tower, unbeknownst to me. When I reached my stop, I got out and walked over to the hospital. One of the hospital employees was standing outside the hospital with a blank stare across his face, searching the sky for meaning. I had my back to the soaring smoke that was billowing out of the southern part of Manhattan. When I neared him, he asked, “Is Roosevelt Island part of Manhattan or Queens?”. Strange question I thought. “Manhattan”, I answered. “Well, we’re stuck here”, he replied. “Why?”, I asked. He just pointed to what was happening behind my back and I looked and gasped. I didn’t know anything at that moment, but I knew something horrible had happened.
I walked into the hospital to search for more answers, and as my calculations have it, during that walk, the second plane had already hit. I walked into a hallway where patients, on oxygen, in wheelchairs, barely able to stand on their crutches were huddled around the television mounted on the corner wall. And in that second when I saw what was on the screen, I knew that terrorists had hit my beautiful city. Frantic, I walked out of the hospital, and walked back into Manhattan, across the Queensboro Bridge. Hordes of people were walking east, leaving Manhattan, whereas there were only one or two people walking west, into Manhattan. I didn’t know if if I was doing the right thing, but I knew Manhattan was my home and I had to get there.
One thing I’ve never said or written about is that I was deathly afraid to go into the World Trade Center. I have been to all of the tourist hotspots, but no one could ever get me to go inside the WTC. I would go to the summer concert series when I was an undergraduate in college, and dare myself to go in (this was even before the first WTC attack). I would literally be feet away from the doors, but would never make it inside. Although I regret not ever going inside the Twin Towers, I do wonder what made me so scared to go inside. Exactly one year before the disaster, I met someone for dinner in Tribeca, and then waited for him outside while he went inside the Towers. Our original plan was to eat at Windows on the World, but at the last minute, I refused to go.
As a New Yorker, I can’t tell you what it was like inside the original Twin Towers. What I can tell you that since 9/11, I have had a renewed sense of what it is to be a New Yorker, and how grateful and blessed I am that I have lived, work and create in the world’s most wonderful city. I can tell you that New York City has always embraced her arms around me and given me more opportunities than I could ever dream of when I was a teenager growing up in Long Island. I could tell you that I saw the tough exterior of the average NYC resident dissappear, and as I walked north to try and get back home, I witnessed fear, but also love, support and hope. Since then, the city has moved on, but it has never, ever forgotten.
My prayers and thoughts are with those who lost loved ones. May you find peace. God Bless New York City.
It took me 22 years
To end
What
Never
Began
In
The
First
Place
আমি আশা করছি যে পরের জীবন আর দেকবো না. ভাগাভান আমার সঙ্গে সব সময়ে আছে
