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The Newsletter Parsad (Prasadam)

Lester Siddhartha Orie

Lester Siddhartha Orie

Whenever I have a function I am invited to attend, I always quickly scan the program to see if refreshments are served and only then my RSVP might be a yes; and this is from somebody who might not even take a bite or a sip of anything on offer, but because I have heard it all, seen it all, been there, done that, functions to me are an exercise in repetitive monotony. You go yawn and leave.

When, however, you see someone leaving, say, an Indian wedding or prayers with a tote-away bag it is normal to say to them, you are a real Indian, eh, you eat and take away? And they laugh agreeably as it is the truth.

Hinduism is probably the only religion where you go and you are rewarded with goodies to eat and take away. Ironically, in this country, attendance is most abysmal at mandirs even though meals and desserts are often served, but that’s another topic.

I have already suggested to the UNC that they give out parsad to their attendees at their meetings but not in a gastronomical sense but in an intellectual sense – not as food but as food for thought. Something to chew on but not orally but cerebrally.

Lots of what are said at these meetings often fall on deaf ears but if you hand out a newsletter, for instance, that people could carry home to read when they have nothing better to do, something might be digested. It is part of the Indian culture to expect a tote gift bag after an occasion is over.

Even the PNM under Eric and courtesy the writings of CLR James their supporters got something literary to take away. Their Parsad was called the Nation. UNC could call theirs, The Dal, Rice & Bhaji newsletter of TT.

I once did one for an MP, and while it was greeted and welcomed by most persons, one semi-literate employee of the MP felt it did not reach her genius Guyanese standard and so it was put to rest. You see the dangers of a having a little knowledge and holding positions way beyond one’s IQ.

The point is, the UNC is blowing hot air in the wind with lots of rah-rah-rah and no real brouhaha.

L. Siddhartha Orie

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