Dam. I remember being very late on learning how to tie a shoe lace. My mom used to tie for me and then in case they ever untied I would get them tied by a friend. I don’t know how long it lasted but I think I was an ignoramus till the second standard or thereabout. Finally I got it. But life was never so simple. The dam laces I tied always became untied. Every time I would be bending over and tying laces. While at school with the black shoes or the white canvas shoes. While playing cricket with my sport shoes, while running or while walking. My laces would always come untied. I tried tying them differently or got someone else to tie them for me. Sometimes someone else’s hand would work and sometimes it wouldn’t. The laces were a perennial problem. They were a problem even on the formal shoes. Who ever heard of formal shoes untying?
Life was a complete bore. So in spite of like the formal laced shoes I bought a few of the non laced variety. In the middle I found it cool to roam around with shoes laces so lose that you needn’t tie them. Of course you can’t really run with them or jump with them but for normal urban lifestyle I figured tying laces were an unnecessary chore best left undone. You just keep them loose enough for them not to get to trip yourself and let them just stay there.
But underlying I knew there was a way to tie them in a way that they don’t untie that easily. Should I tie them tight, should I tie them loose, should I tie them in a double knot (which made them difficult to open), should I tie them the other way. What on earth must I do? I thought only I was jinxed. Possibly I ran in a certain way, possibly I walked in a certain way; possibly I was just a specially gifted child.
All my life’s frustration came to an end on seeing this most amazing three minute video. It changed my life. I knew there was a secret. It only did not reveal itself to me till now. I normally now don’t have too much time for a daily ted video on my RSS feed but this time around I just happen to glimpse it instead of pushing the mark all as read button and voila I see destiny, oops, the video in front of me. A three minute, that’s it, three minutes, a three minute video on tying your shoelaces right. A simple trick. It also solved an ancillary problem. I always thought the tied shoelaces, did not look right. They looked straight along the north south axis and not the lovely bow along the east west axis. This solved that as well. And to think I missed it. A simple trick I missed it. I put the right bow first, I put the left bow first, tight, loose everything, but I missed a simple trick. Arghh, dam.
But fret not. I am now enlightened. As Jispa was asking, what is the meaning of the book title ‘if you see Buddha on the road, kill him’. I told her it was about being enlightened internally. She knows that Buddha is not the name of a person; it is an idea, an enlightenment. I explained that the title talks about knowing what to do and what to think, and that these answers come from within. You might get a teacher but the final path and the decision is yours. It is your mind and your thoughts. You are responsible for them. The Buddha is in you.
But here I found it in a simple humble three minute Ted video. Have a look. Who knows what small thing might just be enough to change your life.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
i swear, i mean it?
“dad, what is the short form of Madhya Pradesh?”. Hmm. Jispa is not the one to ask simple questions. It has to be a trap, a bait, an innocuous looking bait in which her papa will gleefully fall. Having thought of a few possible curve balls, I said “MP”. “aaaaa” she replied. “you said a bad word”. “MP, a bad word? When did MP become a bad word” I asked. “it is she insisted”. Oooo . ok. “nopes Jispa. MP isn’t a bad word. MC is a bad word”. “oh, ok” she replied. Good that was the end of that. Or so I thought. “what is the full form of MC?”. “err, Jispa, I am not telling you bad words, ok? I am not teaching you what they are or what they mean?” well do you explain mother F*&^er to her? I might be a progressive dad, but I am not explaining that.
“but dad, if I don’t know, I might say it by mistake” she insists. “well if you say it by mistake, then we will correct you and babes, you silly goose, I am not discussing the meaning or the bad words with you. I will teach you when you are 12 years old”. “o man, that is far away, 4 more years?” she cried. “Jispa, are you seriously sad that you cant learn bad words?”. There I thought that was the end of that. Or so I thought.
“dad, you know middle finger is also a bad word?” “ya, kid, I know”. “you know, I means the ‘F’ word”. “hmm, I guess so, but not just quite, it’s a little different”. “does it mean the ‘S’ word”. “nopes, not really”. “then what it means?”. “Jispaaaaa, I am not discussing bad words till you are in the eight standard.”. “but dad, you just said you will discuss it when I am 12 years old.”. “Jispa, now tell me, are you seriously crying and complaining that you are not getting o discuss ‘bad words’?”. That finally stopped the conversation. Or so I think. For now atleast.
We were laughing and smiling all the time while having this conversation. I really do want her to have this conversation with me, but later. I could possibly explain what I know. It’s better that she knows what she could be mouthing.
Hey did I tell this story. I guess not. I stopped swearing. I was a sailor tongue. This was largely thanks to my days as a sales man. Pressure was invariably used as an excuse to give out bad words. I did not see man or woman around while mouthing them. My bosses too had contributed to this as I had a string of bosses equally foul mouthed. And this was common language in office. My office team in the past tried to stop me but to no avail. I was sailor tongue and screw you I was not changing.
Then one interesting thing happened. In this new office, I recruited this lovely young women (we will use initials to protect their privacy- SC). One came to me within a month of being recruited and casually asked. “aap itna gaali kyun dete ho?” – Why do you swear such? “err, screw you, do you have a problem with that?”. “no, no, go on, just that, sometimes you talk so high, history and science and everything, and then suddenly, you go $#@% %$#@ $%#$@.” “so you want me to stop”. “nopes, just wondering. It doest suit”. Ok now that got me thinking. I thought a bit and slowed down, but did not completely eliminate it.
Then I recruited another young lovely lady. (ST – for short). In a few days she comes to me and says, “my my such profanity”. “hey, you are from media, I thought you are ok with this”. “oh of course I am ok with it.” “then what’s your grouse I asked?”. “I don’t have a grouse, I just remarked as profanity does suit your profile?”. HUH!?!. “so you want me to change?” “nopes “ came the answer, “I am just fine, its just that it doesn’t suit your profile?” “what profile?”. “well , when you talk all these big things, and then you use profanity. It just doesn’t suit”
I called the first lovely in as well. Well I told them. Its amazing that they had the same thing to say to me. They were fine with it and they were quite clear that they did not want me to change if I did not want to. They just remarked that I must change only if I want to. That day they did what some previous collegues could not. They made me feel quite ashamed of myself. I felt something funny, something weird, something shallow. Ok. I remember the date. 23March. One month from now if I don’t utter any such swear words, you guys take me out for lunch or else I take you out. DEAL? Deal.
They were I guess, happy for me and happy to lose the bet for me. Thank you someone for giving me these lovely ladies with kick ass attitude. I won the bet and won the war! Now I have been foul free since and these words when uttered by anyone stick out like a sore thumb in the conversation. I hear them loud and feel funny about it. A few words here and there come in a guy to guy conversation. But they are few and far between and they are usually there to mean something. Earlier they were there as fillers between words serving no purpose other than to give out swear words. What reason were they there? But I cant believe that 12 years of habit was undone by them in an instant.
It shouldn’t have been so tough. I never swear in front of Jasmine and of course Jispa. Jasmine had expressed her displeasure to me while we were 15 years old. And I have never been able to really swear in front of her yet she knew what I was behind her back.
So now I am the same upfront and behind. And all it required is not for someone to tell me to stop, but to wonder why I started in the first place.
I am so grateful to these ladies. I thank them and I owe them big time. Simple words can mean so much. I love you all.
“but dad, if I don’t know, I might say it by mistake” she insists. “well if you say it by mistake, then we will correct you and babes, you silly goose, I am not discussing the meaning or the bad words with you. I will teach you when you are 12 years old”. “o man, that is far away, 4 more years?” she cried. “Jispa, are you seriously sad that you cant learn bad words?”. There I thought that was the end of that. Or so I thought.
“dad, you know middle finger is also a bad word?” “ya, kid, I know”. “you know, I means the ‘F’ word”. “hmm, I guess so, but not just quite, it’s a little different”. “does it mean the ‘S’ word”. “nopes, not really”. “then what it means?”. “Jispaaaaa, I am not discussing bad words till you are in the eight standard.”. “but dad, you just said you will discuss it when I am 12 years old.”. “Jispa, now tell me, are you seriously crying and complaining that you are not getting o discuss ‘bad words’?”. That finally stopped the conversation. Or so I think. For now atleast.
We were laughing and smiling all the time while having this conversation. I really do want her to have this conversation with me, but later. I could possibly explain what I know. It’s better that she knows what she could be mouthing.
Hey did I tell this story. I guess not. I stopped swearing. I was a sailor tongue. This was largely thanks to my days as a sales man. Pressure was invariably used as an excuse to give out bad words. I did not see man or woman around while mouthing them. My bosses too had contributed to this as I had a string of bosses equally foul mouthed. And this was common language in office. My office team in the past tried to stop me but to no avail. I was sailor tongue and screw you I was not changing.
Then one interesting thing happened. In this new office, I recruited this lovely young women (we will use initials to protect their privacy- SC). One came to me within a month of being recruited and casually asked. “aap itna gaali kyun dete ho?” – Why do you swear such? “err, screw you, do you have a problem with that?”. “no, no, go on, just that, sometimes you talk so high, history and science and everything, and then suddenly, you go $#@% %$#@ $%#$@.” “so you want me to stop”. “nopes, just wondering. It doest suit”. Ok now that got me thinking. I thought a bit and slowed down, but did not completely eliminate it.
Then I recruited another young lovely lady. (ST – for short). In a few days she comes to me and says, “my my such profanity”. “hey, you are from media, I thought you are ok with this”. “oh of course I am ok with it.” “then what’s your grouse I asked?”. “I don’t have a grouse, I just remarked as profanity does suit your profile?”. HUH!?!. “so you want me to change?” “nopes “ came the answer, “I am just fine, its just that it doesn’t suit your profile?” “what profile?”. “well , when you talk all these big things, and then you use profanity. It just doesn’t suit”
I called the first lovely in as well. Well I told them. Its amazing that they had the same thing to say to me. They were fine with it and they were quite clear that they did not want me to change if I did not want to. They just remarked that I must change only if I want to. That day they did what some previous collegues could not. They made me feel quite ashamed of myself. I felt something funny, something weird, something shallow. Ok. I remember the date. 23March. One month from now if I don’t utter any such swear words, you guys take me out for lunch or else I take you out. DEAL? Deal.
They were I guess, happy for me and happy to lose the bet for me. Thank you someone for giving me these lovely ladies with kick ass attitude. I won the bet and won the war! Now I have been foul free since and these words when uttered by anyone stick out like a sore thumb in the conversation. I hear them loud and feel funny about it. A few words here and there come in a guy to guy conversation. But they are few and far between and they are usually there to mean something. Earlier they were there as fillers between words serving no purpose other than to give out swear words. What reason were they there? But I cant believe that 12 years of habit was undone by them in an instant.
It shouldn’t have been so tough. I never swear in front of Jasmine and of course Jispa. Jasmine had expressed her displeasure to me while we were 15 years old. And I have never been able to really swear in front of her yet she knew what I was behind her back.
So now I am the same upfront and behind. And all it required is not for someone to tell me to stop, but to wonder why I started in the first place.
I am so grateful to these ladies. I thank them and I owe them big time. Simple words can mean so much. I love you all.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
the new deal
I remember the first time I got pocket money. I think I was in fourth standard and it was a grand two rupees a month. I was so excited. It came from the blue, when our parents announced that we would now be eligible for pocket money. All three of us got different sums, and I being the youngest got the least at 2 bucks. I remember clearly getting that money and I remember think and counting, how many months will it take me to reach 50 bucks if I save it all. My pocket money reached 50 bucks a month till I was in the tenth and in college it was a grand 100 bucks a month. Here when I first entered college, it was the first time I was in town, roaming round with my new found friends. We all decided to go to Croissants etc, a bake shop. There I saw for the first time a chocolate croissant. I so loved it. Then I also tasted a cheese garlic croissant, yummmm. The chocolate one I remembered cost 11 bucks. Again my mental math told me that I could eat only about 9 a month. That’s it dude and that would mean no movies or anything else. Slowly my pocket money rose to hit 500 bucks a month till I finished my management education. 500 bucks was wow. That was good enough to support a lifestyle. Of course it helped that Jasmine was the rich one with her extra money coming in from tuitions she took for some neighbourhood kids. So she spent on us and I could make my pocket money go some way.
So I started with what I thought was a massive sum and ended with what I thought was a fair sum. In the middle I felt I didn’t have enough. I did not resent this or resent my parents for this. I was cool with it. One just simply did not have enough. We weren’t poor. We were gulf returnees who had saved up a pile. We had a cool house in a sky scraper but I guess the values of thrift that our parents wanted to put in us was a great thing. So while I had what I thought was inadequate I don’t ever remember me thinking it was unfair or unjustified. I was pretty cool with the money. If you don’t have , then you don’t have. No cribbing here.
But I still don’t like the pocket money concept. I don’t like a teen ager having to plan and save his money. These are his days to enjoy and spend, saving will come eventually. Sure the money is not unlimited but, the monthly pocket money concept is something I am not so cool with. It breeds more unfulfilled desire, which may come out in spending sprees when one is older I guess. But whatever, when Jispa recently was asking about pocket money, I wasn’t too cool with the idea. My first answer was that, we are with you all the time. Why do you need any money in any case? And when you want take it from us. Just let me know you want the money and I will give you. I had friends in school who got money on demand, sometimes I thought that was too much, but as long as you need to ask, what’s the issue. The tap control is with me. Jispa was not convinced. She wanted money for herself that she would spend on her own. Ok so that’s a problem. How do I give her a pocket money? Once a week, once a month? So I generally was chatting with her. She wanted once a week some sum. 10 bucks a week. That’s too low I thought. No point giving money that she will have nothing to spend on really. She also wanted to save some from that and put in her piggy bank. So you need enough to spend and save. If you want to promote savings, you need to have enough to save. So I put this question up on facebook and the overwhelming answer was to give some pocket money. And obviously the younger ‘friends’ voted for it. One other friend who is also a mother suggested that we must give money for doing chores around the house. Ok. so you don’t really get the money free, but you have to earn it.
Doing chores to get money was another bugbear for me. It’s quite a western concept. Working around the house is a family duty. You don’t need to get money to be motivated to work for the family and I hated doing the work and money would always be inadequate for what I thought would be great work. Ha. Plus I much rather pay the house help to do the work than get my kid to work for the money. I rather they work out of love or even guilt but not money. But this earning to get money got me thinking.
At the dinner table we were having a conference and we were discussing what to do about this conundrum and what must Jispa do to earn her pocket money. Till we hit a brain wave. Great. You get ten rupees a day if you practise guitar for 30 minutes. That’s it? Jispa asked. Yup that’s it. every day in the morning practise your guitar and you are eligible for ten whole bucks. That means you can make a cool 50 bucks a week. Jispa was super happy; she does what she likes to and gets PAID for it? ya. Get paid for it. But like the ultimate evil parent we too had sinister design, that are not too readily apparent. We too killed a dozen birds with one stone. To get 30 minutes of guitar time in the morning she has to - 1. Wake up on time. In other words her fussing to wake up must dramatically reduce from 15 minutes to 3. -2. She has to get in to the bath instantly. -3. She must finish her bath and brush in exactly ten minutes. -4 she must get herself ready after bath, wear her clothes etc without dreaming away. -5. She must sit to have breakfast. -6. She must finish her breakfast on time. -7 she must get up and wash her hands and face and get ready to get her hair combed. -8. She must then pack her bags and keep them ready – 9. She must then sit to practise her guitar at 6.55am which gives her 30 minutes to then wind up at 7.25 am to then wear her shoes, socks and run with me out of the house.
Believe me, these are the toughest 10 rupees she would ever make. She has been trying since the last week and she hardly managed one odd day in the middle a couple of days of 15 minutes practise. Though it was not a part of the deal; in fact it was a stated exclusion, I still paid her 5 bucks for 15 minutes. Poor thing. Today she got a tenner for the whole 30 minutes and another ten for the two intermediate ones.
The thing with being a kid is that no matter what deal you end up striking with dad, dad always wins. Somehow the parent gets it right and is able to see the hidden side of every deal. Man! Poor Jispa, she too is up against some huge odds. Every deal she makes with us, she ends up on the losing side. But at least look at the brighter side of things, I remember getting an incentive to help clean the wheat and help in the Diwali home cleaning, mopping and wiping. Here all she needs to do is strum a guitar. That’s it. Well... almost.
So I started with what I thought was a massive sum and ended with what I thought was a fair sum. In the middle I felt I didn’t have enough. I did not resent this or resent my parents for this. I was cool with it. One just simply did not have enough. We weren’t poor. We were gulf returnees who had saved up a pile. We had a cool house in a sky scraper but I guess the values of thrift that our parents wanted to put in us was a great thing. So while I had what I thought was inadequate I don’t ever remember me thinking it was unfair or unjustified. I was pretty cool with the money. If you don’t have , then you don’t have. No cribbing here.
But I still don’t like the pocket money concept. I don’t like a teen ager having to plan and save his money. These are his days to enjoy and spend, saving will come eventually. Sure the money is not unlimited but, the monthly pocket money concept is something I am not so cool with. It breeds more unfulfilled desire, which may come out in spending sprees when one is older I guess. But whatever, when Jispa recently was asking about pocket money, I wasn’t too cool with the idea. My first answer was that, we are with you all the time. Why do you need any money in any case? And when you want take it from us. Just let me know you want the money and I will give you. I had friends in school who got money on demand, sometimes I thought that was too much, but as long as you need to ask, what’s the issue. The tap control is with me. Jispa was not convinced. She wanted money for herself that she would spend on her own. Ok so that’s a problem. How do I give her a pocket money? Once a week, once a month? So I generally was chatting with her. She wanted once a week some sum. 10 bucks a week. That’s too low I thought. No point giving money that she will have nothing to spend on really. She also wanted to save some from that and put in her piggy bank. So you need enough to spend and save. If you want to promote savings, you need to have enough to save. So I put this question up on facebook and the overwhelming answer was to give some pocket money. And obviously the younger ‘friends’ voted for it. One other friend who is also a mother suggested that we must give money for doing chores around the house. Ok. so you don’t really get the money free, but you have to earn it.
Doing chores to get money was another bugbear for me. It’s quite a western concept. Working around the house is a family duty. You don’t need to get money to be motivated to work for the family and I hated doing the work and money would always be inadequate for what I thought would be great work. Ha. Plus I much rather pay the house help to do the work than get my kid to work for the money. I rather they work out of love or even guilt but not money. But this earning to get money got me thinking.
At the dinner table we were having a conference and we were discussing what to do about this conundrum and what must Jispa do to earn her pocket money. Till we hit a brain wave. Great. You get ten rupees a day if you practise guitar for 30 minutes. That’s it? Jispa asked. Yup that’s it. every day in the morning practise your guitar and you are eligible for ten whole bucks. That means you can make a cool 50 bucks a week. Jispa was super happy; she does what she likes to and gets PAID for it? ya. Get paid for it. But like the ultimate evil parent we too had sinister design, that are not too readily apparent. We too killed a dozen birds with one stone. To get 30 minutes of guitar time in the morning she has to - 1. Wake up on time. In other words her fussing to wake up must dramatically reduce from 15 minutes to 3. -2. She has to get in to the bath instantly. -3. She must finish her bath and brush in exactly ten minutes. -4 she must get herself ready after bath, wear her clothes etc without dreaming away. -5. She must sit to have breakfast. -6. She must finish her breakfast on time. -7 she must get up and wash her hands and face and get ready to get her hair combed. -8. She must then pack her bags and keep them ready – 9. She must then sit to practise her guitar at 6.55am which gives her 30 minutes to then wind up at 7.25 am to then wear her shoes, socks and run with me out of the house.
Believe me, these are the toughest 10 rupees she would ever make. She has been trying since the last week and she hardly managed one odd day in the middle a couple of days of 15 minutes practise. Though it was not a part of the deal; in fact it was a stated exclusion, I still paid her 5 bucks for 15 minutes. Poor thing. Today she got a tenner for the whole 30 minutes and another ten for the two intermediate ones.
The thing with being a kid is that no matter what deal you end up striking with dad, dad always wins. Somehow the parent gets it right and is able to see the hidden side of every deal. Man! Poor Jispa, she too is up against some huge odds. Every deal she makes with us, she ends up on the losing side. But at least look at the brighter side of things, I remember getting an incentive to help clean the wheat and help in the Diwali home cleaning, mopping and wiping. Here all she needs to do is strum a guitar. That’s it. Well... almost.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
ROCK on
The amphitheatre was a roman themed one. It was steep, made of stones and full to capacity. There were flashes of brilliance while acting and directing earlier. The crowd was wild and it was funnily enough Jai Hind college. Funnily? Ya. While I have acted on stage for school plays I have never acted in college in a scale play. Largely because my mom wanted me home in time for lunch every day. Have lunch at home. That’s ok though. Possibly students get spoiled while they are at college. Especially when they sit till late and goof around doing nothing but taking part in college activities.
Forget that. So this lovely feeling is going through me. The function is an Oscar styled event with the announcement of the best actors. I feel the excitement and anticipation as they announce the nominees for the best actor. I am a part of it. By this time the nominees are for movies not plays and this is still Jai Hind college in a roman amphitheatre. So the nominees are announced and I hear my name as a part of it. I run in, wearing a denim, long sleeves t shirt and a linen jacket. This is out of my current wardrobe. So I run in to a huge crowd applause. They obviously loved my acting. I think to my self – hey I should be the crowd favorite and that gives me a head start and a realistic chance to win. The show goes on. The winner will be announced later. Right now only the nominees are getting announced. I am extremely excited. I am a bit nervous. It is a lot of pressure. I so want to win this one. But I am also at ease, I know you can’t win them all. But this is the ‘Best Actors’ award. I want to win this one.
So I wait. The lady next to me is eating some peanuts. She is also nominated in her category. I am sitting amongst the nominees. I think about my thank you speech. Whom do I thank for this? At first I am tempted to thank no one. Most of life, a lot of what I have achieved is alone. Well that’s not fair. There have been many who have helped me, nudged me along the way. But has there been a strong continuous force. Fortunately my narcissism lasts me exactly one fourteenth of a second and my wife (in college she was still my girlfriend) comes into view. There, I know whom to thank. And immediately after comes the second thought – my teachers.
In college and school while I was growing, I must have been a difficult head strong child with little manners, outspoken and a pain to a few teachers. Many teachers thought I was an ass, some were ambivalent and some pushed me on, had faith in me and loved me. Mrs Clare Alvaro in Don Bosco high school. She was the one who identified me as an actor and pushed for my case. She thought I was good and let me know that. I always wanted to be an actor. I was the drama man. I could always control my faces in front of the mirror and loved experimenting with my tone. In ninth standard, I finally entered the dramatics and I won the second best actor award. Second best – I knew I was better than the other guy. Mrs clare also told me that later. But then school politics are sometimes real, weird and sometimes, a function of children’s imagination. Then in college one lady, Mrs Dias, believed in me. Enough to make me the secretary of her society – the hobby centre.
In college is also when I came close to Jasmine. She financed me in many ways. My pocket money was a fraction of what she made as a tuition teacher. But more than any of that, she was the anchor of my life. I would dream up interesting stuff and she would manage to make it work. She would be the anchor, the budget keeper of the society and the back bone behind which I worked. She would make things happen that I can dream of, lead into. I was much the figure head, but here was the system that made it all happen. In college in the second year, I won one of the smaller awards for extracurricular. In the final year, Mrs Dias recommended and ensured I won the Principal’s special award for extra-curricular activities. It was on par (or just about lower) than the one for best student. Wow. In some ways it was finishing second best but I am not complaining and I had no desire to win anything. I wasn’t focusing on it at all. The teachers in class liked me as I had decent attendance, enough be off the black list and I was always a good guy as far class participation is concerned. Expect of course in accounts class. The attendance was thanks to Jasmine to kept me in check with a level head, else I might have bloated enough to reach the moon.
Home? Nopes. Absolutely no support from home. They did not even know what I got or cared for it. I also never bothered to talk to them about this stuff. I think like all middle class households, their attitude was – sure – but if you don’t study you are nothing dude. Your marks counts and not all these extras. Forget that.
So it was Jasmine and my teachers that I decided to thank. But from now on, what happens does not count. Jasmine and teachers is what I knew made my life. Right now also teachers who came into my life and taught me stuff that I know and apply are the ones who have made the difference beside Jasmine. As a trainee working in 20th Century Fox, I met Aditya Shastri who was my mentor and guide. My first brush with management teaching, marketing teaching. Then came Dharen Chaddha, and now it largely my ED who is C Jayaram who I use as my guiding force; and not to forget my cricket captain Arun
But coming back to Jasmine. She never guided me, never pushed me, never really asked too much of me. But she just acted like a rock, giving stability to my otherwise floating life. I might have easily floated away and frittered away my life. She anchored it in a way I cannot describe. Sure we have our fights and sure we have our disagreements. But they come from the fact that I am a dreamer, a floater and she is the ROCK.
What happened next did not bother as now I was in complete control of my dream. The excitement woke me and I was only thinking about winning. My eyes were closed but dream had moved from dream to active fantasy. I won but I thought it was a little empty. Tilll now I was in partial control of my dream, the winning – I was in full control. It wasn’t the magic of a dream anymore. I did not even bother about the speech. I stopped dreaming and I woke up. Its such a pity. This was a really exciting dream.
In post mortem, I realize I dreamt about my real ambition. To be an actor that can make people laugh. Don’t I play that part in office? I surely do that. And I dreamt about the two anchors in my life. Funnily Jispa did not make her presence in the dream. Possibly this was college days and she wasn’t even born. But I still wonder. She is an anchor and she contributes to me but I guess not in the same way as Jasmine and my teachers. It’s a different contribution.
I also remember thinking that I love Jasmine so much. Sometimes I tell Jasmine that I don’t think I can love anyone else ever. I was telling her that sometimes I think, suppose something happens and I were to lose her or something, and if I were to marry again. I might marry but I wont ever be able to love anyone in the same way. The Rock that she replies ‘never say never’. Hah!
I care for a lot of people. In office and outside. A lot of genuine care and loving. I end up being good friends and almost in love with people. But I can never ever be in ‘love’ again I feel. 21 odd years and it can’t be replaced. Possibly a different space in my heart, but not love. Not the way Jasmine and I feel and share.
It’s difficult to explain this. Difficult to understand this, but all know is that - I love my ROCK. I was lucky to have found my rock and latch on to it. It’s been an amazing story as far as I am concerned. And I am so happy that even in my dreams I know of it.
And the contribution of the various teachers who have come and gone, helping me along the way.
What would I have been, done or achieved without them? I would have merely floated … floated and frittered away.
What a special dream. I duuno if I will forget this or remember this, but it moved me enough to get up and write about it immediately. This is really fresh post.
Monday, May 09, 2011
whats a high cost?
I have had some obscenely bad luck with books of late. I don’t know if I have gotten more arrogant there is little to note of new writing coming through. So I have endured one bad book after another. Books with little to say but a lot of words by which to say it. It is really irritating to get one book that you want to finish off after another. Nothing gripping or interesting that keeps you awake or alive, waiting to turn the page. In the niddle I got one interesting one but it was too small. It was the book called ‘jaane bhi do yaaron’ which was based on the making of the movie by the same title. It was well written, well researched and as funny as the movie itself. But that book was too small and I finished it off in one Sunday. That too only in one sitting in the morning followed by an evening sitting. The problem with good books is that they get over pretty fast. Pretty sad nah. So I have been a little irritated with my books. Shopping seems to have lost some of the charm. I can’t even see books on the shelf that makes me want to buy them.
Jispa on the other hand for the first time had a gift for herself in mind. She went roaming with my sister and came back to tell us that “mom, dad, you know what, I know what I want for my birthday”. Her birthday is 4 months away. That is some long range planning. “so what is it?” we ask. “you know, I saw this lovely watch, it has stop watch and light and it has a compass and it only cost 700 rupees. It is dam cool and I like it. Can we buy it on my birthday?”. “Oh well. Jips, you haven’t really ever asked us anything in particular ever. So it’s not important to wait for your birthday. We can buy you that watch this week itself”. Poor thing. She saw her watch and decided that she liked it and even saw the price and figured that 700 is probably a cheap thing. In any case we don’t exactly buy her a whole lot of stuff, so these small things I was more than happy to give right away. Its like this other day when the mangoes were still not in season. But some places the first flush was coming in and Jispa was asking Jasmine, when they would be in season. Jasmine and I have been pretty broke these days with the loan instalments of the new house and we have been a little tight with the money thing. Jispa kept inquiring politely when the mangoes would be in season. She was dying to get her season’s first mango. I told Jasmine to go buy the mangoes. The rate 900 bucks a dozen. Wow. But I figure that Jispa is a good kid and she very rarely, if ever demands/ wishes/ covets something. In many ways she has the least amount of ‘stuff’ amongst all her peers. No game boy, no ipod / ipad, no cell, nothing besides books. So we decided to get her the mangoes.
At 900 bucks a dozen they were the most expensive we would have ever bought. A few weeks later they were to fall to 250 bucks. But hell I can go to sleep thinking that I gave my kid 900 bucks ka mangoes. Hehe. Stupid parenting issues that we face.
Coming back to books. There was one book that many years ago I started reading. It is called ‘ if you meet Buddha on the road, kill him’. I remember reading it years ago and finding it very very good. So good that I kept it back without finishing it, telling myself that I would one day read it, I would in effect one day be ready for it. I can’t believe how right the decision was. In the last few years, a lot f my job role requires me not to do as much work but to work with minds. I am required to counsel my team more than anything else. They probably know what they need to do, they need to reach their peaks in working and it’s largely my job to help them reach there. So the book, which is about a physiotherapist’s story on how he treats and talks to patients. Sometimes I believe that my core job is just listening and coaching. That’s all I am required to do. And the book gives some awesome advice on talking and listening. It’s fun and deep at the same time.
I have always felt that in the past I have been guilty of reading through a book without due respect to eth author and his story line. Why is which chapter arranged such. What is the name of the chapter. I think the name of the chapter also has something to say about the book and it helps in understanding of the book, but I have most of the time chosen to ignore it. This time around with this book, I have trying to understand why the chapters have been arranged so. The way it starts and builds a case, understanding that case before proceeding is an important part of reading a book. I feel that I normally tear away and rape the book. Start digging in immediately for tit bits of data and information that I can peel away, digest and use. Almost a hungry dog gnawing away at piece of thrown meat. There is nothing refined or sublime about my reading style. Just a rape.
I hope his book changes my style. I have learnt to read the back of the book, the prologue, the epilogue, the foreword, the comments, everything. But now I will start by reading the chapter list and keep in mind how the author is seeking to build his case while writing a book. A slow but gradual process that will perhaps help structure his thoughts in my mind.
Here is an interesting tit bit that I read and then reread and then finally captured it here. It is something that I have always maintained. Especially when younger one come to me for advise or issues or simple conversation. I tell everyone that people grow up. I grew up. Life slaps us all very hard and we use these opportunities to grow up. I think it’s given to us as a choice, it is forced down upon us as a growing up ritual. We don’t choose it but we make the choice. We lose every bit of ourselves as we grow up. a lot of it is our innocence. I always tell people ‘you will lose your innocence but hopefully, you will do so at a lesser cost’. In fact the more you resist loss of your innocence the more you will pay the price. It will be wrenched away from you, torn from your body and you will be left with a hardened heart. So many years gone by, and I wonder what became of me. Should I have become as hard as I have become? Could it not have been avoided? Nopes, I have only struggled to retain a core which I am at ease with. A simpler core than makes me happy, that may have been bereft of innocence but hopefully filled with care.
So I quote from the book “And remember, too, you can stay at home, safe in the familiar illusion of certainty. Do not set out without realising that; the way is not without danger. Everything good is costly, and the development of personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”
Jispa on the other hand for the first time had a gift for herself in mind. She went roaming with my sister and came back to tell us that “mom, dad, you know what, I know what I want for my birthday”. Her birthday is 4 months away. That is some long range planning. “so what is it?” we ask. “you know, I saw this lovely watch, it has stop watch and light and it has a compass and it only cost 700 rupees. It is dam cool and I like it. Can we buy it on my birthday?”. “Oh well. Jips, you haven’t really ever asked us anything in particular ever. So it’s not important to wait for your birthday. We can buy you that watch this week itself”. Poor thing. She saw her watch and decided that she liked it and even saw the price and figured that 700 is probably a cheap thing. In any case we don’t exactly buy her a whole lot of stuff, so these small things I was more than happy to give right away. Its like this other day when the mangoes were still not in season. But some places the first flush was coming in and Jispa was asking Jasmine, when they would be in season. Jasmine and I have been pretty broke these days with the loan instalments of the new house and we have been a little tight with the money thing. Jispa kept inquiring politely when the mangoes would be in season. She was dying to get her season’s first mango. I told Jasmine to go buy the mangoes. The rate 900 bucks a dozen. Wow. But I figure that Jispa is a good kid and she very rarely, if ever demands/ wishes/ covets something. In many ways she has the least amount of ‘stuff’ amongst all her peers. No game boy, no ipod / ipad, no cell, nothing besides books. So we decided to get her the mangoes.
At 900 bucks a dozen they were the most expensive we would have ever bought. A few weeks later they were to fall to 250 bucks. But hell I can go to sleep thinking that I gave my kid 900 bucks ka mangoes. Hehe. Stupid parenting issues that we face.
Coming back to books. There was one book that many years ago I started reading. It is called ‘ if you meet Buddha on the road, kill him’. I remember reading it years ago and finding it very very good. So good that I kept it back without finishing it, telling myself that I would one day read it, I would in effect one day be ready for it. I can’t believe how right the decision was. In the last few years, a lot f my job role requires me not to do as much work but to work with minds. I am required to counsel my team more than anything else. They probably know what they need to do, they need to reach their peaks in working and it’s largely my job to help them reach there. So the book, which is about a physiotherapist’s story on how he treats and talks to patients. Sometimes I believe that my core job is just listening and coaching. That’s all I am required to do. And the book gives some awesome advice on talking and listening. It’s fun and deep at the same time.
I have always felt that in the past I have been guilty of reading through a book without due respect to eth author and his story line. Why is which chapter arranged such. What is the name of the chapter. I think the name of the chapter also has something to say about the book and it helps in understanding of the book, but I have most of the time chosen to ignore it. This time around with this book, I have trying to understand why the chapters have been arranged so. The way it starts and builds a case, understanding that case before proceeding is an important part of reading a book. I feel that I normally tear away and rape the book. Start digging in immediately for tit bits of data and information that I can peel away, digest and use. Almost a hungry dog gnawing away at piece of thrown meat. There is nothing refined or sublime about my reading style. Just a rape.
I hope his book changes my style. I have learnt to read the back of the book, the prologue, the epilogue, the foreword, the comments, everything. But now I will start by reading the chapter list and keep in mind how the author is seeking to build his case while writing a book. A slow but gradual process that will perhaps help structure his thoughts in my mind.
Here is an interesting tit bit that I read and then reread and then finally captured it here. It is something that I have always maintained. Especially when younger one come to me for advise or issues or simple conversation. I tell everyone that people grow up. I grew up. Life slaps us all very hard and we use these opportunities to grow up. I think it’s given to us as a choice, it is forced down upon us as a growing up ritual. We don’t choose it but we make the choice. We lose every bit of ourselves as we grow up. a lot of it is our innocence. I always tell people ‘you will lose your innocence but hopefully, you will do so at a lesser cost’. In fact the more you resist loss of your innocence the more you will pay the price. It will be wrenched away from you, torn from your body and you will be left with a hardened heart. So many years gone by, and I wonder what became of me. Should I have become as hard as I have become? Could it not have been avoided? Nopes, I have only struggled to retain a core which I am at ease with. A simpler core than makes me happy, that may have been bereft of innocence but hopefully filled with care.
So I quote from the book “And remember, too, you can stay at home, safe in the familiar illusion of certainty. Do not set out without realising that; the way is not without danger. Everything good is costly, and the development of personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”
Friday, May 06, 2011
go doggy go
Epiphany: a sudden realisation of a meaning of a larger thing or something like that. I love that word and of course I love the feeling you get when you get an epiphany. Well actually sometimes you love it and sometimes when the meaning is not so what you want it to be, the epiphany will probably hurt. As one smart lady told me – an epiphany and a catharsis go hand in hand. Blah blah blah ...
A few days ago I suddenly got one. I could see far more clearly. I suddenly felt lighter. I was smiling throughout the evening. And while sleeping I slept peacefully. Sigh. There is great joy in sleeping without stress. Normally there is stress of work, relationships, money, what ever... something that keeps your mind ticking over. It’s never be that great and I am lucky enough for it but the small ticking also affects. I was so much at rest I thought nothing. I read and then I slept. I don’t even remember any dreams or anything. Sometimes when the mind ticks too much, I have a mid sleep break where I wake up and get into a half sleep zone. There thinking and dreaming merge and while the body is at rest the mind probably is at not. It does affect sleep.
Anyways, just before I slept I had a bb conversation with Dikshi. Who’s she. She is one the prettiest girls who ever worked on my team. Pretty in ever conventional term of the word. When I first interviewed her, I did not really notice she was pretty. But I did notice her eyes. Let me describe her – fair, young, long hair (golden brown), and hazel colour eyes. Funnily enough I only remember those lovely eyes. But she came as a whiff of fresh air. I was interviewing many people for the position of a trainee and I was completely irritated by it all. I had formulated simple questions. What is the formula to calculate the area of a circle? The radius or what is the Pythagoras theorem? And my fav – NaOH + HCl =? Why these questions for a trainee you might ask? Well what else to ask them? Their knowledge on their subjects was pretty much useless to me. How do I know if they retain anything they learn? And this is stuff that they would learn only about 5 years back. So I ask them stuff that is necessary to pass your tenth standard exams. If you know that then I guess you are a decent bloke that retains stuff in your head and not necessarily a guy who mugs stuff.
So Dikshi answered these questions well. She knew the answers, she also seemed pretty smart and she was on. That’s the story here though. The story is that after she joined in, her boss put in her papers and the person she was replacing was going away fast. Soon it would be only she and me managing the entire marketing for that division. A year back there were three experienced people managing the business along with me and now there would only one inexperienced person. The marketing for this was so process oriented with data coming in from various sources and the emphasis on accuracy was extremely high. The stress was crazy. I took Dikshi aside and told her – dude – it’s you and me versus the world. I had only her to rely upon. There were other businesses also that I had to take care of. And she was the one and only small girl, just out of college, into her first job and thrown into the deep end of the ocean...and she performed, admirably performed. I so respect her for that. A few months later when my transfer orders came she told me ‘jaimit sir, you told me, it’s you and me versus the world, now you only are leaving me and going?’. Man I felt so bad that day. Sorry Dikshi, but thank you at the same time. You are awesome.
Most of the time it doesn’t take heroics to be a hero. All you need is doggedness. She did a boring job but she did it with a focus that did not waver. She just hung on and got it done. So many young and not so young turks dot get this. To be a hero most of the time you don’t need extraordinary talents. Surely they help, but what you really need is single mindedness. Most of the times a single word, a single command, well executed can create enough magic for a life time.
Soon after I left, Dikhshi left the firm. She wanted to pursue her studies in fashion management. Poor thing, I respect her even more. She hung, I feel only for me. A fashion manager was doing a boring man’s job. Simple irritating execution of fact sheets. To my mind that is ashining example of what people can do with focus. Got in and did the job well, no matter how bad.
I had a friend in post grad college, Venugopal Acharya. He was a gold medallist in economics and then he did his MBA with me, but in finance. He was one guy I respected tremendously. He has been lost to the hare rama hare krishna movement. But I traced him and caught up with him, many years ago. He was telling me about some of the politics he faced at his firm, Times Guarantee. There as a management trainee he was victimised and then relegated to the stores and library section or something in the times of India building. He was not sad about it at all. He said he hung on and started organising the library. He classified the stuff, put them in order, and started keeping a process. Soon enough, things turned and he got noticed for doing a great job in a place that seemed like Kaalapani. That is also one story I always recount.
Simple focus and doggedness.
A few days ago I suddenly got one. I could see far more clearly. I suddenly felt lighter. I was smiling throughout the evening. And while sleeping I slept peacefully. Sigh. There is great joy in sleeping without stress. Normally there is stress of work, relationships, money, what ever... something that keeps your mind ticking over. It’s never be that great and I am lucky enough for it but the small ticking also affects. I was so much at rest I thought nothing. I read and then I slept. I don’t even remember any dreams or anything. Sometimes when the mind ticks too much, I have a mid sleep break where I wake up and get into a half sleep zone. There thinking and dreaming merge and while the body is at rest the mind probably is at not. It does affect sleep.
Anyways, just before I slept I had a bb conversation with Dikshi. Who’s she. She is one the prettiest girls who ever worked on my team. Pretty in ever conventional term of the word. When I first interviewed her, I did not really notice she was pretty. But I did notice her eyes. Let me describe her – fair, young, long hair (golden brown), and hazel colour eyes. Funnily enough I only remember those lovely eyes. But she came as a whiff of fresh air. I was interviewing many people for the position of a trainee and I was completely irritated by it all. I had formulated simple questions. What is the formula to calculate the area of a circle? The radius or what is the Pythagoras theorem? And my fav – NaOH + HCl =? Why these questions for a trainee you might ask? Well what else to ask them? Their knowledge on their subjects was pretty much useless to me. How do I know if they retain anything they learn? And this is stuff that they would learn only about 5 years back. So I ask them stuff that is necessary to pass your tenth standard exams. If you know that then I guess you are a decent bloke that retains stuff in your head and not necessarily a guy who mugs stuff.
So Dikshi answered these questions well. She knew the answers, she also seemed pretty smart and she was on. That’s the story here though. The story is that after she joined in, her boss put in her papers and the person she was replacing was going away fast. Soon it would be only she and me managing the entire marketing for that division. A year back there were three experienced people managing the business along with me and now there would only one inexperienced person. The marketing for this was so process oriented with data coming in from various sources and the emphasis on accuracy was extremely high. The stress was crazy. I took Dikshi aside and told her – dude – it’s you and me versus the world. I had only her to rely upon. There were other businesses also that I had to take care of. And she was the one and only small girl, just out of college, into her first job and thrown into the deep end of the ocean...and she performed, admirably performed. I so respect her for that. A few months later when my transfer orders came she told me ‘jaimit sir, you told me, it’s you and me versus the world, now you only are leaving me and going?’. Man I felt so bad that day. Sorry Dikshi, but thank you at the same time. You are awesome.
Most of the time it doesn’t take heroics to be a hero. All you need is doggedness. She did a boring job but she did it with a focus that did not waver. She just hung on and got it done. So many young and not so young turks dot get this. To be a hero most of the time you don’t need extraordinary talents. Surely they help, but what you really need is single mindedness. Most of the times a single word, a single command, well executed can create enough magic for a life time.
Soon after I left, Dikhshi left the firm. She wanted to pursue her studies in fashion management. Poor thing, I respect her even more. She hung, I feel only for me. A fashion manager was doing a boring man’s job. Simple irritating execution of fact sheets. To my mind that is ashining example of what people can do with focus. Got in and did the job well, no matter how bad.
I had a friend in post grad college, Venugopal Acharya. He was a gold medallist in economics and then he did his MBA with me, but in finance. He was one guy I respected tremendously. He has been lost to the hare rama hare krishna movement. But I traced him and caught up with him, many years ago. He was telling me about some of the politics he faced at his firm, Times Guarantee. There as a management trainee he was victimised and then relegated to the stores and library section or something in the times of India building. He was not sad about it at all. He said he hung on and started organising the library. He classified the stuff, put them in order, and started keeping a process. Soon enough, things turned and he got noticed for doing a great job in a place that seemed like Kaalapani. That is also one story I always recount.
Simple focus and doggedness.
Monday, May 02, 2011
in sickness and in health
Oh bloody hell. I got a bout of tonsillitis after how many years. When we first came to India while I was in the fourth standard, every monsoon would be typified by an attack. Straight 104 degrees fever with large enlarged tonsils. Nothing could be done about it. Sometimes an ice candy would do the trick sometimes (almost instantly) the gola would do it or sometimes something else. I was a weak boy and the culprit was tonsils. It was my bête-noir. I remember taking antibiotics after antibiotics. Pink tablets, multi colored capsules and what not. Many times it would just relapse. We actually contemplated just cutting the dam thing off. The incentive for me was when you get them operated the recuperation involves having tons of ice cream and other cold stuff. The healing process after the operation was quite an irony. But my Ayurvedic doc who was our neighbor would have none of it. He kept telling that tonsils are the guards of the mouth. They act like curtains and absorb the primary infection and not let it get inside. Wisdom prevailed and we never got them operated. But I paid a hell of a price for them.
I remained pretty much a thin weakling in childhood, right up to college days. My weight was stuck at 59 kilos. I remember seeing the weighing scale as some sort of a jinx. Whenever I touched 61 I would fall sick again and drop back to 58-59 and a 28 inch tummy. A thin boy of height around 5 feet 8 inches. I have been through chicken pox, jaundice, typhoid, food poisoning and when everything else fails – you have tonsils. Tonsils would attack in monsoon and in winter. I had to really watch what I eat. It came under control after a prolonged Homeopathic treatment after which they only resurfaced as a mild version which I used to take care of myself.
I was tired of my dad and the rest of the family calling me a weakling. I hated it when they made fun of it. I don’t remember my mom making fun of it but like a mommy reaction she was over protective. She wouldn’t give me a greater deal of independence and would stop me from doing a lot of things. She was always afraid I would fall ill. So I would get endless lectures on how I must take care of my health and how the answer to a lot of permissions was always NO. So the curbs on freedom along with the sarcasm was not too enjoyable as a kid. Especially when this alpha male had a deep burning desire to join the Armed forces. It hurt and it hurt bad. So while in college I used to hide my tonsil attack from family. (I wouldn’t risk another lecture or some more restrictions on freedom) … Luckily for me, the intensity was less thanks to the homeopathy. It would be kept in control with crocin, septilin tablets and gargles of turmeric and honey with warm water. I remember those times being lonely. It was me alone with my pet peeve.
Life has enough lessons to teach. You simply do what you like being done to you and don’t what you hate. Being a weak sickly child I faced the brunt of a sarcastic family. I don’t mean to harsh on them and I hold them no ill will. They did take care of me. My mom and dad did their best. But it’s being at the receiving end of a joke that I hate. I did not ask for this. I inherited your genes. I don’t try and fall ill. It happens. Shit happens. The least I can expect is some care or some sympathy. Sometimes I wonder these jokes we crack at our children might leave them permanently scarred. Now after many years of confidence building through performance and understanding I can take some shit being thrown at me. At those times, these just left me with self doubt if I could really make it in the big bad world.
So the flip side – I end being extra caring with people who are unwell. I of all people know that it’s not your fault. I have learnt to look at medicines and ask what they are for. I have learnt to research my issues on my own and get a better understanding of them. Understanding them is the first step towards accepting them and solving them. Some cant be solved but a lot can be done by simply accepting and moving on. It gives you mental stability. And a little caring shown in other people’s issue helps them solve their issues far better and faster. Hence I don’t make fun of any body’s medical issues. No matter how sleight. I try and research or look it up, understand the illness and then possibly prod people on. Its amazing how a simple understanding and a scientific temperament helps understand and deal with issues. Even you cant do that, just don’t screw with their minds. They did not ask for it and they don’t exactly like being there.
Sometimes I wonder what it might have been to be a healthy kid. Today I am at 69 kilos and reasonably fit. I out run everybody at the parents race and have been doing so ever since I took part. In school and college I was never the fastest one. I never got a medal in school for this. I have always maintained that I possibly deteriorated slower than the others, but I think I actually improved. Not falling sick so often I think I have given my body the opportunity to be what it does best. Be active and fast. With a naturally thin torso and somehow fitter than average legs, I think I would have done well in sports. But the tonsils never let me. Never.
So my bête-noir, nice seeing you again. We meet after a long hiatus. I thought I had dispatched you to kryptonite. But it seems you have made it back. As we sit face to face, you have won part one of the battle. I remember you always attacking while I swam. But I am going to continue swimming. I cant lose to you. I know you will relapse as well, but I will take care. Warm water with turmeric held me in the past and they will hold so in the future.
This time the attack is ferocious. After many years I have had to resort to allopathic medicine. I hate it. The cocktail of pills can’t be true. Two sets of antibiotics with another few vitamins… arrg. I hate them. I had to discontinue my ayurvedic as it got too long for an attack this ferocious. Yesterday I got medicine injected intravenously. That gave me instant relief but I so hate it. I know that antibiotic cocktails kill my body but the pressure to get well and restart life has been too much this time around for me. Sometimes I wonder how we live with this pressure.
I want to dedicate my life to a life without pressure. Will I be able to push people to achieve without using the tools of pressure? Will people who work with me be able to perform with pressure? You just have to take on your team people who are willing to perform without the burden of pressure. Those who naturally take it on and don’t feel it from top. It comes in from within… but hold… this is another blog post. Right now weren’t we on earth versus kryptonite.
Yes. So the villain is back. My cocktail infusion has got me up and hopefully walking for now. I lost two kgs in the process. Matter not my friend. I resent you not. You taught me how to live with others. You taught me empathy in sorrow. You taught me life. I am possibly a better human being thanks to you. Possibly like most villains you are not a villain after all. You are me. We can’t live without each other. The presence of one defines the other. Yes. What would I be without you dear boy. What would I be? Possibly an ass who finds pleasure or sarcasm in misery. No. the price of health is way too much. I would take tonsils any day. BRING THEM ON!
I remained pretty much a thin weakling in childhood, right up to college days. My weight was stuck at 59 kilos. I remember seeing the weighing scale as some sort of a jinx. Whenever I touched 61 I would fall sick again and drop back to 58-59 and a 28 inch tummy. A thin boy of height around 5 feet 8 inches. I have been through chicken pox, jaundice, typhoid, food poisoning and when everything else fails – you have tonsils. Tonsils would attack in monsoon and in winter. I had to really watch what I eat. It came under control after a prolonged Homeopathic treatment after which they only resurfaced as a mild version which I used to take care of myself.
I was tired of my dad and the rest of the family calling me a weakling. I hated it when they made fun of it. I don’t remember my mom making fun of it but like a mommy reaction she was over protective. She wouldn’t give me a greater deal of independence and would stop me from doing a lot of things. She was always afraid I would fall ill. So I would get endless lectures on how I must take care of my health and how the answer to a lot of permissions was always NO. So the curbs on freedom along with the sarcasm was not too enjoyable as a kid. Especially when this alpha male had a deep burning desire to join the Armed forces. It hurt and it hurt bad. So while in college I used to hide my tonsil attack from family. (I wouldn’t risk another lecture or some more restrictions on freedom) … Luckily for me, the intensity was less thanks to the homeopathy. It would be kept in control with crocin, septilin tablets and gargles of turmeric and honey with warm water. I remember those times being lonely. It was me alone with my pet peeve.
Life has enough lessons to teach. You simply do what you like being done to you and don’t what you hate. Being a weak sickly child I faced the brunt of a sarcastic family. I don’t mean to harsh on them and I hold them no ill will. They did take care of me. My mom and dad did their best. But it’s being at the receiving end of a joke that I hate. I did not ask for this. I inherited your genes. I don’t try and fall ill. It happens. Shit happens. The least I can expect is some care or some sympathy. Sometimes I wonder these jokes we crack at our children might leave them permanently scarred. Now after many years of confidence building through performance and understanding I can take some shit being thrown at me. At those times, these just left me with self doubt if I could really make it in the big bad world.
So the flip side – I end being extra caring with people who are unwell. I of all people know that it’s not your fault. I have learnt to look at medicines and ask what they are for. I have learnt to research my issues on my own and get a better understanding of them. Understanding them is the first step towards accepting them and solving them. Some cant be solved but a lot can be done by simply accepting and moving on. It gives you mental stability. And a little caring shown in other people’s issue helps them solve their issues far better and faster. Hence I don’t make fun of any body’s medical issues. No matter how sleight. I try and research or look it up, understand the illness and then possibly prod people on. Its amazing how a simple understanding and a scientific temperament helps understand and deal with issues. Even you cant do that, just don’t screw with their minds. They did not ask for it and they don’t exactly like being there.
Sometimes I wonder what it might have been to be a healthy kid. Today I am at 69 kilos and reasonably fit. I out run everybody at the parents race and have been doing so ever since I took part. In school and college I was never the fastest one. I never got a medal in school for this. I have always maintained that I possibly deteriorated slower than the others, but I think I actually improved. Not falling sick so often I think I have given my body the opportunity to be what it does best. Be active and fast. With a naturally thin torso and somehow fitter than average legs, I think I would have done well in sports. But the tonsils never let me. Never.
So my bête-noir, nice seeing you again. We meet after a long hiatus. I thought I had dispatched you to kryptonite. But it seems you have made it back. As we sit face to face, you have won part one of the battle. I remember you always attacking while I swam. But I am going to continue swimming. I cant lose to you. I know you will relapse as well, but I will take care. Warm water with turmeric held me in the past and they will hold so in the future.
This time the attack is ferocious. After many years I have had to resort to allopathic medicine. I hate it. The cocktail of pills can’t be true. Two sets of antibiotics with another few vitamins… arrg. I hate them. I had to discontinue my ayurvedic as it got too long for an attack this ferocious. Yesterday I got medicine injected intravenously. That gave me instant relief but I so hate it. I know that antibiotic cocktails kill my body but the pressure to get well and restart life has been too much this time around for me. Sometimes I wonder how we live with this pressure.
I want to dedicate my life to a life without pressure. Will I be able to push people to achieve without using the tools of pressure? Will people who work with me be able to perform with pressure? You just have to take on your team people who are willing to perform without the burden of pressure. Those who naturally take it on and don’t feel it from top. It comes in from within… but hold… this is another blog post. Right now weren’t we on earth versus kryptonite.
Yes. So the villain is back. My cocktail infusion has got me up and hopefully walking for now. I lost two kgs in the process. Matter not my friend. I resent you not. You taught me how to live with others. You taught me empathy in sorrow. You taught me life. I am possibly a better human being thanks to you. Possibly like most villains you are not a villain after all. You are me. We can’t live without each other. The presence of one defines the other. Yes. What would I be without you dear boy. What would I be? Possibly an ass who finds pleasure or sarcasm in misery. No. the price of health is way too much. I would take tonsils any day. BRING THEM ON!
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