“Uncle”, one kid called out to me yesterday at Jispa’s school swim meet. The school swim meet is the eagerly awaited meet at our home. Jispa always does better at her school meet and her best times are at the relay there. It is easily the most important swim meet as she gets to show case her swimming in front of her friends. All her friends know that she swims regularly. They participate but know they can’t match her. Of the four strokes you are allowed to participate in only three. You pick your ones. For Jispa the breast is the weakest stroke and hence she opted out of that one. So you had the kids sighing a relief that she was not in that stroke, which means the others have a chance. She won the golds in the three stockes and that too by a wide margin. The second place was ten seconds behind in some races. It was complete domination.
“Uncle” she called out to me, “you must be very proud of Jispa nah?”. “why?” I asked. “you must be proud of her because Jispa is so talented”. She was alluding to the fact that Jispa has had a rocking year. She did well in English elocutions, Hindi elocutions, sports day and then the swimming event (technically it’s the next academic year) etc. “er, no kid. That’s not why I am proud of her. I would be a proud parent irrespective of her talents. It doesn’t matter”
Talent. Versus hard work and perseverance? Talent is good but you still have to work a lot on it. when parents tell me congrats for my kid, I just point them in Jispa’s direction. That’s the one doing all the work. I got a chance to explain this to Jispa over dinner. I told her you have had a great year but its all becausue of the hard work you have put in. “do you remember” I asked her. “do you remember in peak winter crying before going to swim because the water would be very cold”. She nodded. I asked another one “do you remember when you practice your elocutions, I would sometimes get angry and scold you and you would cry”. She nodded again. It’s a lot of hard work. Very hard work. I keep telling any parent who cares to listen. Please put your child in any one sport / discipline outside of school. Pursue it properly with the help of a coach. Don’t aim for any medal category but preserve with it. Something that the child enjoys. Do it properly. It teaches the kid a thing or two. It teaches hard work, discipline, the fun of improving every year. A mental makeup that will hold in good stead.
Jispa knows a thing or two about swimming, about getting up in winter morning to brave the cold waters. She saw her timings improve after the weather warmed up. These experiences are more precious than the golds she wins. I don’t hold any of her medals close to my heart. They are a means, not the end. Some of her races are more fun than others some more exciting but really, its about training every day, focusing on technique, concentration and above all perseverance that counts.
After her three strokes, came the time for the relays. One was the girls relay which she anchored and the team won effortlessly. Fourth gold. The last was the mixed relay in which they take the top four swimmers per house. She was anchoring that as well. At the start her friend went in first. A competent swimmer, I saw she missed her tumble turn to touch the wall and come back. That is clearly one to two second loss. Why did she do that? I later realized that it was because while swimming her goggles twisted and she was almost swimming blind. She bravely yet barely gave a lead which was lost due to a weak second and third swimmer, which meant that Jispa would start being around 15 meters (half length) behind. Now that is the best situation for Jispa to be in. Anchoring a relay and starting well behind. Go jispa go. Last year she came from behind similarly to clinch gold. This time her adversary was the fastest boy in primary. She took off and swam like hell. She gained and gained and gained. Till the very end. People were screaming and going wild. Could she do it? The last 15 meters and the boy was still ahead. Jispa wasn’t tiring; she was going fast, still gaining. An improbable coming from behind victory looked probable. Can lightning strike twice. GO JISPA GO, I was screaming, I couldn’t stop myself. Last 5 mtr, the boy is ahead and only just, and the finish. Boy wins by one second. WHOA. What a race. Jispa misses her fifth gold to get silver.
In the evening I asked Jispa “do you remember the athlete’s prayer”. “Which one, dad?” “When a great….” I started to have it completed by Jispa “player comes to write against your name, he writes NOT if you have won or lost but how you played the game”. “Yes Jispa. You came in second in the second relay, but then what happened? Everyone forgot the first place and came personally to congratulate you. They all told you that you swam a lovely race. You did very well, you were surrounded and everyone was talking about you and congratulating you. Who remembered the winner?” “Yes, you are right”. “Understood Jispa? It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you have played your game. They saw your game, not your victory (or lack of)”. The penny dropped. She understood. She smiled. All these I wasn’t talking bum. These are things you can’t understand when you win. That’s a pretense of humility or talk. But you experience it when you have played your heart and yet you have lost.
That silver Jispa, that silver… is more valuable than your Golds. Treasure it.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
light ears
We are wondering on how smart should smart be? The other day Jispa took news cut out to school. It said that some scientists found a new galaxy (an odd shaped one) 79 million light years away. I have been talking to Jispa about physics and the speed of light. So I explained to her that that statement meant that the galaxy is so far away that light will take 79 million years to reach it. “And” she added “nothing can go faster than light”. Yup. So here is your cut out and there you go to school.
In the evening I asked her, how her day was. She said, “the teacher corrected me. I said the galaxy is 79 million light years away. That means that light takes 79 million years to reach there. Then teacher told me – no that’s wrong Jispa. A light year is not that. On earth we measure time in years and in space we say light years”. ARRRRGGHHHHH. Oh God. That was a real painful one for me. It isn’t wrong. Her teacher is wrong. I was livid. If you don’t know, you should keep quiet but you shouldn’t correct the child. I went online and showed Jispa what the correct definition is. I was thinking of sending a print out. In the evening Jasmine suggested that sending a book instead of a google print out. Anyone can have a printout but a book is somehow … different. Ok fine. I am sure I have a book on galaxies that explained the light year. So I hit the shelf and found one. Sure enough.
The light year is a unit of distance not time. And it is the amount of distance the light covers in one year (technically – in a vacuum). So I was all ready to send it today morning with her. On Sunday though, I got cold feet. What if the teacher thinks we are too smart? Over smart? Should we, shouldn’t we? Or just let it be. What difference does it make? Like the teacher in second grade who does not know the difference between a parrot and a parakeet, or an egret or a stork. So I told Jispa “wait a bit, take it to school a few days later. Tell your teacher that you read this in a book and then you thought you could show it”.
Well, we really don’t know. The power equation in a school, any school, any classroom is completely in favor of the teacher. When I teach I try and shift the balance a bit back to the class. Allow them to talk, allow them to discuss. Let them know that they could be right and also better than the professor. It’s not that tough to say I don’t know to a class. That’s what I try and do. Only when things get a little edgy I explain who the boss is. Status maintained, now we can get messy again.
So we are wondering. I will probably ask Jispa what she feels like doing and get her to do it. I would like her to go and have a chat without being too haughty about it. The book is also the perfect book. It’s a guide to the gob smacking galaxy. A simple nice, easy to read book in a really simple language. It’s probably the right thing to do, but I am going to let Jispa take that call. Let’s see.
In the evening I asked her, how her day was. She said, “the teacher corrected me. I said the galaxy is 79 million light years away. That means that light takes 79 million years to reach there. Then teacher told me – no that’s wrong Jispa. A light year is not that. On earth we measure time in years and in space we say light years”. ARRRRGGHHHHH. Oh God. That was a real painful one for me. It isn’t wrong. Her teacher is wrong. I was livid. If you don’t know, you should keep quiet but you shouldn’t correct the child. I went online and showed Jispa what the correct definition is. I was thinking of sending a print out. In the evening Jasmine suggested that sending a book instead of a google print out. Anyone can have a printout but a book is somehow … different. Ok fine. I am sure I have a book on galaxies that explained the light year. So I hit the shelf and found one. Sure enough.
The light year is a unit of distance not time. And it is the amount of distance the light covers in one year (technically – in a vacuum). So I was all ready to send it today morning with her. On Sunday though, I got cold feet. What if the teacher thinks we are too smart? Over smart? Should we, shouldn’t we? Or just let it be. What difference does it make? Like the teacher in second grade who does not know the difference between a parrot and a parakeet, or an egret or a stork. So I told Jispa “wait a bit, take it to school a few days later. Tell your teacher that you read this in a book and then you thought you could show it”.
Well, we really don’t know. The power equation in a school, any school, any classroom is completely in favor of the teacher. When I teach I try and shift the balance a bit back to the class. Allow them to talk, allow them to discuss. Let them know that they could be right and also better than the professor. It’s not that tough to say I don’t know to a class. That’s what I try and do. Only when things get a little edgy I explain who the boss is. Status maintained, now we can get messy again.
So we are wondering. I will probably ask Jispa what she feels like doing and get her to do it. I would like her to go and have a chat without being too haughty about it. The book is also the perfect book. It’s a guide to the gob smacking galaxy. A simple nice, easy to read book in a really simple language. It’s probably the right thing to do, but I am going to let Jispa take that call. Let’s see.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Lord almighty!
Man. God is in fashion. Real fashion. Many years ago I had been to Trambakeshwar and I remember it being a sleepy town and a sleepy temple. But last week I went there to be confronted with a three hour queue. Dam it, the architecture wasn’t even cool enough for me to wait in that line. And I am not too keen on worshipping stone. The queue outside the complex looked innocuous enough and we stood for an hour to get in to be faced with a long winding queue inside. Jasmine and I wanted out, but our friend and his wife wanted to stay. We would waited outside if not for Jispa who wanted to stay. Dam you Jispa. So we stayed on a snaking queue which was 22 lanes long. Another two hours. Very painful.
Only one way in and one way out. High metal bars so that people don’t jump the queue. Railings in the middle so that people don’t squeeze in thru the bars. Luckily there was a roof overhead and a few fans, but overall it was bloody tiring and hot. Here is a picture of Jispa waiting in the queue. I feel like cattle being herded in. Why do we mistreat our people thus? The people have no bloody option. There are only twelve special Shiva temples – the 12 jyotirlingas and if you want divine intervention you have to go in and pray there. After waiting for 12 hours, you get only 2 seconds in front of the deity with the ushers constantly pushing you out of there. The whole point of the 3 hour wait is to get an audience with God. To tell him I was there, that I waited. And my friends were very happy. They managed to get the Prasad that they had bought through to the God. The priest took their packet and touched it to the deity and gave it back to them. Awesome for them!
I got out of there and sat behind. Jispa came along and I explained to her; if enough people believe it, even a piece of stone can become a God. But I guess it works both ways. To me the lines show me that there is no God inside. This is pure delirium. To the others, the presence of this line might only ratify that there is not only a God in there, but a huge powerful God with boon granting facilities.
Its amazing how many people come in and follow rituals, how many try and beat the line, how many push and pull, how their tempers flare. How badly is the pilgrim treated? All this must an integral part of pilgrimage. Here is the photo of the line in which we stood. Its stupid and chaotic.
And if you think India is shining and that India is improving, one just has to look at the loo facilities provided. The common loo outside was a really bad place. It was dirty, dark, dingy and never cleaned. Luckily Jasmine had a scarf which she first gave me. I wrapped it around my face to get in. There was no way I could have held my breath for that long. In many loos in India we have suddenly understood that we can start charging money, but hell, we just understood that. We did not understand that after charging we must ensure hygiene and cleanliness.
Sacerdotal intercession. The belief that we need a conduit to get to God. The all-powerful Pandit in this case. He has a vested interest in keeping you insecure, in making you explain that all you need is a mantra or a ritual to set you free from the encumbrances in your way. I am lucky. I consider myself very lucky, I soon realized the fallacy in believing in this. I refused many years ago to believe in it. My mom and dad were practical about this yet we did go all over India to different places of religious interest, stood in lines, prayed and performed poojas. I think, like most others, we too were confused Jains. Fundamentally you can’t have the Jain and the Hindu faith intermingling in your mind. The Jain faith is about a way of life, a kind of athesism that says that the answer lies in living your life in a certain way. To give up desire and greed. The Hindu faith has pandits, who can help you. In Jainism there are monks who can only explain the path to you. But to my parents and to so many others I saw, it was all confusing. I like the way we called ourselves Hindu. Forget that – I love the way Shiva is a Hindu God when it seems there is no mention of him in the vedas. It seems he was a probably a tribal God of fertility or something that got well integrated into Hinduism. So many don’t even realize that the lingam in which form the God is worshipped is actually considered by many as a phallus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingam) and it stands on the female organ. Of course there are numerous interpretations but people do worship blindly without knowing or understanding these concept as well.
But there is a line – a queue outside that is three hours long. And I dam it stood in it. Ok. In hindsight it was probably a smart decision. I don’t know what Jasmine and I would have done outside the temple complex for two hours in the heat. It isn’t like there is a café there to hang out in. no proper restaurants and like all Hindu towns, there are lots of cow, which produce copious amounts of cow dung. So the line was good. As the devout would say – you were there because God called you in there to witness his star presence. It was only willed by him. Cool. Thanks God. Was worth every penny. Just forgive me if I don’t do it again.
Only one way in and one way out. High metal bars so that people don’t jump the queue. Railings in the middle so that people don’t squeeze in thru the bars. Luckily there was a roof overhead and a few fans, but overall it was bloody tiring and hot. Here is a picture of Jispa waiting in the queue. I feel like cattle being herded in. Why do we mistreat our people thus? The people have no bloody option. There are only twelve special Shiva temples – the 12 jyotirlingas and if you want divine intervention you have to go in and pray there. After waiting for 12 hours, you get only 2 seconds in front of the deity with the ushers constantly pushing you out of there. The whole point of the 3 hour wait is to get an audience with God. To tell him I was there, that I waited. And my friends were very happy. They managed to get the Prasad that they had bought through to the God. The priest took their packet and touched it to the deity and gave it back to them. Awesome for them!
I got out of there and sat behind. Jispa came along and I explained to her; if enough people believe it, even a piece of stone can become a God. But I guess it works both ways. To me the lines show me that there is no God inside. This is pure delirium. To the others, the presence of this line might only ratify that there is not only a God in there, but a huge powerful God with boon granting facilities.
Its amazing how many people come in and follow rituals, how many try and beat the line, how many push and pull, how their tempers flare. How badly is the pilgrim treated? All this must an integral part of pilgrimage. Here is the photo of the line in which we stood. Its stupid and chaotic.
And if you think India is shining and that India is improving, one just has to look at the loo facilities provided. The common loo outside was a really bad place. It was dirty, dark, dingy and never cleaned. Luckily Jasmine had a scarf which she first gave me. I wrapped it around my face to get in. There was no way I could have held my breath for that long. In many loos in India we have suddenly understood that we can start charging money, but hell, we just understood that. We did not understand that after charging we must ensure hygiene and cleanliness.
Sacerdotal intercession. The belief that we need a conduit to get to God. The all-powerful Pandit in this case. He has a vested interest in keeping you insecure, in making you explain that all you need is a mantra or a ritual to set you free from the encumbrances in your way. I am lucky. I consider myself very lucky, I soon realized the fallacy in believing in this. I refused many years ago to believe in it. My mom and dad were practical about this yet we did go all over India to different places of religious interest, stood in lines, prayed and performed poojas. I think, like most others, we too were confused Jains. Fundamentally you can’t have the Jain and the Hindu faith intermingling in your mind. The Jain faith is about a way of life, a kind of athesism that says that the answer lies in living your life in a certain way. To give up desire and greed. The Hindu faith has pandits, who can help you. In Jainism there are monks who can only explain the path to you. But to my parents and to so many others I saw, it was all confusing. I like the way we called ourselves Hindu. Forget that – I love the way Shiva is a Hindu God when it seems there is no mention of him in the vedas. It seems he was a probably a tribal God of fertility or something that got well integrated into Hinduism. So many don’t even realize that the lingam in which form the God is worshipped is actually considered by many as a phallus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingam) and it stands on the female organ. Of course there are numerous interpretations but people do worship blindly without knowing or understanding these concept as well.
But there is a line – a queue outside that is three hours long. And I dam it stood in it. Ok. In hindsight it was probably a smart decision. I don’t know what Jasmine and I would have done outside the temple complex for two hours in the heat. It isn’t like there is a café there to hang out in. no proper restaurants and like all Hindu towns, there are lots of cow, which produce copious amounts of cow dung. So the line was good. As the devout would say – you were there because God called you in there to witness his star presence. It was only willed by him. Cool. Thanks God. Was worth every penny. Just forgive me if I don’t do it again.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Sports mind
I guess it’s important to feel good as well. Brands make you feel good. Jispa has been swimming pretty good these days and I like the way her strokes have improved. And with the amount of swimming she has been doing, she did run out of costumes. Jasmines keeps around four to five costumes for her. You need these many if you are competing. In a typical competition she would take part in 5 races and you need to come out, change into a fresh costume and remain dry till your next race. So jasmine went yesterday to buy Jispa’s costumes. These are among the few things that I don’t like to see price. You get simple Indian costumes for around 500 bucks and you get the speedos or the even higher end Arena for upwards of 1500 bucks. Jispa prefers the Arena. She says it’s lighter in the water. And somehow the material and feel is much better. Though I am quite sure it would not influence her timing one bit.
As a kid, we hardly got the right material to play with. Not that I played any sport seriously but even a simple TT racquet would be the cheap one if any. I like buying good sports equipment. If you play the sport you have to buy the equipment. Many times it’s even a bit about feeling good. You can debate forever about how much impact it may have but there is no denying that having a better brand on your side makes you feel better. When I first started playing cricket I too had the hangover of days gone by. I did not have my own kit. No bat, no proper tracks, no proper shoes. The first thing I bought for myself was cricketing gloves. I was pretty proud of them. Then I remember buying pads and thigh guards. Finally only about a year back I bought proper cricket shoes. I would make do with the running sneakers till I realized at my age I was slipping and falling and not having rubber spikes on my soles was a bad thing. I even relished buying my squash racquet then upgrading it and then breaking it and buying another one in its place. That was really fun. I love the smell of new equipment, the feel of new equipment.
One colleague once remarked – Jispa is spoilt nah? I was like – no she isn’t. She definitely isn’t. But then I decoded the statement. Ya. I answered she is privileged. She definitely has more resources at her disposal than what I had at my age. She gets more shopping, more fun, more games, more books, and a lot more. We try and give her more but we try and not spoil her. Spoilt is a relative term. Sure we take the car and go roaming about. We don’t travel 2nd sleeper non AC. We stay good, we eat ok. But we don’t have a full time maid after her. She doesn’t get down from the car and expect someone will pick her bag. She has no right to on the air conditioning on her own. She walks where possible and she eats largely what’s decided upon. Sure she is privileged but I wouldn’t say she is spoilt.
And if I don’t buy three Arena costumes for my kid who swims 12 to 15 hours a week, what’s the point of taking shit from office. Hence when Jasmine called me and asked me, I said – sure. Buy them. She swims so much, she is doing decently well, the least of all she deserves is a costume she likes wearing. I don’t want her to go in the pool, eyeing another girl’s costume.
I was talking with my boss the other day. His son plays tennis at the inter-state level. There the costs are phenomenal. Costs for shoes every month, racquets, gutting, coach, a marker, etc. It easily comes to around a million rupees (10 lakhs) a year. and what do you make back from it? probably nothing. Unless you seriously break into the top league. Then I look at Jispa’s costume that lasts a year and look at the price and think – sure kid – buy one more. Here.
Here expenses will come if she breaks into something really big later. If she has to go abroad to train, then she buys those really specialized costumes, and does some serious Olympic level training. But till then I am a relatively happy soul and Jispa is relatively privileged girl.
Side note – she met and saw Rehan Poncha train at her swimming pool. He is India’s swimming hope at the upcoming London Olympics. She spoke to him about his training and food. And more importantly she saw his swim. She was gushing about it and was pretty excited. “He went so fast”. Jispa was lucky to see it. Champions are champions and when you play the sport seriously you realize what a champion is. Jispa could see the champion, his strokes, his power and his speed. She said – ‘dad, when he came out of the pool, his body looked like a triangle. Really big shoulders and a small waist… and his calf muscles had lines...”. I was happy that she saw a champion through the eyes of a sports person. I have always felt that one must play a sport. In nothing else you will understand a nuance to life. You will have a sportsperson’s mind and a sportsperson’s eye. Just being a dad to a swimmer has changed my perspectives to sports in general, I can only imagine what it might have done to Jispa. Mission accomplished.
As a kid, we hardly got the right material to play with. Not that I played any sport seriously but even a simple TT racquet would be the cheap one if any. I like buying good sports equipment. If you play the sport you have to buy the equipment. Many times it’s even a bit about feeling good. You can debate forever about how much impact it may have but there is no denying that having a better brand on your side makes you feel better. When I first started playing cricket I too had the hangover of days gone by. I did not have my own kit. No bat, no proper tracks, no proper shoes. The first thing I bought for myself was cricketing gloves. I was pretty proud of them. Then I remember buying pads and thigh guards. Finally only about a year back I bought proper cricket shoes. I would make do with the running sneakers till I realized at my age I was slipping and falling and not having rubber spikes on my soles was a bad thing. I even relished buying my squash racquet then upgrading it and then breaking it and buying another one in its place. That was really fun. I love the smell of new equipment, the feel of new equipment.
One colleague once remarked – Jispa is spoilt nah? I was like – no she isn’t. She definitely isn’t. But then I decoded the statement. Ya. I answered she is privileged. She definitely has more resources at her disposal than what I had at my age. She gets more shopping, more fun, more games, more books, and a lot more. We try and give her more but we try and not spoil her. Spoilt is a relative term. Sure we take the car and go roaming about. We don’t travel 2nd sleeper non AC. We stay good, we eat ok. But we don’t have a full time maid after her. She doesn’t get down from the car and expect someone will pick her bag. She has no right to on the air conditioning on her own. She walks where possible and she eats largely what’s decided upon. Sure she is privileged but I wouldn’t say she is spoilt.
And if I don’t buy three Arena costumes for my kid who swims 12 to 15 hours a week, what’s the point of taking shit from office. Hence when Jasmine called me and asked me, I said – sure. Buy them. She swims so much, she is doing decently well, the least of all she deserves is a costume she likes wearing. I don’t want her to go in the pool, eyeing another girl’s costume.
I was talking with my boss the other day. His son plays tennis at the inter-state level. There the costs are phenomenal. Costs for shoes every month, racquets, gutting, coach, a marker, etc. It easily comes to around a million rupees (10 lakhs) a year. and what do you make back from it? probably nothing. Unless you seriously break into the top league. Then I look at Jispa’s costume that lasts a year and look at the price and think – sure kid – buy one more. Here.
Here expenses will come if she breaks into something really big later. If she has to go abroad to train, then she buys those really specialized costumes, and does some serious Olympic level training. But till then I am a relatively happy soul and Jispa is relatively privileged girl.
Side note – she met and saw Rehan Poncha train at her swimming pool. He is India’s swimming hope at the upcoming London Olympics. She spoke to him about his training and food. And more importantly she saw his swim. She was gushing about it and was pretty excited. “He went so fast”. Jispa was lucky to see it. Champions are champions and when you play the sport seriously you realize what a champion is. Jispa could see the champion, his strokes, his power and his speed. She said – ‘dad, when he came out of the pool, his body looked like a triangle. Really big shoulders and a small waist… and his calf muscles had lines...”. I was happy that she saw a champion through the eyes of a sports person. I have always felt that one must play a sport. In nothing else you will understand a nuance to life. You will have a sportsperson’s mind and a sportsperson’s eye. Just being a dad to a swimmer has changed my perspectives to sports in general, I can only imagine what it might have done to Jispa. Mission accomplished.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)