its a tough job

Time again for Hindi elocution. This time we officially ran out good Hindi poems. I am dam pissed with her school. It was always left to the teacher in my school to give the poems and get the best students to recite. I remember the teacher spending long hours with the student trying to get them to recite the poems well.

These days it is completely left to the parents to search and get a poem. The teacher was telling Jispa to tell us to type Hindi poems for standard four in Google and get poems. What the hell! Of course I am aware of Google. That’s where we always first reach for. This time we were completely idea bankrupt. Jasmine and I always keeps an eye out for poems. She photographed an entire poem book from a friend. We choose a couple and sent it only to be rejected. One was too simple and another from another source was too advanced. Dam you. Beaten, we told Jispa that sorry, this year we don’t think you can take part. We don’t have a poem. Being the last year’s first place winner, the teacher was especially keen for her to participate. She suggested that we talk to another kid’s mother as that kid had two poems. Jasmine called her only to be refused as the second poem was a backup for the next year. Fair.

Luckily, out of the blue Jasmine remembered a friend who had a cousin in Rajkot who was good at elocution. Their school book had a lovely poem which was mailed to Jasmine. Voila! Saved by the skin of our teeth. We sent it to school. This time I told Jispa “don’t give it to teacher and ask her if its ok. Give it and tell her that we found a great poem that we are keen to do”. Jispa came back yesterday to tell us that when she submitted the poem saying those words there was a frown on the teacher’s face which turned to a smile as she read it and said ok. Whew.

So now the saga begins. Getting the poem memorized, then getting the pronunciation and diction right and then the voices. How much for her to do and how much for us to stress her out!

Also now the swimming season has started in earnest. Tomorrow is the first of the swimming meets. Let’s start. Jispa got a brand new sports bag to carry her swim gear in every day. She has been training long and hard. The kids are divided into age groups two years apart. With even a year being too much for these kids, two years puts the lower age kids at a distinct disadvantage. It’s officially called the disadvantage year and the advantage year. So Jispa is in the disadvantage year this year. This will be her first serious disadvantage year and it’s important that she competes well in it. That separates the wheat from the chaff. But of course it’s a long way to go, but you have to compete well in a disadvantage year to really believe you have a chance of making it.

Yesterday, after jasmine and I were discussing some stuff around Jispa’s poetry school and swimming preparations, we looked at each other and remarked – Dam it man, parenting is so bloody tough.

genetically coded love

Whats this?

Well it’s actually a liter of milk boiled think with a can of Milkmaid emptied in, along with lots of pistachios, almonds, a little saffron and some cardamoms.

But what does it mean?

It means a lot of love. It is a representation of love and deep rooted genetically codified desire to keep your loved ones stuffed with fat and feeling happy about it.

 When I was young, on a cold rainy day, my mom would heat up some milk, put in saffron and dry fruits and serve to us. Hot masala milk. It was nice. Good warm milk. In fact warm masala milk is my childhood version of chicken soup. I loved it and it brings back some amazing feelings. Now with happy commercialization, we have Anando Milk available in stores in Mumbai. Anando is the name of a store in Chowpatty. He made his millions selling masala milk at Girgaum Chowpatty. As kids we never had that milk as we were always afraid that having milk outside is highly suspect. So I missed out on that brand. But now he has successfully expanded and he puts visicoolers (fridges with glass doors) in restaurants and serves across outlets. You also have it malls, serving Masala and special masala milk in addition to strawberry and other flavors. Now as an adult, I love the milk! And I introduced it to Jispa. Jispa has also grown to love it. So yesterday she had it at a store and loved it when I mentioned that, I can make it at home for her.

So we got home and I made it. Normally it’s a slow laborious process where you keep heating the milk till it’s thicker, but Milkmaid shortens the process for us. As a parent I am genetically coded to stuff her with fat. So in the end, it turned out much sweeter and has a bit of an over dose of almonds. It tastes more like Soft kulfi than milk but… it’s divine! It was late when it was ready, so she will get to have it today. I tasted it today morning and I have left instructions for Jasmine to dilute it with a little more normal milk as well. We prefer it cold as opposed to hot so hopefully today evening will be a treat for Jispa.

Once, I remember my mom making this hot on a rainy day. It was a special thing in those days, to get mil with all those dry fruits and expensive spices like cardamom and Saffron in it, so it was served like a special thing. My mom even removed special silver glasses for us. Yes REAL SILVER glasses to have warm milk. It was first lesson on applying scientific principals in real life. When you take hot milk and serve in silver, in effect you are using the best conductor of heat to serve something piping hot. You can’t lift the glass without getting burnt. Forget sipping from it. Hahah Silver glasses for hot milk. What a duh thing to do in hindsight. That was one fun family moment.

But yes. For me making this milk more than anything else is an expressing of love.  I love you Jispa, and no matter how much I would love to see you shape up as an athlete with an eight pack ab and toned body, I will still derive the greatest satisfaction from seeing you stuffed with sugar and fat. There is some deep happy feeling that fat stuffing gives parents that a pack of chips cannot. Especially if you are adding the fat and sugar yourself. Wow.

just - here is an image of the product that started it all! Brands do count for a lot of emotional connects in our life :)

Psycho...

One of the first things you lose in corporate life is Innocence. I keep telling the new kids on the block. Shape up, don’t be so stupid, lose your innocence, don’t get screwed, protect your backside. I lost my innocence little by little. So will you. Losing innocence is not necessarily a bad thing. You will lose it, you will get tougher, you will realise that not what everybody says is true. You figure things like what they say versus what they mean; you learn to take instructions over emails and ask people to be specific. There is lot of innocence to be lost.

I lost a lot over the years. Also I have learnt to deal with issues differently. There are so many things that upset you or are potential hazards. Most of the time they are hazards that you have to live with. Shit that you can’t avoid. You just have to be patient and wait out the storm. These things are best dealt with, with your tummy to the ground. These are tough things for your egot o swallow or really hit your self-esteem in the short run. But over the long run it doesn't matter. I have learnt over a period of time to think smartly. Here – this round is yours, it doesn't matter. Here another round is also given to you. You save your blows for the main game. In many cases you just don’t bother about the main game at all. Who cares about the main game? Most the things if sufficiently ignored, just goes away. The challenge is in knowing what to attack and what to ignore.

You learn to deal with a  lot of issues by placing a simple stone on your chest. People will get tramples over… ignore. People will get a raw deal…. Ignore. You can’t change everything. You can’t run with a load of everyone on your back. You cant protect every weak guy. Two things – number one – the weak guy will have to learn to defend himself. The same way I did. I was screwed, smashed and hammered … I got hit, got up and learned to dodge. Better you learn faster than later. Second – if you try and protect too many people you will get exposed yourself and in all probability you will drown and take a few more with you. Simple smarts tell you when to pick which fight.

But yes, it requires you to be cool about things when shit hits the roof. In extreme stress, shut down. Take an objective call. Take a fair call. And be cool about it. I am amazed at how much I can just shut off. Simply shut down that part of the heart which is hurting. Screw you. Stop the brain from thinking too much about what you have lost and focus on what you can salvage. It’s the instinct to survive, the instinct to play the longer run rather than being foolhardy.  Short term bravery can cause serious long term damage. Staying in, grafting slowly, pushing the right envelope is an acquired skill set. Amongst all this the trick is not to lose your moral compass. It’s easy to do so and I see people around me do it all the time. Selfishly sacrificing people, or even killing people for a sport, they do it all the time. that’s wrong. Sure, life teaches you to be smart but the way I see it, I may be guilty of inaction, but surely I am guilty of proactive killing. That’s a wrong thing. I don’t like that and I don’t ever endorse it.

It’s a fine line. because eth greatest pleasure you get is when you are taking revenge. Its  a human instinct. But controlling that instinct is as important as anything else. Its also makes good sense. You gain more from reconciliation than from revenge. Potential upside is better than certain doom.

Whats et me off thinking in this way was an article I read. There are a lot of calls to be taken in one’s life. Some involving sacrifing the happiness of a few to securing that of many. Is that a right thing to do. Are you allowed to play God. We play God to our kids all the time. we take their calls for them,. We push them into situations that we think is best for them. But in offices are you allowed to do that? This is a big question.

There is no easy answer. Yes I am supposed to do that. If someone in my team is not proving to be a good worker, it sis my job to get him or her out of the way of those whose passion it is to perform. Ten years back I would have said otherwise. I would have recommended pulling along dead wood. But again the culture, the circumstances all matter. If you are too quick to pull dead wood off the system, this puts a high human cost on the rest. They all would need to run at all times. They will not trust each other. They will constantly look over the shoulder and you lose out on various other efficiencies. It’s a very complicated call. But the only basic truth is – yes, tough calls need to be taken and they can be taken by putting a stone on your heart.

When Jispa was only a day or two old, we had to pierce her ears for the earrings. Whose job is it to hold her tight? When she needs an injection, whose job is it to hold her again. These are similar situations where being tougher is part of the job. Parenting, along with leading  team through a sea full of sharks calls for tough calls. Emotional calls being tempered by practical day to day calls. Cutting an arm to save a soul. Current human misery versus POROBABLE future benefit.

I have had to fire people due to recessions. I have done it twice and both times I remember having to let go of good guys. I did it but I hated doing it. I try and avoid such situations and hence I always like smaller leaner teams. You share the rewards and you derisk downturns.

Bottom line – I grew up. Not that I like it or as if I had an option. But I grew up.

Here is the article I read. It’s funny how close we are to psychopaths at times. Running life is a test in morals and psycho behavior….. read on

The famous "trolley problem" was a psychological experiment developed by Philippa Foot that involved a railway trolley headed toward five people who can't get out of the way. These people will die unless you, the subject of this experiment, decide to divert the trolley onto another track. That decision comes with a cost. There is another person stuck on that track as well, and that person will die. What do you do?

Well, most people have little difficulty making the "utilitarian" choice of choosing to kill one person instead of five. However, the philosopher Judith Jarvis Thomson proposed a variation to the trolley problem, and the results of this test are quite different.

Thomson's variation is this: "You are standing behind a very large stranger on a footbridge above the tracks. The only way to save the five people is to heave the stranger over. He will fall to a certain death. But his considerable girth will block the trolley, saving five lives. Should you push him?"

This question was taken up by the Cambridge psychologist Dr. Kevin Dutton in recent book on psychopaths called The Wisdom of Psychopaths: What Saints, Spies, and Serial Killers Can Teach Us About Success. So how do people with psychopathic tendencies differ from normal people when taking this test and what does it mean? The results may surprise you.

According to Dutton (citing the Harvard psychologist Joshua Greene, who observed psychopaths and normal people dealing with this dilemma), the variation of the trolley problem involves a "personal moral dilemma" that "hammers on the door of the brain's emotion center, known as the amygdala." While this dilemma makes normal people "circumspect and jittery," and 90 percent refuse to push the stranger off the bridge, Dutton writes that psychopaths, "without batting an eye, are perfectly happy to chuck the fat guy over the side, if that's how the cookie crumbles."

In other words, if you, assuming you are a "normal" reader, are hooked up to an fMRI machine, your amygdala would "light up like a pinball machine" when presented with the "personal" version of the trolley dilemma. However, if Dutton performed the same test on a psychopath, he writes, "I would see only darkness." The same would be the case if you showed a psychopath images of famine victims: their brains "merely pull down the emotional window blinds and implement a neural curfew."

Dutton says there is a benefit to this lack of emotion expressed in psychopaths if they are -- as crazy as this might seem -- in positions of leadership. Here's one example, the facts of which have been disputed by historians, but which nonetheless serves as an illustration of the trolley problem on a grand scale.

In his book The Ultra Secret, F. W. Winterbotham argued Winston Churchill knew that the Germans would be bombing Coventry in 1940, but decided not to alert air defenses because it would have compromised Ultra, the British intelligence system that would later be credited with making D-Day a success.

While historians have disputed that Churchill knew the actual target of the raid was Coventry, this "what-if" history certainly makes for an interesting psychopath test:

Would you let 568 civilians perish in the raid on Coventry if that meant many more British soldiers and civilians would ultimately be saved? What would your brain scan look like when the German bombers flew to their targets unmolested? That's the kind of question that isn't asked in presidential debates, but maybe it should.

closure

Jispa is now ten years old and that makes her a very big girl. Of course she is tall. Pretty tall. She comes to me chest and almost to my chin. That makes her a few inches short of 5 feet. She is also now the tallest girl in her class. But she also amongst the eldest. A year apart is a lot of time if you are in school.

But what is most interesting is that she is really maturing as an adult. She is fast getting understanding skills and emotional skills. She is now ready to give back, answer back, reason back. All in at varying levels. She is ready for a fight now. So if I say something or scold her and she thinks something is out of whack she is ready to point it out. So we better be careful while scolding her. OF course we as parents can always win any argument. We simply use or should I say abuse our position of power and say – shut up … do it because we say so. But that would be the wrong thing to do for us ‘enlightened’ parents. We have to think more. In fact I am trying my level best to control temper, shout a lot less, understand a lot more and generally, get off her life in many ways. I don’t want to control her life now and she is pushing back as well. I also can’t give her crap and get away with it, she thinks, argues back and worse, even if she doesn’t argue, she feels that she has been wronged. As a child I too felt many times that I have been shouted at uselessly and felt completely discriminated against. It felt so helpless. I don’t want Jispa to feel helpless on this front. She may not like my decisions if they are forced on her, but I want the channel of communication always open.

On Saturday at night there was something I shouted at her at. She gave me a retort. I gave it back. But then she was pissed as she thought she was scolded at for no reason. OK. I was still speaking to her after that and she was still talking to me but she was pissed. I always try not to be pissed for long. I always talk properly. I try my best to eat my anger and talk properly after I am angry with her. The way I look at it, fundamentally I don’t have a problem with her. Just we are angry on something, so I always keep my cool and talk to her soon afterwards. Talk about the issue, apologise if required and try and understand / explain issues. So this time also I spoke with her and chatted with her. She also spoke back, but she refused to give me a goodnight hug. Her friends were having a sleepover. I just smiled at her and tried to force a truce. Nothing worked. She walked out of the room, but not disrespectfully. I guess as a father I had to respect the space she wanted I left her alone. It was a fight and she had the right to get and remain angry at me. I wasn’t exactly free of guilt in any case.

I remember the last fight I had with my dad. It was regarding my marriage. The hall that was getting booked by Jasmine’s parents was under construction and they proposed another hall. My parents weren’t happy about it and this is when I wanted to put my foot down. During my sisters marriage also we took a hall that her in laws were not too happy about. We did not like that. And I reminded this to dad. It didn’t go down too well and we had a smallish argument or something. The next day I was leaving for Gujarat to resume work and mom and dad decided to drop me. We weren’t talking to each other still. Just as I got off, I said bye to mom and then… I thought about it and I said bye to dad as well. Bye dad. Bye. That was the conversation. I think as a father son relationship goes – that’s a truce reached. That was also my last interaction with him. I never met him after that. I can’t do anything about it but I was happy that in the end I had enough humility to eat my ego and say bye. That ended up as the last interaction. Who knew then?

So on Saturday as I was getting ready to sleep, suddenly from behind I get a huge hug and I feel Jispa. I smile. I was pretty upset till them. She said “Sorry Dad”. I said “Sorry Jispa, will try not to shout, but you also try not to shout back! It’s easier and quicker”. The I also told her, “forget anything else, its important that you came back and hugged me and brought this to closure. You canget angry. Its ok to get angry but you must always forgive and bring to closure. It’s a nice thing to do”.

I didn’t tell her about my closure with dad. I guess it was too much. It did cross my mind but I spared her the story… for now. Possibly sometime later….

Discovering yourself, through someone else's voice...

This song is playing in my head since morning… it’s a lovely song. It lifts my mood and makes me feel light and happy.

The other day, a friend of mine played this on her phone.  It was sung by her husband on the guitar. She simply recorded it on her phone while he was singing it. He sang it so well. I felt very very nice. It seems he is not trained and he doesn’t practice. He just sings. Wow/ he did have a lovely voice and he did sing it with a nice lilt.

I felt nice and at the same time I was so jealous. How people can easily sing in tune. I would love singing or playing a guitar or even a flute. I would love to take it out and play at a party or at a restaurant or my dream – play it at a café in the hills, sitting next to a local who plays his instrument for a living. Together we would jam and help him earn a little more for the day. That’s what I would like to do.

But for now I only bray and my family just wants me to shut up when I attempt to sing. They hate it. What to do. I love it. For me it’s not the singing but the lift that the heart gets when the song plays. Who cares what it sounds like? Hence the best for me is to sing along while the radio is on and loud. This way I can mask all my vocal chord issues. This is the best option.

And that’s the only thing I get jealous on. When someone uses a pencil and a paper and makes the pencil do his bidding, straight lines, curved lines a bit of shading and there – a sketch. I get so mad at myself. I have no such talent. Arrgghhh. Forget painting or using oil colors or something. Simple sketching that makes doodling such a fun thing to do. I can’t do it. That irritates me. I feel so limited.

Luckily this blog has happened to me. At least I feel I have some creative skills. I can write something that seems mildly interesting to have a small group of people who like it and take something from it. I possibly have this great desire to spread something, happiness or something… so what if I can’t dance, sing or sketch, at least I can write something. And I completely love it when someone comes back and tells me that – something read from this blog gave them something… a hope, a lesson, a smile anything.

It’s a bit funny. I thought I don’t really care for much appreciation. But I crave for appreciation of a different kind. I think I crave for recognition. Recognition that I have made an impact to someone’s life, thought or moment. I think its slightly different. Don’t thank me or tell me I have done something great but tell me that what I did impacted you in some small little way. Even if I made you smile.

Hmmm.. now that I think about it. Yes. All my actions are towards recognition. I keep telling I don’t care about the congratulations. Don’t bother telling me what a great job I have done. I know what I have done, could have done, haven’t done, could not have done. I know all that. But what I really need to know is how what I have done impacted you. Any small positive impact, a teenie weenie bit.  Now that I think… that’s what I look for.

My colleagues tell me – I am a teacher. I am a born teacher. I like to teach, explain how to improve, impart small small nuggets of wisdom… even long lectures. So that’s what I am doing. Trying to make impacts in their lives so that they can tell me that later.

Hehe. Little did I know that writing about my jealousy can help me understand a nuance about myself. That’s why this blog is so dam bloody useful. Talking to yourself is what mad men do, right? Writing to yourself is what philosophers do! Hah!

ashes to ashes....

One era’s terrorist is another era’s freedom fighter. Who is right who is wrong?  It’s impossible for us to sit and pass judgment. Yes it’s wrong to kill but shouldn’t we take a second to understand why would somebody send someone to kill other people or why someone would do something like this in the first place. While we Indians sit and pass judgment on some many issues we don’t take a second to think about the atrocities we might have inflicted on others. There are mass unmarked tombs being uncovered in Kashmir, thousands missing, torture inflicted upon, rapes committed. We miss this and it’s just passes us by.

Ajmal Kasab was one of those who came into Mumbai as a part of the terror attack and killed people and spread mayhem. He was the only one caught alive. Surely he is guilty. And surely as the rule of the land allows, he must be tried fairly and then most obviously hanged. That’s the rule of the law. If you like it great, if you don’t – then try and change it, it’s a democracy. And if you cant change it, then you are welcome to live elsewhere if you can’t bear it. These are plain truths.

Ajmal had to be hanged. The evidence was overwhelming. He was caught on photos, in the act and on CCTV cameras. Unlike the Afzal Guru case of the Parliament attacks this seems to be an open and shut case. Simple. In fact the verdict was passed by the millions of Indians who saw the drama unfold. HANG HIM. We simply were angry at the extensive trial that was undertaken. We were angry that a ‘terrorist’ was given a fair trial that lasted so long. Forgetting that only a fair trial can label you thus.

But that’s still not the point of it this blog. Today morning he was, by the law of the land, hanged till death. Done. There was no doubt in my mind that he would be hanged and that this was his ultimate fate. But today as I saw the news spread on Facebook, I was saddened. Very saddened. There was talks of a party, there was rejoicing, show of bravado, finally we did it, about time, etc. Ya sure. We hanged one misguided youth. Without thinking why, how and under what circumstances did he do it? Possibly he was a mercenary, paid to kill as a Wikipedia entry tells me. But I still couldn’t be happy seeing the revenge in people’s mind. KILL. HANG. DIE. I don’t know. I somehow don’t have those feelings and I did not like seeing them in my friends. Revenge is not a great feeling. Yes he must die, as is the law, but the law doesn’t tell us to rejoice on it.

So yes, I am happy that the law took its course. I am happy that the procedure was followed. A court was appointed who in turn appointed a competent lawyer to represent Ajmal, his mercy petition was sent to the President, dutifully rejected and the procedure was carried out. That’s a good thing. Still it took four years. Wow, if a high profile case can take four years, its no wonder that cases of lower national attention take so long. But still, I cant be happy that someone died. Simple. It may be a good thing. Someday India’s most wanted man, who is holed up in Karachi may die, but still, while it may be a good thing for a larger set of people, death on anyone can’t be a thing to rejoice.

I can’t be at the party hall attending a funeral party. I don’t know. So much hatred for something we know little about. What were his motivations, how was he brainwashed, why did he do this? All this while his handlers continue to plot further.

Revenge is such a primal instinct. We want it. We strive for it. we are gladdened by it. Even I am prone to this. I too like it when my tormentors get a dose back. But I have learnt differently over a period of time. Forgive, let go. Let karma take care of the situation. KARMA? Where did that come from? For a guy who is decidedly non religious, where is Karma coming in from. I have no clue. Karma is something I use to explain things beyond my control. In simple – you somehow get back the fruits of your actions or inactions. It’s simple. No past life, no future life. You and those connected to you affect what you do and what you get. It’s not like a balance sheet which balances it. Sometimes you get good and sometimes you get bad. But good or bad, the circle of control is internal more than external.

But anyways, its surely a time to think and introspect not rejoice and dance like the cannibals over the mortal remains of a man. Sorry I can do that.

Yesterday I was watching Pushpak, the dialogue less movie from the 1980’s. I remember it final sermon being – the ultimate destiny for any man is … death. So that it is. Whether it was senior right leaning politician who died a few days back of natural causes, who was seen as a messiah by one set and a perpetrator of violence by another; or Ajmal  - one set who sees him as a martyr and another as a terrorist. The deal I ask for is stoic. Quiet observer. Seeing life play out in its many hues. Quietly sitting on the bank and seeing all the ripples made and guessing what designs they will make when they collide. Learning no more than to observe and wryly smile.

admit it, write it

OK. I don’t like going bald. I always thought I was prepared for it. But I think … no … I know… I am ill prepared for it. I don’t like it. Fundamentally I don’t think I am narcissist. But the whole thing is irritating me. I don’t really have a major issue with it but I hate the way it’s looking right now. I have a different problem. Problem 1 – I don’t like a hairstyle that makes others think that I am hiding my balding. So definitely I am not growing the sides of me hair and combing it over the top to cover it. Surely not an option. The other thing is that I am not growing the little hair I have on the top itself to cover for the ones missing. So I can’t grow my hair anything more than a little. Because then it looks to me that I am hiding my bald patches. So that is also not an option. So the only option is to cut it short. But not too short. Because in that case it looks even funnier :). Arrrggghhh. I admit. I don’t know how to deal with this issue.

My dad was bald and all my memories with him are of him almost bald. Atleast my daughter has a good ten years of memories of me not so bald. That’s the good part.

So in photos now days, they tell the truth. They call it like they see it. BALDING. And that is irritating me. The people in office calling me bald or pointing to my bald spot – that’s not so irritating but my photos…. They seem to be irritating me. WHY? I hate this. My rational brian is calling me a narcissist but I hate being called that by anyone…. Including me.

So I was telling Jasmine. The first thing I see on the photos is the bald spot. She told me that its not that prominent. I know sweetie and that’s what’s irritating me more than anything else. The fact that it is not prominent but it is irritating me is irritating me all the more. Arrrgghhhh. Dam it. What to do.

The thing is when reality hits you in the face you know what your true nature is. And I don’t like seeing my true nature on this one at least. Its bloody irritating. I was having enough struggles handling my age related issues. My knees hurt my back hurts, I can’t jump over stuff that I used to. I still am much, much fitter than almost all in office and many in my age group, but those are not my standard. My standards are mine. And for hair – I did not have any standards. I only combed my hair once a day. I hardly looked at it then. The bathroom mirror was just a quick glance and a quick run through on the hair and I was done. For years as a teenager I did not know what to do with my hair. My mom called me a golliwog thanks to my hair. It was a thick unruly mop all over the place. I tried all the barbers I could afford but it was to no avail. No one could really subdue it. Then I got to the twenties and thirties and most of my office life I learnt how to deal with it. I just kept them short and smart. I liked them that way.

But now… the middle of a rapidly declining cycle… arrgghhh I can only express my angst. Jasmine told me to keep a cap on for photos, but that’s not the solution. I have to be happy irrespective of what I look like. Am I so bloody concerned about what I look like? I hate being concerned. Call me bald, I am ok; point to the bald spots, I am ok; call me taklu, crack a joke, I am ok; see myself in the mirror, I am ok; but show a photo of me with a balding patch… and it gets my goose. Why! This is irritating me and this is something I have to solve upfront in my mind. It’s bloody ok. I have to keep telling myself.

Hopefully this phase is transient, hopefully I won’t be as obsessed about it as I am now. Hopefully I can laugh at the photo as I can laugh when someone is joking about it. Hopefully it will all come together and it will be all ok. At least I know I will never wear a wig or going for transplants or catch some quacks. At least I know enough to see myself reacting and not liking what I feel. Admitting is the first step towards changing. I am admitting and I am changing. This is nice.

The big one – I am writing a blog about it. That’s a nice one. It’s always helps to write it or talk it. I like to open up on my blog. My blog has helped me a lot. I was talking to one young student who reads my blog often enough. I was telling her that over the years I don’t know if the blog has shaped me or if I have shaped the blog. We both have changed. Matured over the years, lived with each other, spoken to each other. The blog has helped me more than anything else. Helped me think, rationalize and live my life. It’s been lovely. Surely the big motivation is leaving a legacy that hopefully Jispa will treasure, but importantly it’s helping me shape my present. And this is what I treasure.

there much more to a vacation than a vacation.

I just returned from a vacation in Dandeli and Hampi. Of late I have gotten into taking everything as a learning experience and everything or every moment seems to be teaching me something. Possibly its only my old brain getting into too much thinking or possibly because I have suddenly decided that change is the new mantra. I have changed a lot in the last one year. I have been at least for my standards much more patient and willing to listen and understand the other side / point of view. I don’t know if its my life stage or my job or the environment around me that’s changing me, but it surely is.

WE went with a friend and she had her child along with us on the trip. It took a lot of restraint from my side to stop fathering the child. Trying to get the child into shape. I realize that is not my problem and it shouldn’t be. A child is like what he is because of so many factors. Earlier I would have made for a really bad ass travelling companion, trying to get every child into mold by being a disciplinarian. I was an ass and I can’t undo anything of that. But luckily this time around, I was less of one. I was much more patient and happy. At the start I was getting into old habits till I understood what I could or could not do. Even my friend was willing and would have given me a free hand but in spite of that I controlled. I stood firm on my stand and spread more love than discipline.

There are many factors that shape a child’s personality. Its own intrinsic behavior, the rewards and the punishment that its gets as growing up, the habits around the house, the behavior its apes, everything. And who are we to decide what is the right way to behave. Especially on a short holiday. Isn’t it enough that we are tyrants to our own children from the time they are born? I am so sorry for all the tyranny I caused to everyone.

Being a  dad earlier in your life is a good thing. You can do a  lot of things with the child that only the power of youth can help, as I will show you below… but it cant beat the older wisdom that comes with it. Possibly that’s why the dad’s role is to be a younger friend and the grandad’s role is to impart wisdom. Using patience and love. As I grow older I realize a lot of the mistakes I made, but I would have only realized them thanks to making them. So someone had to take the brunt of it. I guess this is the rule of life and it is philosophized as karma. At an overall level, you get what you deserve and to really rationalize it and balce it, you go back a few lives to get the balancing figure for the shit you are getting. Haha.

Forget that … back to the fun stuff. I always wanted to do stuff with my daughter. Go boating, rock climbing, exploring, swimming, diving into the cold rivers… headfirst. Wow those were dreams, but now Jispa is old enough to do some of them. In fact a lot of them got done this time around.

First one – Kayaking – we went kayaking into the rivers. Just she and me. We even spotted a crocodile on the banks. It saw us and splashed in. like idiots we went further till I got a little chicken and decided to turn back. We were less than 15 meters away from where it was sun bathing. It was a medium sized one at around 9 feet long. Jispa and I were initially in different boats. She then got a bit tired and we got onto a boat that had both of us. I told Jispa… it was dream to go kayaking with you, both on individual boats and on a joint both. Exploring the river, seeing the wild… and yes we even spotted a black capped kingfisher.

Here are pics…

Then another dream, diving into a river in the wild. Here you are. In case anyone is thinking… yes it’s the same Crocodile River. The crocodile was spotted by us on the opposite bank. Call us foolhardy, but it was fun.

And the last – to go on the wild boulder mountains of Hampi. My knee doesn’t permit us to do much of this. But we climbed our small hill and waved out to mummy down below. Really small hill :).  But it was a start. The next time I am in Hampi, I am going to go in with a properly strengthened knee and going to spend a day or two just climbing these monsters and walking around.

and this one is just for kicks

and a few more

inspired by lion king

and - we are just another rock!

and this one is mildly inspired by titantic

there is no real truth and that is the truth (relatively speaking)

Earlier in my life I never understood how truth could be relative. Truth could never be relative. Either it is there or it is not there. It is a binary equation. One or zero. Either you speak the truth or you are lying and if you speak the truth then you are not lying.

It took a whole lot of experience to understand it otherwise. Now I argue against the absoluteness of truth. There is no such thing such as the absolute truth. Everything is relative, situational and depends on perspectives. I should have guessed this as a kid. I remember as a kid, possibly in third standard or so, thinking to myself… how do I know that the blue I see id the same blue you see. You must be seeing the blue I see as green and since you are taught to call that color as blue and so have I, we will never know if we both see the same color in the same way, though we call it the same. I still love that argument.

That was an interesting introduction for me into relative truth. And now that’s what I believe in. it’s difficult to say something is the truth. There are always more variables at play than you can imagine. That’s why economics is so difficult. Earlier on the economist thought that they had cracked economics. You put in the variables in a formula and voila – you have human behavior. But you never know all the variables and you never know the relative behavior to any of the mix. So to the economists who thought they cracked it all, they came out pretty confused. They should have understood it when they saw Giffen goods. Giffen goods. One of the earliest theories taught in economics showing the surprising side of economics. Simply put – it talks about a phenomenon of demand for a good going up due to the rise in its price. It violates the simple demand curve. So this made economics fun, but then the boring teachers got into the game and completely killed economics in college. I wish we had some exciting economic teachers who loved the fun of the subject as opposed to the weariness normally associated with it. bloody hell, I learnt this stuff for five years and I never understood its true principals till much later in life.

So coming back to the relativity of truth. It’s always depends on the point of view. It’s easy to pass judgment on the side. One so many things we just don’t understand the complete implications. We want terrorist killed but we fail to realize that one era’s terrorist is another era’s freedom fighter. I always question Jispa on many things. I ask her simple questions and leave her to ponder. I think she is now old enough to understand even more complex equations. On Sunday we sat down to eat breakfast. It was the same breakfast we ate on Saturday. Roti rolled up with paneer, fresh veggies and some chutney and sauce inside. On Sunday as I put in the green chutney and then put the red pizza sauce on her roti before putting the veggies, Jispa wanted the brown sauce on it. “Brown sauce? There is no brown sauce” “yes, yesterday you put in a brown sauce, there was one”. “no Jispa, This roll is the same as yesterday. There is nothing else missing from what I put in yesterday. It’s the same dam thing. I am the cook, I should know”. “No dad, there was a brown sauce in it. Can I have that”. Arey yaar. What the hell. Till Jasmine figured… “Jispa. yesterday dad had premixed the green and the red sauce and that’s why it looked like brown sauce. Today he is just applying it on your roti separately”. Oops.

After a minute I explained to Jispa. You were right and so was I. There was a brown sauce and the roti today is same as yesterday. Both were right but we were both fighting with each other thinking that the other was wrong. Many times two people can see two versions of the truth. It’s not necessary for one to be wrong for the other to be right. Sometimes it’s not even necessary to know the difference. It’s simply best to let it be. Many times the truth is too difficult to dig out and then the relativeness of truth makes it possibly an exercise in futility. Move on! But isn’t that such a difficult thing to do.

fortune favors the brave?

Killer instinct. What the hell is it? We have been playing badminton regularly these days. Today after a few games something inside of me just went tick and I decided to focus on the shuttlecock.  And lo and few hard smashes and a few points in. I was surprised at the intensity I brought into the game at the time. But what left me pondering for a long time later was ‘why did the intensity not last’. I kept thinking through the game. I brought it on again in spurts and then fizzle it went. What’s with the game? What’s with the intensity? Am I too old or am I too tired.

I have seen this happen many times. At one level that’s a good thing. I don’t keep the score, I don’t bother too much about the points I lose, I am only focused on improving my game but to kill the shot when you have the opportunity. Why did I not do that? Possibly since I have a bad knee, I am very careful while playing. I don’t lunge too much while playing and I don’t stress too much. Is that why I go into a shell? It must be impossible to have the intensity and then tell your body be selective about it. only the shots you can have it, have it and rest, IGNORE.

Since morning I have been thinking about it. Possibly even in my cricket the intensity is missing. I am more focused on playing each ball. Slow down. Get it right. It’s ok. Possibly my cricket has improved… but that killer instinct that will kill and smash opponents is missing. It’s more the death by thousand cuts than to put in one big body blow. Possibly its age. Age that tells you to relax, it’s not worth it. It helps you pick your battles and choose your opponents well. Live to fight another day.

Age (and experience) is an important factor in one’s behavior. With age you surely slow down on various parameters. You tend to use your intelligence and your experience rather than relying on brute force or power. I remember as a 30 year old, I wanted to do everything myself. Take charge of the situation and go screaming into battle. I would even have little patience for the advice of the elders or even be irritated by their contemplation. What the hell are you guys sitting here and discussing while there is work to do elsewhere. Go charging into battle! There is power to youth a raw sensual power that somehow finds a way to do what it wants to do. It achieves a lot more. You fling yourself at the crease to avoid a run out, you smash a ball for six while out of position, you bowl hard and fats and you smash with all your might. Youth has an important role in society. There is tremendous energy there that needs to be harnessed for a greater cause than itself. It needs to be molded and shaped.

I have learnt over the years to rely on trainees in my team. We try and take two to three trainees every year. Kids who are just out of college aged 20. They bring with them fresh insights, enthusiasm and a desire to succeed but not for money or growth. Success for success sake. They have tons of distractions, come with tons of baggage but are eminently moldable. They are here with us for a couple of years and then they move on to do their post-graduation, making way for a fresh set of kids with fresh ideas and fresh enthusiasm. Surely they take away a large part of the learning and we start all over again, but the change in culture, vitality and excitement within the team is well worth the effort.

I blogged in the past about how a cities need a balance between a migrant and a permanent population. Some with a  lot to lose and some with nothing to lose. The same seems to be playing out in my team. If I have too many people who have become furniture in the system and are unable to move or change or even too scared to, or have too much risk; then the team slowly erodes its power. It needs a balance of flexibility and sturdiness.

Your age is an important factor of your role in society. We make our young ones in office slog hard. I have no respect for their time and their effort. So what… put in more. This is the age to slog your butt out. Use your time and work hard, that’s what you are here for. Question everything. Bring new ideas, try harder. If the young one doesn’t question who will? So when I see someone younger than me in a state of bliss and not ready to put in the extra effort, I pull them up. If they are scared of a challenge I chide them. If they are scared to take the first step, I push them. Experience by definition is a larger set of prejudices. And lack of therefore is the power of a few prejudices. I expect a younger person to have opinions. He is designed to … but to temper then with the ability to listen and rearrange them… that will lead to experience. Easier said than done….

My favorite quote on this – when a man realizes that what his father said was right usually has a son who thinks he is wrong.

Jispa – if we have disagreements and shot and fight and get angry with each other, it’s a sad thing. But if you agree with me on most issues – it’s a sadder thing. Can we simply agree to disagree?