buckets everywhere

Blogging is so important for your soul. Soul? Yup. It’s so important for my soul. It saved me yesterday.

Ten years ago things got bad and I had to leave home and set up my own home away. One of the things I managed to do is never ever fight with mom ever. We had our periods of talking or not talking, but I never did fight with her. I knew she is my mom and at the end of it she does care for me and she finally made me what I am.

When we were growing up shifting from Dubai to India was an episode I would have loved to forget. From plenty to nothingness. Then more crap happened as we moved here. My dad got his first massive heart attack and that was a tough blow for the family. Yes we had savings but it also meant that he would never be able to do his core job, that is as a civil engineer, walking up and down building steps as it is being constructed. We moved to our new home that they planned and we started to build our lives.

I remember having a lot of foreign things in the house as we transferred a lot from Dubai to India in the government scheme called TR (Transfer of Residence). This meant that we had a lot of stuff, but it also meant that all this quickly dwindled away. Mom started a nursery to keep the income going. We were never poor or disadvantaged at any point but it meant that we saw a contrast that as a kid I hated to see. I remember asking many things from my parents and a lot of the time, wasteful expense was not encouraged. So I guess, I heard more no’s that yes. As a kid I dint like it but I have blogged about this, that I now understand it and I bear no ill will towards my parents. I think given the circumstances that’s the best they could afford and that’s the best we could do. My blog helped me clearly explain this out for myself in my head.

On Saturday I was alone at home and I thought I could spend some time with mom. I called her and told her that I was coming home to dinner. I just wanted to spend time with her, chill around. So I spent the evening with mom. Later in the evening she told me that she wanted to buy me something for my new home which we were renovating. Ya mom, but I don’t need anything. Luckily I am earning enough and it’s not needed. Mom still insisted and she gave me a cheque. This was not the thing. She said something that in some ways just touched my heart. She said that when she had us kids growing up, we would ask for a lot of things and it would break her heart to say no to so many things. We couldn’t really afford it and hence she would be forced to say no. She said she hated doing that but had no choice. Now she has money and she wants me to buy things that I want. Hence take the money.

Oh dear dear me. It killed me. Ya. As a kid I was mindful of the fact that we had less money but also I think as a kid I asked for things. I know and thanks to the blog, I know for sure in my mind that I was aware of it and that I don’t hold that against anyone. I grew up. This blog yesterday saved my soul from being burnt with guilt.

Closer home to the present. We are building our home and we are going broke. Our complete cash flow is being compromised as we go over budget. But it’s our home and we are aware. Thanks to some circumstances we haven’t had a big holiday and we haven’t had a chance to go abroad as a family. Now with the house coming in and screwing our finances, it not happening soon either. So this time when my friend was taking kids to a diving trip to the Philippines, my first reaction was to say no. We can’t afford it – a straight 1.5L poof, gone, for one person. That was not happening. But Jasmine told me – its ok dad. Where we send her anywhere. We can’t go but at least she can. It’s not that we can’t manage. I was agreeing but I did not want to screw the finances. I would have had to sell my shares (hard assets) for this. Jasmine still said ‘for what do we have all this’. If at this age she cant go then when will she go? Every time something or the other comes up. I agree. It does. One HUGE regret, we didn’t go to Hong Kong Disney when she was the age for it. I still find myself a failure as I couldn’t take my kid to DIsneyLand. I always wanted to do it. I had the money at the time but the outlook was bleak and we postponed it and it then never happened.

So I agreed. Jasmine was right. She IS right. My sweet mom, is right trying to do amends. I can do it right away. Ya its big but it’s not that I can’t afford. It can be made up and we can manage. Jasmine and me discussed that at this stage, we are older and we can choose not to go diving. Instead of all of us going, let Jispa go thrice, its better bang for buck. Ya. I wanted to do scuba, sky diving, bungee jumping and other stuff. But I am not worried. I think I will manage to do it. I went to the silicon valley and met all the tech companies – that was one off the bucket list. The others will come. But at least a 15 year old can tick one for herself now. That’s a great age to develop passion and experiences. Not 42. The next age I think is 54. That should be fun.

I told my mom yesterday – mom, your kids are cool. They work hard and they enjoy their lives and they have money. Take all your money and live however you want to. Don’t leave a penny for us. Not a penny. So while she also told us no while we were kids, I also know, they told themselves no for so many things. Who are we to judge our parents or anyone in history.

History – today I did a long cherished dream. I was a tour guide to Elephanta. A couple of our friends came in from Canada. Two old women who are absolutely amazing. I took them there and showed them the caves and helped them understand a lot of Mumbai, India and the caves. This is my third visit to the caves and I loved it. I reread the book and now I am able to interpret it completely from my eyes and my angles. History is about interpretation and so is mythology. I see the caves very differently from how the others would. For me, it’s my own version of the story and the architecture. It what I want out of it and how I am able to share my vision with others. Wow. I was so thrilled. I took a laser pointer and took my friends to the caves. Soon enough, a guide came up to me and asked me if I needed a guide. NO. I am good. But they insisted. They said, they were ASI certified guides and only they could show the monument, not me. Yes – I understand you. But I am not a guide. I am friend. I am not charging any money and I am not soliciting any tourists inside the monument. How can you stop me? I am a banker and not a guide, you don’t see my face every day and please, there is no law against what I am doing. I was disturbed three to four times. I think not many understand that normal everyday people can also have a reservoir of knowledge and want to freely pass them on. Jokers. I had quite a few arguments and I was pissed. While leaving, they again confronted me and told me that it’s not right. I again stood my ground. There is no law on this. These are my friends and I can show them around, without you. Arggghhh. This was irritating. The guards were very reasonable. They came and asked me – are these your friends, then there is no issue. You can do it, it not against any rules. We left the place, but it was super fun. I loved it and I realized that I could explain this temple without a book and with ease and build a credible, or should I say incredible story around it. I am going to retire and be an official storyteller. The name of my company is going to be  - ‘Through My Eyes’. I hope to retire rich enough to start this passion where, we take super care of all the tourists and have a free model with an ability for the tourist to pay whatever he wants at the end of it. No questions asked. I don’t mind a small box at the end where I don’t even know, who paid how much, so people pay for value and not for show.

Then I took them to St Thomas Cathedral and in and around the Fort area. I loved the 8 hours I spent with them. It was beautiful. I told them, don’t thank me – my wife would tell you – I need to thank you for allowing me to do this. To be mistaken for a tour guide in Elephanta - One more off the bucket list!

links

This weekend i got an SOS from my niece. “JD we need to meet”.

I am amongst the youngest in my side of the family. Dad was i think around 11 years younger than his eldest brother and 7 from the number two. Mom was the second last of the 6 siblings. I turned out to be the last in my own family. So from both sides, there were only two siblings younger than me. One sis who was actually just a month younger and one sis who was a couple of years younger. Ahead of me was an entire army.

While I am not an expert of the Freudian theories of young experiences shaping adult life, I think my great desire to help everyone, teach everyone, coach everyone - seems to be stemming form this. 

I have always wondered why it gives me so much joy to teach, help, captain and coach. As a young kid i was bullied around quite a bit by my cousins. i was never taken seriously by brother and sister. I don't think they take me seriously even now. For them I was always a pesky guy doing all sorts of wrong things and embarrassing them. I thought I was pretty smart as a kid as well. I had a heightened sense of whats wrong and whats right. To add fuel to fire, i had a fearless disposition that wanted to stand up for what i believed in. the final nail in the coffin was the ability to argue. So now, I could argue forever what I believed in, irrespective of who you were. Your pedigree did not matter. So I was the argumentative idiot everyone did not want to talk to. Especially not siblings! they are not designed to understand they are wrong. Even more so when you don't have a diplomatic bone in you.

But that does not mean I could not think. i could think and i could understand, i just did not know how to put things across. How to explain, how to understand both points of view and how not to embarrass people. The big thing in an argument is to try and not get onto the other guys ego. Because once thats done, you will end up with a joker who refuses to see your opinion and whatever you say is nothing but an argument. 

So thats how i went through life growing up. As an underdog. I don't think things improved too much at work. I learnt how to handle people by trailing error and by getting my butt kicked. The big one also happened over a long period of time - teaching. Over the last 13 years I have been teaching in some form or the other in colleges. This keeps me engaged and more importantly I understand how to deal with really irritating and nasty kids! Kids are great, they have no obligation to like you or to listen to you. they don't want to listen to you. They are free to dream, free to think and free to hate you. Taking them along with you on your lectures, discussing, dreaming, firing imagination - its a tough job. On certain days I do a better job than others. One certain days - i am a drab. But at least I learn how to teach, to explain, to think.

I really like to help people by talking them, discussing issues with them and generally having a chat with them. At first when I realized I had adequate power that age and experience gave me, i tried solving every issue that people faced. Giving people quick fixes and solutions. One book “if you meet buddha on the road, shoot him” made me realize that I couldn’t solve issues. I couldn't give solutions that work, i can only explain my issues, my dreams and my learnings. I talk about what i see around me an hope that inspires others to see their issues in this new light.

So when my niece texted me and wanted to meet, I was ready. Of course I could help. Of all that i have helped in the past, i have felt that my own kin have not used me as much as they can or should. Now that i am older, the second generation is something that can use me. For them possibly, I am still young enough and old enough at the same time, or i dare say - cool enough.

After the conversation, I was telling Jasmine that, this is really stupid. Thanks to the shit in the family politics we cousins never did come close. On both sides - the cousins just drifted apart. We hardly had any social interactions when we grew up. We basically did not even know the others even existed. the second generation was lost on us completely. Jispa would not even know 50% of her second cousins.

To grow you cant live in a vacuum. You need social structures and fabric to hold you. You need them to refer you to their networks and create a net that works to your advantage. this niece also managed to reach out to me for a marketing problem because I was know well to her elder sister. Her elder sister would go to college in the same train that I would use to go to work. Thats where our friendship grew. She then became a dentist and we stayed in touch. 

Also came the Facebook effect. I post regularly on FB when we travel and on and off otherwise. This also helps me be in touch with the second gen. These loose connections with the kids keeps the connections alive. 

I wish we had tighter connections with the cousins. I wish our parents, even if they fought with each other, kept the connections with the kids alive. I wish we met more often, stayed with each other more often and grew up together. This is an essential social fabric that must not be compromised. It can create magic.

Its funny that I preach this. When was younger, it was cool not to bother about relations. It was cool to dis them and to not go to functions. there is some truth about functions. Relations are about everyday small interactions, not just simply marriage function presence for people you don't even know or care about. If we simply had smaller tighter relations with a higher frequency we would have been able to have different equations with our cousins.

I think here Facebook and Whatsapp plays a very good role. It allows us to have a long list of weak connections that are emotionally connected thanks to the pictures or jokes or groups that we are a part of. this may not help as much as building connections but makes the invisible walls easier to scale. So no matter what people talk about it and criticize it, these social networks being there online have changed things and they are here to stay. So tighten up and embrace them, and use them to further your old school ties and keep them connected.

Till then i get great pleasure in meeting my young nieces and nephews and talking to them, learning from them and them from me. What more could i ask for? - well More of the same!

A stitch in a long time!

On a Saturday a long standing wish came true. After a long time, I finally got some stitches!

When i was a kid, I used to jump around all the time. I was a hyper active child with ants in my pants. Running around everywhere and jumping on anything. I remember getting hurt all the time. Falling, scrapping, cuts, wounds everywhere. Both my knees bear marks of the fun i had, and along with that both my elbows as well - and both my eyebrows!

I remember three instances of stitches very well. All of them happened when i was less than 10 years old. In no particular order - the first one. A place as exotic as Nepal. I was jumping from one bed to another in the room in Kathmandu. I so clearly remember jumping around and thats all i remember. It seems i jumped from one bed to another and in the process of doing so - I rammed into the air conditioner in the room. I had to be rushed to the hospital and that is the origin story of the mark on my eye brow above my left eye. My mom tells me that I kept shouting that i am not going to cry “i am Jeetendra” or so she says. All that bravado disappeared the moment i 

The second one - I remember waking up in the middle of the night as I had fallen down from my bed. My dad comes in and asks what happened, and the next thing I know - I am being wheeled to the hospital in Dubai. It seems they heard me crying and came in. I fell off the bed and the side table had a sharp corner that cut through the eyebrow on the right. Shit hit the roof in the middle of the night. Then dad had the corners rounded and I always had a fear of sharp edges near the bed. Thats why i never had a sharp edge near mine or Jispa’s and thats also why I would always throw a few pillows on the floor near Jispa’s bed. Even the floor can get hard.

The third one was when I was playing in school with my brothers friends. I remember jumping over a pile of concrete bricks arranged  in way that the diagonal point is pointing upwards. The top point just cut through my trailing right knee. I remember seeing my white flesh and two red lines passing through. Then all the friends came in and rushed me to the school clinic. They bandaged me and the main doc said call his home and send him. This task was left to the peon. the peon calls up and tells mom that its not a big thing and it seems ok. Mom was like, ok send him in the bus. In the evening when dad reaches home, he sees the wound and boom - we rush to the hospital. It was a big wound and the stitches were painful. The scene is that since it took so long to get the stitches, the marks remained. I used to play with that fleshy bit for a long time to come. Now that I think of it, I haven't had the chance to really look at the scar since a long time.

After that I had a lot of falls and tumbles, but thankfully never stitches. In fact I used to try an avoid them. I remember once or twice get bad cuts but I used to be scolded for the falls and so I tried to get them fixed without stitches. Just keep them together with the dressing. in fact at one point i had so many wounds that parents did not even notice that i had one more!

So after that when I grew up I always wondered what it would be to get stitches. And I never did get any. Till last week before last. I was at a  friends place and to make a call I entered the balcony. I must closed the glass french windows behind me. As I was talking the call dropped. I tried calling but it did not connect, so to get back in I turned around with the phone in my right hand. Bang, Crash - i hit the glass door with my hands and the glass cracked and came down. At that time when all the glass came crashing down, I remember thinking about another close shave that i had. Once with Friends we had gone to the Barista coffee shop at Regal cinema. There was a kid with us - a bit of a hyper kid. Suddenly before anyone knew he had got out of the cafe and was on the footpath going somewhere. I screamed ‘Ali’ and tried to go behind him. As I pushed the door to get out, crack - the glass door had a small thing to stop it from opening outside. The door simply split in half horizontally and the top part remained where it was and the bottom part simply pushed ahead. The crack of the top part  was just above my hand and the sharp glass simply scratched my hand mildly leaving just white scratch marks as if done by fingernails. That was a close shave. Even one inch lower would have been enough to cut my skin real bad.

So as the glass of the door crashed down, I thought abut the door in Barista and thought - wow another close shave. Jasmine came rushing in from the other side and saw me and was wondering what happened. Nothing really i said. I checked my right hand - ok - the phone was still there - intact. And then I saw my left hand - the glass had cut through the webbing of the first and second finger by making a cut at least an inch deep. A clean cut that i could see through and through. I then told Jasmine “Jasmine - I will have to be rushed”. She tried to remove the glass so that I could get out. By then the bleeding had started and it was a rush of blood. My friends also ran in and then i got a towel and everyone started wondering where to take me. I suggested a few hospitals but Jasmine was clear. Hospitals would take too much time and the traffic was not worth risking. I guess everyone thought that i would possibly bleed to death.

The thing about being 40 and getting hurt is that you know how to deal with the situation. When I got cut I did not even feel a thing. So when i saw the ugly cut, i could have panicked. But to my surprise, i did not. I kept my wits about myself. I stayed cool and calm. We discussed hospitals and treatments and were generally cool. I remember thinking about a joke and laughing. I remember seeing Jasmine very troubled, so I tried more to remain calm and happy. Take charge and relax. Control your speed of thought and see everything in slow motion. Thats the bets way to do it. Any times a theoretical question is asked of you an you never know what you will actually do in such  situation. When the chance came - i was happy I redeemed my self. Controlled action. When everyone is going to panic, the least you can do a patient is not panic. I was happy that my wits were good enough to even flex my fingers soon after the cut and then telling my wife - all cool, no nerves cut or something worse (basically thats the tendon cut test, as I learnt later)

So then we rushed to a clinic that was open on Saturday and got my stitches done. It was a fun experience. First to stop the flow of blood, the compounder asked me to hold my hand high up in the air post which the doctor took me in for the stitches. After putting a local anaesthetic he started sewing up the wound while we walked about things in life. It seems he was a childhood friend of my first cousin and we spoke about some common stuff. I told him that i was happy to see him without ties as i had read somewhere that the tries carry the most amount of pathogens and add no practical value to a doctors life. He said he ditched the tie once he saw that a light coloured tie had become dark around the knot from dirt that comes with everyday handling. 

I had gotten stitches before, but i wanted to see the procedure for my self. This time I could see it well enough. i was in my spirits and happy. The doctor had asked me if i would prefer a local or a general anaesthetic that would put me off completely. Crazy - I got a wound this big after 30 years - i wasn't going to leave this chance to see the procedure in person.

I guess i take this learning thing way too seriously. I have to have to learn from everyone and everything. What a life if not spoiled by learning!

small buckets of life?

In many free advice blogs on the internet – one common one along with travel is – learn a new skill. So what if you are 40! Well I am not yet 40 but I still have it in me to learn a new skill. And as I always say at 40 – its your brains doing the skilling!

Jispa wanted a wave board this vacation. She said she was reasonably good at it and she wanted to enjoy the wave board. Sure. Her friends have it too and Jispa learnt to balance with it at her friends place. Interesting! Skate boards are largely a guy thing but these wave boards seem largely unaffected by gender. When I was in dubai, dad had got us one pair of roller skates. I think these were meant for my sister but one between all three of us was enough. I skated in them. My dad supported me when I started skating. I remember skating the most when we moved back from Dubai and for one vacation we went to Abu Dhabhi, were dad took up another job for a year. There, a promenade was made at the sea side called the Corniche, which was great for skating. I would skate a lot. I practically learnt to skate there.  One incident I especially remember; I slipped and I was about to fall on my bum and one foreigner who was running right behind me caught me in an attempt to protect himself. He too was taken by surprise. I do remember that those days I really enjoyed myself. What was it about having wheels on legs that made me feel really nice, I don’t know, but it was amazing.

Jispa too never asks us for too many things. She is largely a satisfied girl. So when she asked for a wave board I was more than happy to oblige. I told her we would get one before her vacations start and sure enough, we bought one just in time for her vacations. She tried it at the store. The sales guys corrected her a bit as she had problems starting off. He said ‘put your front foot forward first and then you can take off without support’. Jispa needed support in terms of a rail or a hand to start off.

We got it home and Jispa has been fooling around with it at home. Lying around the house – I too tried to ride it. The wave board is an interesting piece of invention. Unlike a skate board you have only two wheels. One in front and one behind. It very cleverly uses the twisting of the board to somehow convert that motion into forward motion and propels you ahead. It’s a nice one. So I climbed onto it at home with support. Then I did something that I am proud of – i just suddenly decided in my head that I have to start without help. You simply put the front foot forward and step onto the wave board. Of course – this is a two wheel thing – it can only be stable if you are moving. So you just step onto it pushing it forward and get your second leg on – there- -ho gaya. I knew something even Jispa didn’t.

Yesterday I took Jispa to the garden to try her waveboarding skills. It was pretty cool. I told her how she needs to simply trust herself and walk onto the board. That’s it. Its like a cycle. You need to be in motion to be stable. And she managed pretty soon pretty well. She was skating all over the palce. The paver blocks are a pain in the compound and the tar has too much gravel that’s not been swept. Luckily I remembered one part of the garden, which was supposed to be a water body with a  water fall. Obviously these things are not what gets maintained in India. The pond was dry as a bone and this stupid pond was all cemented making it a perfect thing for waveboards. Smooth and with slopes on the sides, making it fun to approach and learn as well.

Then shen she was a bit tired – I tried my hand (or leg) at it. I am really scared of the dam thing. Not so much at failing or falling, but I am shit scared of my knee. So I cant put my right knee forward. I put my left knee in front and then I take off – confidently. Confidence in the mind is the key to take off. The problem is the twisting motion. I just cant get that right. That is bloody difficult. I kept trying and kept trying. Jispa tried helping. I fell off every single time. rather – I had to step off. Only once I fell hard on my butt, but I picked up and started again. Am I proud – at 39 years – doing this fearlessly – I was proud. At the end – I did manage to get the hang of it for a few meters. The twisting motion is still proving difficult. I have to get that one. I managed in the end to twist myself to a few more meters, but is still difficult when the initial momentum wears off.

So now I hope in this vacation – I learn to play with this waveboard. The greatest joy will be just stepping up on the waveboard in front of others – especially in a shop – where they are only expecting young ones to know this. I haven’t seen anyone my age knowing how to ride this stuff. That will set a few guys wondering on how the hell has he managed to pull off this stunt. Hah! Lets see.

There are a few things on the sports thing I still have to learn:

1 – wave boarding

2 – learning the tumble turn in swimming

3 – tennis – basic level and serve

It’s like a simple bucket list – but I am satisfied from it for now. Lets see how long I take to figure these.

side nahi bola!

I see this cricket pitch marked out on the ground near office. I really really miss playing cricket. Cricket was an important part of life. It mattered to me. Playing cricket mattered. It taught me so much about life and about leadership and about the qualities of men! It taught me about playing to your strengths, field and to the strength of you team. Right now I am playing badminton. It’s an interesting sport as well. But it’s nowhere near a team sport like cricket. Here you play to your partner’s strength. The big learning is that you have no option but to trust your partner and pray they play to their strengths. You keep encouraging them and keep giving them tips and hopefully your partner encourages you and keep giving you tips. Cricket on the other hand has a complete huge team that you are playing in. as fielder you are on the move at all times. You are reading the game, the bowling, the batsman and you are trying to predict what is going to happen. When you bat you have to bat for yourself, your team, the score, the batsmen left, the bowlers bowling, who all are left… the complexities are enormous. That’s the reason that a captain is so important in cricket than any other sport. He takes decisions that can impact the game at every minute. Not taking a decision is also a decision. Letting the play drift a bit or speeding things up or sending the right person etc… A captain is almost the game! That’s why it’s a bug thing to be a captain in the Indian cricket team. He gets the best sponsorships and the big deals.

Of course galli cricket is never as complicated. You just go with the flow. In fact the captain’s job is only to win the toss and take batting first. People’s roles and positions are well marked out. Every guy has his pecking order in his brain. Everyone knows who is the best batsman and what is your rank relative to him. So you know before hand whether you will get to open or go one down or where you are going to field or if you are going to be given a bowl. Over time holy cows get established and no captain dare change the holy cow. At best sometimes a little shuffle happens and a little innovation happens but largely everything is set in stone. If the big opener is asked to sit in and go one down, it could cause a huge uproar… but only from that guy. The rest will only be happy to oblige and get first batting. The toss also has a strategic significance. It is extremely crucial to win this toss. This determines the entire game in galli cricket. It is a very simple rule at the core of it. You try your best to win the toss. Because if you win the toss - you bat. Simple. Any captain who wins the toss and fields will get removed from the captaincy. Of course – the team decides the captain. Hence the poor captain in this case is answerable to the team itself. Now the strategic answer to the reason why we bat first – always… its simple you only field for how much you have batted. You bat first, score as much as you want and then you field only that much. Everyone in galli cricket wants to bat. Bowling is a chore and fielding – the greatest boredom known to man. It is quite often that the entire team will get out for a paltry score in single digits. Then the batting team is even more ecstatic. This mean they got their batting, got out and now you don’t even have to field for long. Such are the travails of galli cricket.

In Mumbai galli cricket as the name suggests is played in the gallis – streets. The pole or the wall or a cardboard would be the stumps and one the other side is typically a stone. The topography of Mumbai dictates the rules of the game. The aunty who is ready to stop the game will have her wall  direct shot being given out. So the rules are complex – if you hit the wall one bounce or more – it’s a boundary. If you hit the ball full toss on the wall – it’s a six. But if by chance you hit the ball full toss outside the wall – oops – you are out. In fact most of the time the batsman wil drop everything and start running if he hit a shot too good for anyone else. He better run fast and search for the ball or else the game will simply stop. Other weird rule start coming into action depending on the game. Certain places you get declared runs, certain times LBW is not out, some times there is no stumping, wide has one run or simply a reball and so on. The wide and LBW are the most contentious ones, as they depend completely on judgment and there is no real metric to this. Since the umpire is almost always that of the batting team, the scales are always loaded in favour of the batsman. Hence it makes sense to nullify this for all. No LBW and a wide is simply a chance to ball again without the run penalty. The other fights happen over run outs and catch behind – those are the worst. They result in huge fights as it gets tight.

But the best is when your own batsman is struggling to score at the crease. Here your own team will boo you and in extreme cases the captain, keeping the team spirit as the primary motivation, declares the batsman out. He gets his own batsman back. You can get out, you can hit a bad shot, you can do anything but you do not ever waste balls and make the game boring. Everyone wants excitement. Running between the wickets is also a fun thing. if the two guys have a great chemistry then you can keep running or else, more often than not, you get to witness the most comical of run outs. The most amount of run outs will happen when you will see both batsman stuck on the same crease. One guy will run, the other guy will respond and then realize that it’s not working and then he rushes to beat his own partner to the crease so that the other guys run out. It crazy – because then the both team members will start fighting on the pitch itself, bats will be thrown and the choicest abuse will be hurled while the fielding team will be laughing their guts out. You get the best laughs in these comical situations. The only worry here is that if the fight snowballs and the batsman walks out and goes home – the game could end. Especially if he is the one owning the bat. You never piss off the owner of the bat or ball. NEVER.

I remember one other weird one during the summers. When the game went on in the morning or evening and you were thirsty – you go anywhere but your home to drink water. If you went home then invariably your mom would ask you come back home and then you are doomed. So you never go home to drink water. You always ask a friend.

The funnies of cricket:

Many times you play full catch both hands allowed and one bounce only one hand allowed

Run out on the bowler end is by touching the stone with your leg and catching the ball or by hitting the stone directly.

A half line is drawn across the pitch for knowing which end to throw to get the last man run out if you bat without runner. Otherwise a runner is used on the other end who cant bat.

Sometimes a joker is used if there is an odd number of players. He plays for both the teams but he can’t go in to bat till all the batsman are out and most of the time he cant bowl. He is largely the wicket keeper.

 And the most irritating rule that umpires of the batting team love – if you bowled with out specifying the side you bowled, then it’s a no ball. So basically before bowling you will walk up and tell the umpire – right arm over the wicket – and bowl – otherwise it’s a no ball – side nahi bola!

an old boy's tale

My brother put his lovely old parsi cupboard in my garage. Well actually half of it is his garage and he kept it for ‘safe keeping’. Since both the garages are connected and in front of the building, the building idiots often take our garage for their community dinners. This time they took the cupboard and put it behind in a corner of the building. When my sis in law came to take it, she was shocked and so were we. Somebody had painted it white! Jasmine was sure someone was trying to flick the cupboard by painting it white. We raised a stink with the supervisor and he promised to get to the root of it.

I remember as kids we used to play in front of the garage space in the buildings. The garage that we were playing in front of was abandoned and in a mess.  Then one day on a mission – you know how kids are – we cleaned up the entire garage and threw the mess. It was awesome. Now we could play properly. Some idiot then promptly parked his car. So we bought some paint and wrote on the wall that parking your car is not allowed in here. Now that was something. We did not know whose garage it was and whose car it was… we just took charge. After a few weeks, the actual owner came in and then got inspired to put a gate there and was about to stop us from playing in front of his garage. Only timely intervention by his neighbor and a friend of ours who told him that we cleaned it in the first place allowed us to continue playing. It’s pretty stupid.

Back to the present. We later came to know that the kids painted the cupboard white. One of them apologized to me. I let him be. Kids… vandals…. Yesterday as I was parking my car when I saw this kid who came in and was opening the door of this cupboard. I asked him what he was doing. He said it was his cupboard. I argues with him that it was ours. He said ‘it is ours. We even painted it’. oh dear. This was a throw back  to the garage days. We just took ownership of the garage and took charge and cleaned it. these kids were doing the same  to our cupboard. They did not mean to vandalize. They meant to clean it. Oh dear.

It good that I remember my childhood. Of course I did not shout at them. But I did give them a smallish but cute lecture. I don’t want them in my garage. They scratch the cars… but its good that I remember J

Here is the legendary cupboard. they did try their best!

tight rope

Just. It’s nice, listen to it. Just for listening sake.

After 38 years of working and having big head opinions I have learnt only one thing  - the duality of truth – or rather the multiplicity of truth. There is no absolute truth and there is no absolute opinion. Everything changes, what you like today, what you believe in firmly today, what you think about others and what other think about you. Things change.

When I was growing up Bollywood music was at its bottom. We had Nadeem Shravan ruling the charts and the legendary RD Burman passed away giving his last hit in 1942 – a love story. Any one remember the hit of those times – Sajjan starring Salman and Sanjay Dutt. Wow. My teen and formative years in that sense were horrible. The only saving grace I can think of is that the greatest stars who still rule the movies today – viz the three khans were all launched at the time. My era gave Bollywood its superstars who ruled and are still ruling – more than 20 years on. That’s cool.

The other thing was that we wore baggies in college. Baggies were so in that we wore two sizes big and we put pleats in almost everything. We had pleats on our pants. We had many pleats on out pants… we had multiple pleats and then we had box pleats and reverse pleats… anything to make it fashionable and baggy. And now – I don’t have a pant with even one pleat. Not one. Wow. We used to look at these straight pants and tight pants and laugh at them saying – eeps – that’s so old. And now I wear slim fits and love them. It also helps that I am slimmer than most. So also alongside the slim fits came the slim body structures that made it all fashionable together. Suddenly my slim body structure is so much in fashion. I am lean and these lean t shirts make me look leaner and I dare say – fashionable. So the poor guys who sweat it at the gym building those crazy ripping bodies are suddenly out of fashion. Hah!

And suddenly right now I saw the coppersmith barbet outside my window. I love it when I see it on the peepal tree. I love the window of office and the fact that my desk faces the window. Dam cool.

Coming back – my own dress sense. Earlier I was a checks and khakhi person. Comfort pants and stuff, suddenly I am rediscovering the joy of wool. WOOL? Ya wool and its blends. Now my work hardly takes me outside. I am in an air conditioned environment and woolen pants work just fine. So now – I am into greys. The number greys I have in my wardrobe. I would never have worn so many greys but suddenly I have been gravitating towards them. It’s funny. I was always the colorful guy and suddenly I am all grey and “melancholy”. Seesh. I am old.

I used to shave everyday when I was in college – and now I shave once in two or three days. I would comb my hair and not I just run my fingers through it. I would polish my shoes and now I just step down once in a while. English songs were it and now I don’t know a single new English number. I have no clue what the new sound is in Hollywood.

Things change. The above were just illustrations of outward change – but they portend a change that is inside of you. Inside of me. I too have changed in beliefs and values. Someone told me that parenting is all about values. You try and give values and hope for the best. Well I am a little confused. Over the years I have changed so much thanks to so much changing stimuli around me that I have hardly found any of my values consistent and constant. There seems to be an undercurrent that is possibly the same but I can make out what that is. I am unable to articulate it. I would be fiercely nationalist and now I don’t care two hoots about it. Love had changed it form, structure and meaning to me. I see it differently. Love was to come home and not having to do the dishes – now love is coming home and doing the dishes. It’s changing it is moving and I have no clue how and why.

Exposures seem to be the key to formation of opinion and beliefs. But surprising to me is that no belief has remained permanent. So I don’t expect Jispa to hold on to any beliefs. My parents did teach me some value stuctures and beliefs but that is become so muddled with my experience and those I have built on top that I cant make out what is driving me at all.  Hence with Jispa I am treading with care. I don’t want to force any dogma down her throat. I can only teach a healthy cynicism for everything and a faith in everything. Its like a bit of opposites reconciling. Question everything and believe in everything at the same time. You have to keep your mind running and logic flowing but also keep your mind from running and try and be in the moment. It’s a tough one. To accept and to question at the same time. To accept and to believe will keep you alive today, the cynicism will keep you alive tomorrow. You know it’s a lot like the science fiction movies or the super hero movies. You have to accept that shit happens, that will help you enjoy the movies, but you also have to believe in the rest of it, the ideas and the limitations of what the hero can or cannot do. he may be able to jump from one building to another, but if her jumps in a way that you don’t believe then you don’t like it. So you can suspend belief only that much, and any more – you are in trouble. Being rooted versus flying – what a delicate tight rope act.

to give you another instance - while we were at the Delhi Museum, my colleague asked me - how would you know that these are the real relics of the Buddha. I answered - no you cant be really really sure. but the dates must have matches and the place they got it from had the tablets bearing the inscriptions and the story matches and hence we believe that the remains are that of the Buddha and we revere them in that manner, but no - you still never can be 100% sure. The guide was asked the same question ten seconds later by another tourist - she replied - its the Delhi museum - they wouldn't have put it here without doing some carbon dating. Hah! Unquestionable dogma versus reconciliation of opposites.

watch it

They re-released Sholay on the big screen after 38 years. It was released around a month before I was born and it’s been there in our conscience ever since. Such was the impact of the movie. To my mind and also for a million others – it was the defining movie for Indian cinema.

Growing up, I funnily never got the chance to watch it. Probably  because my parents must have watched it well before I was in my senses. But the dialogues were firmly etched in my memory. This was thanks to the songs and dialogues of Sholay cassette that we had at home. I read much later that, the film was declared a flop in its first few weeks and picked up much later. Even after the movie became a hit the records did not move. It seems the movie was so powerful that the songs never registered in the people’s psyche. Only after Polydor released the ‘Songs and dialogues version’ did the sales shoot up. Rightly so – the movie is all about the story and dialogues. There is one scene after the other full of characters mouthing one repeatable dialogue after the other. At home we used to listen to the cassette and knew the dialogues by heart.

Later on when satellite TV reached our households, I would have seen the movie in bits and pieces many times, but never together in totality. It was only much later that I bought the DVD or something and watched it end to end.

So when the news was that the movie is releasing again – I asked Jispa if she wanted to see it. She wasn’t too keen. Then I had to sell it to her. You know Gabbar is in this movie. You know Jai and Viru are also from this movie. Dialogues such as Tere naam kya hai basanti, kitne aadmi the, tera kya hogo kaaliya, chal dhanno, etc… Jispa was amazed. All this is from this movie? Yup. It’s all here. Now that it was appropriately sold, she was game for the movie. Jispa is such a twerp. She is very very irritatingly choosy on if she wants to watch a movie or not. But then….

So we went and watched the movie. It had released in the 2D and the 3D version but we went for the 2D version at Regal theatre. If you see it then you must see it on the big screen, the traditional way. And we hate the 3D specs as it gives us a headache. And I wasn’t disappointed. DVD is a poor cousin for this movie. This is great movie. After all these years and after knowing the story and the dialogues, you are still glued on. The fun bit is knowing which dialogue is going to come in and saying it just as it is being delivered. You are then a part of the movie yourself. You end up interacting with it yourself. What a movie. To my mind there are no wasted shots and movie moves forward at an amazing pace. At best one can fault the action – the scenes where the bad guys get shot and jump from their horses or pedestals..aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. That seemed hackneyed by today’s standard. But the rest was good enough to keep Jispa happy. She enjoyed the movie as well.

After the movie we went home and I dug out the book I had on the making of the movie and gave it to Jispa to read. Now that you enjoyed the movie, do read how much fun it was to make.

Talking about movies – we caught an interesting movie on DVD. We saw Lootera. While it had two actors I wouldn’t care of, I figured from some interviews given that it was a different movie. I was amazed by the movie. It truly was a nice movie. It was a bit slow but a few things happened that has never happened in the history of Hindi movies. One – there are so many scenes that don’t have any dialogue and secondly – there are scenes where the actors whisper to each other. In Bollywood, there are no whispers. People shout out their secrets to each other. Nothing is understated or subtle. It’s over the top. All the time. Go see the movie – it’s different. I liked it, but yes it’s a bit extra on emotion, but it’s nice still.

here - the bonus title track of sholay. I love it. Jispa and I have been listening to it and we love the part where the strumming and the whistling takes off

Sing from your heart

What do I say? It’s a beautiful song. Listen on.

Ok ok. It’s a blog I can’t be so lazy and just put a youtube link on Tracy Chapman’s fast car and say – aaj ka post ho gaya. I heard this song many years ago when it was nominated for the Grammys. Doordardhan the state run channel would play English music only when the Grammy nominations were announced. That too a small clip. And then we would stay up and watch the Grammy awards. It was ‘the’ thing to watch. For youngsters who were depraved of the in demand western culture, Grammy’s were all you could get to see a part of ‘their’ life and hope to adopt a part of it in yours.

Fast car remains an all-time favorite. Simple tune and a simple song. Though till many years I never got the lyrics. I only got the guitar going ting toing Fast Car. The rest was a bit of blabber gibberish. Today when it was played on a podcast and I heard the song and understood the lyrics.

I heard this stanza

You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living

It seems to be a song of hope and despair. It’s funny how the poverty around me is rising and hitting me a lot these days. I just finished reading the City of Joy. Then I went to Devki’s house (previous blog) and then this song hits me. I read the whole lyrics for the first time today and I realized what makes this song so special. While Jispa learns about browing and his poetry and possibly Robert Frost – I have argued that this is as much serious poetry as it gets and must be a part of curriculum. Why can this not be taken in school? Just because it’s sung? And that its popular.

This is what wikipedia says about the song.

The song is a narrative tale of generational poverty. The song's narrator tells the story of her hard life, which begins when her mother divorces her jobless, alcoholic father, forcing the narrator to quit school in order to care for him. Eventually, she leaves her hometown with her partner in the hope of making a better life. Despite her employment at a grocery store, she falls victim to the cycle of poverty, as her life begins to mirror her mother's: her partner remains largely unemployed and becomes an alcoholic. She is left alone with her children while her partner spends time drinking with friends.

Finally, after getting a job that will support her family, she comes to accept her life as the way it is and to give up chasing empty dreams. She tells her partner to leave her; to take "your fast car and keep on driving." The final refrain is sung in variation, changing from "We gotta make a decision, leave tonight or live and die this way" to "You gotta make a decision, leave tonight or live and die this way."

Isn’t there a Dickensian streak in this? imagine having a song being played in class and then analysed in class. Then it takes us to the cycle of poverty and the discussion on economics and taxation and the welfare state. What an enriching class. But alas!

Here read the complete lyrics.

You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better

Starting from zero got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself I got nothing to prove

You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living

You see my old man's got a problem

He live with the bottle that's the way it is

He says his body's too old for working

His body's too young to look like his

My mama went off and left him

She wanted more from life than he could give

I said somebody's got to take care of him

So I quit school and that's what I did

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so we can fly away

We gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way

So remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

I had a feeling that I belonged

I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs

I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

I had a feeling that I belonged

I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

I got a job that pays all our bills

You stay out drinking late at the bar

See more of your friends than you do of your kids

I'd always hoped for better

Thought maybe together you and me would find it

I got no plans I ain't going nowhere

So take your fast car and keep on driving

I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

I had a feeling that I belonged

I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

But is it fast enough so you can fly away

You gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way

 And now go back to the top and close your eyes and listen to it again and suddenly the song  and the poetry has a different meaning for you. It did for me.

And now to close on a slightly up beat yet melancholic note. (opposites reconciling :) ) It’s beautiful and I just heard it for the first time as the next song on some playlist as I was listening to Tracy Champan.

stomp boom

You see this on the road and what do you think?

Boys will remain boys. When we were growing up these tetrapacks of Frooti were great while full and even more fun when you finish off the liquid. You then basically opened it out, place it on the ground and go STOMP. There would be a large BANG and that would mean a free cracker. Wow! Once I learnt about it from my friends I used the trick to stomp an empty pack wherever I saw it. You don’t care who threw it on the road, all you did was go stomp and bang.

This went on real fine till one fine day when I was still in school I was walking near Kings Circle (I remember this very well) and I chanced upon a pack on the rod. Yes a pack waiting for my stomp and bang. I lifted my leg and let down with a STOMP. A BANG followed and then I was completely taken aback by what happened next. The dam pack was a brand new pack with Frooti inside. I remember seeing in slow motion the yellow liquid bursting through and I was trying to avoid it and a large amount of it flew to my pale blue faded denims to soak them with a sticky sweet yellow liquid. Yuck. Imagine if a glass of mango juice spills onto you.

Once while flying back from London on a business trip as we were taking seats the stewards had placed a glass of mango juice on every seat. Now why would they do that? Why would they put a glass before the passengers are seated and comfortable? That’s a British carrier for you. They don’t care. You are to get your free drink so the faster I put it on your table the better it is for you. You can then come and get uncomfortable trying to maneuver into place while not spilling your drink. That’s the shit bit. As luck would have it, it spilled on my seat and there was yellow sweet sticky liquid over my precious business class seat. The steward tried to clean it with tissues but you can’t really clean a juice spill properly with at tissue box can you? Luckily they had another free seat or else I guess the freaks would have had me sitting on that seat. To hell with business class getting better service or the sort.

So coming back to the pack on the street. Post the earlier incident; I never did ever burst a tetrapack ever again.  Especially the laawaaris ones you find on the street. No way. Every time I see a pack lying unflattened, I am tempted but then I am reminded of my escapade from nearly 25 years ago and I stop. Let an unBOOMED tetrapack remain unboomed. Someone else might come and enjoy that. I am staying away.

And while we are at it – here is one nice dance number going boom boom boom…

And just on dance hits – this song is the greatest hit with those under 13 years old… they dance like crazy with steps and all and they can listen to this all day long…

Radha from Student of the year. I can’t understand how the kids love the movie and this song. With my daughter nd her gang wanting to listen to this all the time I have now begin to hum it at times. Oh god…

tischiawn

This is freaking hilarious. So would it be Clint Eastwood or Bruce Lee? To someone who grew up on a diet of Clint Eastwood films and was fed the one magic film of Bruce Lee, it’s a tough choice to make.  On one hand you have the legend wooden face who came in these spaghetti westerns (called so because they were produced by the Italians) and shot the shit out of the baddies. On the other hand you have the one film wonder. I think he has come in a few more movies, but Enter the Dragon was the only movie I have seen of him. I think the tragedy was that he died before its release making it a bigger cult. I would emulate both in my childhood depending on the movie I had just seen. Enter the dragon was I had seen many times. In Dubai, when I  was a little boy, the club would have a movie night every week and we would look forward to it. Largely the movies were repeated and Enter The Dragon was favorite. Yaaaiiieee. There comes my Karate chop.

Like any other boy I too had an interest in guns. I loved guns and it helped that I was naturally good at aiming and keeping my hand steady. I loved the guns I had and would play with them every day. even today I would love to play and practice with a toy gun :). I remember playing so much that once the servant in the house put a really small parrot toy in one corner of the room and challenged me to hit it from the other side of the room. And whack… it flew. I was pretty cool. Then I remember trying to hit while moving and all sorts of different situations. It was fun. Clint Eastwood gave me a lot to dream of.

So for sheer breadth of movies and the dreams that followed guess in my head it was clint Eastwood that won. After all I don’t remember ever wearing that yellow track suit but I do remember wearing cowboy boots. The cowboy western image is still more resonant with me that the lanky pants flexi kick kung fu. Guns defeated the nang chaku in my life. Aiiiieeeee….. yaooo… Bang. Poop.

And nothing else exemplifies this philosophy than this scene from the greatest of them all – INDIANA JONES. The epic adventurer, searching the worlds for lost treasure and an unlikely action star.

And here is another legendary one from a Clint Eastwood movie, though not featuring him.

memories

I remember green carpet, my dad in his kurta pyjama, in our hall in Dubai and dad fiddling with his new beautiful Sony cassette player system. It is an amazing memory. Its morning and dad puts on this cassette of Mr Natwarlal and I am listening to Amitabh doing a fantastic job of singing mere Paas aao mere doston ek kissa sunoh. Wow those memories are something else. I must have been no greater than 6 or 7 years old. (the movie released when I was around 4). But I remember it andwhen ever the song runs I am immediately transported back. Here is the song

The song is forever etched in memory and frequent references to it come when someone askes or mentions about life and says something to the effect of ‘aap toh ache ji rahe ho’ and I retort “yeh jeena bhi koi jeena hai, lallu?”. Only those who are around as old as me would understand the reference to the dialogue. Yesterday I cracked that dialogue with my office gang to a very cold response and then like an old man I went onto youtube and explained the context of the dialogue to the very young team.

Some memories can never be explained to others. They are yours and yours alone. The significance of hugging someone older in a  kurta pyjama is something that is mine alone. Now I don’t need to put Jispa to sleep. She sleeps on her own but everyday after a bath and wearing my nightsuit (kurta pyjama) I go to Jispa’s bed and hug her tightly and kiss her good night. And she goes ‘yay yay… papa smell smell’. According to her there is a distinct Papa smell which she loves and takes in. in the morning also she will hug and say ‘papa smell papa smell’. I guess this is her memory that she will take with her wherever.

These memories are so emotional. Smells, touch, feel.. they all have their own connects. Most Mumbai residents will have a distinct memory of the smell of monsoon. Of course their associations could be good or nasty. It varies from experiences and people.

Like there is this other song from the same movie. I love this song as well. Obviously I would have heard it from the same cassette. It’s a nice song with folksy feel to it. I must have heard it at the same time as the earlier song but the emotion is somehow missing. (don’t miss those boots. I remember them distinctly. Ya this visual memory is stronger)

I guess what must have happened is that dad would have looked at me or called me or I must have laughed with him when the earlier song was played and this one was just played – without special intentions or eye contacts or something. So while I love both the songs, the mere paas aao, has a special ring to it. In fact watching the video leaves me cold. I love listening to the song. Amitabh’s baritone reverberating through the room. I love to listen to it but not watch it at all. There is nothing in the video and everything in the audio. Memories are a funny thing.

And while we are at it, here is one song that could have a similar effect on Jispa 30 years hence. Again we have Amitabh and his signature baritone. His voice has definitely aged but the distinct quality remains unchanged. Here is a song I love and I listen to it many times in the car, on speakers. Jispa has not even seen the movie and hence may not even know of the video but she would recognize the song and I tried explaining to her to the best of my ability the meaning of the song. And we have played it upteen number of times. So here listen on Jispa and tell me when you come back to it in the year 2043 if it rings a bell! What is it that you feel? What do you remember – iTen, car, papa, papa smell, drive, vacation… what is it triggering. A penny for your thoughts

I find this Ekla chalo re rendition inspiring and it does help me when in office I am going to (or feel like I am going to.. ) kick some ones butt.

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 :)

Start monkeying around

What’s the deal with kids and parallel bars?

These are the parallel bars that I played for hours on while at school. Yup these are the very same parallel bars. We were at the school that day just for a walk and I led Jispa to these bars. I wanted to tell or show Jispa how much fun I had with these bars and wanted to teach her all the tricks I knew. Little did I know that Jispa too played with the parallel bars in her school. She showed me all the tricks she could do and stupidly I had none to teach her then. The daughter is the father of the parent :)

This one is the simple one – hanging like vetal on one bar.

This one is the flip over.

As a child I loved doing all sorts of stuff. Climbing trees at parks was my favorite. Hanging upside down on one the branches and then jumping around. The monkey climbs were my instinctive destination. Go jump on it, climb, hang, swing everything. When my parents and uncles called me a monkey, I took it as a compliment. I was called a monkey for the longest possible time. I loved squeezing into the gaps between the bars. I used to pretend that it was some obstacle course or some war going on or the favorite that kids pretend on these contraptions – the pirate ship! That was the greatest game ever. Almost all my childhood memories of parks are with monkey climbs or slides attached to them. No simple slides and swings for me. That would be the most girlie thing to do I guess.

It’s difficult to do any of that stuff anymore. The body doesn’t bend, the grip isn’t that great and the back is unable to take the load. Oh dear me. How I miss monkeying around. Earlier every obstacle on the road or park or anywhere is an obstacle to jump over or jump on, balance and out. A hedge is nothing but a hurdle. Today I get scared to jump over them. What’s on the other side? The body doesn’t heal as fast and it surely doesn’t want to take any chances with the unknown. I run towards the hedge in the park behind my house and then pull out… no leap. I don’t even land as well after the leap. It hurts my ego but I have no option. It’s better to live to fight another day. Rather – fight another battle… a simpler battle. A puddle to jump over perhaps.

Footnote - as a father now, I wonder - why did the school have a stone floor under the parallel bars. shouldnt they have had a sand pit or even a mud floor? and I wonder why that never did strike or bother me when I was a kid.

whats worth more?

When we grew up we hardly had any swimming costumes to choose from. You just went to some sports store and picked yourself a costume. I used to swim regularly in Dubai, that is till the third standard. When we shifted to India we stopped swimming. No club, no pool. One big posh building (Avanti) in the locality had a swimming pool which was empty. They repaired it a few years later and started it, but it was out of bounds for outsiders. The only accessible pool was the municipal pool at Shivaji park, which was some distance away.

As a kid I went into the pool but I hadn’t really properly learnt swimming. So after a long time when I finally went swimming with my friend at the Avanti swimming pool, I realised I had completely forgotten to swim. I used to do some variation of the underwater stroke or something, which just about kept me afloat. So there was no swimming for me for many years. Till one day V-inu and I in the first year of college (F.Y.B.COM) decided to swim properly at the Shivaji Park pool. We figured out when the forms come out (once a year), got the forms, filled it in and started swimming. We saw what the coaches taught and learnt that one has to hold the sides of the pool and splash ones legs to learn to float. So we sat and splashed. Slowly we figured what we thought was free style and swam.

We also had started doing odd jobs as sales promoters. One assignment was at the defense canteen. So there we used our contact we had built up and I remember buying for myself a swimming costume. A defense canteen would have heavily discounted stuff, thanks to the non-applicability of taxes. I don’t remember the brand but it was some home grown, possibly Jalandar made brand. I don’t remember too well, but I think I couldn’t afford and hence did not even dream of buying swimming goggles or a swim cap. I did try and buy ear plugs but quickly released that they didn’t help a bit. Speedo was a brand that was not available in India and was something I could only drool over. OOO… Speedo swimming wear.

So when Jispa started swimming seriously we went and picked Speedo swimming costumes. They were an upgrade from her home grown ‘mad max’ or some brand like that swimming costume.Speedo. Wow. She had not one but three speedo swimming costumes. When you go for competitive swimming, you change your costumes after every race so that you can remain nice and dry while you await your race. Speedo costumes, cap, goggles. Not bad eh! Till recently we realised that even Speedo is not it. Now Jispa is a walking talking Arena billboard. She prefers that material over Speedo. Slowly we are seeing Arena  taking over. Speedo seems to only stock during the summers. Most sport shops are out of stock of Speedo or any decent swimwear the rest of the year. Whereas Arena is slowly building credence with the serious swimmers. This is a serious marketing lesson. In the last three four years, I have noticed suddenly Arena swim wear on the bodies of the athletes. This has an effect greater that what we can imagine. If the champions in the pool start wearing Arena, then the others will slowly see and realize that Arena is ‘real’ swim wear what champions wear. Even the casual swimmer will see this and slowly gravitate towards Arena. Speedo is in real danger in Mumbai at least of being the lower performing swimwear brand.

This emulation effect is larger than we realize. Big brands have understood this and that’s why you see the bad rush to pay obscene amounts of money to make champions wear your brand on the stage. But what Speedo is failing to see, is the fact that there are champions in every small nook and corner. The classic marketing case of Arena having really high end swimwear in stock, which probably doesn’t sell at all but defiantly has a strong rub off for the more boring models. They sponsor the Otter club meet where they have a stall. I glanced through the selection and quickly ran out of there when I saw my costumes for two thousand bucks. Hah! One other parent told me, forget that. There was a kid’s model for 12 thousand bucks. A high end costume which has to be worn in a particular manner. It probably took around 15 minutes just to wear it. Oh come on.

Then we got talking and I realized some kid champions were wearing real high end costumes, costing upwards of twenty thirty thousand rupees! Oh dam you. Some real special fast costumes. These costumes I had read reduce your drag and help you swim faster. The net effect would be something like one tenth of a second at best. One tenth! In these club meets and state meets, timings are taken by hand held stop watches. There are two time keepers for every race and then timings are taken at the end. One tenth of a second is the easily human error in the stop watch, it surely is not what the kid needs for now.

The most of the timing improvement at this age is not the equipment but strokes. The right strokes help you slash off seconds. Your improvement is measured in seconds. The coach works on this every day. For Jispa the coaching fees are around 900 bucks a month for 5 one hour evening turns and 3 one and a half hour morning turns. From which the gymkhana keeps a cut and shares the rest with the coach. For a coach that produces state and national champions, it’s hardly any fees. Jasmine and I find it really cheap.

The coach has a strict policy of not accepting any extra gifts or money. They refuse any attempt by the parents to give them anything.  They are extremely sweet. This year the club decided to honor them at a party (tomorrow) and the mothers are using this as an opportunity to collect and give a cash envelope with the felicitation. It interesting to see the reactions of the mothers and others while the hat gets passed around. For me the coach is paramount. I hold him in the highest esteem. It because of him that we are around. They make or break us. We did not know Jispa would swim so well. We had no dream about her swimming prowess. The coach has dreamt of her victory. We can only be grateful. I never had any sport coach. I value them immensely.

While we were have the discussion on expensive costumes I wryly remarked – ‘we can pay 30 thousand for a swimming costume that saves us one tenth of a second but we don’t pay much for the coach who helped our kid cut 20 seconds to start with’. It’s embarrassing for me to have Jispa’s swim bag contain equipment that is worth almost twice as much as what the coach makes from teaching Jispa in a year. Whats worth more?

Because its there

On Saturday Jispa had her sports day. She is a nice light tall runner. I have a lot of problems with her running style but have learnt not to correct them. She seems to be jumping around taking strides longer than natural. I think she loses too much energy and effort in her bid to run faster. But nevertheless – she struck three golds. The max possible. The 50 meter dash, 200 M and the relay.
A few weeks back, she told us that from this year onwards she has a 200M race. It involves a circular track and she was wondering why not all the kids start on the same line. I explained the dynamics of length alongside a curve to her. I also told her that for her good, its probably the best thing to be at the innermost circle. This way, she would always be trying to catch up and suddenly on the last curve she would turn the fastest and find herself in an amazing lead. Being on the outer curve gives the illusion on being in the lead at the start and one could possibly slow down.
When we saw the race on Saturday, we realized that the 200M race allowed for lane change from the start itself. They only gave curved starting line a la the 1500M race. But she was still starting from the inside lane and she ran well to win. She tailed till around the 100M mark, which was more due to the staggered starting line than anything else. Pretty cool. She also ran the first leg of the relay to give her team a good lead which they comfortably held on to, actually increased it, till the end.
Then came the father’s events. I had my knee jammed a few weeks back playing squash. It’s an old injury which somehow came back to haunt me. Basically I twisted my right knee and my ligaments became loose. I had been half nursing the knee. A few days back Jasmine asked me if I was participating and I said no way. She seemed cock sure I would be. She asked me a couple of time more in the days coming upto the event. She did seem a bit eager. On the event day she even kept abreast of the schedule. She seemed so keen that I decided to run. Love is blind and combined with vanity it is completely stupid. Wearing my knee cap I trudged towards the starting line. Ready to run dude. Ready to run. The heart rate moves up a bit in anticipation. The Mind is focused on the finishing line. You take the track line that seems to offer less gravel. It’s a relatively less crowded line. I began observing how the guy was giving the clap. What is the giveaway. As he is about to slap the boards he first takes them slightly away before bringing them together. That’s your cue. That split second gives you the start faster than others. Impossible to catch and perfectly legal. Your muscles just push the ground a spit second faster. I pushed off the starting line. Legs pushing up and hitting the ground hard. Only the ball of the foot and toes hitting the ground. I was in a comfortable lead. Running hard, I felt an effortless glide. It was one of my best runs. I was enjoying every moment of it. Half way through I could see no one beside me, and I also contemplated slowing down for the final leg, till I felt a twitch. My knee. Dam. My knee. The muscles had come lose around it. STOP. There is no glory in walking out of the stadium in a crutch. I stopped and walked off the track. I did it. I screwed my knee completely.
No regrets though. I started well, I ran really nice and I would have won. That’s all I need. And in the process I just pushed my knee recovery a few weeks. Worth it. In mind I stay on as the fastest father. What else do I need? A little bit of prudence, possibly? Next time.
Winning at 36 feels good. When I entered college I was 58kgs with a 28 inch waist. I feel ill often enough. I had no muscles and a really wiry frame. My god I was a thin weakly child. I loved sports but wasn’t fit enough to follow through on it. It’s taken a lot many years to come to a winning position. In my cricket team there is a player who even played Ranji in his heyday. He is now a pale shadow, he put on weight and I outscore him. I got a bit better over the years and the others simply deteriorated. For some people life blooms late.
I never thought I would swim, play squash, cricket or run this much, so late in my life… and actually be half decent at it. It’s a dream I am living. And so when people asked me after the event why did I run, or why would I want to spend half the day in a hot sun laying cricket, or why would I get into the pool early morning in the cold. What can I tell them? What answer do I give?
George Mallory is famously quoted as having replied to the question "Why do you want to climb Mount Everest?" with the retort "Because it's there", which has been called "the most famous three words in mountaineering. I guess no one will understand a real reason and this is the best answer to give.
I play because is there to play. I run because I have legs to run.