breathe easy kid

Yesterday Jispa wanted to talk to us regarding her education and the colleges she wanted to take admission in after finishing her 12^th here. As parents this has been a reasonably tough ordeal. Understanding which colleges are good and which ones are not so.  Which subjects she wants to take up and which subject she wants to graduate in.

This is obviously so new for us. The expenses are tremendous and could potentially destroy the family budget and a few years ago, I had no clue how I would ever be able to even afford something like this. We thought a lot about it, and I have had such swinging opinions on this. When the discussion first came up, I was clear. There would be an ROI attached to this. I would give / rather loan her the money and then she would have to return it back to her mom in some way over the years.

I was clear at the time. going abroad was no small thing. It was meant to be a big investment. I would only allow it if it was the big universities that I could name. I would only allow US. It would only be if she is take up a STEM stream or a medicine or something in which she would be able to rise and make a mark for herself and such. I wasn’t going to spend that money on small education.

Over these years we have grown much smarter about the process and the whole big decision. So when yesterday she asked us that she needs to speak to us, we were much prepared. Jasmine and I have had so many conversations on this. It helped us clear our minds and take a bit of a relaxed approach. Having a sensible conversation with her school counsellor helped as did taking to sensible people who have done the same before.

Yesterday while talking to her we laid out the rules. Number 1 – go study but study what you want to and what you feel most passionate about. If sports science is right now your passion, then sports science is what you should do. Go and study sports science. Don’t bother about your job, your pay, your prospects. Follow the love of your life. If today I had to live my life again, I would have studied History and Anthropology. I would have never done commerce and accounting. Whatst he worst that would happen? You will come back to India. You are better than 99.9% Indians and I cant vouch for that. You will do well for sure. Suppose you come here, you can work with lots of aspiring atheletes and work with them and take them to the next level. Sure the monies wont be that great and that you will have to live with your parents for a bit but who says that you would not be successful. Once Jasmine’s uncle gave me a piece of advice that I did not pay heed to but I now agree. Naukari – no kari. It means  - job – never do.

He said that he ate bananas for lunch but he refused to take up a job. He set up his own business. I think if I would have set up my own business, I surely would have been successful in whatever I would have done over a period of time. I could have been successful as a 22 year old starting off or a 30 year old or a 40 year old. I am betting that I will be a successful 50 year old man as well when I start. Right now, I have ideas buzzing but I am not pushing for them as I can’t afford it.

As a businessperson when I was young, I couldn’t fail and that meant I could not start. That’s why I started working on a job and a corporate career. For you, you don’t have that silly thing holding you back. You can start slow, do what you love. You don’t have to be independent. DO whatever you love and if you are smart you will be successful. It may take time, but you will get there soon enough. If its what you love you won’t bother.

What’s the worst that can happen. You come back to India and you do an MBA. You follow my footsteps and get a job in India. That’s also not so bad. You can start your life this way. Who cares. You just might have to stay in my house longer than you care for. That’s it. So when you are choosing your college – take the subject you want and see if they offer it. Go to the UK, Canada, US or Australia but please do what you want and try for the best school that will offer you that specialisation. After that – you hate your subject – change it. But please study what you want to and not what you have to. I don’t need your money. I need you to be happy.

That was quite a speech. Its amazing how my attitudes changed. I just want her to study well in the field that she chooses. I think that if you do that, you will enjoy the rest of your life. I was lucky I found marketing in my life later. I think I was good at this and I kind of love what I do. Its fun.

These days I am in charge of a sales team directly and I am trying to get them to run. Trying to understand the complexities and giving them the ammunition to attack. Its going to be fun.

This is when work doesn’t feel like work. It feels more fun. That keeps me going. I can take more shit around the work and the people that come with it. Because its fun and you can escape all that by working on more fun things to be done while working. That’s what I love.

Coming to which I came across a term called email apnea. It seems that people stop breathing or have shallow breaths when answering emails or texts. That’s right. This is a scientific thing. “Salzberg talked about email apnea (or screen apnea), a finding by Linda Stone, a writer, researcher, and former executive at Apple and Microsoft . Stone noticed that a majority of people (possibly eighty percent) unconsciously hold their breath, or breathe shallowly, when responding to email or texting.”

“…that holding one’s breath contributes to stress-related diseases and disturbs the body’s balance of oxygen, carbon dioxide, and nitric oxide, which help keep the immune system strong, fight infection, and mediate inflammation. It can affect our well-being and our ability to work effectively. Shallow breathing can also trigger a sympathetic nervous system “fight or flight” response. If we stay in this state of emergency breathing and hyperarousal for extended periods of time, it can not only impact sleep, memory, and learning, but also exacerbate anxiety and depression.”

https://www.psychologytoday.com/intl/blog/the-art-now/201411/email-apnea

This is serious. I see this in myself. I have to try and control this. This also happens while TEXTING. I think we need to breathe a lot more while working. I need to breathe while thinking, talking and working in general. Luckily I have this condition that any stress reflects in my lower back and it starts acting up. I have learnt to immediately start breathing and it goes away. Remember to breathe.

After the chat with Jispa, I was so happy and proud of what Jasmine and I had become as parents. We could finally allow Jispa’s wings to pop out unfettered. It was just beautiful. I could say what I could because we have had so many conversations on this. Quite bedside conversations on what on earth would we do? How we would go about this?

Only by having innumerable conversations, our heads turned from the transnational nature of what we were thinking to the more core learning nature of her education. Study for study sake. Because  you love the subject you should study more of it. That simple. The joy of learning.

This has helped us breathe more. And will help us breathe in easy in the future.

you made me

I am so upset right now. really really upset.

I joined Jaihind college with a lot of dreams in my head. It was the 90’s. Life was full of insecurity. Parents would urge you to study – that was the only way out of the drudgery of life. Studying gave you and opportunity like no other. In fact that’s a wrong thing… no one or rather nothing gave you an opportunity. But if you did not study you knew you had no opportunity. I joined Jai Hind college because Jasmine joined it. It’s of course not that simple. Jasmine was applying in that college and I remember the phone call clearly. I had got around the same percentage as hers and I remember asking her on the phone that if you can, surely I would as well. So that’s my thing with Jai Hind. It was in Town and there was a huge uproar from mom when I stated that I wanted to join this college. But then I have already written about this and the way my brother fought for me on this issue.

The thing is that I remember not having too much self-belief while I joined college. I was plagued by doubt. I had no clue if I could ever do anything in college and if I could do anything after college. A BCOM student would get a job worth 10K a month writing accounts. And life was not going to run on 10K a month. What was college going to give you in the end? A degree? That’s about it. Some friends who would possibly help you later in your life? Who would stand by you… just because you went through shit together. It’s not that easy. You have to be a part of the group and do shit together to really be thick with each other and keep those bonds strong. For me this was a group of a couple of friends – one of whom I married. What else would college give. Definitely not studies that were going to be useful to you later in your life.

Basically college did nothing much than serve as a social gathering spot. The only thing you learn is to be more socially acceptable. That itself requires a lot of belief which I think I had lacked. I was the confident outspoken guy but – I still never knew what I was going to do with my life. And really no one can really tell you what to do with your life. It is something that you have to get to yourself. And in this set up – suddenly a few teachers come up who decide that they want to do something about you and with you and shape you and give you belief in ways you never thought possible. I think they too did not know it as well. I am sure they knew that they were doing good for you but i am also sure they did not know how they were doing good for you.

My first interaction with Mrs Dias happened thanks to Spic Macay – it was a society for promoting classical music and culture amongst youth. They came to campus to recruit us and I happily went along as the meetings on Saturday were near home at Matunga. Mrs Dias was teaching us one of the subjects and she asked the class who would come. I also formed deeper bonds with our good friend V-inu there. There Dias nominated me to lead the Jai Hind chapter and I worked with her on the events.  This was in First year Bcom. Then next year I was the assistant secretary to  the main secretary of the Hobby Centre. I joined that just thanks to Dias. Whereever she was – I would be happy to follow. In the third year – I became the secretary of Jai Hind college Hobby Centre. This was the big high in my life. This was thanks to Dias. She would actively promote me and towards the end of the year she aske dme to fill in my achievemnets and give her. She had nominated me for the awards for the best student. Finally I did not get that one – but I got the award that said – ‘Principal’s award for extra curricular activities’. This is the second best award of the school. Ahead of the second best student of the year. It seems I missed this by just a whisker – Dias pushed my case but some teachers were not in complete favor.

More than this – I think the only thing a young student needs is some level of interaction with an understanding adult. An adult who believes in him and his abilities. Who simply pushes you by giving you responsibility and freedom and the willingness to back you.  This was in many ways what Dias did. She only backed me – that’s all. She backed me with the complete trust that she had and that made me better. Simple. She was the anchor  of my college life. What she said or what she believed of me or simply what I thought she thought of me itself gave me a lot of confidence. More than anything its self-belief that helps. As a young growing teen, you know you have in you. You know that life will figure out right and that life is full of hardships and uncertainty – the fact that a teacher of yours thinks you are cool and you are ok, this is something that you hold on to when you step out of college. This counts for a lot.

Now after 20 years, I would claim to have said that I have reasonably turned out well. I haven’t sold my company for a 100 crores or anything like that but I am there – achieved whatever I have and most importantly I have self belief. When I look back at the professors who believed in me – Prof Dias stands out. I love her dearly and really wish her well. last week – she passed away. I came ot know of this yesterday. Even thinking about it makes me upset – really upset. Tears well up and I cant feel happy. She had more belief in me than my parents. She was the pillar and the anchor. She was amazing. She cared about me. At the time I was going around with Jasmine and she just gave both of us equal work. She accepted our relationship as casually as ever. Only at the end after I had passed out , she asked me once – do your parents know. By then they did. She was the best. Jasmine and me pooled in some money and we bought her some small gold ear rings. We wanted to show her we loved her. We invited her to our marriage and were so happy she came. She finally retired as the vice principal of the college. She was very dear to me.

I think when you are reasonably successful you luck back at the times when you weren’t so and think a bit. At the time you were a piece of shit but some people trusted you, believed in you or were your friends. They were there with you at the start. They don’t care about where you are right now. These professors and friends are something I value the most. Now at 40 – I am at an age that I see death and I am none too wiser. I understand this inevitability but as I just realized – I can’t really be unaffected by it. I am that emotional. Possibly I am what I cannot understand myself to be.

Professor Dias – you shaped me in a way you cannot imagine. Your belief in me helped me push harder. You trusted me when many wouldn’t. I don’t want this occasion to thank others. There have been others but there has been none like you. Jasmine and me both owe you a lot. Thank you.

I hope to be a better teacher and a better human. I hope to give that what you gave me to others who possibly seek it from me. That would be my ultimate tribute to you.

I am upset but this piece makes me feel better. A little lighter. I have done my crying. I am a little stronger.

before you run, choose your race

“You know dad, boys are really irritating”. It’s that age when the boys and the girls really absolutely hate each other. Different things to do, different likes, dislikes, sports... everything. They just don’t see eye to eye on anything. Girls still have a sense of propriety, while the boys will go out of their way to disrupt any semblance of order. The way they react to situations is completely different. So I wasn’t surprised when Jispa told me that she found them painful. “Dad, we had a science lab experiment today and we were two girls and two boys. The boys just did nothing and fooled around while we two girls managed the experiment. It was so irritating.”. “Ah, yes, you know how boys are. Ignore them.”. “no. But they got all the credit for doing no work. It’s so unfair. That’s not right.”

“hah! Jispa understand the game. Right now the boys did not study or perform the experiment. They learnt nothing from it. You learnt from the experiment. You performed it and you understood it. They not only fooled around but they also got marks for it so their parents will never know that they fooled around. After wards when you go for a job, and you are competing with them, who do you think will get the job? You who understood what you did or they who did not understand. It’s in fact a good thing for you. The more people fool around the less competition you have later in life. In fact you WANT them to fool around. And GET marks for it so that they don’t realize it and improve.” The penny dropped. “Understand Jispa which race you want to win. Now or later”.

Now that’s a controversial bit of advice to give. I would normally say that one must be sweet and nice and share. I still believe that it’s important to share. I still am not telling her to be a bad person. Just telling her that every time things are not what they seem. It’s about perspective. Long run short term. What’s your perspective? And how an irritating boy who seems to be having all the fun is good for you.

I told her about one incident in college I am not likely to forget. It was b school and we had a project to get done. I was in a team with a guy and two other girls. Like usual no one really worked on the project. But the chicks worked without telling us and suddenly one day they told us that since we did not work on the project, they kicked us out. Fair. No issues on that front. I guess they were right in their way. But I was in the lurch. So I went to another guy, I think he name was Acquino or something like that. I explained my situation and he promptly took me in and convinced other team members to take me. After a few years I went out of my way to help him professionally. I met his boss and gave him strategic gyan and other information, just because it was him. I told his boss as much as well. Acquino thanked me and I told him that I merely returning his favour.

So I explained to Jispa – see what happened. There are two points to gain from being relaxed and r chilled. Selfishly it helps you both ways. So why unnecessarily stress yourself out. Let the boys remain dumb. Choose which race you want to win and then act. I think she got it.

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.

slice of life

This was at our hotel in Kaziranga, Assam. Here, this sect of Hindus pray to Vishnu/ Krishna but don’t have an idol. Their simple temples in the houses just have the ceremonial text from which they pray. It sounds like a nice bhajan. Very sweet nice and simple. This man comes in the evening and sings a lovely song.

Privileges come in many forms. Here the cabin guys (read me) gets a ‘whiter’ plate to have lunch than the rest. How brahaminical is our thought process? Segregation must be a genetic thing.

And this one – Jispa asked to be do something funny with the sauce this time around. Do you think I take her too seriously?

This is exactly why I like to teach in graduate colleges. One false step and you will also be similarly screwed.

butterflies

Change is a constant yet we are scared of it. In b school, we had an organisational behaviour professor – Deosthali. Over smart guy. He was a good guy but he tried be over smart. He taught the first lecture and then he told us to form groups and gave us all one chapter to make a presentation. That way the portion is done. Smart ass. He did some over smart for the exams. I don’t remember what, but something he announced and the students just lost it. We staged a revolt.
In class there were two natural hotheads with natural ‘leadership’ abilities. One was yours truly and the other was a guy called suraj. He was from Delhi and made a big noise about how he was a great gift as he was from Doon school. Not too popular but he had a tough streak in him. I too was an ass with a large ego. Naturally we both did not get along and rarely spoke to each other. I think it was as a result of a silly altercation which I don’t even remember.
So this time Suraj took on the mantle and revolted. He got the students all roused up. But there was one hitch. Would I support him? I was the second hot head and he needed me to be there. I could easily move opinion the other way and he revolt would not be unanimous. It would have been seen as a one faction tirade or something.
These developments happened over the evening and I came to know of it the next day morning. We did not have internet or mobiles you see.
The bets thing was that I did not know of anything. Anything as in – I did not know that students looked up to me. I was seen as some kind of leader, or that my opinion counted. I was possibly to busy preening my mane or something. I knew I was a good speaker and in B schools you are known by your presentation skills, which I had in plenty. So I walk in to college to see a bunch of students rushing to me to explain things. They spoke about how Suraj has led the revolt and how he met the dean and blah blah. And today the dean has called all the students along with the prof in question. Ok. So? So will you support Suraj? Will you be there? They wanted to know.
Ok I hated Suraj but the answer to me was simple. Sure I will be there. I might have been an egoistical maniac but I was definitely not political. Thank god for small things. Having ang an ego is enough. Having a political bone on top would be disaster. Everybody was relieved. So many came up and thanked me for supporting the cause. Everybody seemed to know I hated Suraj. And that he hated me. But that was all superficial hate. It’s not like he was sworn enemy. Silly people.
So we led a mass unified revolt. I helped him gather the crowd and got the prof kicked out. People kept thanking me and I heard stories of how Suraj orchestrated the whole thing and was worried that I would not support it and he would get victimised if the uprising failed. Hah! I couldn’t even think that far. It was only after the incident I realised that I had some influence on the batch. I might have been too busy fighting my own insecurities to even notice.
But whats that got to do with change. That prof had taken one lecture at the start. He spoke about change. He spoke about how change is something we are all scared of. How the fear of the unknown is greater than the fear of the known. How the greatest scare is when you don’t know how your dad will react, will he slap you or scold you. If you know you will get a scolding or a slap its easier, but anticipating the shit is the toughest.
In 8th standard I wanted a cycle and something led to something and I got promised a cycle if I crack a certain percentage in class. I think it was 75%. Wow. So I did not really end up studying anymore, but I ended up praying more. Like all good religious boys I guess. This was the second unit test and not the final exams. We kept getting the papers. In the hindi lecture the prof walked in and gave out the hindi papers. Out of a 40 mark paper I saw my scores and my heart jumped out. It was a 11. THAT WAS A FAIL. Forget the 75%. I failed in the unit test. The only time in my life. I failed a test. Man. That was the biggest disaster in my history as a student. I was so shit scared. I tried to explain to the teacher about something in the paper that could get me more marks. H brushed me aside and did not want to even consider. This was the male prof from the heartland. They were always more irritating than the sweeter Mumbai female teachers. I couldn’t believe that he did not even consider that how I, a normally bright student could fail. It did not matter to him.
I think I cried and I cant even describe what I felt. I knew what was shit I would get at home. I reached home and sat in one corner all quiet. I started to hit my desk and study. Now that was the most abnormal thing in the world to do. That was a give away. Dad was at home. In some time I gathered courage to tell him. I still remember the moment when I spoke to him. He got so pissed. One lesson I learnt that when shit happens to your kid, think a bit before you scold. The kid is feeling like real shit in any case. I probably needed a hug more than I needed a scolding. That would have been equally effective.
Needless to add my cycle dreams went poof for the time being. And my prof was right. Waiting for the reaction is worse than the reaction. I think he also said – change causes stress. Man will change when the stress associated with the status quo is greater than the stress associated with change. I have remembered his words though I have been instrumental in kicking him out. Only if he decided to use his brains to teach us properly instead taking the short cut. I have tried to think about it all the time. I try to change and accept it and even look for it. Change is a constant but it is also an essential for growth. Growth is a given.
Right now I am looking at change in the face. I am moving to a new role. It is something I have pushed for and lobbied for. Yet when it happens, the butterflies get activated. Slowly they pop out of the pupa and make their presence felt. Over time I have learnt enough to control them, to understand them and to tackle them. But have I managed to eliminate them. Not a chance.

the joy of listening

On Sunday, I had a lecture to give at the college I teach. It being a rainy day I had left well in advance. We wouldn’t want the professor to be late on his first lecture do we? What message do we send out? Hence I ended up being an hour early. As a backup I taken a book along that I had an opportunity to read at the college. Sitting on the steps at the entrance it was good fun to read a book. I was well sheltered from the almond tree. The almond fruit had come close and it kept dropping from the tree, one every minute. At first I thought it was the crows or some other birds that kept eating and throwing them down, but on closer inspection I figured it was just the rain and wind pushing the ripe fruits. They were squashed exactly on the side they fell. It was quite nice, sitting at the college steps on a Sunday, reading a nice book, mild rains and the fruit dropping. The only thing wrong was the horrible ready mix tea that I was having. Sweet and completely off taste. Ready mix tea is the most horrible thing ever. No wonder at many meetings the guests ask if we can serve brewed tea as opposed to machine tea. Complete rubbish. I guess the companies don’t realize that they are turning generations off by giving them bad tea and they will probably never be able to savor the aroma of good tea, thereby helping them cultivate the taste. Short term thinking at its best.
I got talking to the security guard at the steps. The college I teach is the same one I went to and most support staff would know and recognize me. This guy though came in after my time. he knows me as the professor and not a student. He confirmed with me what he had heard... I was indeed from the college. Some other peon had told him so.
Over the years I have perfected the art of prodding and listening and challenging. Speaking to people about their job gives me immense pleasure. They are obviously best placed to talk the most and with authority on what they do every day for a living. Hearing their life, anecdotes, learnings, experiences enriches me immensely.
Pushing him a bit I learnt that on one of the floors there was a session happening for some Landmark. I had no clue. He was explaining some of the stuff he saw – different things happen there. Many people come there to improve their lives. They talk and try and ‘rehabilitate’ people. He said that one of the drivers had told him that his boss had completely changed after attending this session. He was a guy who would finish his work and then roam around till 3 am in bars and have a colorful night life. But the forum helped him change his ways and he now heads home post his work. Another thing was that during the three day seminar during lunch break, everybody would come out and would be making calls to their near and dear ones. They would be crying and apologizing and be completely emotional. No one would be in any mood to eat but will be supporting each other. Another instance was of a kid who had come with his dad. The kid after some time walked out and told his dad that he is not going to be any part of this forum. He was not going to talk about his issues in front of strangers. In a bid to convince him, another uncle asked him if he knew where he was heading next year? To which the kid responded saying he hasn’t seen the next year and no one has. Who knows what the circumstances will be. Stop planning or thinking. As in Hindi they say – kal kisne dekha hai? He wondered and I concurred, what would the caliber of the person addressing these seminars that he would have such a powerful effect on the people. I wonder… though I am not convinced that this is for me, it seems to be making some progress with a lot others. Probably I am too arrogant to accept or I probably have never seen the other side. It seems to be giving some people a lot of hope or direction.
We quickly moved on to another topic. He was explaining that kids don’t wear their i-cards to college. The i-cards are now giving out corporate style. They have a lanyard attached to them. He was also lamenting that there is no real way to verify the kids faces from the icards. Especially the girls. He said that if he had a closer look at the photos he risks a complaint being filed by the girls on harassment.
I wish the college simply heard all the constituents while designing different rules and regulations. The lanyard is an ugly looking thing. Anything that one wears, one is quite choosy. As it reflects one self expression. I don’t blame the kids for not wanting to wear that horrible plastic piece. The icard itself is ugly looking and the lanyard leaves no scope for self expression. The same problem is in office. People don’t wear the company giving icards. Once we had an external event and designed icards with different lanyards for the event. At some events we did nice two toned ones and at other we did different colors. We had a few left over and I was wearing a new color every day. Soon enough I had enough people asking me, accosting me at the aisles for one for them. Quickly I was down to one. Some of them were the ones who never wore any icard but were now flaunting theirs thanks to a new ‘different’ lanyard. Another killer app was that this lanyard had a clip on it. So you could wear it by clipping it like a necklace as opposed to putting it over your head, risking you spoiling your hair style. Simple innovation working for you.
Its surprising that we miss the obvious. We do all sorts of things and campaign to get people to wear the icard but problem lies elsewhere. Once we recognize that the icard if worn is as much a tool of self expression then we will change our mentality towards it. I bet that far beyond getting compliance, I can get enough students to pay a hundred bucks to pick from a lanyard of their style. Different colored ones, some with beads, some with badges or some thick, some thin. I also bet that most students will end up with more than one purchase in a year. Compliance will go up, coolness will happen. Hmmm. It’s an interesting project to take up.
I am so much in love with this idea, that one I even told the corporate CSR about it. They have a problem getting employees to sign on the Corporate Social Responsibility platform. They even have a problem with employees at blood donation drives. My recommendation was that every person who signed up or donated got this sexy new lanyard that was different from the rest. It not only gave instant gratification that showed him in a new light but also helped be a walking talking ambassador for you activities. The best way to spread good is the demonstration effect. Then later you could always add on badges that he could put on his lanyard for all the great stuff he contributes to the larger cause. But then… sigh… never mind. I will use this idea once… somewhere else. .. some other time.

move on

‘We never had it this easy’ the dreaded 6 words strung together in a highly prejudiced sentence invariably followed by the slightly haughty ‘we had it much tougher than you’. All parents have remarked the same in many ways. Some in anger, some in nostalgia some merely reminiscing
Ever successive generation would have things given to them on a platter, things that the previous generation struggled for, never got and in many cases never imagined. My grandfather cycled his way from one village to another to get schooled and he came all the way to Mumbai to get his doctors degree. I am sure he faced far more hardships getting to an education compared to what Jispa is facing. Seeing her schooling I feel she is sleeping on a bad of roses. We had 52-55 kids in a class, compared to her 32. That’s just the starting point.
One of the biggest ones I keep telling young kids is the brilliance of the internet. I got through school, college and horror of horrors, B school, without the fun of the internet. How on earth we did our research? How did we submit all those reports? Did we type all them? Actually type them? The biggest achievement was getting through B school without CCP… cut copy paste. We did projects the good old way. Once the projects were announced we would run to the library and try and get in line to get the books issued. There were a limited set of books there and only the fastest five to hit the library would get their hands on them. Then you read them, makes notes on another paper, write down the page numbers separately, Xerox the correct pages and distribute them among your team. Then we start making the report. Two of us would book the computer room time and one would dictate and the other would type. We barely knew how the QWERTY keyboard and we slowly managed to finish the project. Then at the end make a presentation. That too was done on over head transparency projector (OHP). What is that? It’s as below. You write on a thin clear sheet of plastic (called acetates) with OHP markers. Then you cover the points that you want hidden by a piece of a paper and slowly display them one at a time. Oh those were the days! :)
But the nostalgia trip was sparked out by an interesting happening. Jispa was down with typhoid till last week. As a part of her inoculations she had got her typhoid shots when she was much younger. Hence the typhoid she got was much milder than normal. This is similar to the chicken pox she had. A much milder outbreak. At first I couldn’t believe its typhoid. Just a not so high fever and headache. I was sure its flu and so was the doctor. Only when the fever relapsed on reducing medication did we go for the medical test which showed a minor hit of typhoid. The anti biotic course kicked in and she was fever free instantly. But she had to be at home for a week to rest. She started school this Monday.
At the end of it I was like – that’s it? that’s all she got for typhoid? Just fever! I remember vomiting my guts out when I got it. Very high fever, couldn’t eat anything, nothing stayed in the stomach too long. I remember Sleeping with a bucket next to me so that I could instantly throw up and not dirty everything on the way to the bathroom. Eesh. My stomach would hurt, my head would hurt, and the fever would give me horrible horrible dreams. Oh it was one long night mare. My blood test had come out a little complicated and we had to call in a specialist who in those days came in wearing a blazer. Hah! Twenty years ago he charged 500 bucks to come home and diagnose it and he put me on an antibiotic which was relatively new – Cifran 500. Yes, I remember the name very clearly. The medicine was something like ciprofloxacin, if I got that right. That was also expensive and my parents wondered if they should administer such a new tough and harsh antibiotic to me. Also I remember the thing that was scaring people – ‘dombivili fever’ which was similar to the typhoid thing. So I got administered the drug and I made a slow painful recovery.
I am glad that Jispa did not have to go through what I did. There has to be some benefit to progress. I am glad for her, and I am glad for us. Parents go through shit when child is unwell and more so when the child is younger. It’s impossible to do anything or understand much. Though Jispa normally has been much better and articulate about where its hurting, exactly what’s happening but still as a parent it feels so helpless to merely look on and wait for the medicine to kick in.
It is a growth process for all of us. We all come out stronger and smarter. I hope. Amen.

oh what feeling

Saturday I took my last class for the BMS batch that I was teaching. Next semester onwards it will be a new set of kids. It has been quite a ride of sorts for me. For the two semesters that taught them I only took a small part of their portion but I guess I was able to throw some light on the most important part of marketing – research. This is something that is important for any function. In variably in corporate life you see tons of statistics that people put in their presentations. Not understanding research is a severe limiting factor while understanding these presentations.
One example was I think two years back. The company had commissioned a 360 degree feedback. While my results were being discussed with me, I could point at least 4 to 5 fundamental issues with eth survey that put it at risk to being analysed correctly. Even the consultant had no idea what hit him. I don’t think he had figured about the bias that had crept into the analysis. Very silly.
That’s what I tried teaching these guys. Have an open mind, understand the bias in a survey, understand methodology and listen to the respondent and then make your intelligent analysis. Just because a bias has crept into the survey is no reason why you must throw out the survey. You must merely read the survey while understanding in your mind the bias that could have gotten in. It’s really not that complicated doing research. Just an open mind and commonsense. Also thanks to the subject, I had to go through quite a few intellectual papers and recommend them. Also I realised the lovely effects of giving a paper and then taking a test on it before I start explaining it. most of these are self explanatory papers, with anyone with half a mind can decipher. The trick is in getting these guys to read them. So I merely made a small test on them and explained the papers while discussing the answers. Very useful.
Also this batch seemed to be more important to me as I got back to teaching after a longish break. For some reason I felt a connect with this bunch. Good bunch of guys. So when at the last I closed the class, I was a bit overwhelmed with the emotion and show of love from the class. Hugs and thanks all around.
The joy you feel on successful completion of a course, especially if it’s mentally draining is quite a bit. There was a weird type of joy I felt. I felt pangs of sadness as well. But I surely did revel in the outpouring of love. It was something else. I guess kids are simple things after all. Treat them with love and respect and get the same in return. There is nothing to it.

Here is part of the batch. Its a special one. (though I suspect that I will fell like this with all my batches when I take their last lecture)

The next part of the fun will start now. I will meet them in different places, in malls, in shops, in theatres etc. I will recognise some, some will look familiar and some will go SSSIIIIIIRRRRRRR. Meeting them is always good fun. Then suddenly they will introduce me to their mom and dad if they are around. This is the ‘Jaimit Sir’ that I told you about. Typically the parents will first think that I am just an acquaintance and then on being introduced will go ‘oh’. A little more respect will follow and sometimes a namaste. I see the respect suddenly grow. Full time pass it is. This is hardly a ego booster, but the love and comments that come in from the kids… now that’s a real ego booster.
I don’t think it’s easy to understand this. I don’t my family or friends can understand this. Jasmine is merely used to this. Meeting students in vague places. But I think the real warm feeling in my heart that makes it all worthwhile is indescribable and so very internal. I have been floating on mercury since Saturday. What was that density number – it was 13.6 something per somethingI think

many idoits

I had seen 3 Idiots over the weekend. It’s quite a cute funny movie but quite frankly I cant quite agree with eth gush of compliments that its been receiving. I for one found it a bit too preachy. Surely the actors have done a great job but the script was not as great as I thought it would be. They even incorporated a huge bunch of internet jokes doing the rounds. But this is not a blog about movies. I leave that for the experts.
Watching 3 idiots one big growing up grouse came to my mind. Letters to family and remarks for the parents to sign off. This was the single biggest stress tool that the school used to get the child to be disciplined. I so freaking hated it. The shame associated with it was so large and the scare that one would have trying to anticipate the parents reaction. It is so freaking silly. Talking in class – bad remark, not in line – bad remark, did not do homework – bad remark, your partner broke the lab equipment – bad remark, eating in class – bad remark… and this one was my favourite.. I got a rap for being too enthusiastic in class. The teachers got some real pleasure in calling parents to class and in the principal’s office and making them cry and plead. It was a ego boosting ceremony. If the child smashed your ego, get the parents to set it right. Can’t you solve the freaking problem yourself? Aren’t you like paid and qualified to deal with children, without getting their parents involved.
My dad was once called into school. The reason was that I was arguing with the teacher. I was right (at least I thought so) and that the teacher was needlessly picking on me. This was in ninth standard. I had a higher sense of right and wrong versus some other students and I was a rebel to start with. Always inspired by Gandhi and other Amar Chitra Katha characters, I would not stand for something that I did not believe in, which I knew to be wrong. So I stood ground and entered into a verbal duel. The teacher did the next thing, call you father. I want to speak to him. This time I was not scared. I was right. I chatted with my dad. He heard me and did the best thing he should have. He explained to me while I might have been right it is improper to argue like that with the teacher. He came in and had a nice conversation with the teacher and closed the issue.
I don’t expect Jispa to be scared of me while doing some kidas in school and college. That cannot be her stick for discipline. Missing a homework assignment can’t be a reason for a scolding. Talking in class? Go ahead… arguing with authority – be smart about it. I would like her to do what she wants to. This is obviously not a blanket approval for her to do anything but it is an assertion that I am surely not scolding her for minor deemed transgressions. Especially when it comes to basic schooling and studies. Fiddling with substances – no that a serious issue. Holding hand with boyfriend? – come sit down, let me tell you what all I did.
These sound simplistic, especially when you have a relatively milder kid in the form of Jisa. She typically has no issue with authority (so far) and does not really test parenting. Who knows what happens when the tide changes. Sometimes parents would need to assert themselves more strongly. I only hope that I think through before I do that. I only hope I am aware of the environment when I take these calls. I hope I first see what was my fault in all this, what was the teachers fault and how we can first correct ourselves. I have seen enough of parents and teachers punishing children what I essentially see as their fault. Most of the time it’s a tripartite responsibility.
But of course, life in educational institutes seem to have moved on in some places and have retained their ‘culture’ in others. Her schooling has been a lot more evolved that what I had. And I hope her college had evolved as well. Even in my management college one of the profs wanted to scare us telling he will write letters to parents. To such characters, and those that will come in my daughter’s life, I have only one message for you – up yours.

john & chai

Whenever I get into Jaihind College to teach, I still behave like a student. I hang around the campus if I am early rather than sitting in the staff room. I still see my teachers there and am unable to sit at ease in front of them. I make a dash for the canteen and hang around there. We still have the waiters from my time there. Thirteen years on and not much seems to have changed. They got new tables and chairs but everything else remains the same. The menu is the same as well.
One of the waiters is Madan. Madan is an interesting character who always will hunker around for a tip. He would take his sweet time returning the change and you had to ask him to give it to you. The other guy Prakash was the sweet heart. I remember him trying to get us a table when the canteen was full. He would make some juniors get up just because Jasmine and I walked in. being the secretary of some club I guess helped. We weren’t goons by any stretch of imagination but the aura surely helped.
These days when I go in to canteen I still enjoy the same chana samosa. Only difference is that I can now afford the same. college life was a lesson in poverty. We always had less money and it was upto Jasmine to finance food, movies, picnics everything. She took tuitions and that was a great help.
This time around I was with a few students who were having chana samosa. The canteen gives a weird looking green chutnee along with some onions. I remember taking a few months of trepidation before I really enjoyed wolfing it down. The students were also not touching it. I said go on have it, I have been eating it since 1991 and I haven’t been worse for it. one of them looked up and said “1991, that was like since… I was born”. Huh. “you guys were born in 1991?” “yup”. Hahahahah… that’s was the year I joined college. Hehehe. I am sooo old!
Prakash these days still gets me a place to sit. I always over tip both, Madan and Prakash. Probably as a guilt alleviation mechanism. Prakash these days is called John by the college, for good reason. He is a big John Abraham fan. John was from my college. He was one batch senior to me and I guess he knew me then, or I knew him them. A lanky guy with arms all over the place and a pimple attack. He always sweet though and had no enemies. A few girls secretly liked him then as well. While no body would have ever predicted a career in movies for him for sure. He definitely had a presence in the college though. Suddenly he burst into modeling and then into movies. He’s done well especially considering I see him as the only non star family heir who has made it in recent memory. Kuduos. Coming back to Prakash. He talks about John being a student of the college all the time. When he served me chana samosa, he said that this was the same chana samosa that john had when he was in college. He keeps taking about John all the time. No wonder the kids call him John and he responds amiably. I guess if I ever came face to face with John, I’ll probably tell him about Prakash and request him to pay Prakash a visit. Not that I am likely to come across John to start with, but I no probs, I have my John and I love him.
Here is a toast to the canteen join. I ordered this as this is something V-inu used to have all the time while in college. I wonder why he couldn’t have normal tea then. But he was evolved as always… He also loved the stuff black with a slice of lime. See I told you he was evolved. I think he had lime more than milk, but still this remains an ode to old time sake. Not anything has changed, not the glass, the steel, the ceramic, nothing… one day I will flick the ensemble and take it home with me. Sitting by the window, watching the monsoon and sipping dip chai with milk.

its really wierd how I get all nostalgic about college. I really came into my own in college... but that is another story...

Jispa Speak

Jispa has been chosen for the final day final round in the elocution competition. She is quite an expressive child and this is a perfect outlet for the drama in her. The poem we chose (wrote about it earlier) has enough play for different tones and voices. It will be different from the other poems that go in a monotone… dada dada … dada dada … dada dada da. This will go slow, loud, pause, surprise… I asked her on the phone today if she remembered anyone else’s poem. She said there one poem about the pig by Roald Dahl. Its about a pig with a over sized brain it knew everything but “but in the end One question drove him round the bend: He simply couldn't puzzle out, What LIFE was really all about."
I quickly googled it as i was on the phone and read it out to her. I then asked her… see… how do I know the entire poem. She just spelt out “G…O…O…G…L…E”. hmmm, how did you know that, I asked her. She said that she too has an over sized brain like the piggy in question. Ok … you win.

On Sunday while I was taking a lecture at college, Jispa and Jasmine had planned to come in once they finished at the park. They came in at the last ten minutes of the lecture. I was my usual loud self. Jasmine remarked to Jispa – does your teacher shout like this? After the lecture as we were walking out she asked me in all earnest, “dad, when I go grow will you teach me as well?” “sure, Jispa. I am always teaching you. I am teaching you now as well.” “no, will you teach me these things that you were teaching them.” “of course, I will”. She was happy. “when you are bigger, Jispa, all you have to do is ask”.

Later another thing she told me that “papa, you are less strict than my teacher. In school if anyone talks my teacher makes them stand under the clock.” Heheh. I sure am. I didn’t tell her that if I do that my class will shift to the clock in under five minutes.

wake up jis

Wakening up on your own is a coming of age ritual. Something I am trying to find a balance with for Jispa. How do you wake up a 7 year old for school? Especially in the winter. This happens every year when the sun is in its southern sojourn. As winter solstice returns and the mornings are darker than before Jispa opens her eyes and asks irritatingly / angrily, why did you wake me up so early. Two years back it was difficult to make her understand, but its improved then on. last year I taught her the solstices and today it came to my aid. I told her… its winter now, you remember the winter solstice, nah? … huhhh… yaaa… hmmmm… ok. Then please wake up it is 6:15.
Yesterday much as I am at loathe to give it up I finally did (I think). I pulled my muscle back a bit while lifting her after the shower. So now on she is on her own after she wakes up. My job ends after wake up time.
I remember my growing up moment when I first used an alarm clock to wake me up. I remember it very clearly. I must have been 7th or 8th standard. My marathi tuition teacher had called us for extra class at 7 in the morning and I had to wake up at 6. I told mom and dad to set an alarm for me so that I can get up on my own. While mom gave me an alarm clock set to 7. Dad told me another trick. He said to bang my head on the pillow as many times as the time I wanted to wake up. I looked at him in disbelief. He said it works try it. so I banged my head on the pillow 7 times and went to sleep. Warning: children if you re reading this: do not try this at home without adult supervision.
Well I did wake up on time but the story is not about waking up. Thanks to all the excitement of growing up and the fear associated with missing the alarm I got some really horrible sleep. I kept waking up all through the night, checking the time and going back. It was a bad night that ended in relief when the alarm actually rang.
I have gone on to miss many alarms then on and catch many as well. Poor Jasmine who have to wait at the station for me early in the morning while I happily slept through the alarm. Snooze was not a popular feature on the alarms I had then I guess. I remember hearing the phone ring… oh shit… its Jasmine. This was the family land line days and not individual cell phones…get up.. rush.. Wait jasmine. I will leave now. I remember brushing, bathing, getting ready and reaching Kings Circle station in 15 minutes flat. That was fast. I used to run full speed to the station and catch the next train itself. Wow. I could run in those days. This was peak NCC days where I could just run like hell everywhere and anywhere and for whatever the distance. I practically invented parkour. Jumping over obstacles, across over bridges, across roads, vendors whatever. (kids: please read warning again). I loved running.
Jasmine even gave me an alarm clock that looked like a monkey playing the drums for a birthday. She really tried hard.

testing times

Jispa is going through her reviews at school. Now that she is in the first standard these would be her first quasi – exams. I always hated exams and I still sometimes get nightmares that I am horribily unprepared, which at many times would have been an accurate representation of reality. I wonder how I got through college passing the exams. Econometrics was a famous one. I still don’t know what the hell it means. And I passed it. I don’t know how. In 11th standard in commerce we had an option to choose between Math and SP. Now in tenth I scored a whopping 147 on 150 in math with 74 in algebra and 73 in Geometry. I know for a fact that I only got one mark in algebra wrong. It was first of the fill in the blanks. They had five marks of fill in the blanks. The first one being some sort of a quiz question. Something like is 1 an integer or something like that. Rest were all perfect sums. The word was that they purposely cut marks if you hit 75 else they have to give you an award or something. So basically I was something of a math cat. Hence in 11th I said chuck it, lets take SP and work at math in FYBCom later. What is SP? Er…. Secretarial practice. They basically teach us letter writing and other correspondence. I think was designed to help weak math students from running away from 11th. I can’t believe I did that. Though I am pretty happy I did that. I just traded in my favorite subject for letter writing. Not that subject helped me too much but one thing I can tell you for sure, I write more letters (emails) in a day than I do math sums. The math sums we do are learnt in the 5th grade tops. At least it gave me some more time for doing nothing in college. Doing nothing got me my wife. Beat that Mr. Mathematician.
In FYBCOM, when math was reintroduced for a year, I took classes and in those I was happy that I hadn’t lost my touch. I was good as ever solving and understanding derivates better than others, a mile ahead of the lot.
Over the years I have come to the conclusion that math for me is visual I don’t see numbers I see parts and wholes. The other day when we were buying 18 pieces of something at 5 each, my friend along with calculated 18X5 while I did 20X5 minus 10. he did not understand why I did that. I have been doing that since I can remember. 7 is a bottom half number in my head while 3 is a top half number. Similarly 27 is a bottom half number while 124 is a top half number. I see rows of tens, twentys and thritys etc and the additions are done by changing rows. So 27 plus 27 is a 40 plus 4 and a row change and is therefore 54. Weird…
So coming back to FY. I crack the classes but when we begin to start study a fortnight before the exams, I open my notes and I see the sums and my head reels. I can’t remember any of these sums. They are all the derivate sums that mean nothing to me. For some reason I forget them all. What the hell am I going to do? We study some old papers and we realize the pattern of marks. 20 marks for simple algebra (the stuff I got 74 on 75 for); so that’s done. Then we have 20 marks for BASIC programming. Yes BASIC programming. How did that get into math class. I dunno but since that was stuff that I had done in 9th standard that would have been a breeze, only thing is that I needed to brush it up a bit. Jasmine was the cat at BASIC and she taught me stuff. So there attempting 40 marks and getting a little more than 35 was the aim… actually anything more than 34 was acceptable :). Maa mein pass ho gaya, maa… mein pass ho gaya… And math was my super favorite subject. So I guess you would know how I would have fared at the other subjects. But in spite of all that I have no clue how I passed with first class through out. I guess the fact that accounts was really simple as a subject might have something to do with it and the other subjects required little knowledge else expect the ability to write long English.
But an accounts was another wild story. In 11th I was out of school and flying on my independent wings. So I sat in my first unit tests and got some 7 marks on 50 and then in the first semester exam I got some 2 marks on hundred. My really sweet class teacher (her name was Ms. Vahi) takes me one side and says, “dear boy, you might be the CR but do know that if you do not get 105 aggregate in all you four exams in a subject, you will repeat the year. You WILL repeat the year.” The penny dropped. I studied for the second unit test. Took classes from my sister on reconciliation of errors and topped the class (second I think). Some things went wrong in the final and I missed on the scores. I did not realize that I have to pay attention to trial balance (the basic of accounting) and that would carry most marks. Hence my aggregate came to something like 75. I was doomed to fail. Another obscure came to my aid – you need 75 in three subjects and 105 in three subjects to pass. Hence you could get a total of 30 marks in three subjects each as grace. Maa mein pass ho gaya, maa… mein pass ho gaya…
Wow. I am sure Ms. Vahi gave me some grace to hit 75 so that I hit the grace marks to pass. I can’t believe I risked that. That was staying on the edge… the very precipitous stupid edge. But alls well that ends well.

Well this post was about Jispa’s reviews. Now you know what stand I have on exams and I don’t really want to put any more burden on her. The first review has been a test of our belief. We don’t want to send message that school is trivial yet we don’t want it to scare her. On other subjects she would do great but hindi is omsething she might be a bit lower than her own average. So we did a small take up and I realized it required brushing up on my Hindi. Udbilava, jata, eravat, were some words amongst others that I might have got stumped on. Jispa knew 90 percent of her words so I just wrote down al the words in English and she had to give me the Hindi versions. Underlining and constantly asking her the 10percent words helped her I guess. We started yesterday and continued till the bus stop today. By the time she left, she knew them all. one remained specially tricky –charan. I told her remember that you don’t put feet in your moth but you do put your favorite churan. That’s how you remember. She remembers ilag by enlarge…hehehehe.

This was fun. Jispa’s first review saw us on the test!

wow that was deep

From October onwards our office has announced that all Saturdays will be off. That is a good thing. Sure I will miss wearing all my lovely t shirts to office. All the sexy dri-fits but, hell, it sure is fun to start the weekend on every Friday. And this is just what I want to re start teaching. I love teaching. I will reorganize my thoughts, try and think of a proper syllabus and start teaching. It’s a must.
Interaction keeps you young, energetic and on your toes. That’s the bets way to do it. A proper subject with proper studies and course material. No being lazy. Proper home work and proper assignments and pre reads and post reads. Well that’s the plan at least. It’s worth trying to put in place a discipline. I have changed over the last few years and it does reflect in my approach. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had remained the same over all these years. What was suited for a younger trainee is soo not suited for someone who is a little up on the ladder. To be truthful, I don’t think I had too much in me as regards emotional intelligence when I started my career. Right now also many times I feel exasperated with certain situations but at least now I would be much in control of them. Recognizing them is the first step to improving I guess. Many times you don’t even know what you are doing is wrong. That’s when a good coach helps.
What happens when you don’t have a good coach? The classical treatise Mahabharat has an answer. Do what Eklayva did. Assume that your coach is there with you. What would he say? What would he want you to do? How would he have wanted you to behave? In life your coaches come and go. They impact you on your life and then either you or he moves on. I have seen that if you remember the basics of what they have taught you, you can remember it regularly enough to behave as if he was there in the present with you. That itself will help you improve. You may not have the coach for all situations and fields, but it is surely quite easy to adapt the coaching from one field to another. Your cricket coach can teach you about handling people that will help you in office. Parenting can teach you about responsibility. Teaching can teach you parenting. Inferences can be got across fields. Many times when stuck I would imagine the best possible coach for the situation. Then I would try to think of what he would do, or want me to do. It could even be your father, sister, friend or anyone who might do better than you.
Coaching also helps you get better. When you try to talk to someone and listen carefully to what they are saying then you are only going to help yourself improve. Many times my ‘wisdom’ has come when I lest expect it. I wouldn’t even know of something I know unless I have said it. Then I think to myself – wow, now that was deep.
I am currently reading ‘Surely you are joking, Mr Feynman. Man, that book is crazy funny. The way these guys get exposure in the top colleges in US is amazing. I would like to have the option of sending my kid to a good college, that will help her broaden her horizon not restrict it. Open up. Read around. Choose stuff from outside your field. Feynman was a physicist, who took up a summer internship in Biology just to go to a different field. I’d love to do something like that. Just go around explore a few things outside your core area, outside your comfort zone.

college days are meant for ...

If I were younger this is the time to be…. Man when I was in college women wore mainly salwar’s to college. But these days you can’t see anything but denims. I know so many guys who used to wear formals to college. I used to be among the few wearing denims every day. The colleges these days are a rockingly colorful place to be. Luckily being in a relatively heppier town college and I was not as starved as many others in different colleges and in different cities. Fashion shows were a norm and they were all over the place. So skin was never an issue. But I guess the sheer multitude of fashion hitting you in the face is interesting to say the least. Hmmmm…. I sound like an old fart but the way I see the colleges moving it seems like an anthropologist’s wild fantasies come true. The length of the skirt would have inverse relation with the balance of payments reserve of our nation. I mean in my time as a nation we had barely enough money to pay for our next month’s import and we had to pledge our gold!
It is also interesting and amazing that we somehow went through college without … horror of horrors …. INTERNET. I mean how did we do that. In fact I even passed B school without the essential Cut Copy Paste, without internet; doing projects by referring to the library. How menial is that? And yes, we did not have cell phones as well. Wow…. It’s a wonder we ever managed to coordinate and go anywhere. And I also remember paying 8 bucks for a rear stall ticket at sterling cinema…. Also I just remembered… I paid a grand for a custom built calf length cowboy boots! I have no clue how I did that. I actually used to wear them as high fashion. They used to zip up and heat up like hell. They were also heavy and with leather soles they were slippery as well. They also had some chain around the heel. Aaagh the sins of youth!!!!

She’s got the look.....

I find it highly amusing to see the look on the everyone’s face. Its the typicall look that one can associate with that individual. Like I see one guy in the office building everyday. The bugga will have a perpetual scowl. Or that prof from college, who always had the look that he is going to come down and box you. In fact his scowl was so prominent that whenever something made him smile the whole class would go into raptures. I guess my college mates and guys from commerce would figure whom I am talking about. It so much fun seeing the looks. Some guys will have that perpetual confused look ( a big friend of mine). Some profs will always have the nice sweet look, some will have that sweet look along with the ‘I am trying to get tough so that you don’t mess with me look’. That poor prof will always get messed with in any case. Some profs will always have the harassed look. I loved the Shivi look – he was always with the BIG Obliexesque smile with that burly mouchie. It rocked man!!! And that would turn into a worried frown when he wanted it to. I always felt that unlike others he could control it and produce his look at will. That’s a prince!!! The other look I loved was Mrs Hasina. Top class!! Always genuine. That look that said I am genuine, and I am genuinely interested in teaching and I am genuinely interested in caring about you. Mrs Dias had that look that said I am nice but don’t get smart with me mister! Some students of mine always have that “Siirrrrrrrr” look. Like they are always dying to meet you and some have that I am soooooooooooooooooooooooooo boooored look. Most of the students staying in south Bombay will that I am soo bored and I couldn’t care less look. Man its so much fun to rag them. Some students will have the DUHHH look! I am soo DUHHH that I get confused which hand to eat with, look. Some just have that, I want to be seated look. Some have that I am dying to have a crush on someone look. This applies to men and women. Some will have that I am toooo smart for this class look.
Hmmmmm. Talking about teachers and crushes makes me remember my crush on my teachers. Man how many did we have…. In school I remember one Clare Alvaro. I read later in an interview that even Akshay Kumar had a crush on her (yup same school different generations). Then there was a French teacher (yup couldn’t any better figuratively) Ms Anna. She was very sweet to me. Then the college profs – the usual ones every one loved – Mrs Saxena, Mrs Dias, Mrs Haseena, Mrs Kalhan….. we had guys just attending Mrs Hasina’s class purely for her. Man I guess it must be quite nice to be “THE” prof in a college. We used to admire Mrs Ballaporia too, she used to carry herself very well. Hmmm.. some of these profs I still meet in college when I go to teach. I hope they don’t kill me after reading this!!! I still love them!!!!
I really don’t know why I loved college, but I sooo miss it. Teaching there make me feel that I have gone back. That’s why I just feel funny wearing formals to college and when I go to teach I dress like I would if were attending it my self. I can’t even sit in the staff room like a prof… so unlike me….My mental frame is similar. And the poor canteen waiters whom I did not tip in college for lack of cash get some obscene tips from me now. The Jaihind redemption. And with kids I always pay as I remember not having adequate pocket money then. But these days they get some huge amounts, but who is paying for them… I am paying for all, for me… on that philosophical note… tatatatatatatatata.