tech talk tick tock

Technology – I have got so many technology innovations wrong that I almost believe that I have no sense of what the future holds. But funnily I am in a job that requires me to forecast and work towards using technology in our daily life. It’s not that the job description says so, but I guess my interests in technology make me feel so, behave so and be so.

But so many times I have seen myself as an older person not really embracing technology as I should be. I remember I got my blackberry well after a lot of the others got it. I saw it as a tool that people used to become wannabe peoples. People with the blackberries were the ‘I am so uptight that I will pull off my BB in a lift and check it rather than do nothing but look at the lift screen and get bored.’ This was especially trues because I worked in an uptight wealth management set up in a building teaming with investment bankers – all seemingly more uptight than the other. Hence – I resisted buying the BB for the longest time. Then once I got it, I used it way past it expiry date. I used it for three years it so till one day, it gave up on me. Then I bought the tough screen interface form Samsung. And I am hooked for ever to it. One thing I get really scared of doing is buying an apple device. With the restrictive iTunes interface, I really can’t get my head to work with it. See I am getting far older than I thought.

Some time back, I bought a shaving brush and a shaving round. I guess in ten years or so if any one were to read this blog they would be pretty confused as to what a shaving round is. Here, this best describes the round.

Basically a soap on which you vigorously rub the brush to get enough lather and then it goes on your beard. It was fun a start. A throw back to the time I first started shaving. My dad had this which I used after the tenth exams to get rid of my moustache. I was sure that the mouchie was a dam uncool thing to have. So I used my dad’s stuff. My dad realized I shaved and then sat me down and gifted me a set. My own shaving brush, I think a shaving cream and a razor with spare supplies. I think that was the ultimate father son cliché moment. The coming of age. I soon graduated to shaving foams. That was thanks to Jasmine and her cousins from US. Jasmine would routinely get me the cans. I kept the cans going for many years till one day I saw the round at the supermarket. It was cool to be retro I thought. And really really cheap. Till I realized a week back that it’s stupid. It takes more space and more time and given that shaving is the most boring thing to do when you are 39 (and amazingly exciting at 15), just take the latest thing and move on. So back to a fast and quick shaving solution. I am now waiting to get through my blades to figure if I would enjoy an electric shaver. The technology on those things seems to have improved drastically since I first used it many years ago.

And cars – there is one place I always wanted all the technology I could afford. I like to think small when it comes to possessions. And I have always had simple (relatively simpler) tastes in car. I don’t really drool over fancy sports cars and see no real use for them. But I wanted some stuff in my car. Always! Lets take a feature check. Tubeless tyres – who wants to change punctures in the middle of the road – I got that from the second car onwards. Alloy wheels – one friend in MBA had a brother who dealt in alloy wheels. He explained how they were lighter and stronger and cool to look at. Then I wanted rear defogger – my second car onwards. Air bags – safety first – third car had it. then you have stuff like keyless entry. Why would you need keys at all. Push start – all my life I wondered why we need a key to start the car. Just press a button. Isn’t that simpler. And the holy grail of them all – automatic. You need an Automatic. I was done changing gears after 20 years of driving. What a freaking pain. So now my new car is the 2014 Honda City. Push button start, automatic, alloy wheels, rear defogger, Rear parking camera integrated into audio system, key less entry – no button to press – just open the door if your key device is on you, a lock that automatically happens at a speed of 20kmph, sun roof (absolutely lovely useless stuff), airbags, ABS EBD and some other really cool stuff that I don’t know about. But it’s cool. and yes yes – Cruise control. How could I forget that. And the simple audio controls on the steering wheel. I am eligible for something much more than a Honda City from the company but I am ok with this. This is good enough for now. My first car was the Indica, we sold that and bought a Honda City, then we bought a second car – the iTen which we just sold to buy this City. So now we have two Citys. But truly for some reason this car is one that I am truly very excited about. I have no clue why I like it so much. The dam waiting period was 8 months, but I felt that it was well worth it. Japanese trouble free engineering with cool gadgets built in. I know it and I hate it, it’s not nice to covet something so much. it’s wrong. It’s just a car. But I like the leather seats and I don’t want to see them spoilt.

One thing I always wanted at the bare minimum was a clean, rattle free, reliable free car. I hate a car which has a rattling part. Or a car that needs to go to the workshop again and again. I love technology in a car. That’s one place it needs to be. And I figure if I spend at least 90 minutes in a car every day, I don’t mind spending a little on this car; which gives me the comfort I want.

There… now let me leave you with a completely irrelevant bonus video… but is it that irrelevant…?

daddy do rock and roll

Jasmine’s family took a jamboree to a religious place and surely they had invited us. Which isn’t a great proposition. Taking an avowed atheist of sorts for a religious jaunt is just what the doctor (did not) ordered. Luckily for me while Jasmine couldn’t wiggle out of it – I could. Thanks to Jispa. Jispa had her interschool competition towards which Jispa had to back out and therefore I was going to stay at home babysitting. But as luck would have it, Jispa has a sports shoulder injury and it’s ruled her out of competitions. Jasmine still wanting to give Jispa rest gave Jispa and me the opportunity to stay at home.

Many years ago when we were staying in Dubai, once Mom had to leave for Mumbai urgently leaving us in the good custody of our dad. We had just received the news that our granny had contracted cancer and she would not have too long to live. Mom had to rush back and we honestly had no clue. For us it was a party of sorts with no mom. To make alternate arrangements I remember dad got a cook form the site he was working. Mom left and the cook was fired in a day. I think mom was away for a week or something. WE hated the cook’s food and dad then obliged us. I don’t know how we managed to survive the rest of the time but I surely remember having strawberries and cream every day after dinner. We got along just fine and much to our mom’s chagrin we enjoyed the sojourn and put on weight. I remember her castigating dad for firing the cook. Hah. Bolting the stables after the horses have fled.

So I am just now fresh from a two and a half day with Jispa. I was determined to spend as much time as I could with her. We wanted to take on joint decisions and figure out what all we could do in the time. Jasmine being the mother tried to figure out as much as possible for us. What we will cook, what we will eat. I had to be honest in hearing her out and keeping a mental note. But in the back of my head I knew – I am not planning too much. This is a rare time that Jispa and I will get and it’s going to be a lot of joint decision making on our part.

So on the Friday evening when our friends called us over I politely told then that I better check with Jispa before I confirm. Jispa was also pretty keen on this bonding shonding thing. She also wanted to go home and catch a movie. So we rented a couple of movies and went straight home. Jasmine had prepared dinner before we left. She also thoughtfully stocked up the fridge with some yogurt, Orangina and she also made some popcorn.

First day gone. Next day Breakfast. This is where I come into my own. I love making breakfast more than anything else. Jispa and I woke up to make a really nice breakfast. We made a double decker sandwich. We invested the thing as we went along. We first shallow fired some onions in butter and then added some sugar while they were cooking. Voila – you have sweet caramelized onions which formed the top layer along with the paneer suitably shallow fried in butter. We also put the salsa sauce just to make it more exciting – but I think could have been easily avoided. To form the second base layer was tricky. I wanted cucumber and pesto sauce. That was an easy mix but now where would the cheese go. WE didn’t want to remove the griller as cleaning that would be a big ask. So in a fit of sheer genius – we added the cheese to eth cooking pot of pesto cucumber – and so now you have melted cheese as well. We simply got the toast ready and there – sandwiches ready. We named it the Madagascar sandwich, in honor of King Julian!

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Then I left Jispa for a part and went to take my lecture. I came back to pick her – saw another movie and starting preparing dinner. This one could have been wrong on epic proportions. I wanted to make a stew like my mom used to make. So I tried to rmemeber how Jasmine had once taught me to make white sauce. Butter to be heated and then add the flour. Ok… now it’s nice na dbrown, lets add the milk and oops… this is going out of hand. Jispa - more milk fast. It’s too thick…. More milk. Oh shit this carton is empty, open another one… lets go. Ok. Now add the chopped salad… I think it’s good. Then Jispa wonders if the quatity is a bit too much. err… ya… we then pour it in a baking bowl and then grate enough cheese and decorate it. We loved decorating it together. La la la li li li… it looks great. And yes it tasted great as well. We couldn’t find the garlic in the house so it only lacks a tinge of garlic but still awesome stuff. Jispa agrees whole heartedly. We devoured over another movie.

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The next day we watched another movie but before we started the fourth I said we go down for a walk. Jispa wanted to cycle but I said we walk and then I threw in an absolute googly. Let’s go down to the park and sit down and …. (here is the clincher) and have some Maggi. Whats with kids and Maggi. They just love it. I too actually love it. I also grew up with Maggi in the kitchen. We now realize it has gulmates and all the bad stuff, but we still allow Jispa a treat once in a while. Imagine a childhood without Maggi. So we go down to the parka and sit down and enjoy the evening with Maggi and lemon barley water and watch a  game of cricket in one corner and another game of football in another. That’s another lovely evening.

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The last bit was making the strawberry and cream. That is a part of Doshi ritual. When mom travels the kids have to get fatter. So we made some amazing strawberry cream with some melted chocolate and some crushed oreos. Awesome. This we made four bowls and finished one off. The others are to be had with Jasmine. With the extra cream (I have no sense of quantities required), I peeled and split opened individual segments of oranges and put them in. awesome… even oranges taste amazing with sweet cream.

So there you have it. All together a lovely two and a half days. Jispa enjoyed it as well. In the middle we also found time to understand geometry. These were really simple concepts that she for some reason couldn’t get in class. I can’t for the hell of me figure why she did not get it in class. Adjacent, complimentary and supplementary angles. Not that I remembered what they were. A little help from Google and we were done.

So we did the homework, we ate some awesome food, we cooked together, saw movies together…. Had fun. When Jasmine came home her reaction – “you guys did not eat anything from what I made for you”. err… not doing what the mom expects you to do when she is away is also a part of the Doshi tradition. My dad taught me that …. Didn’t he?

All photos from my instagram feed :)

tendlya gaya

Last week we had the grand retiring of Sachin Tendulkar. Arguably amongst the greatest batsman to have played the game, I had wondered for many years what would happen to the Indian cricket team when this man retires. I explained the significance of this man to my cricket entertainment and what he meant to me.

I remember first reading about Sachin in the papers when this young school boy smashed to a world record partnership in a school match. He and Vinod Kambli plundered a hapless bowling attack and were heralded as the great potentials for international cricket. Then he got chosen to play Ranji and the Irani trophy ties where he smashed another set of runs. For us Sachin was our prodigy, our Bombay boy who we all owned a part of. We were instrumental in his success. We wanted him to play for India as soon as possible and the newspapers reflected our opinion which was taken note of by the selectors. That was our dream. He was our favorite son.

We followed him to Pakistan and I still remember the way he tore Abdul Qadir, the legendary leg spinner in the one day match and announced his arrival to one day cricket. Our family was very clear – here was the greatest champion of world cricket. He was here. I have great memories of watching cricket with my dad, spending full days watching a game of cricket on TV. India were a  bunch of high potential losers. We were too soft to play the new age of cricket. We had talent but as dad would often say – no temperament. Till we had Sachin. In ODI’s he would come in at 4down or 5 down and get a limited number of overs to play. I remember dad and me clamoring for Sachin to open the innings. And lo behold. I remember waking up early morning in a Panchgani  hotel room to see Sachin walk in and destroy the bowling attack. He used his technique to play lofted shots and forever imprinted himself on the game. And then came the era where we only had hopes on one man. We would get in watch till he got out. I remember having the greatest of stress while he was batting. On one hand you would enjoy his batting and the fact that he took the bowling to shreds but at the same time you knew he could not get out. If he did – we would have no hope left. We would lose the match, the plot and our pride. It was him that the entire hopes were pinned on. I remember my brother and me hanging our heads in disbelief as he would get out. Match is over. I remember seeing the wild frenzy of the opposite team as they did a naked dance and celebrated wildly as they got the man.  It was clear why the entire 22 men were on the field. 11 to get him and another 11 to keep him there. And the world was watching who would win – and when.

My dad was such a Tendlya fan that even when the maestro was on bowling side, he would insist that the ball be given to him while bowling. He was convinced that some magic would happen, and invariably it did. He would pick a wicket, stop the flow of runs… whatever. He would bowl legspin to a right handed batsman and switch to off spin for a leftie. He would bowl seam up and swing it both ways. What a guy. He was born to play cricket. I remember when he suddenly started sweeping. It was something he started later in his career and I remember when he first played a reverse sweep. The result was a boundary (against South Africa).

He gave us such joy, such a joy! Statisticians have commended and condemned him at varying intervals. People hated him later and called him selfish. There have been many undercurrents. I surely stopped arguing with them. Sachin was not a number to me. No number would suffice for the man. I don’t even care about his test cricket. For me it was his one day cricket. I thought that was the only thing he born to play. He was the poster boy of the generation to which I belonged to. Being two years elder to me our growing up has run parallel. I grew up with him and I feel I too have a hand in his fame, fortune and run of luck and form. Being a Mumbaikar Sachin is my brother, my loved one – who taught the world that you can be technically correct and yet score fast and be a joy to watch, that you can be calm and yet very aggressive, that you can contribute by your enthusiasm and your verve. Even though you might never be a gifted fielder but you try hard at what comes your way and yes – your throw will always be hard. No soft throws.

My captain always taught me – look at Tendulkar play. He hits the ball and does not eye ball the bowler. He simply looks down and almost apologetically taps the pitch. It’s like he is saying ‘sorry, shot lag gaya. Ball aisa tha, shot toh lag gaya’. No chest thumping, no blood letting, but mind you – he wanted to win as badly as anyone else.

The other thing I learnt from him is that if you are a great payer – the same qualities will make you a bad captain. On his retirement people opened up and admitted that as a captain he would expect the same from others. For someone who is a natural at things, its impossible to explain or motivate someone to do something. The genius refuses to understand whats so tough. Lesser mortals cringe and awe at achievement.

Some things may easy to me. They were simple when I did them. And it irritates me no end when I see my team not being able to understand it. I learnt that while they can’t do the same, they can do something else that I could never.  Captainship is about patience and lifting your team to do beyond their abilities not match up to yours. Your ability is not the point here. It doesn’t count. What counts is the team. The team must work together and play above the weight. Sachin, in his failings also taught me that. You can’t be hanuman and you can’t win on your own.

Finally I am sure the stats will show that whenever we relied too much on one man – we invariably lost. For all his brilliance he never won us the world cup. We won it when he was just one of the spokes of the well-oiled machine – important but the only keystone. When the rest of the team looks at the man for inspiration and not awe – when the team is happy to have him and not solely dependent – when everyone knows their role in relation to the game and not in relation to the man – that is when magic happens.

Good bad – I have a strong personality. It weighs in on the team at many times. I have learnt to control it a fair bit, reign it in but more importantly give power to the second in line to lead. To push the boundaries of their own, in their own identity.

Sachin was a genius who held our hearts with amazing care. But that was his failing as well. He knew, we knew he could do it – that’s why most of the time he might have failed. You might be the greatest ever but it takes 11 to make a team. All 11. And you cant pull it for long. Even the best have to just do their bit… the rest pulls it alongside.

I really love him and I can’t really see the criticism of the man’s averages. Playing and playing when you can’t get out is something stats will never capture. Understanding the role of a batsman when you play is something stats can’t ever decipher. Stupid people.

You don’t mess with Tendulkar you miss with my memories, my hope, my life.

This may be an automated marketing gimmick from BCCI but to me and his family - I think this is the best i have seen. it means a lot for some stupid emotional reason. Thanks dude.

Alexanderian grace

Jispa is getting her teen attitude and she isn’t so much of a push over these days. She can get mighty pissed with us and especially me. Today morning she forgot to take her school shoes when she left with me for her swim training. So she decided to go to school in her chappels. She had another (non-compliant) pair of shoes in the car. I asked her to wear those but she refused. Black chappels are preferable to shoes that are not completely black. Oh hell. I tried telling her otherwise but she refused and I left it at that. It’s her problem. She has to deal with the school authorities and the head. So I let her be. Then Jasmine got on her case and then both of us just let her be. Her issue. While we were waiting for the bus to come in Jispa said today she also had physical education class. Ok that was the limit. Jispa wear your shoes – jasmine and I put our foot down rather forcefully. Jispa said fine. But then she was pissed as hell. “why do you have to scold me and tell me.” “because you don’t listen otherwise” “but that doesn’t mean you have to scold me at the start itself. First tell me properly and then scold me if I don’t listen”.”sorry but on this you wouldn’t have listened to me and we were telling you about it”. “no but you shouldn’t start with a  scolding” “you start listening. I also don’t like scolding. When you were younger we would only speak sweetly, but now if you don’t get a scolding you don’t listen” “no… I do listen” “ok you promise to listen and I promise not to scold. Right now also I am talking properly” “ no you are not”…. You get the drift. Jispa and I were having a conversation in which she was pretty pissed. No she gives me a push back and she gives Jasmine a push back on a lot of issues as well.

I try to listen to her and talk to her if she pushes back, I try not to clamp her down. Speak. Talk converse. If she screams or talks rubbish when there is conversation then I raise the tempo and clamp down, but then also normal speaking and civilized arguments are allowed.

This time she was pissed as hell. She refused to give in. Then I told her “forget, your school bus is coming, you leave”. She refused to tell me bye. I told her “while going say bye dude. don’t leave like that”, She didn’t listen. In fact she made a point by telling Jasmine bye and ignoring me. She was pissed as hell. I am smiling. It’s ok.

Many years ago when my marriage was being discussed, Jasmine’s parents had to finalize the hall in which the ceremony was to take place. Earlier it was the girl’s side of the marriage that bore all the expenses. Now the progressive gujjus have a discussion. Typically marriage is borne by the girl’s side and the reception is split into half or some ratio. Or some such logic. In my sister’s marriage we had chosen a hall which her in-laws made a slight noise. Not too much but a simple question about it is also viewed very seriously. I know the big agonizing issue that went about inside my house but we pressed on nevertheless and possibly it was a non-issue at their end but it created a huge discussion at our end.

So in my marriage Jasmine’s parents were looking at a hall but that one nearer to where we stay and which was the normal choice in their family as well was under reconstruction. So you needed to look elsewhere. So they zeroed in a hall which was nearer to their house but not an upmarket neighborhood. In fact it was a pretty non-descript place. I was aghast at my parents disapproval. Those days I worked in Gujarat and when I was in Mumbai I had a showdown with them. I found my normally liberal leaning dad suddenly turn conservative. Mom was completely unhappy. I couldn’t believe that they were going against the very values they inculcated in me. How can we object with the choice of hall? They said they will pay the whole expense in any case as it was a smaller function for marriage and simple reception. I had a show down with dad on this. It wasn’t pretty. I was pissed as hell. And we didn’t speak to each other. The next day I was to leave for Gujarat and mom and dad offered to drop me to the station. Sure. I don’t think we spoke in the car as well. As I got off, I paused for a brief moment and I turned around and said bye mom, bye dad. I guess dad was waiting for me to say bye. He said bye as well. It was brief period of making up. I guess if guys simply say hi to each other – it’s reconciliation. I remember his face. He too was a bit pissed but he too let it go. It was both side giving an inch and then an el.

I am forever glad about how I behaved. I am so happy and I remember that moment very clearly. I remember that pause and I remember thinking, I must say bye. It is something I will never forget. As it turned out, that was the last time I saw my dad. I know that in the 23 odd years I would have known him he would not have held the last 23 hours against me but still, last chats are last chats. I would hated going through life knowing I refused to reconcile when I had the time. It didn't take much from me or him to forget. It’s ok to have disagreements but at the end you must part as friends, agreeing to disagree at the worst.

I have always hated parting badly. That’s not on. I always tell people to part properly. It’s not that we can’t behave in a civilized manner. Even if people mean you harm, when they leave you have a chance to sow a seed of love. Like Porus, everyone deserves to be treated in a manner that befits them. It’s for us to be Alexander. So it was history repeating all over again. Jispa was pissed at me and had an argument with me. While she left the car, like my dad I too was in the driver’s seat with mom in the adjoining seat. But this time, I tried to say bye but my pre-teen refused.

Awww. Jispa. It’s ok. I understand your rage. It’s a good thing. You are growing up. Push back is good or parents will forever be hovering around you. Just remember it’s never personal and it’s definitely never for keeps. We both are growing up. You faster than us. But in the end – my advice to you is simple. While leaving always have the grace to part well as you never know when you going to get that chance again. You can have a disagreement but do not let that take away your grace, dignity, ears, sense, responsibility and love. It’s tough but to conquer that is Alexanderian. I was really lucky once.

Read more about the epic battle here. Its quite a nice fascinating read ...  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Hydaspes

is it supposed to move or isnt it?

There is nothing that WD 40 can’t solve of course with a little help from duct tape. Both together form a formidable team that can be used to solve almost everything at home.

My first brush with WD 40 was when my dad used it on so many different things. What is WD40 you ask. Tsch tsch. WD 40 is the amazing spray in a blue can which when sprayed on anything will make it move or stop it from creaking. In a home over time everything creaks. Hinges of a door, the stopper that wont stop, the swinging hinges of a swing, the fan, the rollers… everything. I remember dad would remove the WD40 can and pssssttt noise gone. Here is the classic shot of the can. You see the red straw at the side – that is the thing that goes inside the nozzle and helps you direct the spray appropriately. My memories of this bottle is always with the straw. Both would be bound together with a rapidly deteriorating rubber band that half melted and was brittle thanks to the heat.

The other thing was duct tape or cello tape as its popularly called. We would have lots of the borwn tape in the house ready to fix almost everything. Dad was an engineer. He used to have a tool kit around the house and would love to fix everything. Duct tape was the next thing he would use. Just tape it and it would be done.

I can picture my dad on a holiday in his jurta pyjama roaming around the house. Mom would complain about something and dad would examine it. He would either call for the WD40 or duct tape and then a few sprays or tears later – presto – its solved.

Just a couple of days back we had a problem at home. Our fan started giving off a violent noise. A violent creaky noise that would be difficult to ignore while sleeping. I wondered what had gone wrong. Jasmine told me that our maid Devki doesn’t reach clean the fan properly. She simply pulls down the fan blade and dens it while cleaning it. That is the classical Daniel Kahneman thinking fast and slow problem. Jasmine was thinking fast and she was jumping to a conclusion. She put two and two together, saw a cause and an effect and said that Devki must have spoiled it. Possibly the blades are bent. I wondered if we needed to call the electrician. Then I wondered if the fan would fall down on us as something as really wrong with it. I don’t why but I don’t do the ‘do it yourself’ fixing bit these days. I was pretty good at it in the good old days. But now I seem to have given up that part of me. I don’t know why but I think mind experiments are getting the better of hand experiments.

So this time I thought let me look at it myself. I tried aligning the blades. Really rubbish stuff I did. Then I switched the fan on. Still the violent noise was there. So I played around and tried to think about the source. It seemed from the hook by which the fan is hung from the ceiling. So I tried to realign the fan on the hook. It still seemed to be an issue. At varying fan speeds, the noise would stop and start. I told Jasmine that the noise is from the top and she suggested WD40. Yes. Did we have it at home? Of course she said. Wow. I forgot we had the essential ingredient at home. So we took the can – with the withering rubber band from the bathroom loft (always there) and sprayed. I felt like dad all over again. A few sprays here and there and a few more just be sure (like dad again) and we switched on the fan. Poof Noise gone. Simple isn’t it.

I told Jasmine that there is nothing you can’t solve with WD40 or Duct tape. Today as I was searching for the WD40 image I saw this image as well of the flow chart of WD40 and duct tape. It seems the world has gotten this idea well before me. Hehehe.

Classic isn’t it?

whats with the lecture?

My brother and I used to fight a lot and sometimes they would get bitter. We would be at blows and we would just not get along. Being younger most of the time I would lose, especially the physical fight and then I would go crying to parents to complain. My brother hated my crying and called me a complainer. What other option I had. As a young kid who lost and was subject to what I thought was unfairness I would complain.

Many times after all this my dad would sit me down and talk to me and I wondered why it that I am getting the lecture is. It was his fault. In many ways I did see dad admitting that it may have been his fault but I needed to improve. I needed not to cry. “why should I not cry. It was his fault to start with. He did this and that… blah blah blah.” I never understood why I would get the lecture. I am correct. I was wronged and hence I must be righted. Justice was not giving me a lecture but my brother getting a lecture. But I felt that I was getting it all.

I remember as a small boy I would cry my heart out and my dad would tell me to calm down. Then we would have a chat and he would explain to me in vain what needed to be done. I understand my dad much better now. In fact in hindsight I was the luckier one. I had those conversations with dad which wouldn’t have happened if he did not choose to lecture me instead of my brother. I really don’t know what conversations he had with my brother. Funnily I don’t remember him having too many which I think may not be the case.

But it took a lot of thought and age for me to realize the answer to my question “why me”. I guess the answer was I was getting the lecture not because I was wrong in the fight. I was probably right or it was impossible to call or even futile to call; but more importantly it wasn’t necessary to call. The bigger issue was how I needed to react. My reaction was wrong. I shouldn’t have fought like that. I shouldn’t have behaved like that. I should have greater control over my reactions. In fights with mom or family, I must remain calm collected and precise. I must open my mouth less. I may be right or wrong but I must understand the bigger picture. It’s a difficult one.

Especially when you are angry. When you are angry it is difficult to stay quiet. You want to talk, you want to blurt out. And if someone elder comes down to you and talks to you instead of the other one, don’t consider yourself unlucky or wronged. You are the lucky one. You will learn from the fight and the other one will lose from the fight.

Most of the times that I have fought I have learnt the most when the elder came to me and told me to look at the big picture. It hurt me at the time. Real bad. But in the long run, I learnt the most from it. But when you are at the receiving end of the lecture, you don’t care two shit for it. You are focused on only one thing – justice or revenge. Which to the accused is one and the same. Talking about which – I think for the first time in my life I think the law and life seems to have taught us – that justice and revenge is one and same thing. Now that is one tough ethical question. In fact I hate to think of it as that. How is justice equated with revenge? Dam it – this post is suddenly troubling me. I will have to leave this question in my brain for some time till I get an answer to this one.

But from another perspective, I think there is great learning just being the elder guy. If you are the one doing the quiet talking then there is so much to learn. You can see the situation from both ends, look at the issues, realize the folly of it all, and learn without getting too hurt.

Teaching is amongst the greatest way to learn anything. A close second to actually experiencing it.

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.

closure

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

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

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

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

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

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

office gardens

I guess I have a soft sweet side and like my forefathers I too would like to get back to the soil. Plant fruit bearing trees, live off the soil, grow crops, run a farm, ….screeech… bham, crash.. ok. Back to real life. The only bit of gardening I have ever done is watering my two bamboo shoots that I got as a gift.

There is a photo of my lovely office garden. Oh yes… it’s a garden with a fake freaking peacock and a giraffe. Pretty corny.

 

 

In Dubai we had a huge gallery. It connected all the rooms. We loved it. Dad used to do the gardening in there. We had plants and flowers, and like good Dubai citizens, we even grew cactus there. It seems we also had potted plants inside the house. Dad was asthmatic and once he had an attack someone suggested to keep the plants outside the house. I guess it helped. So we only had plants in the gallery and not in the house. I guess the fertilizer and the other stuff was good for him. I would like some life around my house as well. I keep asking Jasmine to have a few plants around the house. Sure she says. She would like them too. But Jasmine is the practical kind of person. She knows what it takes ot have plants. Her next one is always, who will take care of them. That’s one more thing to take care of. And then when we go out of town who will water them.

I like to invent things in my head and try to get practical inventions all figured out in my head to solve real life issues. I have dreamt of a water tap with real tiny holes that my neighbor has to simply connect to the tap once a day to water the plants. Of course my neighbor isn’t really around most of the time. ok…connect the pipe to the tap in my house and have only a trickle flowing all the time through the tiny holes watering the plants whole day? Whatever… but of course plants require much more than water. They need a bit of tender loving care, fertilizers, pruning, cutting, etc..

I was once gifted a bamboo shoot, about eight years ago. I ignored it thinking it doesn’t need too much water or care. Slowly it just died out. I never bothered again. Then this time I got two shoots in succession as some gift. So I decided this time to water them regularly. It is a part of my morning routine to water them. When I go on leave I give it to someone else to water. Now I feel pretty cool about them.

Over the last few weeks, I have been really busy, going directly for meetings, not coming into my office for a few days etc. I saw that the shoots were not taken care of. You can see the yellowing of the leaves. I then decided to cop out. When the guy in the office came into my cabin to give me my bottle of water I gave him the job of watering the plants every day. So there.. my tryst with gardening lasted a few months. It’s nice to have a garden and get someone to do the gardening.

Now I think the next thing I want is some lemon grass growing in the office. I have to figure a small enough pot than can stay on the window sill and yet grow grass. It would be pretty cool to have a visitor come over and offer some fresh lemon grass in their tea. That would be pretty cool. And of course, all I have to do is get someone to water it. I think they grow pretty fast and wild like that only. I will have to get someone to pot them. I don’t even know how to repot grass. There are things that urban life has ensured I don’t learn. Gardening and kite flying is something I wish I knew.

Hell – possibly some day…

new things

Hey, Christmas passed us by without Santa visiting. He broke a tradition lasting more than five years I think. Oops. Are nine years old off Santa’s visiting list? This time Jispa was spending the Christmas at her Nani’s house. Jasmine and I all forgot about it till in the evening. We then called Jispa to ask her about it. Oh its ok she said. I don’t want anything this time around.
Normally Jispa’s always a content kid. She doesn’t ask for too much. She is ok with what she has. So Christmas is no great occasion. From when I can remember, she was always happy to ask for some small gift, that too on being repeatedly asked. So I don’t really understand the stress stories about parents rushing to buy the Christmas toy. It’s so Hollywood! Possibly we still have some time before crass commercialization pervades our lives. I guess I am happy that Jispa was born at a slightly better time. I see it getting more and more commercial as the toy shops keep opening in the city. Five years back we hardly had shops dedicated to toys. I remember once going to a shop called big tom or something in Colaba. It was the only half decent Toy shop at the time along with another one called ‘souvenirs’. There is one tucked away in breach candy behind Premsons as well. But none of them were anywhere near the experience that Hamleys, which opened in Phoenix, provides.
So I asked Jispa – “do you really believe in Santa?”. “I don’t know” she replied. “serious, tell me”. “I think I believe around 70%”. What the hell. Ya sure. The kid is kidding with me. She is playing me. I am sure she knows there is no such thing and she knows that its dad and mom writing and gifting, but she seems to be enjoying the ride. I guess here I am at fault. Because I think that it was me who told her – it doesn’t matter whether you believe in it or not. You got your gift and that’s something real. Right? Hehehe. Parenting is a circle. You get back exactly what you give.
So this Year, jispa was not surprised and excited on Christmas eve. I remember her five years ago getting all excited about Christmas and super excited that Santa had come in the night while she was asleep. That video is my favorite video. You know we take a lot of photographs and videos. We see the photos immediately after the trip or occasion, but the videos are the real hero. The value of the video dramatically increases after a period of time. You want to sit and watch old videos. Somehow the photos just get lost. Possibly because there are too many of them. There are atleast two for every moment.
When we were kids dad had photography as a hobby. He bought an SLR – was it Nikon or Cannon?. He bought a set that included a camera, standard lens, a wide angle lens and a tele lens for shooting long distance. Then he went and got a slide projector. So he shot most of his photos with a slide reel which was different from the normal reel you put inside the camera. If anyone reads this post after 15 years – yes – upto ten years back we put reels in cameras. They could typically take upto 36 photos and then we would send it to the photo lab for processing and printing. So dad would have these slides that we would project on the wall using a projector. The projector was a really wild thing. No one I knew had one in India. (remember – we were a deprived country). So photo sessions were family time when the whole family huddled around the hall, pulled the curtains and watched the slides of vacations and events. It was a fun thing. We would even subject guests to this torture. We assumed they loved it. In India, I think they were just too dazed with all this technology to say anything. Set up the projector on the stool and start. The fight amongst siblings was to control the remote for the projector that sent the slides forward or backward. Just for the record the remote was not cordless. That was fun.
I enjoyed it so much that a lot of my photos till around the time Jispa was born were on slides. Our trip to Leh as well. I think I bought my first digital camera in 2004. Mom never actually let me use Dad’s camera too much. It was expensive equipment and we must use it with care. It soon rusted away with no real use. The wheel of progress is brutal. It is important to discard to get something new. Throw out the old to make space for something new.
The pace of this change seems too fast, it seems to have quickened. I think it’s just that we were not used to it. A protected environment holds on to the old. I guess it realizes that new will not come in a hurry. But if you break these shackles and constantly update yourself with something new, you will find yourself forced to throw out the old. Sure there is warm comfort in the known, but progress lies with the unknown. Not that it is good or bad. It’s not a value judgment, but merely an observation. Whne in doubt – go for the new.

budget blues

Today is the day for the annual finance jamboree. The day the finance minister of India announces his budget. Me and budget go back a long way. All self respecting gujjus would follow the budget. My first memories of the budget was following it on DD news where the highlights would be telecast. I remember the then finance minister VP Singh under the Rajiv Gandhi government talking about lowering taxes. That created quite a flutter and I remember asking my dad what the hullabaloo was all about. What on earth was a budget? I remember dad explaining me its significance. Since it was VP Singh I remember, a quick Google search dates that to around 1984 to 87. Indoctrination at age around 12 is good gujju legacy. Of course post that the budget and of course the finance minister got rock star status, thanks to Manmohan Singh. The live telecasts and people huddling around to watch what on earth was going to be presented. If I am not mistaken it used to be presented in the evenings (an old Raj legacy) and the stock market would have special sessions timed to coincide with the budget. Over the years it has become lesser and lesser of an event with few surprises and a whole host of policy decisions being taken outside of it.
Also one another thing I remember was that in the good old days, prices would always rise after the budget. I think it was obligatory for the FM to raise taxes on soaps and shampoos and other such stuff. There used to be a huge round of pre budget buying by people in an effort to beat the budget blues. We never did really indulge in it. Till I remember one day mom and dad coming in with a whole host of goodies from Shakari Bhandhar. They had gone shopping and dad used the budget ruse to buy stuff just before the budget was announced. That year Manmohan Singh did a complete U turn and started dropping taxes introducing a more benign taxation scheme, thwarting all efforts of my Dad at beating the blue. Hehehe.

thanks tendlya

Today went by with me thinking many times on what on earth to write. Some times I have been woefully short of ideas and material. But over the last one year, I have been writing an average of one blog for every day that I have come to office. I think this started from Feb 09. A lot of entries have been rambling, a few funny, a few recorded Jispa’s growing and a few were, to my mind, deep. But write I must. I think having this discipline is important over a long period of time. The primary aim of this blog is a legacy and that’s the only way to nurture it. So write I must.
I had hardly anything to write about till around a few minutes back. I was lucky to be in office today while he scored those runs. With no TV at home, office time cricket is the only time I get to catch up with the game.
Sachin scored the worlds first double century today. For someone who grew up watching this man play for India, it is an emotion that is unparalleled. It was something that I always had in my heart. The first that somebody must eclipse the record Saeed Anwar scored against India. He had batted with a runner and I am sure my entire generation found that unfair. The second is that I wanted Sachin to do it, with 200 runs.
We grew up watching him bat all alone, holding up the entire team. These days India has many stroke players and finisher. In those days it was him alone. I remember some great days watching him bat with my dad and all of us cheering and screaming together at home and the deathly silence that shouted in the home and stadium alike when he got out. I relive all those emotions when I watch Sachin bat, I remember my dad. We both were ardent Sachin fans. When I see Sachin bat I can feel the excitement I shared with dad watching cricket. I remember the stress that we carried together and the silent despair we shared when he got out. Those were the best of times I have had with dad. I am sure he would have been thrilled to see this knock. While Sachin scored all the runs, on a personal level I dedicate this knock of his to my dad.

continue the experiments

The fast on Friday held true. I think you get hungry only if you think about food else it really does not matter I guess. One day is hardly anything. When I am fully loaded and well fed I weigh 71 kgs and the morning after the fast on an empty stomach I weigh 68 kgs. 3 kgs of shit. I didn’t know that! Now I know. Passing through the popcorn aisles was a little wired on the stomach though. But I really liked the experience. I hope I am able to fast once a year. Also one day I want to know what it is to fast for 8 days. It’s also enlightening to know what the brain makes you think. It tells you – forget it. Eat now. You know you can fast, whom are you proving to. Then I am fighting back saying – I have only my self to prove to. NO I am not eating. I can hold it off for sure. I hate to believe that i cannot control the brain!

I watched three movies over the weekend. Mumbai Meri Jaan on Friday, ‘Rock on’ on Saturday and Wall E on Sunday. I loved all of them. Very rare to see three movies in three days and to like all of them. I don’t why but Wall E was one that I particularly liked. These days the a few of the last Disney animations were boring me. Wall E was different. It hardly felt like animation. They could make robots act! Very very cool. Unsaid emotions. Hardly a dialogue but a lots of emotion.

It was Jispa’s birthday on Sunday. Poor kid was a little upset that she could not celebrate with her friends. Her friends were also celebrating paryushan and could not be a part of her day. We tried our best to cheer her. It was her day where she decided what she wanted to do. For some reason she likes going to the zoo. She must have been there some zillion ties already but she never bores. I guess a zoo is special in a child’s life.

We were singing a song from the movie ‘rock on’. It goes something like – yeh pani gila kyun hai. As in – why is the water wet. When she turns around and asks me – papa, why is the water wet? Oh ok – I don’t know – ask Google. So we have written on her whiteboard all the questions she wants to ask. The second one was on the magnets. The third on – you decipher and tell me. It’s in her cryptic language I guess. Actually its just her short form.

The third question is - When do apples grow? the first drawing is 'apple'. the second drawing represents 'growing'. The third is a string of Alphabtes representing - guess guess... go on try it - ok - they represent the first alphabets of the calendar months. translation - when do apples grow? or In which months do apples grow? or in which season do apples grow.

We went to Mahalaxmi temple after a long long time. During our courtship Jasmine and me went more number of times. We asked for a lot form God. I did for sure. It’s been some time that I have asked for some thing from God, except strength and intelligence. I keep trying to inculcate the same in Jispa. Don’t bribe God.


Yesterday I proved to myself that I have some of my dad’s genes. I drive to the railway station and park my car and collect it in the evening. Yesterday while returning I normally cross a small desolate patch. The road’s been recently done and its used by trucks a lot. The gutter’s on the road create hollows. So some good guys I think put stones on the gutter so that motorists are adequately warned. The stones must have broken by the number of trucks going over it and were all over the road. Yesterday for some reason the street lights were off as well. I saw bike coming straight in, hitting a stone and falling over. I got off. The guys was fine, some other guys on the road helped him up. But I felt something. I kept my dad in mind and I picked up all the stones on the road and dumped them at the side. It took some doing. But I felt nice to do it. I hope I did my father proud. He was a nice guy, true, helpful and straight. He would have done it. I did it.