fun

Ah well. The hospitalization was not as dramatic as I would have (not) liked it to be.

I like my attitude in life. So far I must have faced tons of shit in life. Most of the time, I look at the stuff that happened in the past and not be bitter about it. Some of my bosses were extremely horrible and I thought that was ok. They taught me a lot. Some of the incidents I have had in life have been quite tough but at the end, after a few years, I have been thankful for it. They made me stronger.

When I was about to be admitted to the hospital, I was quite sure I wanted to do all the stuff myself. I was determined to be independent. I did not want Jasmine of Jispa to fret over anything and I did not want o inconvenience anyone. I wanted to be a cheerful and happy patient. I was sure about it. Hospitalization is a very different experience and the only way to enjoy it is to think of it as a learning experience, much like a department store or going to Ikea. You look around you, you make mental notes, you think about how you feel and you enjoy, even if you don’t want to buy anything.

 I enjoyed the hospitalization in the same way. It was a new retail environment for me. I got admitted, filled in the paperwork across the three counters, changed into hospital clothes and was happily hanging around and talking to the doctors and nurses. It was pretty good going.

When I was being wheeled in to the operation theatre Jasmine and me were joking around and smiling. We were in high spirits. I was telling jasmine that’s its great thing that we got to experience the hospital, the operation theatre and other scary things on a minor knee surgery. It’s not a mission critical procedure. This was a voluntary surgery that we had to ensure I can lay sports. The risk of this surgery is very low. So the first, possibly intimidating experience was so easy to take in.

I was happy speaking to the nurses, doctors, staff and everyone around. That was quite a nice experience. I was telling jispa that I was very happy with my attitude. I saw this potentially scary and irritating experience as a learning ground and I kept my spirits and happiness around me high! That’s important. This ability to see adversity into an advantage or a learning experience while smiling is so important.

I hope that when my time comes and that I might be close to dying, I should still be able to smile, laugh and enjoy the experience. I want to think about my last few minutes and wonder – nice experience. I want to look at myself and say – good man, you didn’t stop learning at all. Of course it’s going to be emotional and tough to know you are terminal. But I still want to be awesome and fun at that. That’s my goal.

I wonder what may be the best way to go? A terminal illness and knowing it’s going to happen or a sudden situation like my dad. Sometimes I feel a finite time would also be interesting. I read two books written by people knowing that they were on their final journey.  One was When breath becomes air by Paul Kalanithi and another by the legendary Hans Rosling – Factfulness. Both were interesting reads. Paul’s book was amongst the best books I would have read in a long long time. His prose was brilliant and his description of his experience was mind blowing.  Possibly it kindled a bit of a thought in me. Possibly that now at 43, I am closer to death than I am to birth, has sparked these thoughts in me.

But I wonder.

Coming back to happiness. Yesterday I took Jasmine to Starbucks at BKC. BKC has three. Two of them I frequent. In both the places, the baristas know me very well. They greet me, talk to me and make me my awesome coffees. So when I reached there early with Jasmine, they greeted me warmly and asked me how I am and that it was a long time since they saw me. They give better service and they smile at me and talk. I even got a free extra shot of coffee to make the horrible one (Tahitian vanilla macchiato) taste better. Jasmine was wondering.

Next day, Jasmine was telling Jispa – do you know, dad is known to all the baristas at Starbucks and they greet him like a long lost friend. He has his girlfriends everywhere. Hah. No. It’s not just about frequenting the place, it’s not just about having girlfriends. It’s about knowing the people who serve you. It’s about speaking to them by calling out their name. It’s thanking them, smiling and being nice to them. This is how people know you, you get warmth and you spread warmth. There is a joy in that. I make it a point to make my coffee in a certain way, then I sip it in front of them and tell them, [name] it’s awesome, I love the coffee you made.

Such simple joys. I enjoy these little micro interactions with people where we chat/ talk/ smile move on. This is how we make friends in places that acknowledge us and are happy when we come back. This is the way to spread happiness all around.

I did that in the hospital as well. Spoke to the doctors, nurses, ward boys, everyone. Smiled, laughed, understood back story etc. This makes life so much fun!

death becomes him

Feb 2019 was the first month in so many years that there was no blogpost from my side. Sometimes I wonder what it is to write a post. Is it just a habit or is it that I have something to say that just now dies.

I used to have a lot to say at one point of time. Something inside of me just isn’t there in the blog anymore. I guess it reflects in the posts as well. I think now that Jispa is old enough to talk to I don’t need to write too much about it. That also is one thing. The other thing is that for now Jispa is not even interested in reading my blog. Possibly I realise the folly of writing so much for so many years. No one reads the blog.

I had made it hidden a few years ago because it started getting traction on search and people would search for me online and I did not want them to see this blog. So obviously there is no traffic. Writing is a lonely thing to do and writing a blog that no one is going to read is an even lonelier thing to do. Any performer needs an audience to really bring out the best in them. Without an audience it becomes quite a chore to do.

This is now called a dead end. How to write a blog that you want people to read but don’t really want all to read. I guess the best creative outlet for this is to retire this personal blog and to write a public blog under an anonymous name and allow it to get as much traction that it wants. Keep everything hidden from public eye and let people find it just for its writing and nothing else. Or write a blog where my name is exposed but keep everything else very sanitized. That won’t help too much. Well, we will figure. For now, this is the blog that you get. Err… who are you? Whom am I writing for?

I think now I writing for someone in the future who might read this blog. I think secretly I want someone to read this blog sometime in the future and find it interesting enough to give meaning to them. Possibly a much older Jispa or possibly my grandkids or possibly after I die this gives some serious meaning to someone.

The world I pretty funny. The value of something a person says normally goes up after one dies. Everything is in demand when there is a finite supply. When one is alive the supply seems infinite. We are unable to come to terms with our own mortality I think. That way being in a family where we have enough heart patients is pretty cool. The only thing you live with is mortality. Everyone is going to pop it sooner than the neighbor. So you live joking about it. Now on my mind there are other issues.

I have lived healthier than what my father would have lived. I eat vegan, I exercise and have a good resting heart rate. Still cholesterol seems to be a bit on the higher side. Blame it one genetics. But I still think this will result in me outliving my dad. This is going to cause a bit of a pickle in my life. I have not imagined living old. I don’t have a retirement plan in mind! What will I do when I retire? All my life I assumed that I am going to be dead by then. I don’t know if old age is going to be a boon or a bane. Hopefully I will continue to find work to do or my wife will definitely go insane.

While we are talking about death, let me tell you why death came to my mind. A few years ago a colleague of mine was admitted to hospital for a routine surgery. Something went wrong in the anesthesia and tragically he never woke up. Now as endings go, I find that the most scary ending ever. I don’t want to go like that. I don’t want to sleep thinking this is routine shit and not even know that I am dying. Of course, possibly the knowledge of imminent death through a disease like cancer is possibly even more traumatic but still. This to my mind is one of the worst ways to go. Possibly next to drowning or something like that.

So this is on my head now as I am scheduled for a knee surgery on this Monday. I am never afraid of hospitals and procedures but this incident, man, its playing on my mind. I have a ligament tear and they are going to reconstruct the damn thing in 40 minutes. I think this is very cool. I am loving going under the scalpel. But how do I overcome my fear of being knocked out for the surgery.

I know, I will overcome that as well. The last time I was totally stressed and I felt my heart beat was in 1996 (I think) when I had to meet my future in-laws for the first time. That was a tough one. I overcame that. This one is going to be easier. Believe me, nothing is scarier that meeting your in laws for the first time in order to ask their daughters hand.

So there. This is the real reason for the blog. To talk to myself and feel nice about it. I am feeling much better already. I know it’s an unreal fear and it’s something I will overcome. But talking to myself about it and writing about it makes it in many ways more manageable.

Introspection is one the best or possibly the only way for one to improve. I could either go to the Himalayas (we Indians know only one place) and meditate or write a blog every day. Writing is a special kind of ritual. You are forced to write what you think and keep it recorded for history. If you look at it like this you will doubly careful about the crap you write. This alone will make you introspect about the thoughts in your head and you should then ask yourself, will you be proud of them?

But I also appreciate that this won’t work everywhere on everyone. Otherwise we wouldn’t have so much vitriol on twitter. It’s amazing how crazy we are. I think we were always crazy but the media in the good old days was still run by the elite educated liberal secularists. Now everyone with a mobile has a voice and a chance to be counted upon within the relative obscurity of their lives.

But still it’s crazy to see twitter in action. Additionally these days because the right winger have gotten a louder voice which shuts off the liberals. I can only imagine how easy was it for Nazi Germany to get into power wreak havoc on the world. Right now for brief period we had the country being fanned by the right wing to be ready for war. It was so freaking easy!

History must be taught in a different manner in school. History is all about learning and debate and we make it all about features and dates. But that is something for another post another date.

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bonus Song

pass

Have you ever died? In the recent past?

Jispa had her sea swimming nationals on Monday. A few weeks back the coach had announced on the group that the competition was there and that we could take part. Jispa has never taken part in a sea swim and we were surprised that she was interested. I called up the coach and asked if it doable. He said not to worry and he said he would organize a training session soon enough.

We took the kids along with the parents to a place off Alibaug. We took a boat a few kms into sea and got the kids to swim. There were two boats for safety. The kids jumped in and started to swim. These rae powerful swimmers. They could simply just start swimming. After some time I was tempted. I had packed my swim shorts just for this. I changed and told Jasmine that I too wanted to jump. She of course thought that I knew what I was up to and allowed me to jump. There was a kid along with me, Krish. Krish is a regular swimmer and for some reason he swam a little and then came back on boat. I told him that I will jump along with him and that we should try again. Seeing me, he agreed and we jumped in together. I think he waited for me to jump and then followed.

All it needed was a little encouragement from my side and the boy was all home at sea. I hadn’t carried my swim googles. Which are the most important thing was sea swimming as they protect from the burning salt getting into your eyes. I had borrowed Krish’s google which were way too tiny for me. I could barely see in them. As a result of which it was a painful swim and I just couldn’t get myself to put my head in the water and I started swimming with my head up.

Krish in the meanwhile was way ahead. He is a powerful swimmer. Jispa was way ahead and there were a couple of kids behind me. I knew one parent was swimming at the end and so was one coach. Soon I began to tire. Especially with my bad stroke. My shoulder tired off first with all the head up strokes. And then I saw the boat which was beside me, speeding ahead. I have two bad knees and kicking to stay afloat while standing is also a pain.

That was the end. I died. Or was sure to if I wasn’t smart enough to give up now. I waved frantically for the boat. Non one was there to see me. They were too focused on the kids. I saw a couple of good swimmers passing by and I simply shouted ‘help’. In an instant I realized one thing. If these swimmers pass me by, then I would be the last and I would surely drown. Surely. One swimmer came up and held me. He asked me “do you have cramps?”. I simply said yes. who was to explain that I hadn’t anything but fast depleting bravado inside. He held on and a few shouts later the boat turned around and came to pull me up.

So yes. I died. Some egocentric part of me. Some bravado in me and something else.

A near death experience (small & tiny) is important in life. At about 40. I think when you are younger, it’s just an adrenaline rush. When you get older you realise what it means to die. As a kid I once ran across the road to fall in front of a screeching car. I remember seeing the tyre close to me. I must have been in the 2^nd grade or something. The image of the tyre is still fresh in my head. When I went to dubai recently, I think I saw the place near where it happened as well. Or at least I thought it was there.

I remember my first realization of being scared to die. The first time I was startled and worried about death came to me in a funny way. I walking on the platform and a train came behind me silently and honked very close to me. Wow. That was scary. I have no clue why it was scary but it was. I remember being in college and thinking that this was the first time I was scared of dying. I reasoned that now with Jasmine by my side, I had something to cling onto life. It difficult to peep into your brains and understand more but all I remember is that, it was the first time I felt I knew what it was to be scared of death

I still wonder what it would be like to die. I wonder, what it would be to have a terminal disease. I wonder what it would be to be faced with sure and clear death. The next day after my stupid drowning attempt, I swam in the pool. It was a tough thing to do. I kept thinking about the incident at sea. Now also a week later, when I think about it, it’s a suffocating feeling. I don’t like it.

What it would be for the soldiers at war, constantly being bombarded with bullets flying off in all directions. When I played paintball once in a shootout competition, I realized that danger can come from all sides. It is stress full to be in such a situation when you have bullets coming at you. I think that’s why there is the brian wash of deep and crazy patriotism and huge stress on obedience, else why would anyone just go like crazy into war facing bullets and death.

Some amount of brain washing is completely necessary. That’s why we also have life after death and that God will call us and love us. Now that I am an atheist and completely agnostic towards the concept of a patriotic nation state, I wonder if I will be brave enough to die. Hahaha. Brave enough to die, is it? It should be read as “foolish enough to be brave enough to die”.

So that’s my little scrambled brain moment. If I die who will cry and for what? It easy to get too philosophical about death. As I stepped out of the pool, I kept thinking about my experience and how profoundly it might change me only to have another (very crucial) part of me, slap me hard and make me smile. You idiot.  Stupid people or protagonists in movies have death experiences that change them. I don’t think that just because I am dying or I faced death, I must change my life. I am smart enough to be healthy (habit wise), I am smart enough to know my choices and their consequences and I am what I am.

Being a dad is also a weird experience. When Jispa was taken in a boat to the middle of the sea for the competition, I was also completely confused. I did not know what to feel. It is a dangerous thing, the sea. Vast endless sea. I had a little feeling inside of me that I will lose her. What on earth am I allowing? But at the same time, I have to. If she doesn’t do it now and if I don’t encourage her now, then when? What yaar. Such a wild thing life is.

I was telling Jasmine, that once a year, I want to go alone and travel. All alone, but only for one day. Full stop. Then come back. I can’t handle more without family. Sometimes, Jasmine wants that as well but I guess she can stay for a few more days alone.

But yes, I seem to have become a little more philosophical for sure. I look at myself and smile. This too shall pass Jaimit. Soon you will be normal again. Yes the mind will settle down soon enough and be clear again. Time to let it pass.

One thing keeps coming to me again and again. My dad got his first heart attack at the age of 45. I am 43.

code decode

One of our family friend’s sister recently passed away due to a road accident. Our friend’s daughter and Jispa are also close friends. So generally I was asking Jispa, do you know what happened to your friend’s maasi (aunt). She said “ya, she had a terrible accident”. “yes and you are aware what happened then”. “Yes dad, she … err… she went …”, Jispa pointed upwards. She obviously was flustered and didn’t know how to say it. “Yes, she passed away” I added.
“You know dad. Now I can understand this better. It is all thanks to Calvin and Hobbes”. “Calvin and Hobbes?” I asked “how did that help?”. “earlier I used to panic or my breathing would get … but after I read Calvin and Hobbes story of the raccoon, I understood about death”. “Is that so?” I asked faintly remembering the story. I remember, Calvin finding the raccoon and then him getting upset about the raccoon dying. “yes dad, in that the raccoon dies and then Calvin is all upset. His mother then tells him, there is birth and death, everything that is born must die. But what is more important is that the raccoon was warm and safe”. I guess that explained to her the inevitability of death.
The magic of Calvin and Hobbes is that it works at multiple levels. It explains some serious philosophy for the evolved reader as well as appeals and explains simple philosophy for the young reader. It’s magical how it connects to both. Its so beautiful. Reading is important. Reading anything is important. Fiction, non-fiction, comics, cartoons, anything. Who would have thought that reading a comic strip would help a 9 year deal with a serious issue like death. The inevitability of it and the life that precedes it.
Here is the series in which the episode pans out. It’s lovely yet poignant.

(footnote - Jispa remembers the mom explaining death but its actually the dad.... Sighhhhh)

Kids understand much more and take in much more when aided with the power of a story possibly seen through another 8 year old. I remember when Jispa would sometimes be a little misbehaved on certain issues and we found it difficult to control her, I would dream of a story where there was papaya papa and musambi mummy, along with a little girl and somehow the moral of the story would bring alive the situation to her and she would then understand. Stories are so powerful.
I read somewhere that Hinduism was under grave threat thanks to the spread of Buddhism and the Brahmins brought it back by retelling the tale of Ramayana and Mahabharata to extoll the glory of Hindu deities. In fact they even conveniently got Balaram out of the Dus Avatars and brought in Buddha as a reincarnation. Funny, for a religion born in some ways against the practice of Hinduism, they incorporated it back into Hinduism. It’s like making the naughtiest guy in class the Monitor of the class. A story well told has many a reaching impact – much more than what we can imagine.
I have been generally been teaching Jispa banking and interest through her pocket money. The other day her monthly 10% interest came up to 140 bucks. I told her that I am reducing her interest rate to 5% per month. That is because she is isn’t spending anything much and I want her to spend so reducing the interest rate gives her a little less incentive to save. A ha. It’s like I am playing central bank. Reducing interest rate to increase money flow in the economy. So she I think now is planning to spend a little more. I think this game is getting far more fun. She earns money by playing the guitar, then spends a little on bubble gum, then she gets interest by saving it and then the central bank is reducing nd increasing the interest rate to control money supply. Let’s see if I can introduce more complexities like tax or something else. It has to get interesting yet simple. Haha.
I think this money thing is also making her a little bit of an economist. Today morning we were talking money and she was wondering how money gets printed. I was telling her that it is a difficult process and that only the government is allowed to print money. If everybody would print money then everybody would get rich. “yes” she added “and then if everybody had lots of money, all the prices of everything would rise”. What on earth. “who taught you that. Did I tell you that” I don’t remember teaching her that. “no, not you dad. My brain told me”. Wow. Old Chinese and European monarchs refused to understand the simple relationship between money supply and inflation. My nine old got it. Pretty cool nah. “yes Jispa that is bang on. It’s called inflation. When prices of things rise, its inflation”.
I am pretty surprised that she got that relation bang on. It is a pretty abstract relationship. It happens due to people behavior and not due to a mathematical formula. It is derived.
I guess having fun and intelligent conversations impact thought process in ways we can’t imagine. Kids learn from anything and make their minds work. We possibly underestimate their ability to sum total entire stimuli and form their own judgments, values and decoding formulas. Be very careful when you answer innocuous sounding questions or expose them to stimuli. You have no clue on the way a kid’s mind works.