style bhai

Style is a complicated concept. It is very difficult to understand style in a way we can all appreciate. When someone has style, it is impossible to specify the element of the person that we say best underlines his style. You and me with the same outfit would probably evoke different reactions of style. In fact, with you and me in the same outfit, 20 years ago – for sure the world would have thought of us as siblings. It was not uncommon while we grew up, for a family to buy one long piece of cloth and cut it up in different sizes to clothe the siblings. I think it was in style then. More importantly it was all that could be afforded then I guess. Forget the cost, which parent would worry about individuality when shortages of socialism loomed large.

We came back from the land of plenty (Dubai) to a country sold short on self-reliance. One of the things we got back from Dubai was a lot of cloth pieces. Ironically, they were made in India. India took its best products and simply exported them. This was true for clothing as was for fruits or vegetables. You want to eat /wear quality Indian produce – you go to where the Indian diaspora lived and paid in forex. It was quite often, which can be borne out by the pictures of old, that my brother and I were displayed to be cut from the same cloth. Occasionally my sister also joined in. Same t-shirts, shorts, or themes running through. When you like a t shirt design, you buy three and then – you make them all wear it together for a party -The Doshis, or whoever you were, had arrived.

When you were too young to understand or naive enough to believe in your parents’ judgement of what good look on you, you ended up being proud. Yay – we were The Doshis. I dunno why it but was a proud thing. Possibly because it signaled that we have enough money to get all three kids of ours new clothes. All three together with new clothes would be rarer than what you would think. Most got new clothes on Diwali, which wouldn’t be so uber cool as relatively speaking you weren’t one up on anything. The other day to get new clothes – birthdays! That would be one hell of a task on the parents end to coordinate. Especially when most kids are hatched rather unexpected in those days!

My brother was especially big in style. He liked to be the style guy around town and as soon as he got some sense and some rebellious streak in him, he broke ranks. He refused to wear color coordinated – anything. He wanted to be unique, himself. I was too docile or dumb or one would say above it all to care. I got that only in college when I had a girlfriend I wanted to impress. That she did not care a thing about I wore was a secondary fact in the story. She has probably once or twice in her life ever told me that I look good. Maybe she was being honest, but…

My brother and my sister both wanted to exhibit style. They looked west when the world looked in. after all Dubai returned kids were not to be trifled with. We knew English better than most, we had imported clothes that had been bought in TR, so that the stock lasted. Wait – what’s a TR? Transfer of residence you see. When you move in lock stock and barrel as an NRI you could get your house back home in the transfer of Residence scheme and if you could prove that you were getting things that you actually used – you could get them into the closed economy with relatively less duty and hassle. Relatively is important here. You still had to prove!

Style. Its so funny. It is meant to be individualistic but if you are the only one with it, its not in style. Style is cool as it smacks of individuality and group belonging at the same time. As long as the group is aspirational or edgy. I wouldn’t call gangsta aspirational but its edgy and it can then dictate style. It’s a funny feeling that gives the wearer a confidence like no other. Swag cam much later. We didn’t have Swag, we had style and that was used to define almost anything that smacked of attitude. Style. I am saying in a way that puts the emphasis on the y for a prolonged period. Ya. You got that StYYle. The ‘le’ is almost silent there.

Style was also dictated by the movies. Isn’t it always? Larger than life heroes, waltzing on the screen, dancing away, pulping villains and talking with a Styyle that’s hard to beat. Here is a clip I showed Jispa recently. That’s a dialogue that’s memorable because of the style. It has no substance and in any other context or manner or hero, it would have just sunk. Even today I repeat it with lesser ‘swag’ and it still brings about the same feeling. Here see this –

Didn’t I tell you. It’s a shitty line but its got much style that it became so memorable.

That is the thing with it. Bollywood had such an effect on us that it was hard to miss. I grew up in the age of the three khans – here look at them. Tell me what was common amongst them, that I so bloody couldn’t copy. It was just not possible. Come on take a guess…

No, that’s not it. The thing I could get was their hair. Nice soft, bountiful, manageable, silky floppy hair. What did I have – thick mop of wavy hair that I had no clue what to do with? No matter what shampoo I tried. Some promised to make it smooth and silky, some gave it style and some did… whatever. But mine remained a big messy glop. My mom used to call me a golliwog. You know what that is? It is often accused of being a racist reference in the beautiful children books of Enid Blyton. You know you hit rock bottom when you were darker than your brother and your mom calls you a racist slur! Done. End of story.

I tried my best. I tried conditioning, I tried going to different barbers as I could. I even went to eth expensive ones that stars go to at Bandra. I went to the Oberoi. I went everywhere. But once a goll.. ok. No self pity on this trip.

So I did what all cool kids with un manageable hair do -no, its not ‘put oil’ on it. That don’t work. That’s not style. Oil was …oil. A symbol of the Nehruvian era that we wanted to unshackle, way before Manmohan came along. At best we would allow our self oil only to wash it soon enough as oiled hair when washed turn out smooth. Well most others did. Mine were, by golly, that’s it.. By golly.

So, I decided or so I think now, that hair was just not so cool. Less of it was the best for all. So always the standard line to the barber would be, cut it short buddy. Everyone else would give some instructions, like keep it long on the back, trim from the sides and keep the shape. I was clear – cut it short buddy. I didn’t even bother to see the back side of the hair when he showed it to me after the haircut through a mirror he would hold up. I wonder what good that did once he’s done with the ruthless chopping. Anymore and he would have to use the razor.

And so, that’s me during growing up. Cut it short and tight. Though I do see some pictures of me and wonder – not bad, I did have a nice mop of hair. Joining the NCC was an even better decision thanks to the strict hair cut rules that they had. Unlike other cadets who hate the season as they had to cut their hair – I loved it. A completely great excuse to have a really bad hair cut. The crew cut.

Crew cut is something my dad explained to me. A nice crew cut that would protect soldiers from being pulled by the hair in a fight or simply have less incidence of lice. I liked that hair cut.

And as a logical extension of that, I wanted to go bald once in my life. Yes, not having hair would be so much fun. No shampooing, no combing, no oil, no dandruff and total style. I came close to it on a few occasions. I remember a barber dissuading me and sending me home. Then once before a trip we took to Ladakh, my frond V-inu and me got ourselves a buzz cut. Basically, almost bald – just a little bit of hair. We did not use a razor but a machine to cut it. That was a fun time. It was cold and I was semi bald in Leh! I had enough pictures of me and so I was quite content that I managed to go almost bald and had enough memory of it.

Over the last few years, I have been balding quite rapidly. Largely it’s a classical male pattern balding. Receding from the forehead and then in the form a circle from the back of the head. But my response to that has always been the same. Cut it short buddy. I never did manage to grow it long enough. Sometimes I do think that maybe I should grow it long and tie a man bun or something only to see hair all around the house shed by my lovely ladies and be dissuaded. I have memories of my friends with long hair constantly preening and taking care of it. I am so totally above those mere hair mortals.

With my penchant for short hair, I would constantly look at every opportunity to go to the barber. My wife would look at my hair and wonder and remark – you don’t need to cut them. But the rule was quite simple, if it touched the ears it needs to be snipped. The lockdown was the first time that I was forced to grow my hair to any decent length, especially over the ears. At first, I tried managing them, then I had to use hair cream, then I had to resort to constantly comb them. It was funny. I would comb them and show my daughter – Jispa did you actually ever notice that I have wavy hair. I would show my wavy hair to her as they were neatly combed. They would wave in unison like water at sea with the last bits sticking out.

This hair reminded me of my dad. His were curlier than mine but in some ways when he used to comb them, I could see those curls at the back of his head. Mine were so bloody similar. It was fun looking at them. But I couldn’t handle them for this long. I was growing tired of them.

I had bought a hair trimming machine; more like a beard trimming machine. I have used for long, enough to get the battery spoilt. I must keep charging it if I want to use it and charge wouldn’t hold long enough. So in spite of knowing this pit fall, I tried my hand at trimming my hair on my own.

Soon enough I did well to mess up the event. In any case, I always get tired of looking at myself for long. I can’t shave for long, or comb for long, or dress for long. I find looking at the mirror very narcissistic. In a few imnutes I was bored and boom, I just started cutting my hair completely. The trimmer ran out of charge, refused to cut properly, I could get to the ends and I had to call for professional help. Jasmine.

I got her in and asked to give me the complete treatment. I wanted to SHAVE my head totally. That’s the right way to do it. No pussy footsy trimmer hair – I want a total bald plate. It took us sometime, but we got it done. Finally, for the first time in my life I could fulfill my dream. I was bald. Totally completely. What a fun!

Just get under the shower and no more shampoo. Take a face wash and extend the surface area of application. Its too cool. I could feel the breeze over the head in the balcony in the evening. Simply apply some moisturizer as well in a similar way and we are ready for the day. What a revelation.

It’s a nice feeling. So many people are afraid to do it to their hair. I don’t know where they loose their confidence on this. I didn’t. I went to office, pretty cool and I even changed my whatsapp DP to show it off. And for good measure, I have kept a stubble wit it. Bald plate and a stubble, two things I wanted all my life in one go. I have finally arrived in life. Style became me. Swag became me.

Here take a look. Cool nah?

its the same...

Well hello.

Its been a while and there are so many updates. But you don’t really care about my updates do you. I don’t – that’s more important. I think I have lost the art of writing a blog. Its difficult. I remember how I used to write. It would be a random thought or an experience that would set me off and I would keep that in my mind when I reach the computer – dying to write about the experience.

Without that little germ of a thought its pretty pointless to write anything. I could just ramble on and bore the readers on the fact that I want to write – but I cant , blah blah blah.

There  are a lot of interesting experiences that have happened to me  or us that I could write about. Some profound and some that I find erudite. So there is the Corona lockdown that I could talk about, how I feel, how the world is; and within that there ae schisms in society around communal lines. A lot of my friends/ acquaintances are so polarised in their hatred of Muslims that I find it quite amusing at best and disgusting at the least.

But more important than that is the fact that we are in a 21 day lock down and I really read on how we will get the economy going after that. I see a huge pain. Huge. I am not sure if I will have a job or the salary that I get currently in three months. The pains are real, the economy is screwed, and companies will go through a really tight squeeze. I don’t think we have ever seen a squeeze this large and I don’t anticipate going through it without significant pain. Land (goods and services), labour, capital, are all under severe stress and a major realignment of resources is going to happen. I don’t know which companies or industries will come back form this stronger.

Small businesses even though unleveraged depend on daily cash flow for salaries and a month out without receivables is an impossible thing to recover from. Keynes spoke about the economic cycle and that it must always be oiled and any stoppage must be kickstarted by government spending. But this is crazy. We are seeing forces of economic activity being stopped in totality for an extended period of time. Our politicians don’t know what’s going to hit them when we start. Cash (and gold) will remain good. I see stress on everything else.

But that, however erudite is not what I learnt this week. I learnt something more. Something very profound. I learned that human behaviour is same and that by and large the ups and downs that we go through in life remain same from generation to generation. It will take many many years and inter galactic events to change these emotions a human goes through.

Jispa is 17 (almost 18) and I keep telling her that she is not much different from what we were as kids. We too believed that our parents don’t understand us and that we suffocate in their thoughts and actions. We are independent smart and young kids. We believe that we can change the world, but the damn world – its conspiring to stop us. What are these thoughts. The same thing repeated after 27 years. Same shit.

I am sure my dad went through teenage pangs himself as I did and so will my child and those that follow her. My dad did not talk about his childhood much and his teen years. I know that he was a good boy and studied well but then he didn’t study too good in engineering and hepicked up smoking and drinking as well. What I must say that before I was born for sure he gave up on smoking and somewhere soon after – he gave up drinking. I have a vague memory of opening the fridge as a 5 years old to see green beer cans. But not much memory of that soon after.

But he did speak a lot about office and the politics he faced. That was universal. The pyramid was there then and it is there now. People dragging people up, and down, mentors made, enemies made, jealousy seen and back biting / stabbing rampant. People are the same. I was telling Jispa that the world hasn’t changed too much.

 The way it comes out maybe different, but the broad strokes are the same. I see other kids, kids under me, my friends. They are also going through similar trials. It’s the same over the years. No matter what it is you are going through, you can bet on it that something similar happened to someone before. Its remarkably the same, whether its relationships, struggle, work, friends or whatever. It’s the bloody same thing repeated.

Sometimes when Jasmine asks me about work when she overhears something, I don’t respond. The answers are always too complicated. But occasionally I explain the game. When Jispa hears it, she is flabbergasted. She told us “thank god, I am not going to be like you, stuck in a job that requires you to do/ think all this.” I laughed.

Of course, you will face the same issues no matter what job you do. She wants to be in medicine/ sports science / physiotherapy or something. I told her – what do you think. People are different there. They are all the same everywhere. I told her that in some colleges where I used to teach, the other professors didn’t like me. I was not even the faculty, I was just the visiting guy but they still hated me because I taught well and I got 80% plus attendance. Jealously is everywhere.

Doctors have their own issues as well. So does whichever profession you can think of. Even freaking NGOs have enough problems and fights. NGOs do good work but internally they are people after all. You should see some of the jerks I have interacted with. In all professions.

You will see them everywhere. The problems you face are universal. When you have a relationship – you will face universal issues. Even relationships go through their cycle. I have the luxury of having so many friends younger ot me talking about their lives. Same things.

Of course everyone’s life is different but the underlying issues are very same. People are finally governed by emotions and life cycles. Life cycles depend on hormones, wisdom, experiences and interactions. These don’t change and hence life doesn’t change. Welcome kid. Your life is going to be as F&^ked as mine. Just differently.

What of course changes is how you react to them and how you handle them. I have had some good teachers. Some (few) who have taken the trouble to teach me and some who I have learnt like Eklavya form Dronacharya. I think I can’t solve how life treats me, I solve how I can treat life. How I look at it as game to be played.

Coming to which, I have now a new found love for gaming. When I was younger, I couldn’t afford games. And Jasmine never let me play computer games, though she is now hooked onto cell phone games. And I never forgave her really for this. But I have an enviable collection of games to be played and it gives the greatest joy to play them. Its post surgery rehab for me right now (second knee). And I look forward to the time that I hope I will have for – badminton, gym, running and games.

I don’t want too much more in life. And once Jispa is suitably settled down, that’s the limitation of my ambition. Professional and personal. A chance to play ata game worth playing. So help me God. GOD? Wtf I am atheist. But I still say God with a lot of love and reverence. Doesn’t make sense, nah?

It’s a topic for another day. Love you all.

Na Mazoot

Of late, I have noticed that Jispa’s voice has changed. She now has a little gruffness in her voice. A nice older gruff that compliments with her girl voice. Till very recently, her voice on the phone to me did not match with her brain. Whenever I used to speak to her on the phone, I felt I was talking to a kid. Now when I speak to her on the phone, she seems to be much more adult like. That’s nice. She is coming of age. This is one thing that I keep trying to get everyone around her to accept. She is 14. At 14 I remember myself. I was a complete independent adult in many ways. I thought of myself in this manner, reality be damned.

At 14, I was aware of the girls around me, I was aware of what I looked like, I was aware of friends, competition and some of the tragic realities of life. I knew, I guess, for the first time that I was alone. Whatever I had to achieve in life, I had to get there myself. At 14 – I had my first real big achievement. I took part in the drama competition and won the second-best actor’s award. I should have won first but I will always believe to my grave that, partiality was done, at the behest of the school vice principal. That was the first award I got and that was the one that gave me tremendous confidence that I was something. That I could. I always knew or believed I could (do something, anything), but this was the first external ratification of the same.

So yes, she is 14. She has the ability to make boyfriends on her own, handle girl friends on her own and handle all relationships on her own. I think she is a stable kid, while at the same time I think at some times, she is a little amenable to what we parents believe is wrong peer behavior. She seems to be swayed at times in her behavior, in the company of her friends. But that’s a cool thing. If she doesn’t learn now and she doesn’t fall now, when will she learn to get up and grow? She must actively fall now. Actively.

What’s my role then as a father? – to lend her socks. Actually I don’t even do that. I don’t LEND her the socks, she just takes them and my job is to be all cool about it. She loves my Happy Socks and my Avengers socks. We both love these socks which are colorful and full of personality. She just takes them from the cupboard and wears them at will. My job is to look at it approvingly and manage. Like a friend would. Its ok – of course, use it. This weekend we were in Pune and she hadn’t packed an extra pair of socks. She just took mine and wore them. Cool girl. I will wear mine for another two days. No problem.

The way I look at it, with a daughter you as it is, have very few things to share. She cant go raiding my cupboard the way she raids Jasmine’s. So quietly I look on extremely happy that she can at least can wear my socks. Hopefully, as she grows, we can share jackets (more likely) or T shirts (less likely), but for now – these awesome socks are the way to go.

What I also like about her these days is that she has also learnt to speak well and argue well and contribute well. She is more aware of the tone of the conversation and adds to it very well. The simple matter of saying “I could be wrong, but” before saying something potentially controversial. I learnt this when I was 28 years old. Yes I clearly remember when and where I learnt that art and who taught that to me (Prem from Momentum, not intentionally). I am so happy that she is doing this and therefore is able to hold conversations better. I think I had taught this technique to her while she needed to argue with her teachers on potentially volatile topics or to prove her teachers wrong. She learnt that knowledge is not necessarily a simple one way street. Not everyone is receptive to knowledge, especially when it comes from a younger, less heralded source. This is something that Jispa understood and learnt. So, she has adapted. She thrives with teachers who allow her to go beyond the box, to explain, to think. Also, she is learning the quiet confidence that comes from being a moderate. Whenever they have some controversial issues to discuss in class, she tells me that some jokers with the dumbest opinions have the loudest voices. Ya. She will learn.

Growing up is going to give her a fair share of awesomeness and pain in equal measure. She will realize that people aren’t what they seem and everything has a back story, an angle, something that is not apparent at once.

Just as another note. I came across this book which I promptly purchased. “Du Iz Tak”. Its an outstanding children’s picture book written in an imaginary language. Jispa and me went through it yesterday and we went absolutely nuts over it. We deciphered the meaning of the language ourselves. there is no legend along with. The language is the language spoken by insects and it conveys a beautiful meaning and has some absolutely amazing poetry in its illustrations. If there is one picture book that I would treasure, then its this. It’s a pity that it fell in my hands when Jispa has grown up; it would have been awesome to share this with her as a 6 year old. But I am not complaining for now. We both will enjoy it for some time to come. It now a shared memory. I want to record myself reading this book in the insect language along with Jispa. :)

And for the record Na Mazoot in insect language, supposedly is "i dont know"

-->

Dont STOMP on the clown

How long can you wait for something?

Many mnay years ago, I remember that the popular program on state controlled TV was a news segment that was privatized. It used to come every Friday, I think later in the evening. It was very well produced and it brought to India the highlights of everything happening around the world. It was Prannoy Roy’s ‘The world this week’. We grew up understanding the world as seen from the perspective of this show. Indian News was typical state run and boring with a newscaster giving the highlights through a script, with very little video reporting. Most of the reporting centered around the Prime Minister and his stooges. At the end of the news show, The world this week, always had a small interesting segment, an interesting video or a clip on anything around the world. Once, they showcased a very novel group making waves around the world. This was a musical dance group that only made music, and danced to it, from items found around in the streets. They used garbage cans, plastic drums and broom sticks to make excellent beats. I so wanted to see it some-day, some place. This would have been in or around 1991. I never forgot that feeling and that desire. I wanted to see for sure.

Recently around a month back, newspapers had ads that said that the original show “Stomp” was there in India, with shows in Mumbai. This was the original group that performed the percussion show that I saw on TV 25 years ago. It was here and in Mumbai and accessible. This was awesome. I definitely wanted to see it. I used the youtube to sell this to her. She was game. Often desires are scarified at the altar of family time. Then the next was Jispa. One Sunday, I showed it to her. I showed her the youtube videos and she was on board as well. So, the challenge was to figure the show in the busy schedule that Jispa and Jasmine have. Mine is simple. I work like a dog 5 days of the week and the weekend is devoted to family. Family has swim and other priorities and then I am done.

This time Jasmine figured the time and asked me to book the tickets. I was pretty excited. The tickets were definitely not cheap. They started at 750 bucks and went upto 4,500 a head. This was at the NCPA theatre which was a large but awesome theatre. At this place there aren’t really any bad seats. And inspite of waiting 25 years, I still didn’t want to spend so much money. I know it’s kind of nice and interesting but still. I saw the seating and there, the last two rows were for 750 and then the third row was 1000 and then the 5^th row was 1500 and there on. Wait a second. Was I going to pay double just to be seated four rows in front. That wasn’t happening. I ended up taking the last row at 750 bucks a ticket. I don’t know if I was getting cheap or I was getting really cheap or I was just a smart guy who was making a rational price value trade off.

Nevertheless, the 25 year wait was well worth it. The guys were lovely, athletic and full of energy. Most importantly they had enough funny moments in the show that added a lot of relief. They engaged with the crowd and made the crowd a part of the troupe by having segments in which the crowd was clapping in a set beat. There was one guy in the troupe who was singled out as the clown and who would do things against the grain of the performance. The most random of things would happen. One special random moment was when the troupe was making some music with the shopping carts as props. They kept passing the carts around each other, when randomly one shopping cart is thrown from one side of the stage to another and in it is this same guy who is calmly reading a newspaper. It was so weird and random that it was funny.

Later on, I had the chance of discussing this with Jispa. Seeing it for the amazing experience that it is, is one thing; but having the chance to discuss it with someone is another; and that someone who takes it further and imparts knowledge to you.. outstanding; and that is your daughter – complete priceless. She and me spoke about the performance and we discussed on how it was crazy and amazing. I spoke about the drama, the anticipation, the exaggeration of the movements and fun it brought on stage. Jispa took it to another level – she spoke about the ‘red nose clowning’ technique that she learnt at school. She spoke about how the show employed all the techniques to give the performance. Now that Jispa is old enough and she understands drama better, she likes to come for shows with us. Now to keep an eye out for such shows and to have conversations that generally increase the level of intelligence between the family. What more could I ask for.

On clowning, I just recently heard about the term mattachino.  This is the term used for the Italian court jester. The jester in the court was an important figure. His job was to tell truth to power. “Their role was more than pure amusement; they were the original “truth tellers,” whose job was to mock typical human vices of vanity, venality, snobbery, petulance, laziness, carpetbaggery, and fatuity. The court jesters aimed their humor at the usual targets: religion and the hypocrisy of its authority figures; pompous and self-serving scholars and grandiloquent artists; knavish and sycophantic court officials; and indolent, mercurial, or incompetent rulers.”

As I read about the mattachino, I realize that in office and at home as well, there is a need for the mattachino who role in life is to tell truth to power. Truth to power is dangerous and is not often allowed. More often than not it is punished. But a clown is the only way to say it. That is the way to tell power and for the power to digest it – through humor and laughter. When I started working, I have always noticed that there is always one guy in the team whose job it is to clown around, to speak the truth in a way that is best digested by everyone. When he opens his mouth, everyone laughs as he speaks the truth, he criticizes but in a way that you cannot take offence. I think in every board room, there should be a role of the jester. His job should be to diffuse the tension, to laugh, to crazy jokes, to make fun of people and to allow truth to emerge. In my previous company, I had a crack team. But this team most crucially had the freedom to laugh and to poke fun at each other. They would poke fun at me and I would get back at them. We would laugh. That allowed everyone to improve and move ahead.

Laughter is important. At our home, I take this very seriously. Everyone is allowed to crack jokes on anyone. You can’t feel bad about it. The most truth is told when we are having fun at each other’s expense. Within the norm of humor, respect and care, humor can only improve the team. My cricket team as well. Humour was important element. We used it to push each other and poke fun at each other.

Now I understand one more important dynamic of teams and one important dynamic of laughing. Interesting. Who knew…

Today almost by Gods will, while write this post I stumbled upon this video, which beautifully captures the emotion of poking fun through the vehicle of teasing.
See it - 



and this

bonus - Stomp trailer