Dreams and Despairs

Every time I walk around my new house I can’t but help thinking, wow this is a big house and wow, its mine with my money that I have earned over these years. How did this happen?

When I openly talk about my own astonishment, my friends tell me – Jaimit you are a big man, you deserve this. But I never saw myself as a big guy. I know I am pretty senior now in my company. I am part of a big team running the company. A far cry from the 25 year old kid who joined the company and was thrilled to get the designation Associate Vice President on card. So thrilled that I remember flashing it around at the college reunion. Like most other thrilling cute things. As time goes by, the novelty wears off and you move on.

In my case it also helps that I am married to Jasmine who is nonchalance personified. Ok, you are the super senior guy in office and all that jazz, and you are stuck in meetings that could potentially make a few crores for the firm in a few years, but till then, can you please get a printout and before you come home – get some bananas and get up a few minutes early and go down and get some milk. 2 litres – Gokul special. Gokul special? Doesn’t he deliver – its three bucks a liter for delivery charges.

There, I am grounded. I think even I become some big CEO of some big company, I still will have to get the milk home. Two liters, Gokul special. Cause she has to make paneer and set the curd for the weekend. Sure. That’s why I am always amazed how did this delivery boy get this big house? Just how?

But I am not complaining. When this house was being made, it was completely different from what I was imagining it to be. It was shaping up nicely and like a rich man’s house, and that was causing me great pain. I did not want a rich man’s house. My image of myself is a simple guy with simple tastes and simple wants. Not this awesome rich freak with wall papered hall. Call me old fashioned but I grew up on a healthy dose of Amitabh Bachhan movies where a rich guy in a big house is always the villain. I identify myself as the one single guy who against the system, always angry, trying to work hard and make a decent living. In the middle of all this – I got myself a house.

In fact in the middle of the process of making the house, I was having a real heart to heart conversation with Jasmine. I was telling her that I don’t like the way my house is shaping up. It is looking too rich. I don’t identify with this and she had to calm me down and say its ok. I think she saw the foolish of my self-image and had to endure my stupidity and my ill directed ire. Slowly but surely I started seeing how nice it was and how well designed it had become. It really was spacious and well done up. And tastefully so. And everyday when I reach home or when I wake up in the morning and walk to the dining room, I ask myself, how did this happen?

As a young 20 year old, I was pretty much insecure about my future, my life and my career. I don’t know what I did and how I got here. For me it was always a question of how could one survive. I dreamt of a simple one room where I could get to sleep and wake up and have less possessions. India was not awesome nor did it have enough opportunities when I was in college. It slowly opened up and allowed people to blossom and make the most of it.  This is the power of free enterprise and dreams. This alone can pull millions of people out from poverty and allow them a chance to lead a prosperous life.

When I was growing up, one day cricket was just a start and people were just about trying to follow it. The world cup had started and it was dominated by the West Indian team. It was only around ten years back I found out that the west indies is not a country but a loose bunch of countries tied together by a cricketing board that tries to pick the best team.  By the time I was growing up, in 1983, India won the world cup and the frenzy around cricket just started.

The world cup was being held in London every time as only UK had the money to host the world cup and they insisted that the commercials lead the sport. India ten with the help of Reliance Industries brought the world cup to India in 87 and showed that when it comes to money power and organizing skills, we were getting there. Then liberalization started and when a billion liberalized people want some thing, it happens. We could put the most amount of money on the table and then the richer countries started crying and asked for the WC to be allotted on a rotational basis.

Today India holds the biggest private jamboree on cricket every year in the form of the IPL and cricketers from around the world come to be a part of this melee. It’s a huge thing and an interesting victory of the triumph of private enterprise. So many cricketers now may have been consigned to obscurity now have a chance to make a decent living. Ditto with the kabaddi league in the country. Just five years ago these players were living a simple Spartan life till the league happened and changed their lives.

In some ways I look to identify with this phenomenon. A life time spent on have nots and insecurity moving to a life of abundance and an attitude of we will figure. It’s pretty dramatic a shift as far as mental shifts are concerned. But at least I am thankful about it. It’s improved my life and allowed me to live my dreams in the best way possible. I fought my way here and it allowed me to reach what I thought impossible. Whatever works… works.

As an aisde, I cannot understand how kids these days (kids meaning everyone younger than me) look at a hookah joint and want to plan to go there and smoke away. I cannot understand it. I was having a conversation with my daughter on this and wondering how this works as well. Some kids in her school, drink and smoke. Oh dear dear me. They are not even 18. Hookah joints are the start point as they look innocuous enough and harmless enough. Like beer and breezers, simple innocuous starting points. As Jispa told me – they are gateway drugs. Simple enough to pull you in and then envelop you completely. I cannot endorse it no matter how hard I try to accept it. But hell, you choose your life and you choose what comes with it. What can I say? These are the side effects and perils of free enterprise. The ingenuity of man works both ways. I don’t know if I have blogged about this, but the fact that alcohol figures prominently or subtly in almost every Hollywood and Bollywood movie, there is a consipracy theory I have behind this. I think it’s all funded by the liquor lobby to make it look cool. Even the Avengers movies shows Tony Stark (Ironman) getting himself a peg and enjoying his drink. Every Indian movie has a song sequence at a party / club after getting yourself a few shots.

It is wrong and this is subtle targeting. The ability to imprint the coolness in people’s heads. It will cost us a lot. Hookah will cost us a lot. In ways that are not direct and un-understandable. We will learn and we will see. After all the choice is ours. We choose. We decide. But hope we have the wisdom to choose wisely.

kya scene hai!

I was walking behind the office when I stopped to click this pic.

My colleague asked me what I was clicking – the Indian flag? Nopes. That’s just one of it. This photo has much more meaning than that. It is a long essay. You see the Indian Flag. It is on top of a defunct government company called the National Bicycle Corporation. The government post-independence set up the pillars or the temples of modern India in the form of state owned PSUs. These PSUs were all well-meaning but failed miserably to improve the quality of the Indian populace. They produced far less than  the demand. Everything was controlled. The state believed that they needed to control everything and all the resources so that they could efficiently allocate it all. As if it followed a neat mathematical model. That’s why waiting lists of a car were more than 5-6 years. Even scooters had hude waiting lists. The government produced stuff was of low quality and that of the limited private sector was too high on quality as well. Bajaj scooters was the largest in the country and he had a simple problem – he just couldn’t produce enough to fulfill demand. The shoddy scooters would often have a problem in starting. In fact people joked that they were made with tilt technology – you had to tilt them to get them to start. That way the petrol would get into the starter mechanism or something. But basically the Nehruvian dream of a well-planned state failed miserably. These dead buildings stand as a testimony to this.

On top of this dead building is the Indian flag. I guess there is enough budget or there must be an allocation of sorts for a flag that flies every day. There is no money to even repair the derelict building or the broken windows. In fact the broken windows story made famous by Malcolm Gladwell should  make for an interesting  reference point. The flag and the building make for this interesting contrast and tell a tale of corruption, lack of incentive, failure of planning and failure of ideals imposed.

In contrast what you see behind is the failure and success of a liberal economy. The success is simpler to see. These big massive buildings were only possible thanks to an increase in demand that liberalization through to India. Private builders can come in and get in modern technology to build these massive marvels of engineering. These are not your simple structure. They are designed differently so that they are abel to take in the load, wind etc while giving maximum space to the realtor for sale. Even dreaming of these massive buildings are now possible – in the old era, there was a cement ministry. CEMENT…why would you ever need a minister in the Union Cabinet to regulate something as base as Cement. But that shows – how much cement was important in building Indian and how less of it we were producing. I remember growing up and people talking about cement scams and bridges falling down. In fact the iconic movie – Jaane bho do yarron was all about a bridge that was a source of scams and the dam thing falling. And these massive buildings are also possible thanks to another development. The Slum Rehabilitation Act. Here the builders are allowed to rehabilitate the slums in buildings he builds and then in the leftover land he can build massive towers with some crazy FSI (the amount of floor space he can make and sell). So this is transforming the landscape. At first the socialist side of India allowed these slums and squatters to come up and occupy land and now we have this gargantuan problem that we have solved using the ultimate capitalist idea. But on the other hand this has given rise to the ultimate scrooge of Capitalism – Crony Capitalism. “Crony capitalism is a term describing an economy in which success in business depends on close relationships between business people and government officials. It may be exhibited by favoritism in the distribution of legal permits, government grants, special tax breaks, or other forms of state interventionism.”  Possibly the most hated business in Mumbai would be the builder community. Besides being seen as a goon that over promises and under delivers, the buyers worry whenever someone is buying a flat is that how legit is the dam thing, even as it’s being built.  There are many cases of the building being built and then the government coming in to say that the dam thing must be demolished. Sometimes this can even take 20 years. The other one is the game on FSI. Earlier before the rules straightened out there were weird rules of FSI allowed. Things like parking or open refuge areas did not take up FSI. There were weird cases of builders giving car parks to all residents outside their house one their floors. Yes you read it right – you had a parking outside your house irrespective of the floor you stayed on. Even if you were on the tenth floor. Basically you get the plan passed and then you let the residents do what they want. Like convert that massive space into a living room. Or show awnings outside the house but build them using concrete so that the residents then use it as a gallery. Real stupid stuff, using stupid rules against the system itself.

But at least a few things are happening. The construction is happening on an advanced level with professionals as opposed to ill trained contractors. Better safety of workers with a lot of workers wearing proper clothing and protection and modern equipment like cranes and lifts. The construction site does seem far more organized, clean and process oriented. At least more than what it used to be.

So I like the shot of the old derelict PSU with the New Indian Flag in a case of misplaced jingoism, with two massive buildings coming up in the background which are done under the Slum Rehab Scheme with a professional private contractor doing what looks like a good job! What a story in one picture.

dance can be inspiring

Ah. The fun of sitting out with the young kids in office unbeatable. Alos it helps that I don’t really interfere or look over them all the time and let them be what they want to be. Otherwise having a nanny around you is the most irritating thing that one can ever have. Of course it also helps me in a way that I can be a boss and not be bossy. Not bother about what people do whole day. I try not to even know what they have to do. I just sit around them, talk to them on random things and have a good time. I teach them a lot and they teach me a lot.

Today they were sitting and watching videos and I generally asked them what they were watching and they showed me the videos of ABCD movie. They first made me watch the Bezubaan video from ABCD and then Bezubaan phir se from ABCD 2.

Here watch the first video

You must watch the video to progress further on this blog!

We then got talking about the movie and the dance moves and how difficult it would have been to choreograph the moves. These days with the reality shows coming up on Tv with some amazing dance moves, there are so many dance studios mushrooming in the country. Now dancing and teaching dance is a respectable profession.  To my mind when I was growing up I don’t think one could tell a parent that one was going to dance for a living, unless one was a classical dancer. I am a hip hop dancer – ya sure – now can you get your accounts paper cleared. Sure . A lot of kids just must have grown up to dance and then bury their ambitions or passions in math books. Today thanks to the Karan Johar movies, having a sangeet function in the marriage is a must and in this marriage function all the near and dear come and dance to steps. These are carefully choreographed for maximum effect. People (a lot of people) come together for their friends or cousins wedding and spend time practicing their moves. This gives rise to a demand for choreographers who possibly might be able to make a decent level of income. I would surely assume that a lot of them from far humbler backgrounds. I saw a few and I thought this is a great thing for India. Jobs gets created in ways that we don’t imagine. Jasmine’s maid from her old house had a daughter who loved to dance. She then grew up watching these dance moves on TV. Now she teaches dance for a living. That’s great. That’s a step up!

Then these guys told me to search for Dharmesh sir on youtube. What? Just search for Dharmesh sir. What follows is one of the most inspirational audition clips that I have ever seen. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you. WATCH IT NOW.

As a teacher, as a boss, to see this clip is something extraordinary. Now when you see Dharmesh sir, do you think you have seen him somewhere? The first video has this Dharmesh sir leading the dance in a movie. If there is a great story of Indian media opening

 up possibilities then this is it! If there a story of triumph then this is it. I was really moved by this video. This is Dharmesh sir teaching his wards – doing well and then trying to do it himself! Whoah! From Baroda. Saala full emotional kar diya

how little

When we grew up in an India of less resources we fought for more and more for ourselves. The age was characterized by have nots and an amazing string of shortages. I have heard stories (probably not apocryphal) about 7 year waitlists for cars. I know for sure that when my dad came to Mumbai from Dubai, he bought the Bajaj Chetak scooter and got it immediately by paying in foreign currency. I think it was almost exclusively available in foreign currency. A lower end brand was available if you paid local currency.

Like idiots we fought and discussed all the issues that lay before us. Corruption, economics and everything else. The big cause as we and almost everyone saw it was a Malthusian curse of over population. It was only natural to think so. When you have less to go around, you think the best solution was to have less demand to start with. Everything boiled down to lowering population. Having less children was patriotic. First I remember the family planning programs having this slogan – hum do humare do. (we two ours two), alluding to one couple having two kids.

I remember noticing when the not so subtle shift happened to the program showing one couple and the male child simply removed from the posters. It was one couple with one girl.

All of us looked forward to the China model where they strictly enforced a one child policy to curb the effects of population growth and enough and more statistics emerged which showed that while being larger for now China will soon be eclipsed by India as the most populous country the world. We would have the ignominious reputation by, I remember, something like 2035! Wow that was a scary statistic. If you thought there wasn’t enough, here – have even less. Compete with more people. Eat less food. Wear less clothes. It was crazy.

I am suddenly reminded of these arguments as on Independence Day I was at the club where there was a bit of flag hoisting and celebration. The chairman or someone got up to make a short speech and he highlighted the population problem. He obviously was from the 60’s. I sniggered to my wife that he definitely hasn’t heard about the demographic dividend. China with its one child policy has another weird set of issues. You have older population that now has a much smaller younger  population to support it. India seems to have a, what they now term as, demographic dividend. A larger younger population earning money for a smaller older population. Some even split India into four zones and talk about how the demographic dividend has already been witnessed in the west and south while the north and east are now poised for reaping the benefits while a host of factors need to be considered.

So it’s a bit of a U turn that we see. Similarly such views are also seen in immigrants. At first cities flourish thanks to the waves of immigrants that come in and then we suddenly hate them with the right wing stroking fears of ‘them’ overpowering ‘us’. Then we want to throw them out. Then different statistics come out explaining how the immigrants that come in are the best brains from around the world and that if we shut them out our own innovations die out and we as a city we will die. Today India’s (arguably) two richest cities – Mumbai and Delhi are completely immigrant led. You would struggle to find anyone in these two cities who could trace their ancestry for greater than two generations. I haven’t found any son of the soil in Mumbai at least, nor known of anyone like this in Delhi.

Such u turns are common and thanks to the amount of reading I do –I am reconciled to them. In fact the law of unexpected consequences shows up almost in everything. In a lot of my life I have seen myself turning around and questioning my own beliefs. There are two sides to the coin. These days I have been far less opinionated on a lot of issues. I have spoken of this in my earlier blogs as well. This has also led to me blogging a lot less. If you have fewer opinions to talk about you obviously are going to talk less. Unless of course you have this space and time to rant on both sides. It becomes difficult to talk to start with.

You can hear about a bit of it the demographic dividend and other stuff at this talk.

And here is the link to why population growth is required –

In fact I never would have imagined seeing a story title like this  - ‘Low Birth Rates: Causes, Consequences, and Remedies.’ Remedy for LOW BIRTH RATES? I thought that was the cure. Oh man… how little we know. How little.

http://www.becker-posner-blog.com/2013/08/low-birth-rates-causes-consequences-and-remedies-becker.html

Dreams... best left at that

Last weekend Jispa’s swim meet which was held at Cricket Club of India. It helped me fulfill one dream of mine. To sit in the stands and watch a Ranji trophy match. Mumbai was playing Bengal in the match. The match also happened to be held at the same venue and there is stadium access from the pool area. Not that it mattered. Ranji matches are in any case I think free of cost to watch.

The stadium was empty save one stand. This was the stand above the screen on the opposite end from the pavilion. There were about 50 guys relaxing and watching. Some seemed knowledgeable and knew when to applaud a delivery. But on the whole the stadium was empty. If one were to look at the crowd, one would assume cricket is dying in India. That made me think what all could be done to promote this form of the game.

I thought that we could have a band for starters. Then allow people to get in their own food and beverages as a picnic. Since the stadium has steps in the stands they would need to create a flat platform. Also one could provide for decent cheap food and drinks as well on the other side have a better type restaurant. Then a bowling machine on one side for people to try their hand at cricket, contests for looking weird, and lots more fun. And also digital screens for replays, proper score boards, interactions with experts… blah blah. The most important –get the guys to wear t shirts with names on them. These poor Ranji players might be great players but no one knows them and we at least deserve to know their names if they bat or bowl or field. In short, keep the game sacred, after all it’s a test match, but spectators need a carnival! And then publicize the carnival. Use the press.

One of the things I was also thinking about was have a photography contest. One the sidelines have a veteran photographer giving tips and have these hoards of amateurs clicking and sharing. There you even have content for social media, stuff you can share on Facebook and make the match even more talked about. There are a plethora of amateur photographers who think that just because they have an SLR, they are pros at the job. They love coming in and discussing stuff and trying to take great photos. Hell even the non SLR guys are forever clicking.

I was thinking about this when I was walking back to the pool from the stands. There one more swim parent was there. He had a camera in his hand and was trying to get a piece of the action. At that time, one guard was rushing towards him. “no sir, cameras not allowed here. Not allowed to take photos.” There, that’s India for you. ban it, stop it, prevent it. I understand that big stadiums have a security threat on a big match day, but here, you want guys to click away and share the moment. In any case you can’t stop mobile phones which most use in any case. Once IPL season starts, your FB is spammed with guys clicking themselves inside stadiums, even when ‘it’s not allowed’.

You don’t allow food, no drinks, no shops to buy anything from, no names, no replays, no contests, no atmosphere… and you wonder… is domestic cricket dying. Dam you idiots. A complete lethargy of thought from the richest cricket board in India. What do they do with all that money? There is tons of it to do what?

Forget it! My dream was to see a Ranji trophy match. Now I know why I never ever went nor knew anyone who went. What a stupid thing to do. Boredom at its best! Some dreams are best kept the dream stage itself.

clarity in a cafe :)

All you need to do is smile.

On Sunday we were at the Café coffee day opposite Don Bosco high School at Matunga. This place somehow has been a favorite of mine. Every time we get good guys for service attached here. Around eight years back, this was a favorite haunt for Jasmine, V-inu and me. Many evenings were spent here. I would come in from office and we would all catch a coffee there. Whenever there was a bit of stress at home with mom and all that… a coffee to soothe the nerves was a welcome break at this café. Jispa too played  a lot here. Whenever Dinesh who was in Paraguay at the time came into India, we would again spend evenings at this café. There was a certain warmth with the café.

Over some time, the café décor seemed a bit dated and AC would not work as well and the chairs would be a little wobbly and we too moved to Wadala. This café moved out of our sight and mind. Recently they redid the café. The essential layout remained the same but the décor looked new and fresh. The AC was new and the furniture no longer wobbled. We made it back to the café.

These days I have been noticing a lovely trend. Girls from middle /low income households working at stores and cafes in Mumbai. They are pretty sweet, know a bit of English to get around and are eager to smile. They are not the sales girls of yester years that came with an attitude and looked at every male guy who smiled as a guy wanting to pass a line. In variably these new girls are dressed smartly in work uniforms which are pants. I remember reading somewhere  or was it my teacher telling me that one of the big developments after the world wars was that women worked shoulder to shoulder with the men in factories producing stuff for the war while their men went out in the battle field and fought it. One of the things that they learnt to do is wear work pants. This helped them work, and the stupid skirts no longer restricted movement. It far easier to wear pants that skirts when you have to work. I think this is a major development as far as women empowerment goes. Now they don’t have to look girly or even behave like one. They stand next in line to the guys and can do whatever the guys does, even possibly better. From the dressing there is no way to know who is weaker or incapable of working hard. Pants bring men and women together in many ways.  Jasmine could never wear pants while growing up. Her dad was far too conservative for that. But after engagement she wore what she wanted to and now – she doesn’t have a single skirt in her wardrobe. Every day wear for her is track pants. They are easy and efficient.

I am seeing kids (girls) across India now wearing pants. Their parents are allowing them to do so and slowly they will grow up wearing them. In college today no girl comes to college ever in a skirt. Even mini skirts are rare – they rather wear shorts. To me it shows that these kids are growing up to believe that they are capable of doing a lot, irrespective of their gender. This is the generation that will lift the nation’s income and attitude. These girls will grow up and kick their husbands. They will play a greater role in shaping their child’s independent thinking.

I have also realized that they are open to conversation. They smile back and …. A big one… if casually, they give great service or something and if I pat their shoulder, they don’t shudder. It’s ok.

Coming back, this CCD has a good bunch of staff. Smiley and cute. These girls tend to be shorter than the average, possibly alluding to the situation that they possibly did not get enough nutrition in their growing up years. There has been a lot of research that the girl child gets lesser nutrition than the male and hence their height over the long run gets affected. It just takes two generations to sort this right with adequate nutrition.

So these cute tiny girls smile a lot when I give them the order. And I have a habit of constantly thanking the staff. I think I started this after Jispa was born and after I got comfortable with myself. Possibly after dealing with five stars or something. I don’t know. I can talk to any one right from the five star lobby manager to the usher at the cinema. Talk sweetly and thank them for their service. Then the next thing I do is call them by their name. They have a name tag – it must be used, right? So I gave one cute lady the order and thanked her and then when the order came to the table by another lady I thanked her as well. I have precise instructions many times. I want the coffee a little hot, I want an extra glass, one sugar sachet is enough etc. I must said thank you one time too many. And the lovely cute lady smield back and said “sir, aap itna thank you kyun bolte ho” (why do you thank me so many times?). “well if you keep giving me good service I will continue to thank you”. I always like to thank people for working. It’s a tough job and at the least – they should get a nice smiley customer who thanks them for their work done.

Lovely service must be rewarded by simple praise. And repeat business. So we went there again on Sunday. This time there was a lot of rush happening. There was an interschool chess tournament at Don Bosco and kids and parents were thronging to the CCD. They were overwhelmed. The lady at the cash counter recognized me and smiled. I asked her hows it going. She told me that today was huge day for them. They are doing record business and the crowd is great. She has been working whole day. They even got staff to come in from other stores to cope with the rush. I could see that they were in huge trouble. Orders were getting wrong, especially when clients wanted some customization. Orders were taking time and the customers being affected by the heat outside weren’t exactly forgiving. Luckily I got a seat that gave me ringside action to the stress they were in. Tempers and irritations were obvious inside the team. This team doesn’t normally work together and they were put in to work in a hostile and demanding environment. The manager was trying to work as hard as possible. But there was an issue…

That’s the problem with India. The pressure on growth drives corporates to expand and open as much as possible. What goes wrong is in the training of the people. These cute ladies weren’t smiling as much as they should have. The first response to an aggrieved customer was not a disarming smile or a body language that said – yes I am listening. It was .. no but this is what you asked for.  For a service joint, food is only a small fraction of the cost. McDonalds understand this very well and has a lovely policy here. They just take the stuff back and give you new stuff. Burger is cold – ok, thank you sir, dump it goes and here – take this new one. Once in a delhi Mac, I spilled all the cola while taking it to the table, NO Problem sir. We will clean it and voila – new coke was on my table.

As I saw them, I thought to myself… the only thing that is important here is that the manager should smile. The captain must smile in such situations. I always try and keep my spirits high when a match is going against me. SMILE. Don’t shout and don’t scream. SMILE. Then I realized that this simple learning is what I seem to have missed recently in office. I was losing my cool a bit too often for my comfort. Smile, Shit happens. At one time I used to be the cool dude who smiled when you did shit. My smiling when shit happened was enough for guys to feel like shit. Smile. I explained the situation to my daughter. See what’s happening. Look at the stress, see how they are behaving with each other. The only thing is for the captain to smile. At least he will improve the atmosphere inside the pantry at the CCD outlet. This will start a virtuous cycle. His staff will smile, his staff will smile with each other and then at the customer. Things will move smoother. Smile.

A simple learning that I have had all along but forgotten in the middle. Smile. I do it on the cricket field all the time. Smile. We lost the match we should have won. Smile. The guy just thrashed my bowler for the biggest six on the ground – Smile. Be aggressive, go for the jugular, but smile. The memory of the South African captain Hansie Cronje is etched in my memory. He normally has a dull dour image on the cricket field, he rarely smiled. But once in one match when the normally reticent Rahul Dravid was tearing his bowlers apart in a rain truncated match, the Proteas seemed to be losing the plot.  My memory of him smiling as broadly as possibly that day, is something I will never forget. Possibly I have that memory of the cricket field and possibly I don’t have any similar memory of office. But I have to try and do that. Smile. It’s different from Don’t worry be happy. Worry , stress out, anything, but smile. You will learn to cope better and your team might cope better. If there is shit in your head, don’t spill it in the open. Smile.

as good as it gets

One of my favourite bloggers put in a comment on the last post I had. She said that she felt my blog was reassuring, having just watched Blue Valentine and that she was also nervous about the future. Though she is nowhere near as dramatic, the post reminds me (though not directly) of a lot of young students that I meet while teaching as well as not so young turks at work (though all younger than me). When I talk about myself and Jasmine and the relationship I share, they go like – you guys are an inspiration or you guys are ‘IT’, you guys are so lucky to have found each other and many other such words.
While earlier when I was much younger I would beam with pride, as if Jasmine and I were Cupid’s special children. But as I got older and hopefully wiser, somehow these comments did not have the same reaction from me.
I have thought a lot about this many times. Jasmine and I are not the perfect couple. We are nowhere near the perfect couple. It’s not that we hold hands all the time or that we always agree on everything or that we don’t disagree on anything or by any metric you think of. We are as diverse a couple that can be. But we fight as hard as others, of course less than some others. The way she reacts to my anger irks me even more and my thought process is completely different from her. We have disagreements and everything else that normal couples have. We agree to a few basic things, such as parenting is the most important thing in our lives, thrift is a virtue to be celebrated, travel is an important objective, reading is the source of everything and we trust each other completely with spending. Everything else seems open to disagreement.
So we can’t be as blessed as Cupid would want us to be. So what’s it that makes us tick or I would put it – stand out. While I met a lot of younger folks and spoke to them, I think one theory kept popping into my mind. That’s it. It’s got to be the theory – it’s as simple as I started my college in 1991 and that was about the time I started going around with Jasmine.
What’s with that sexy date? That’s the year liberalisation started in India. We then started getting access to a lot of brands and products that were till then only found in the suitcases of foreign returned cousins. We watched foreign shows on video cassettes smuggled into India. Basically I thought and I have blogged about it, that pre 1991, we were a starved naked nation. English movies were being played in a handful of cinema halls such as Regal/ Sterling or Eros. A good movie with great reviews would be the destination for the family once or twice a year or at best four times a year. But to my mind the biggest thing was TV. Door Darshan was the state owned broadcaster who would have prime time of one hour everyday sandwiched between the Hindi and English news. It provided wholesome family entertainment, aimed at enhancing, maintain and strengthening family values and bonds.
I entered college with no brands and locally run cable TV and exited my studies in 98 with a proliferation of brands and channels. I saw MTV, Star and the rest entering with English dominated programming and quickly moving to the local language.
So what’s that got to do with my marriage? I think it’s pretty simple. Those days not too many couples would be going around. While the boys would have loved to, the girls were coy about accepting proposals and couples would generally keep their relationship largely secretive. The odds of being slapped if found out was very large. There would curbs on freedom, friends and pocket money. It was seen as a stupid distraction and was generally frowned upon. “I did not send you to college to have an affair young one”. So generally those days, couples were a rarity and they really had to fight all odds to keep the relationship alive. Nosey brothers, parents, neighbours and the lot who would look at the first chance to snitch and spoil your life. It was especially difficult for the girl’s side of the equation. Also catching private moments together was so difficult. There were no coffee shops to hang around and chat. We would have no access to cars to go for a long drive. Meeting each other would be only during the official stay out of house hours, which would mean – college hours. No cell phones and no internet would also mean absolute cut off when you say bye. You decided the next time and place well before you said your goodbyes. Hell I couldn’t even ever go to Jasmine’s house nor call her until our relationship was officially accepted. Four hard years of agonising. Jasmine would make random excuses and get friends to attribute my gifts to. Crazy man! Absolute nightmare.
We would live in the mortal fear of being found out. wow. Real tense days. Things eased up considerably after 91 for the rest of the batches. Batch after batch came in with different outlooks, a more modern sense of dressing and a progressive attitude. In my time, not many would wear jeans to college, with many wearing salwars and in traditional day the women would wear sarees. Today on traditional day the women wear salwars. To mind, the liberalisation brought about a change in attitude as Indians came increasingly aligned to the world. Cable and Satellite TV penetration (in one research) shows correlated strongly with the improvement of living standards of the women in India. At least a lot of metro India is now open to a whole host of things. Women working is one of them. It is considered lesser of a privilege and more of a right, which it should be.
The tension I felt in those days while courting jasmine is visibly missing. My THEORY and its only that MY THEORY is that when we of old were going around, there was no time to think about compatibility. You loved someone and it was for life. A woman could fall in love once and any more was not considered normal. A man would also commit largely forever. And when you were going around the external pressures were so high that I don’t think we ever looked inwards. What you mean by ‘making a relationship work’. Of course it worked. You said the ‘love’ word right. Done. Get married, have kids and carry on your life.
When my students come up to me and tell me that they are going around, I say great; so you getting married to the guy? I don’t know is the common reply. It took me some time to reconcile myself to this answer. What you mean you don’t know. You are going around right? Now I realise that people are tuned to a lot more things in the relationship. Things that I did not understand are basic stuff like compatibility, space, individuality. I did not understand it then and I am only able to understand it out of my context. For us, her friends are my friends and my friends are her friends. Whatever permission we got to stay out of home was used to stay with each other. What is private space? Each moment away I would be dying to talk or meet her as there was a complete cut off from each other.
I guess it’s something like adversity makes people come together, kind of thing. The world was against us and we had only each other. In times like that who can think of luxuries. And I feel lucky.
I entered college with one value system exited seeing another. Our relationship was born in a more conservative system that emphasised staying with each other more than anything else. I think I was able to see the transformation of India while I was between 15 to 23 years old. In Big Town India, the generation was the bridge between the have-nots and the haves. Crucially it gave me the glimpse into tradition and modern values, and allowed us to be imbibed in older values and not be threatened by the newer ones. Because we were in college in those times, we could look at the change and believe we were at the forefront of them and actually believe that it was us leading it. Truth be told, it would have happened irrespective of us. In fact I thought my generation was the soft wimpy one. In Mumbai – college politics were wiped out, drugs were a reduced menace, hip parties were boring and people were thinking getting jobs and getting married. Simple predictable people who just got swept in liberalisation and exited to a world that looked like a candy shop. I proudly bought my dad a pair of Reebok Sandals with my first pay. I had arrived.
So that’s my theory. We were too unsure about the future to be unsure about or relationships. That was the only sure thing we had. I could be wrong and possibly people are right – it is a cupid combination, but I think otherwise. I think both Jasmine and I did think there wasn’t another alternative. So when it has to work, then you don’t have options. You only focus on what works. Possibly if the world was more acceptable of teen relationships or forgiving of break ups, possibly then ... I could have accepted admiration.
When I was playing basketball, I was happy to have simple shoes. Not Reebok or Nike but just decent shoes. I remember my dad buying me a pair of good old ‘Power by Bata’ shoes. When all you needed were black shoes for school and canvas for days you have PE class, a specialised sneaker only to play was as good as it gets.
So I guess all it requires is a simple mindset that says there is no option, but I wouldn’t recommend it at all to Jispa. I would tell her to choose, to think through, to make a few mistakes and go ahead. It will come with its share of insecurities but I don’t think that as we get more ‘modern’ can we be less individualistic. It’s worth every bit of it. You might just miss the old fashioned romance, but you can catch on a few older movies. May I recommend one – it stars Aamir Khan and Madhuri Dixit – Dil. Or possibly the Salman Khan – Maine Pyaar Kiya. Then reassure yourself anew, that you are them and they are not you.

football

In some ways I hate Jispa’s vacation. It takes my morning schedule and throws it out of the window. Jasmine too believes she is on vacation further compounding matters. Hence thanks to that we don’t sleep early we wake up later and I barely get time for my morning yoga and swimming. I guess I have learnt not to fight it too much I just get on with it. I have decided it takes too much effort and will power on my side to break away from the family ritual and I stay on in bed and just about manage to amble in to office on time.
I am just dying for the school to start. Morning yoga and morning swim is just the right thing for me. I have been getting too soft and hopefully the coming Monday will see me back to the good old schedule.
To make matter worse the general uplift in work load means very little time for writing my blog. I like to come in a bit early and sit down and write before the office wakes up. So today I missed yoga and a swim but I managed to come in early just to write the blog. Somehow this blog has become an important creative release for me. I feel it gives meaning to some activity of mine. I don’t know. But its fun writing.
Talking about activity… no matter how much you exercise every sport is different and has its own nuances. On Saturday we had the intra office soccer tournament. It was a five a side affair with tiny grounds and small goal posts. Played in rain on grass, it makes for a wet, horribly soggy ground and a mud wrestle of a match. Its complete chaos. And after the tournament day you discover some muscles that you never knew you had. While walking the first time I felt that there was muscle a little over the shin and below the knee. Till now I thought it was all bone.
The reason I can feel this muscle on my right leg is because I am the defender. My job is to kick the ball right into the other half. The muddy ground makes passing impossible and the water soaked patches makes dribbling a farce. And in five a side there is no office rule. I learnt this lesson around five years ago. Just kick the ball over every ones head into the other side. Most teams make this mistake of dribbling and passing and slow short passes or solo runs by the star. The star player is simply supposed to hang around the opposite goal. Two defenders are enough to save almost any goal from the amateur sides. Especially when there is soo much muck floating around. Also with seven minutes a half, the referee is not going to blow the whistle often and on most fowls. You have to be blatantly dragging the guy down to really give away a foul. It is an ugly slug fight.
Some patches are so water logged that there is atleast a foot of water. We had one area near the goal post. There the forwards were fighting with the defender, the goalies joined in, no one really knows who is in which team, everybody is covered in brown. People are fighting and falling all over the ball. The goalie cant get a grip on the ball. At one point the defender had come sliding in, the goal had jumped over him, the attacker was down and eth ball… the ball was somewhere near the led of eth defender and under the stomach of the attacker. Then another defender comes in and tries to kick the ball which is under the stomach of the fallen attacker. All this in one foot of water, and the rain is still coming down hard. Finally the ref had enough and blew the whistle for dangerous play. Penalty. As a defender I was happy that the ball wasn’t kicked my way. I had tears in my eyes from all the laughing thank to the sight.
The penalty spot was in 4 inches of water. The attacker managed to put the ball there and he took a kick. What do you expect? The ball did not even reach the goal post.
That’s football for you. Good fun nah? Well it’s a male thing. All that physical exertion, hardly any skill, lots of mud and a general fight on hands.
I guess there is reason why we like cricket over football as a nation and I really don’t know what Girish says about Indian genetics and football :) (he does make sense) but all I know that I don’t see too many Indians falling over and rolling in mud trying to play this game. Like most writers without substantial proof I feel like saying ‘it’s too anti Brahminical to succeed in India’. But like most truths, I think the answer might be a curious mix and match of many more characteristics. Sometimes I believe it’s simply a case of lack of role models.
My brother used to play very good football. In fact he was given the haloed number ten jersey while he played at school. My mom told him that football will never sustain him as a career. While my sweet dad loved sports and tried to support him in his game, at some time he knew it was education that would hold him in his life not football. I don’t think our parents ever saw that it was possible to play football and make a career. My brother is only one. There were many such talented player who just about killed their talent and love with education. My guess is that only after Sachin really made it big and showed how its possible to play cricket and make money that so many parents supported their kid’s cricketing ambitions. Till about them most of the players who played for India generally belonged to the upper class.
Which makes me think. Do kids require role models or is it parents who require role models. A kid simply plays, it’s the environment that supports him or not, basis their own beliefs. Hmmm… I am thinking.