daddy blues

The greatest truth of parenting is that ‘by the time you realize your dad was right, you have a child that thinks you are wrong’. Luckily Jispa and me are probably better than my dad and me. We learn and understand and think about parenting largely from our experiences. Some of the best times I have had with my dad was when he and me sat and discussed stuff. So, from there I took a branch and built a tree around discussion and talk. I have tried to build my relationship with my child around that. I miss the discussions that I had with my dad and sometimes I wish he was around so that I can have some chats on this with him. My dad got his first heart attack at around 45 and his second and final at 58. I hadn’t realized the issues or the moments that I would remember him best for.

It easy to remember the sad memories and that of being scolded but then as you grow and as you have various experiences with your child you realise different things that your dad was right about.

One of the things that I don’t quite happily remember was when he went after my breathing. He wanted me to keep my mouth shut and breathe through the nose. Simple. He would see me come back from a game and he would see that my nasal passage was blocked and that I would be gulping for air and he would in in no uncertain terms tick me off. He would tell me to close my mouth at every instance. While eating, while walking, while reading, while dozing off and while talking. He was very upset with me keeping my mouth open. He was right. My keeping my mouth open would cause me to breathe shallow and would cause a lot of issues. It would break the fundamental rhythm of my breathing. It was a wrong habit and he was right in correcting it.

But I also don’t have too many happy memories of it while he was correcting them. It’s not a nice thing when your dad is going after a bad habit of yours.

Thanks to that today I largely keep my mouth closed and I know how to breathe well and I see so many kids around who haven’t learnt this simple thing – keep your mouth shut. I see so many women especially with a pout. Their lips remain separate for no rhyme or reason. This is the famous pout that models also show off. I saw Jispa with this annoying pout as well. Now I didn’t want to be like my dad on this. It would have caused my dad a lot of pressure to be like this for me and I dint want Jispa to go through the monster in me for this.

Luckily I have a channel of communication open with her. I had a conversation on this with Jispa. I explained to her how it’s important to breathe with her nose. How if you don’t use the nose it creates blockages, possibly thanks to all the unused mucus, and how it comes back to haunt you. She understood. She improved. Recently she had a small hairline fracture while attempting a high jump in school for the sports day. She landed on her hand and broke her elbow. What to do? My questions to her were – did you cry – Nopes. Nice one. Did you at least clear the height? – Nopes – A dear what a waste. The happy by product of this was that she was at home for 15 days without swimming. That meant a whole load of rest for us. Also, it was very important considering that we were to start repainting of the house and we had to stay at my brother’s place while he was vacationing. It was a nice thing for us in hindsight that our temporary relocation came alongside her fracture. We could manage without too much mess in our lives.

But coming back – she was out of action from swimming and when she restated it took her some time to get going. One of the things she was feeling is that her breathing rhythm was out of whack. For a swimmer that’s a key thing. She explained that her muscles were right, her lung capacity seemed ok, but it just felt that she was getting less oxygen per breath. I told her that, I think it’s the effect of not swimming and keeping her mouth open. While she swam, her nasal passage would remain clear and any cardio exercise would help further clear it. Ever since I started swimming and then started playing badminton, I have hardly ever gotten a cold. I remember getting sinus in the past but now my theory is that a good dose of heavy breathing helps clear the nasal passage and keeps the cold out. It’s a gift of oxygen to our bodies.

I told her about my experiences and asked her to learn from it. It was a lovely chat. She understood and gave her perspective and then she decided that she was going to try and keep her mouth shut as much as possible.

So, what is this blog about? Is it about breathing, about talking, about scolding, about me, about my dad. I think it is most about how much I miss my dad at times. I learnt quite a bit from him. I missed all the lovely conversations I had with him, I hate all the times he scolded me. But I know what a millstone he must have hung around his neck when he scolded me. Three kids and two boys in it. Of which my dad always thought of me as the kid with the most waste of potential ratio. I know what a long way I have travelled to reach where I have. The struggle and the pain I have gone through. I haven’t reached anywhere by simple god given talent. It’s been a struggle, to achieve in work, to be a parent, to be a ‘dad’, to stay fit, to be alive, to give and retain gyan – a lot of struggle.

In that I have hardly given my dad the credit that is due. Slowly I realise how it works :)

bonus video - something my dad listened to 

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.

the selfish giant

This post was written on Saturday but posted later. Why is this important? Because this blog has a time value attached to it. Time is the fourth dimension, but is relative. What is all this shit? Well, I have been reading some stuff on quantum physics and I find it completely disconcerting. The journey as it seeks to find the theory of everything. This stuff does not make any sense. But it makes so much when you read it. It is so fascinating but at the same time so bloody mind boggling. Sometimes I wish I had taken physics major. That the stuff I was always good at and I naturally loved. Nowadays it makes for great fun to read this complex stuff and be entertained. It is only possible if you don’t want to remember it all and give an exam. Because otherwise it would be so insurmountable. I even read stuff about us living in mutliverse as opposed to a universe. Whoa!
But the point of the time value of this blog is important as I sit down today and reminiscence on the feeling that got built up over the last year as we hurtled towards yesterday. In the good old days I felt excited and I wanted yesterday to come everyday. I even counted the days to yesterday. Till I was in third standard yesterday was always in my school vacations. We used to live the gulf, where the school shut for the oppressive summers and I could not have my day in the sun in front of peers. Yesterday was an important point in my every day year. So when we first came to Mumbai I was so excited that I would get to celebrate yesterday with peers. I started counting the days I would take to get yesterday. Waiting and counting. If I am not mistaken I even counted up to 45 days. Oh that day. I wore a safari suit in the fourth standard. What was it blue or was it grey. But I was so proud. I must have never been so proud to distribute orange hard boiled confectionary. It used to cost 10 paise for one at retail price at around 6 paise per sweet at wholesale rate. Man I was so thrilled. The first time I had a chance to celebrate my birthday in school and having 60, not just 30 as per gulf school norms. Yeah yeah. It was day in the sun. No wonder I was so excited.
All these years I continued to be excited till something struck last year. It was my own version of the mid life crisis. I started hating birthdays. Not that the thought of growing older hurt. But au contraire I loved getting old. But I started hating getting birthday greetings from people. Why? I don’t know if people really care when they wish and I stopped liking any wishes and I started suspecting them of being mere formality. I also stopped wishing too many people on their birthdays as well in the hope that they would in turn stop greeting me as well. I even got rid of my birthday notification from the social networking sites.
Day before yesterday I sent a mail to HR. they have this practice of sending emails announcing everyone’s birthday. What a complete waste and pain. So I wrote them a mail asking them to please desist on my day. Just. Just spare me. As I get older I have gotten more anti social. In fact I merely got grumpier. Just like the old troll in fairytales. On Thursday being my grumpy old troll mood, I refused to listen to my team request for a luncheon on Friday. In fact once my meeting got cancelled for the morning I put in a request for the day off. I am not even coming to office. The second half we planned to run off to Igatpuri at my sisters bunglow with her family and my brother’s as well.
I make an effort not to remember my birthday. My dream one day is to forget it completely. That will be the day according to me. so I woke up in the morning not remembering its my birthday till I received an sms wishing me. as I came out of the shower my wife and kid sang the birthday song. I like that. I know people who really care, when they wish, it doe fell kind of good. My things with birthdays is the rest of the world not those who care.
I spent the rest of the morning helping my wife clean the house as we were to leave for three days. Roaming around in a pair of jeans, I was trying to get my pedagogy right for the lecture I was scheduled for next Sunday.
Suddenly the bell rang. As jasmine opened the door, I saw my good peon form office – Vinod with a cake in a bag. Oh god. They sent me cake from office. I looked at Vinod. Since I was topless I looked at him and aksed, ‘ are there others around? are they hiding?” he nodded and pointed in the direction. I ran in to wear a t shirt and then came out to discover them hiding near the stair case. SURPRISE!!! My team along with two others who are no longer a part of my team was present. Ok. I really love them. They all came in from office to catch me on my birthday. They had got a chocolate mousse cake which I proceeded to cut and then they took turns splashing it on my face.. Soon enough one spark resulted in a cake fight. All of us including my wife had cake n our face. All with brown melting mousse dripping down on the face.
It was pretty good fun.
Moral of the story – I was a grumpy old troll with a bad attitude problem. Sure enough you get shitty people and people who don’t care but at the same time you get good guys with a lot of love to share. In my effort to alienate those I do not care about or thopse who do not care for me I end up alienating those who do and those that matter. I almost threw the baby out with the bath water. I am reminded of the story of the selfish giant who did not let any one in his garden and winter permanently set in. It only got a bit of spring when one small kid who refused to get intimated by the giant and came and sat on one of the trees. The giant then saw light.
My team refused to get intimated by my ‘trollness’. They said screw you. And they came home and showed me what I might have missed.
Dates are irrelevant to the rational mind. They have no significance. What is the point of celebrating Independence Day. Work hard and be honest if you really care. Don’t sit and celebrate the day by watching old emotional movies on the telly. What is the point of it? Pure symbolism. What shit?
But at he same time, isn’t it a day to somehow remember that we struggled. So many fought so that they and more importantly those to come would be free.
My birthday has no real significance to me and to the rational mind it means naught. But we are all a bunch of people guided by irrationality. I liked it that the team came. I liked celebrating with them. It mattered to me that they felt welcome to come home and the fact that they bothered. It said something to me. it also proved my belief that I might be a troll at times but I am a likeable troll or at the least approachable. Having cake on my face was the ultimate gesture of acceptability.
In the physics book that I was reading I read about the Solvay conference held in Brussels devoted to Quantum Physics. 17 of the 23 delegates were or would become Nobel laureates. Marie Curie was even a double laureate. Einstein was one delegate. It was here Einstein declared in reference to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle that “God does not play dice”, and to which Niels Bohr replied “Albert, stop telling God what to do”
Wow. Imagine the group where one like Einstein can be told something like that in no uncertain terms. There is respect for the brain but there is also a healthy irreverence. Groups where people aren’t afraid to speak their mind are the groups that I would love to belong to. That is the group that I prefer. A respect but a certain irreverence. A case of opposites reconciling. And to think of it – I almost missed it thanks to my … my…. I don’t know what. Shit. I was lucky. I hope I don’t forget this lesson. In all likelyhood I am going to make this mistake again. It’s going to be difficult. The silver lining for me is that here I made the mistake but my team refused to let me suffer for it. At least I was considered open enough, whose plea for solitude was ignored.
As I grow older I will have many more of these pangs in opposite directions. The greatest fun will always be if in some magical way opposites reconcile.

letter to you.

Hey jippy. Some day you would read this blog and wonder, mera baap pagal tha. If he had to write something personal why did he choose something so open like a blog to write it. the point is that you are right. Teara baap pagal hai. ai!
I like the concept of open book. To tell a lot to a lot of people. I like to be more open than closed. I like more and more people to be aware of things in my brain and in my heart. The more people see what’s in the more they hopefully learn at my expense. Well its my bit of contribution to ‘world peace’. Ya sure. Well I duno. I just hope that some one some where is getting some little pleasure reading my blog. Sometimes reading even simple personal letters to you my dear. I love the relationship I have with you and I would love the world to know of it as well. And its not that the bloody blog has amassive readership in any case. I am not sure how many people you will meet in your life, that have read this blog. I certainly don’t think the number would be material. But the benefits of a public blog may be many. For one, since I know some friends read this as well, I try to have a little variety. Some random articles, some funny one, and some faltu fart (philosophy). And I sure hope you don’t grow up to be a pain and wonder what an ass of a baap you had, who told the world of the small silly, potentially embarrassing things that you did as a kid. Yaar, I think it’s kinda cute. But sorry if you feel bad about it. The risk is worth taking as I write. The flip side – no blog. And yes I sure sure hope that you find the blog some where worth your while. Full tragedy if you hate it. Even if you do, let me know fast enough. I hope to be writing this well into the future.
Hehehehe. And what else. I hope all is fine with you. Hopefully I am not dead by the time you are reading age for this. But then life is tough. Grind hard and dig hard. No body has it easy. Don’t take solace in other people’s miseries. Learn to have an internal locus of control. Take all what you can on your chest. Take blows and fight on. Don’t make the same error twice and use EVERY opportunity to learn. Every body , every thing teaches. Be smart. And above all – be nice.
I have been reading Satyagraha in South Africa. I cannot explain how bloody profound and brilliant Stayagraha is. The difficulty is in its simplicity. So simple and yet so bloddy difficult. I am trying to use some of its principles somewhere. Some blogs in the future would have some reference to it. Simply put – the truth shall set you free. FREE. What an outstanding feeling. The freedom glow from being above it all, the freedom glow of knowing more. The freedom glow of inner peace. The freedom glow.
Jyada ho gaya nah! Thoda tone down karna chaiye tha. But whattodo? Fart is also free!