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?

conflicts everywhere, resolutions there

I do not know after 17 years of handling my little baby if I even understand her. My guess is that she for sure thinks we do not. She is simple and complicated at the same time. On the face of it, Jispa is extremely uncomplicated as an individual. She doesn’t get involved in many issues. She is not troubled too much by things around her and broadly she lives her life untouched by other people’s opinions.

On the other hand, some of her decisions and her mood swings we find difficult to predict or understand. I think 17-year olds everywhere are complicated people. And they have been so for ages. Its not an easy time. Even for Jispa.

I am also very conflicted on how to treat her  - adult or not. I am inclined to step off the pedal and Jasmine is inclined to stay on it. These causes a different set of complications. I think when you have one child the parental involvement in your child goes up and I think you are less likely to give more freedom to your child. We end up trying to control a larger swath of her daily life.

I have always been conflicted on this. Do I let her be and let her decide or stop her from hurting herself and doing silly things? Jispa is always fighting for her independence. I don’t know. Should we, should we not.

Every time I think we should let go, Jasmine says, that last one year. Lets just get her across the finishing line and we are done then. Why let go of it now after 17 years. Ya. It a valid argument. Our investment in her future is significant from an emotional standpoint. Surely she can handle one more year of us.

Her 18^th birthday is coming up this August. Man, after that its going to be a hell hole for us. Jispa is desperate to learn driving. I don’t know how good I will be as a teacher. How anxious I would be. Its going to fall on me to teach her. Jasmine will not be anywhere inclined to take up this task. This is going to be a severe test of my mental skills. The nest test is going to be equally fun. Would I give her the car to drive once I have taught her to? Oh boy oh boy. How is that going to happen? Which car would I give her? My bigger one or Jasmine’s smaller one. And how am I going to sit while Jasmine corrects her while she is driving.

Jasmine is a funny animal. She will be involved, want to be involved, itches to be involved but is so frustrated with Jispa that she will not teach her. Then little by little the pressure builds up and she uses a wrongly timed opportunity to speak up and then all hell breaks loose with Jispa. I predict this is going to happen in driving as well. It will be my job to teach and then suddenly once, Jasmine will start correcting Jispa and boom.

Not that Jasmine is wrong. Her observations are acute and very valid. Its her timing and delivery that is the issue most of the time. She will give it when she wants to and not when you ask for it. It’s a dark comedy that happens, which takes some maneuvering to either avoid or get out of.

Its so funny that when outside in you see, it looks like I am the aggressive one amongst the trio but as I have explained to Jispa many times, its Jasmine’s quiet aggression and doggedness that led Jispa to where she is right now, as far as her swimming, schedules, training and commitment goes. I would have slacked off way earlier if it were left to me.

These are some of the funny contradictions that a family lives with. There are so many weird combinations and complications that are best left unravelled. Right now, we have my mom staying with us. She has been staying alone for years now after she threw out both her sons. We went and set up our lives separately while she lived on her own. Over a period of time we managed to blow hot blow cold in our relationships and now we have reached fair degree of comfort in how we dal with each other.

When she threatened to throw us out for the umpteenth time, I had decided that from now on I will not fight with her come what may. So, over the years, I never ever fought, no matter what she did. Same with Jasmine. We realised there was no point fighting. We carried on and focussed on our life.

We built our house, our lives, our principals on our own. Its been a great journey. Its nice that in times like this because of how we handled ourselves, we were able to move on and get her over to live with us. That’s important. It’s a hell to be alone and quarantined like thus. Its nice to have your family together in such circumstances.

Again – its easy for me to get along with my mom and let bygones be bygones. I am amazed how Jasmine is able to handle that as well. Some of the stuff that happened was not pleasant from both our perspectives. I think its an interesting example for the rest and for our lives.

I think it is never correct to be bitter about anything and to rather have an easy disposition. You just accept and move on. You learn that it may not be the best for you at this time and that its ok. There is no reason to burn any bridges and be any bitter about your experiences. I think my mom is realising this as I am as well.

The only credit I give myself as I remember the moment years ago, as I had decided to leave the house, I promised to myself – I will not fight with mom. This one held on for years and it has still borne fruit. How do I do it to the rest of the world. I envy people who just refuse to fight any one anywhere in their lives. Cool calm people. I hate you guys. You guys by your mere presence make me feel like shit.

Its ok. I bring energy and life and action to my everyday life. My mom is also happy that while she is staying with us she is happily entertained. There is never a dull moment. I am talking, doing, fighting, boxing with Jispa, making fun of Jasmine – something or the other. She can’t believe how unlike each other; her two sons are. Placid lake versus raging storm.

There so many opposites – so much reconciliation.

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.