we love laugh stories

This Saturday I had a whale of a time. It was my lecture after a long time and I went mad. Literally crazy. It was a 90 minute lecture in which I think I taught for not more than 10 minutes. The rest of the time I was just making the kids laugh. That’s it.

I think somewhere in life I figured that I am a standup comic with a flair for comic timing. I can go on and on and keep cracking jokes on everything. In this lecture I just kept cracking jokes and making the students laugh like crazy. Even while teaching them something I was simply making them laugh.

It was so much fun. I know I getting them to really enjoy when the laughter erupts in loud noises and people start clapping at the jokes. The energy is so high that they don’t know what to do and clapping starts. When you hear that you know you have the audience and then you can teach anything.

I like to keep things simple and teach less. Teaching less is teaching more. A key few simple principals well told is my new motto. Teach less, laugh more and enjoy the lecture.

Yesterday I was called for some stupid rewards and recognition program in office. I went mad there as well. Someday I am going to get into trouble for all this. It was a division in which we were doing decently well and the kids were all the high achievers. I just refused to make any sense. I started of cracking jokes and I ended up cracking jokes. In the middle I insulted every department there was including my own and tore everyone to pieces. The crowd was in splits. They started clapping at the jokes and had a whale of a time.

This self-deprecating humor is the best one. You can say the truth without really offending anyone. And everyone enjoys. I think that’s the way it should all happen. Laugh your way through everything. I wish I would be able to give my own standup act in my own funeral meeting. Laugh at my own death and life. That would be something nah?

I find most comics too boring. Laughter is awesome when the situation is real and fun at the same time. I take real emotions and real incidents and make people laugh. My jokes are spontaneous and not rehearsed. That’s what I like about my own jokes and speech. Then of course as the occasion demands it, I intersperse with real intelligent comments and bring the seriousness back on the table. I actually taught the kids something on both the occasions and what I taught was significant.

To my students of case studies I taught them that by themselves case study is useless and with no ability to help them. But if you see it as a story and enjoy the story telling then you figure that it’s more fun and from there it’s up to you to take what you can from it rather than force a moral down your head. In office, I explained how significant their job is within the firm and within the finance industry.

When you try and teach, one thing I have learnt is that there is no such thing such as teaching something. It is up to the person receiving to figure what they want to learn from it. You can push anything down in anyone’s mind. Teaching is a process of drip irrigation at best. Keep putting small small things into people’s mind and see how they take root. A lot like inception.

Inception as a kick ass crazy movie. The key point is that to put an idea in someone’s brain is very difficult. You have put it in a way that they believe it theirs and once it takes root it is impossible to eradicate. How do I put an idea into a person’s mind in way that it is his? It cannot be by brute force. It has to be by smaller drips. The mind has to be fertile enough to bear fruit as well. The seed must be dropped but the fruit must be that of the recipient.

What a subtle art this thing is. It requires immense amount of patience and a willingness to let go of the fruit.

Recently with a startup that was seeking my advice, I simply asked them to reorient their brains on some basic parameters on how they look at business and boom – sales soared. Just a realignment of objective and the way you look at them. Simple. I hope the seed dropped in his head and now it’s up to him to see the growth the way he deems fit.

See movies are like this. Stories are like this. You take a story and see what you want to learn from it. That is the best way to learn. Not by teaching. Moral science class, no matter how stupid they were, I think they were effective explaining the principals by stories. Same is religion and the myths and the epics. Story telling can give context and richness to behavior. Stories.

Silver

After all these years of crazy schedules, hard work and complete madness, now I am satisfied. Done. I am now a tired parent. This thing has taken a huge toll on me and I am sure it has taken a massive one on Jasmine, as well. We have worked our lives around a hope and in the end, we have something really big to show for it.

The year also has been nasty for Jispa. She has been unwell, muscle injury and exhaustion to cope with. She runs on two fronts – school and swimming simultaneously. She aims to achieve greatness in both. This year she faltered for no real fault of hers but in the end, she finished strong. After a strong showing at the Mumbai selection meets, we were superbly satisfied and honestly, I could expect no more. Then she finished strong at the state selection meet where she had a bagful of medals. This was too much for me, personally. It was more than what I dreamt of or even aspired for. Now at the just concluded Nationals, Jispa comes back with a Silver which she won as a part of a medley relay team. Wow. A national medal! In an age group that spans three years and she is the youngest. That was some achievement.

Jispa is not a naturally gifted swimmer or a naturally gifted athlete. It’s tough for her. It’s not like we threw her into the pool and she started winning. Winning has been a tough one for her. She has seen so many years of participation without real glory. This is her second nationals in so many years. She would qualify for state and then not win. There are far too many talented girls in swimming and it’s tough when you are not naturally gifted.

We kept the swimming schedule on hope. And her wish. She wanted to continue with her swimming and we hoped that it won’t be cruel to her. Jispa is fit and strong but like me, something is wrong with her overall well-being. As a child, I was so sickly and thin and a complete mess at excelling at sports. I was fit and ran but never the naturally talented guy who could just show up and win. That honor belongs to my brother. I have had to struggle to get anywhere in my life I stood on my own thanks to the grit that I developed in myself. Jispa is also similar. She is not the naturally talented at math or swim or English. She has an ability to think and think through very smartly but that does not automatically mean winning. She also has been notoriously difficult to coach from childhood. She is improving but it’s not that she has to think it and her body follows. Her body over compensates and does its own thing. I sure even her coaches get confused how to treat her. Immense potential thanks to perseverance and hard work but not a natural athlete. Sometimes I think what if she had pursued a sport like badminton or something where you have to not only show technique and skill but you also have to out think the competition. How would that have been. That should be fun.

Right now, that medal around her neck is so much a reflection of Jasmine’s and Jispa’s dedication and doggedness than anything else. How did they do it? When I look at my role, I see that as a minor support and major starter. Starter in the sense that I insisted on sport being a part of her growing up and then always looked to be a part of it. Supporting it in the way that I would get up early to take her and then always be ready to help at all times. But after that, I hardly did much. Most the heavy lifting came from Jasmine. Waking up, cooking, ferrying, talking, discussing, maintaining timings, everything – that was Jasmine. I hardly did anything there. It’s not possible to be a sports kid without having a sports parent with you. One who does all the support and the other who simply lends a small helping hand.

I wonder where Jispa gets all that dedication from. That is another absolute mystery. When you know, there are kids who are far more talented than you and built for water, where do you get that resolve to keep attacking from. How does Jispa do it and do it willingly. She has a quiet ambition in her, a quiet aggression in her, a silent way to keep at it. I am amazed at this quality of hers. I would have given up long time back. So many of her swimmers gave up long time back and so many just couldn’t balance the school and swim together. That in itself is a sign of greatness. This sheer doggedness and ability to push yourself is awe inspiring. If I had half of that while I was growing up, I would have been in a different orbit. I wish I had half of that even now, I guess.

So, this the tale of me being very happy and satisfied. A NATIONAL LEVEL MEDAL. Jispa is a national medalist. I want to frame that medal and hang it on the wall. I asked her if she would be embarrassed by it. (Yes she would be) But then now that I think it, I think I should make a large frame and put a few more medals and keep a big monument to swimming on one side of the wall in the hall. That would be something. Jispa will die of embarrassment. That itself would be worth half the effort.

I find this opposites in her quite interesting. Very high on aggression but at loathe to show it. Very high on perseverance but a very relaxed ‘let it be’ attitude. An ability to get a bit tensed but still maintain her balance. She is not one way or the other. Small small opposites reconcile in her. Loving but only so. Caring but only so. Friendly, but only so. I wonder if she is an introvert or an extrovert. She mixes it up so much. Of course, as parents it drives us up all the walls in the house, but it will be an interesting and endearing quality of hers as she grows up. Her partner is going to go bonkers for sure, but it will serve her well. I sense that she may even have good leadership qualities when pushed to it. The quiet level 5 leadership that is so elusive, but she will need to hone it. Professional determination and personal humility. She exhibits this in her life for now and in what she has achieved. If she continues this as a means of living her life, then she has a chance to end strong. I don’t have this combination in a way that it could be, but Jispa has some tremendous appetite for it. It’s too early and leadership traits as well as decision making traits are difficult to spot for now and they develop as they grow up. But for now – they are fine and I am happy with the signs they show.

Finally – I am a very very proud father today and a proud husband. It’s a biggie and an amazing accomplishment. We have a national level champion in the family. I am so happy. Thank you Jispa and Jasmine. Thanks a lot. It means a lot to me. A hell of a lot.

this too shall pass

No matter what. This too will pass.

Many years ago in my firm we had an ass who joined in who did not care too much about others and was just throwing his weight around. He believed that everyone reported to him and wanted to control everything. We had a few run in’s with him and my reportee had a dotted line reporting to this idiot. Dotted line reporting… that is the stupidest thing in the world. These corporates have these matrix structures. Made popular by the multinational companies, in which you have no clue who is really reporting to whom. So as the marketing head of the business you have a ‘hard line’ reporting to the business head but a ‘dotted line’ reporting to the marketing head of the group. Or in many cases it can be vice versa. No real boss who is responsible for you. With so many bosses and so complex structures, the challenge is to ask the question – who will take care and be responsible for you and your career. The answer – go figure. I think they cause too many issues than they really solve. I hope that someday when I can change the system or if I can put in a system, I will put in a clean and simple system.

But coming back. So that was a real ass and I remember that my colleague was completely stresses and then we complained to the boss. The boss was very understanding and told us that he would take care of it, but at the same time he told us that ‘ no matter how big the problem seems now, in a few years as time passes by the problem will seem very small. Then you will wonder what it was about the problem that looked so big at the time”. Those were wise words indeed. It’s really true. When you face issues they look huge and look insurmountable but over a period of time, they end up looking so small and insignificant. You wonder why you took so much stress in resolving the issues. Another boss told me a fable of a general who was suddenly in the bad books of the king and was about to be put to death. When eth king visited him the general was crying. He told the king that his only regret was not being able to teach the kings horse to fly. The king said that there was no such thing. The general assured him that in a year the horse would fly. The king gave him a grace of one year failing which he would be put to death again. When eth general went home, his wife confronted him saying that she knew that he was fibbing. At which the general said – relax my dear – one year is a long time. In one year – I might die, the king might die or the horse might die. One year is a long time.

That’s so right. one year is a long time. when shit hits the roof for me, I sit back and think a bit. What is it that I need to survive the next few minutes, hours or days. Relax. What’s the worst that can happen. Then I sit back and think through the steps and breathe. The complex decision tree gets done in my head till I reach a point that I know that my decision is this and then I have to wait and see. Then I sleep. Sometimes stress can disturb your sleep beyond imagination. I remember that as an idiot who did not really prepare for his exams in the final year of college, I had nightmares of getting a bad result. The worry was simple, I had a girlfriend whose family I had convinced that I was a super stud. And failing was a real no no. So I had convinced myself that if I fail then the pass percentage of the entire board would be 30 percent. So that was not happening. Then came the next mountain. I needed at least 50% in the aggregate so as to be eligible for the MBA  studies that I had sold to the world that I was going to do. That was crazy. I remember waking up and then calculating what is the bear minimum marks that I thought I would get in each subject and inputting those on the calculator to get the final score. I convinced myself that I would be there! I ended up with 62% - a first class!

Problems are around us every day and they create such a mess and get our BP high, they rob us of our appetite and our sleep. But the truth is simple dear lad – this too shall pass. This too shall pass. After all – one year is a long time J

Freedom

We spend the first year of a child's life teaching him or her to walk and talk "and the rest of their lives telling them to shut up and sit down."

I read this somewhere and its really true and so truer than now with respect to Jispa. Jispa is suddenly becoming a big girl. She understands stuff, is able to argue back and is broadly able to resist. So whats wrong. Nothing – just as parents now we have to be all ready to handle a different child than the one we were handling six months ago. The nature of adolescence is now panning out. Neither she nor we know if she is an adult or a child. Should we treat her as if she knows nothing or should we treat her as if she knows everything. We have to get after her to do her stuff and she says she knows what to do. Jasmine is letting her peel and cut cucumbers and I baulk at the approval. That’s not done. I don’t think she is ready yet but then many girls younger to her do this and much more.

She fights and fights aggressively for freedom and responsibility and on giving she promptly screws it all up. She would  then proceed to just not do what is expected of her. Its not that she doesn’t understand. She does but just something happens and …. And it just creates more confusion in our minds. Is she old or is she young. Every phase gets tougher and tougher. Now that she is in the fifth grade the pressure of homework and studies have cranked up dramatically. There is a lot more to study and with her swimming schedule the time that she has is dramatically less. Time seems to have been condensed these days. So much so that we are now constantly on her case. Jasmine gets completely done in by the stress and then it gets to me. I try and understand and allow but then Jispa will simply mess things up and make me wonder whats going on. I allow her leeway in the morning to relax and not rush – the consequence is that when we are to leave she will not be ready and there is a mad rush for the bags. I allow her some time to read  a magazine at night – the consequence is that she remembers in the morning about the home work to be done and there is a mad rush with unfinished home work. We let her see a movie and project will remain unfinished or she will be ill prepared for her reviews.

Oh dam me. I always maintained that I will not put pressure on her to study. She is free to enjoy her life and do as she pleases. Studies will not be the main focus of her life like what my parents did. Studies they knew was the only way out of a life of struggle. They were right in their era. Time shave changed. I maintained always but then it lasted only till I became a parent of a 10 year old. So now I have changed to from studies is not it to only studies is not it. You need studies and something else. Or you have your something else and you have studies as well. Earlier when Jispa was born I was a complete ass. I even thought that great it’s a girl, at least the pressure on her to grow up and study and become an engineer is not there. But dam… that’s not the thing. We know she is smart and we know that she can do well. She has a great brain that is able to memorise as well as reason. So what’s my job as a dad? Is it to give her a great and happy childhood that she will remember for life (and not blame me like how I sometimes blame my parents) or teach her to study, make her study for now and then hopefully she takes a call later on what she wants to do in life.

I really don’t want to pressurize her. Yesterday as well I had to take the school magazine from her and get her to study and finish her homework. She obviously did not like it. It showed on her face. Later on I asked her about it and then I spoke to her. I told her I was sorry. She had to finish her stuff, I hate being a  mean dad much more than you hate having one. But I am sorry. She understood. At the end as was sleeping I told her “I am sorry and I promise you that it WILL happen again”. We laughed. It’s a tough one. And it’s not as simple as ‘let Jasmine do the irritating discipline thing and I will do the fun thing’. That’s not on as well. That’s unfair to one parent. So we both have to be mean and sweet. The thing is to alternate. But it’s getting freaking tough on both of us. We are constantly being pulled in by our true nature, our role as parents and our desires to see our child do well.

So what’s the answer to all this? its difficult. The way I see it right now and the way I explained to Jispa is simple. I have no option but ensure that you have a great base. She is around 11 right now. I have another 5-6 years at best to hound her and get her to study. If this base is well constructed then she can build it from there on.in fact she can then even decide to chuck it all and do something else altogether. But to have the freedom to choose you need to be able enough to get the choice in the first place. If you want to reject an admission in a college you need to get the admission to start with. That leave sus with very little room to play with. And that little room is gobbled up with her swimming. If she swims so many hours a day, she is eating into all her time for everything else. Plus we have to ensure she plays a bit and movies and relax and read… wow. I keep explaining to her that if she was a simple fun kid then she would have had time for a lot of simple cute fun. But is choosing to be a champion. Representing Mumbai is no mean feat, there are choices to be made and scarifies to be done. It is up to the athlete to choose. But she will need to.

On this a bit of philosophy that I read might help. It’s quite an interesting story. I have read this story as a kid, but I never did figure that this is an interesting and deeply philosophical construct. Read on. How limiting Jispa’s choices now we are actually giving her the freedom to choose! Sorry Jips, I think you are not going to find this one inspiring. Atleast for now.

http://bigthink.com/experts-corner/odysseus-nudged

Odysseus Nudged: How Limiting Our Choices Can Give Us More Freedom

by DAVE NUSSBAUM

According to legend, the Sirens were beautiful women whose voices were so alluring that when sailors heard their song they could not resist approaching and were drowned on the rocky shores of the island where the Sirens sang. No sailor had heard their song and lived until Odysseus, who, on the counsel of the goddess Circe, had his crew tie him to the mast of his ship. When he heard the Sirens’ song he begged to be released, but his crew, their ears plugged with beeswax, would not unbind him and saved him from his own desires. Odysseus was lucky – he knew that he would be unable to resist the Sirens and had himself bound – but people often have difficulty foreseeing their weakness from a distance. Sometimes they need help.

I love watching my not-quite-two-year-old son learn about the world from his mistakes. I look on with sympathy at his falls and bumps and spills and I try to restrain myself from interceding. But when he’s about to tumble down a flight of stairs I step in. It is difficult to balance preserving his freedom to explore and make his own mistakes with the desire to keep him safe. There’s a lot to be said for giving kids autonomy and letting them learn from experience, but sometimes you have to behave paternalistically and tie them to the mast (or at least install safety gates).

When you start treating grown men and women like you’re their father, though, the charge of paternalism becomes a more serious one. There may be cases in which a heavy-handed approach is necessary (particularly when people’s actions harm others), but we should be careful about using it. A more circumspect approach is libertarian paternalism, described by Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein in Nudge (and re-articulated more recently by Sunstein in his Simpler) as a way of influencing people to make decisions that they themselves would consider beneficial, without restricting their freedom.

Here, we are not tying Odysseus to the mast – the more appropriate analogy would be to the beeswax that Odysseus had his sailors put in their ears. The wax prevented the sailors from hearing the Sirens’ song and saved them from being lured to their deaths, but it also left them free to remove the wax if that is what they wanted to do. This sort of intervention is an acknowledgment that the sailors’ freedom is important, but also that people are not always perfectly rational. As Carnegie Mellon economist (and psychologist) George Loewenstein recently explained to me, “When people have problems exercising self-control, restricting their choices can, in some cases, leave them more freedom to choose.”

On its face, Loewenstein’s claim may seem paradoxical – isn’t a person most free when presented with all her options and allowed to choose among them? But as the mythical Sirens make clear, there are some options that we are not truly free to resist. Without beeswax in their ears Odysseus’ crew would have been doomed; the wax gave them the freedom to choose.

Speak it, pur pyar se (but with love)

The other day in the morning while I was dropping jispa to school, she was a little cross with me. She said that Jasmine and I were making too much fun of her for a particular thing. Yup. But Jispa don’t you make fun of us too. Don’t you make fun of me? When mom does something, we make fun of her and when dad does something mom makes fun of me. Come on man, that’s how a family works. That’s what keeps family in check.
Then I started – “you want what a monarchy is? It’s when a king rules. And now we have democracy (which I had explained to her earlier) what’s the worst thing about a king? He is answerable to no one. He is a king because he was born one or is the most powerful person.” “But can’t his ministers tell him anything?” “No Jispa, his ministers also can’t. Didn’t you read Akbar and Birbal. In spite of Akbar being wrong, Birbal couldn’t directly tell Akbar anything, so he used to think of clever ways to tell Akbar. Because if the king is pissed at you, you are in trouble. He is most insensitive to criticism. That is something we must avoid at all costs. In a democracy, I explained the most important role is that of the opposition. It’s their job to criticize” I explained. “err – what is opposition” Jispa asked. “Well… You know the Prime minister is from the Congress party.” “Yes” she said. “That is the ruling party. The other party is the opposition, and India right now that’s the BJP.” “Is it the one with the clock symbol” she asked. “no, that’s is another party. This is the NCP. The BJP is the lotus and the orange flags”. “ah yes” she said. “You see, the ruling party is always scared that whatever they do, they will be criticized. They will have to always do good stuff. If they think of something stupid then the opposition will slam them. That’s what keeps them in check”. “oohhh”. I think the penny dropped.
Just at the time we hit school and she was to be dropped off. She gets out saying “you know dad, it sounds if you are giving a lecture. What you are saying is interesting, but the way and the tone is very boring. Like you are giving a lecture”. Rascal, %%$$##@&. Luckily she was out of the car and half way to the school gate before I could react. BLAT! I came home and told Jasmine about this. Her eyes opened wide and I said “ya. That’s exactly what I was saying. The freedom to criticize authority. She just used it. I have no option but to accept”
Freedom to criticize is such a fundamental concept. I don’t think we seem to get it. We think of every criticism as an assault on our fundamental right to feel right about everything we do. We are correct and in positions of power we are God. No one in power likes to listen to criticism. Be it a parent or a boss. Why do we behave thus? Even a child’s first instinct is to reject it or take it personally. Is it a deep down genetic instinct or is it largely due to the criticism giver that we react thus. For years we have thought that those who love us don’t criticize us. So if you criticize someone do you not love them? Can you not improve, is change that hard?
I have tried and tried really hard to accept it. I have changed my first reaction from ‘screw you’ to possibly you are right. I keep telling myself that one must improve, constantly improve and to improve one must listen, come from a stand point that the other person might have something to say, or a point you might have missed. It is the most difficult thing to do. You must start by at least by understanding the counter point.
So at home, I have always encouraged Jispa to speak her mind. Speak it out loud and clear. Now as she is learning to speak I am trying to teach her to be constructive about it. While its important to be clear, its also important not to be direct and blunt about it. Be polite, sweet and bear the flaw while trying to communicate what you want to change about it. One thing this will do for sure is severely undermine authority as we traditionally understood it at home.
I was telling Jasmine to be very careful now with Jispa. We have taught her to think and to talk. She will give it back sooner or later. If Jasmine and I are not careful, we will get it back and hard. My mom had told me not to teach my daughter to argue. Don’t talk with her like this. You will regret it. Yes. I will get hurt by it, but I will surely hope not to regret it. If she is to stand in this world on her own, she will learn to give it back. What I must now surely focus on is to allow her to give it back politely and without malice. When Jispa and jasmine fight, I keep telling Jispa, ssshh… quiet. Don’t push mom thus. You might be right but understand the context and fight right. You don’t play direct and blunt. You play it slow and easy.
With me her fights are different. I listen. She gets jammed for over emphasizing a point or pushing it too far. I keep telling her – I am listening, aren’t I? Then relax and tell me the issues. It forces he rot think rather than attack. I agree to a few points. Promise to solve a few and if outside my control, I tell her I am powerless.
Hope fully she will learn to say it, hopefully as a family we will learn to accept and change a lot of things. Hopefully we won’t bite each other’s heads off. Hopefully we change for the better. One doesn’t know about change, but one is certain – absence of criticism will lead to disaster.
I came across this lovely podcast that seriously questions Apple’s Chinese vendors and their commitment to basic worker conditions. What a brilliant podcast. The criticism starts in the first part in the form a monologue given by an artist who does these shows. He uses entertainment and humor to make a brilliant point, and then he involves us in his story and makes some very direct points. He uses emotions, leads us on… just lovely, the way he says it.
The podcast then in the second part, attempts to verify his claims, allows for points and counter points, gets expert opinion and leaves you the listener to judge and take your call. In fact it ends with a difficult to refute point on sweat shops and how the west might be completely wrong in their interpretation. It leaves you to judge and take your call. It does not take a moral stand point, which too many people seem to take these days.
To my mind this is podcasting at its best – entertaining, engaging, relevant, informative and balanced.
This is how criticism must be given. Opposite view points are critical. I have maintained that there is no absolute truth. There is only your version of it. Everything can be questioned. There are always multiple sides to what we see and what we feel. Even criticism must take this into account. While you criticize, remember you too are looking at the opposite angle. Balance it. Try and see how both coexist. Your version and the other version. And only if in your mind – if these opposites reconcile, will you find …..

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The podcast -
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/454/mr-daisey-and-the-apple-factory
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/454/transcript
Mike Daisey performs an excerpt that was adapted for radio from his one-man show "The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs." A lifelong Apple superfan, Daisey sees some photos online from the inside of a factory that makes iPhones, starts to wonder about the people working there, and flies to China to meet them. His show restarts a run at New York's Public Theater later this month. (39 minutes)
What should we make of what Mike Daisey saw in China? Our staff did weeks of fact checking to corroborate Daisey's findings. Ira talks with Ian Spaulding, founder and managing director of INFACT Global Partners, which goes into Chinese factories and helps them meet social responsibility standards set by Western companies (Apple's Supplier Responsibility page is here), and with Nicholas Kristof, columnist for The New York Times who has reported in Asian factories. In the podcast and streaming versions of the program he also speaks with Debby Chan Sze Wan, a project manager at the advocacy group SACOM, Students and Scholars Against Corporate Misbehavior, based in Hong Kong. They've put out three reports investigating conditions at Foxconn (October 2010, May 2011, Sept 2011). Each report surveyed over 100 Foxconn workers, and they even had a researcher go undercover and take a job at the Shenzhen plant. (15 minutes)

there is no such thing as a simple answer while you are parenting

Life is more predictable once Jispa’s school starts. Waking up on time, sleeping on time, yoga on time and swimming on time. The whole thing is getting the routine as an integral part of the biological clock. I don’t know whether the routine is good and I like it or I get bored by it. It cuts both ways. The vacations allow for a far more relaxed and impulsive behaviour. Here the action only starts on Friday night and is necessarily over by Sunday afternoon. Sunday is an early to bed night.
The last week we were at our friends place for a house warming party. We stayed up till 2 am playing the popular party game – mafia. Getting home by 3 and then into bed to wake by 10. That is the perfect way to end the vacation. As a result of that late night, the house was all asleep on Sunday night by 9.15 pm. I get very excited when I get to sleep this early. I was cranky all vacation thanks to the late nights.
Early nights have been a bit of a jinx for me. There will always be something or the other disturbing me. Invariably if everything else works, Jispa will come in at night on some pretext or the other. But luckily that Sunday we slept well and through the night. Monday morning was a breeze.
The week though that followed was a mix with Jispa behaving like any kid and taking time to get up. Five minutes please, last five minutes, ok ok one minute, last minute…. And so on. I have to every time physically life her and get her to the bathroom. If at this time she makes one cranky sound then she is done for. After all the cuddling and waking and the lifting, the last thing I want to hear is the cranky sound. She knows that. Invariably she lets one slip and she gets a sharp reprimand. It will last a few days and then the cycle begins all over again.
But as I have blogged about before, the great thing is the quality time I get while I drop her off. Time to talk, have fun, enjoy in the car till the school bus comes. Today she generally popped one question of India and Pakistan were once great enemies? Were? I asked her. India is still at loggerheads with Pakistan and China. She then wanted to know how come. I thought that was an innocuous enough question with a straight forward answer. I was so wrong.
Luckily Jispa is not the type to keep asking stupid questions one after the other. But her ability to understand, grasp and relate is so awesome that it puts pressure on you to think through and talk. And so I kept talking, and talking, till just about when the bus came in. I think the story took a full ten minutes. How Muslims and Hindus were in India, then the moghuls came in and then the jazia tax, conversion. The Moghuls helped establish a large ‘Indian’ kingdom which was till then divided into many small kingdoms, then the British came in, they wanted spices, then they stayed on to rule, then they had this divide and rule policy, the dominion states and then independence, the great partition, the Kashmir issue and how we forever remained enemies. And then how we interfered in their East Pakistan issue, Bangladesh, a few wars….
Blah blah blah. It was so tough. Especially since I am not a history student and I know that what I know is a stupid one sided version that was taught in our text books. I try and be objective about the whole affair.
Sure there were conversions, but also the Hindus did not treat the poor too well, the ghettos developed and it brought about even more divisive force. It was quite a task trying to explain history and be objective.
I also realised while talking that how we talk about how we helped “Free” Bangladesh. Since when did interfering in your neighbour’s house with force and imposing your solution count as a noble cause? But then you had millions of Bngladeshies who were worse off as East Pakistan with little development and lots of poverty. I would never know the truth. What really happened? History text books were so dam bloody one sided to start with.
I want Jispa to do her own research and form her own opinions. I want her to contest text books and see things in a larger context. Understand the two sides to a coin. On man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.
So the problem is - not knowing the whole truth, trying to balance what you know, impart a lesson, a story, make it interesting and simple for a kid and teach them to form their own thoughts. What a freaking difficult task. What ever happened to ‘daddy knows it all and you cant dispute it’ parenting?

My attempt at writing stories for seven year olds - Manali in Mumbai

Manali in Mumbai

Mumbai. What a beautiful city. It is so large and full of people. You bump into people everywhere. At train stations, at bus stations, at coffee shops, everywhere. There are so many things to do, so many places to see. Yes Mumbai is a large city.

Manali was a small girl in large Mumbai. She loved her city and everything about it, but the best thing for her was Mumbai’s big huge double-decker busses. She would get her Papa to take her on the bus from home to the city end and then back again.

Waiting at the bus stop Manali would ask her papa. This one? This one? This one? Her Papa would look hard at the bus number and then pull out a piece of paper from his pocket and stare at it. He always forgot which bus number went where. So her mummy wrote out the numbers on a small piece of paper and gave it him.

One day he forgot to take the piece of paper along. Manali was very upset with him. But not for too long. She loved her Papa. She was used to Papa forgetting everything and doing silly things. One day he wore his t shirt inside out, the other day he forgot his wallet and he was always forgetting his cell phone everywhere. But Manali was a very smart girl. She would remind him about everything.

Today before they left Manali asked her papa – “did you take your wallet?” “yes” said Papa. “cap?” “yes Manali”, “cell phone, wallet, paper with bus numbers?” she went on… “yes, Manali, I took them all” As they went near the lift Manali suddenly slapped her hand on her head. “What happened, Manali. Now what did I forget?” asked her papa. “Papa” said Manali. You forgot to wear your shoes. “oops” shouted papa “thank you Manali. I would not know what to do with out you. Just don’t tell mama what I forgot this time.” Her Papa laughed.

It was a good thing that Manali now knew how to pack her bag. She was like her mummy. She was well organized and knew what went into her bag. The milk pack, a pack of biscuits, a tiffin box with two cheese sandwiches for her Papa and her, a tomato ketchup packet, a small bottle of water, binoculars and at last a napkin. She did not let silly Papa carry anything, not even the bag. Who knows where Papa would forget the bag.

Now why would a little girl like Manali carry binoculars? Binoculars helped her see things that are far very clearly. Manali always wanted to see birds clearly. But does Mumbai have any birds? Of course you can see the crows, pigeons, mynas and sparrows. But you don’t need binoculars to see that. You see them everywhere. You can see them outside your window. Put some corn outside and see them come.

But Manali’s favorite bird was a small bird, a lovely bird called the copper smith barbet. It is such a pretty bird. It is green, small with a tough short beak and has a red tuff on its head. It is difficult to see. Not too many people knew that you can see it in the city. It is well hidden inside the leaves of the peepal trees that are all over Mumbai.

But then how would Manali know its there. It was the sound of that bird that told her. What is the sound like? Well, it is called the copper smith barbet because it made a sound of a copper smith working. Go to your kitchen and ask your mummy for a copper vessel. It is a little golden in color. If you don’t have a copper vessel a heavy steel one would do, I guess. Then hold it upside down with your hand inside it. Take a spoon or any other heavy thing and bang the vessel, but not too hard. There. Tonk tonk tonk. That’s the sound of a coppersmith barbet.

Next time you roam around Mumbai, try and spot a peepal tree. It has a fat leaf with a pointy tip coming out. Wait for two minutes quietly. You might just hear a coppersmith barbet going – tonk tonk tonk. Look around you if Manali is there and you could borrow her binoculars and see the bird yourself. It is a beautiful bird.

So Manali packed all her stuff in her backpack and went off with her silly Papa to see Mumbai. They took a double decker bus to her favorite place – Chowpatty. Chowpatty beach was Manali’s favorite outdoor place. The museum was her favorite indoor place. At Chowpatty, Manali loved the sea, the waves and the wind. It was fun to go close to the sea; just enough to wet her toes and then she would close her eyes.

She would hear the waves come closer and suddenly wet her toes. This would tickle her a bit, and she would hold here papa’s hand tightly, but not open her eyes. Now wait for the next wave to come close and tickle her again. Sometimes a big wave would come in and she would jump on her papa and hang on his legs like a monkey. Then papa and Manali would laugh like crazy.

They laughed so much that mummy would look and wonder if the sea had some magical laughing gas. Papa and Manali would just not stop laughing. They would laugh all the way home. If the laughing stopped, they would look at each other and start laughing all over again. Mummy would look at them; wonder if they were all potty in the head. It was the best fun in the whole world.

At this time the chowpatty beach was even more special. It was the Ganapati festival. They were there on the fifth day. That was the day when Ganapati statues of all shape and sizes were brought to the sea for immersion. They would come in cars, carts, and trucks with all the kids, friends and land up at the beach. They would pray to the idol, give out sweets, burst a few crackers and dance a bit.
Then the men would go into the sea, carrying the statue on their heads. The people on the beach would shout out loud ‘Ganapati Bappa, moriya!’ ‘GANAPATI BAPPA, MORIYA’.. louder and louder. One dip, second dip and the third dip and they would let the statue slowly sink into the sea. Ganapati will be back next year with lots more fun. Manali really loved it all. There were so many Ganpatis all around.

Soon it was getting late and they had spent more than two hours at the beach. She had eaten her sandwiches. She had used her binoculars to see the Ganapatis being taken to the sea. It had also a rained a little that day and then when the sun came out soon after, she could see a lovely rainbow over the sea. Wow. The colorful rainbow was like the perfect cherry on what had been a lovely day.

While they were walking back from the beach Manali could see some men selling bubbles. They were selling bubble liquids in small cases. They were blowing bubbles in the wind. She stopped to see and play with the bubbles. She had to hold her silly papa and make him sit or else he would have just walked away not knowing that Manali had stopped. He was such a silly papa.

She went dancing around and jumping high and low. She wanted to touch the bubbles. But every time Manali touched a bubble. Pop, it would burst. Pop. Another one would burst. They would just keep bursting. But Manali did not want to burst them. She wanted to hold them. She wanted to keep them. She wanted a bubble that would not burst at all.

She kept trying. At first she was trying to catch them. That did not work. Then she tried chasing a bubble that floated away. Slowly, slowly she tried to put her arm around and try to stop the bubble from flying away. It still burst in her hand.

She even tried to stand like a scarecrow, very still and quiet, with her arm stretched so that a bubble can somehow slowly land in her hand and she could take it with her everywhere. But the bubble would just dash against her and pop they went.

She then had an idea. She wet her hands and tried to reach out to the bubbles. Something magic was going to happen. One big bubble floated to her hand and came to rest there. It was there for a second, two seconds. Manali was very happy. Her silly Papa who watching all this was happy. That was a bubble she could carry everywhere with her. Pop. That too burst. Manali was now getting sad.

Her papa was looking at all this silently. He called her to his side and asked her what she wanted. Manali said that she wanted a bubble that she could take with her everywhere and look at whenever she wanted.

He thought for a while. He was talking to himself. Mumble bumble trouble… he then snapped his fingers and smiled. “What?” Asked Manali, a little excited by now. “why are you smiling?”. Her Papa replied “I think I know what you are looking for. You are looking for A PERFECT BUBBLE.” “A perfect bubble? What is that?” asked Manali.

Papa slowly explained “A Perfect Bubble is a bubble that you can carry along where ever you are. You can see when ever you want to. It will always be with you”. “Yes, I want the Perfect Bubble now” said Manali.

“Then come along sit with me quietly. Now look at the man blowing bubbles. Look at him closely. Wait till he blows a big round bubble. Not an oval or a square bubble, but a BIG ROUND BUBBLE.” Manali sat next to her papa watching the bubbles come out and fly.

Small bubbles came, many bubbles came, and some were big but not round. Some were round but were not big. Some were two joined to each other. Some just broke as soon as they were made. But Manali and Papa were not going anywhere. They were waiting for the BIG ROUND BUBBLE that would become their Perfect Bubble.

Soon enough, a big bubble began to form. It was quite big. “Yes, that’s the one” said papa. “Watch it closely. See its flying. Look at the way the bubble looks. Can you see the rainbow glowing in it? The rainbow colors inside are moving. Look closely. Everything inside looks upside down. It’s floating up. Now it is floating to the left, now right. Watch closely”.

Manali was watching very closely. See could see only the bubble. Nothing but the bubble. It was truly beautiful. She could see the rainbow in it. Very clearly. The colors inside were actually moving. She could see the brown of the sand in it and the blue of the sky in it. The bubble was moving so slowly, floating as if an invisible fairy was holding it in her hand so that Manali could see it clearly. It was not just a Big Round Bubble. It was THE PERFECT BUBBLE.

While the bubble was still floating, she heard her Papa say “now close your eyes slowly and try to remember the perfect bubble”. Manali closed her eyes. Yes. The Perfect Bubble was there. It was clear. She could see it. Floating, flying. The rainbow was there as well. Its colors were still moving inside. The Brown and the Blue was still there. Wow…

Her Papa was the best silly Papa in the whole world. Now the Perfect Bubble would always be with her, wherever she went. In the bathroom, on the stool, in the kitchen, on the table, in the school, on the terrace or even at the zoo. She could see The Perfect Bubble whenever she wanted. All she had to do was close her eyes.

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hero again

I have written about the hero’s journey before…. I find it so fascinating. I see kids growing up, I see my office colleagues growing up, I see my kid growing up and I see myself growing up. They were just a blur of growth till I understood (in a little way) the journey of the hero. Instead of a blur it seems to be a series of steps leading up the path. Each step small or big shapes up and moulds us. Many of these steps are in the form of success and failures and many more are just break outs of independence or dependence (marrying for one). I have learnt to love to watch these steps in my life. It seems so lovely to see these steps leading to somewhere. The milestones getting planted in the psyche of journey. If viewed as such they seem so much fun. They give to me at least a lovely philosophical angle that makes me smile, that makes me resilient, that makes me believe in myself as a hero. The hero of the journey that I have to complete. It is so like the fantastical tale where the hero overcomes many odds to win the princess. Which reminds me of the story I once wrote for the college magazine. The story was a very simple fantasy tale with witches and dungeons thrown in. nothing separated the story form the Hans Christian Anderson tales Except for the ending. Here the hero in his last swish of the sword is about to slay the evil witch and chooses to forgive. I forget what really happens but in his act of forgiveness he resurrects someone something….. the editor of the magazine in all his wisdom edits the story and kills the witch and publishes it. What a cracko… I still feel so shitty about this. Why do we impose our own ideas and paradigms on the world. Why the fuck do we not let people be. We should just let people explore and form their own paradigms. Recast your own rules. Change is about making it happen. If it requires you to graft in and dig hard… so be it. But make it happen. Take your time, graft harder but make it happen. Bhen kiii… after all it’s your journey and your choice. Aaagggghhhhhhh…. What the hell… if you choose not to change the world, and flow with tide…. That’s also ok re… sab chalta hai life mein… itna bhi complex nahin na hai. Just get a rule that simplifies the entire life as you see it. the journey story works well for me. It simplifies the entire growing up and taking shit and happiness bit. That’s a large part of my life. Ma ki aa… itna variables hai ki at least the rule must be simple to see all in one lens.