death becomes him

Feb 2019 was the first month in so many years that there was no blogpost from my side. Sometimes I wonder what it is to write a post. Is it just a habit or is it that I have something to say that just now dies.

I used to have a lot to say at one point of time. Something inside of me just isn’t there in the blog anymore. I guess it reflects in the posts as well. I think now that Jispa is old enough to talk to I don’t need to write too much about it. That also is one thing. The other thing is that for now Jispa is not even interested in reading my blog. Possibly I realise the folly of writing so much for so many years. No one reads the blog.

I had made it hidden a few years ago because it started getting traction on search and people would search for me online and I did not want them to see this blog. So obviously there is no traffic. Writing is a lonely thing to do and writing a blog that no one is going to read is an even lonelier thing to do. Any performer needs an audience to really bring out the best in them. Without an audience it becomes quite a chore to do.

This is now called a dead end. How to write a blog that you want people to read but don’t really want all to read. I guess the best creative outlet for this is to retire this personal blog and to write a public blog under an anonymous name and allow it to get as much traction that it wants. Keep everything hidden from public eye and let people find it just for its writing and nothing else. Or write a blog where my name is exposed but keep everything else very sanitized. That won’t help too much. Well, we will figure. For now, this is the blog that you get. Err… who are you? Whom am I writing for?

I think now I writing for someone in the future who might read this blog. I think secretly I want someone to read this blog sometime in the future and find it interesting enough to give meaning to them. Possibly a much older Jispa or possibly my grandkids or possibly after I die this gives some serious meaning to someone.

The world I pretty funny. The value of something a person says normally goes up after one dies. Everything is in demand when there is a finite supply. When one is alive the supply seems infinite. We are unable to come to terms with our own mortality I think. That way being in a family where we have enough heart patients is pretty cool. The only thing you live with is mortality. Everyone is going to pop it sooner than the neighbor. So you live joking about it. Now on my mind there are other issues.

I have lived healthier than what my father would have lived. I eat vegan, I exercise and have a good resting heart rate. Still cholesterol seems to be a bit on the higher side. Blame it one genetics. But I still think this will result in me outliving my dad. This is going to cause a bit of a pickle in my life. I have not imagined living old. I don’t have a retirement plan in mind! What will I do when I retire? All my life I assumed that I am going to be dead by then. I don’t know if old age is going to be a boon or a bane. Hopefully I will continue to find work to do or my wife will definitely go insane.

While we are talking about death, let me tell you why death came to my mind. A few years ago a colleague of mine was admitted to hospital for a routine surgery. Something went wrong in the anesthesia and tragically he never woke up. Now as endings go, I find that the most scary ending ever. I don’t want to go like that. I don’t want to sleep thinking this is routine shit and not even know that I am dying. Of course, possibly the knowledge of imminent death through a disease like cancer is possibly even more traumatic but still. This to my mind is one of the worst ways to go. Possibly next to drowning or something like that.

So this is on my head now as I am scheduled for a knee surgery on this Monday. I am never afraid of hospitals and procedures but this incident, man, its playing on my mind. I have a ligament tear and they are going to reconstruct the damn thing in 40 minutes. I think this is very cool. I am loving going under the scalpel. But how do I overcome my fear of being knocked out for the surgery.

I know, I will overcome that as well. The last time I was totally stressed and I felt my heart beat was in 1996 (I think) when I had to meet my future in-laws for the first time. That was a tough one. I overcame that. This one is going to be easier. Believe me, nothing is scarier that meeting your in laws for the first time in order to ask their daughters hand.

So there. This is the real reason for the blog. To talk to myself and feel nice about it. I am feeling much better already. I know it’s an unreal fear and it’s something I will overcome. But talking to myself about it and writing about it makes it in many ways more manageable.

Introspection is one the best or possibly the only way for one to improve. I could either go to the Himalayas (we Indians know only one place) and meditate or write a blog every day. Writing is a special kind of ritual. You are forced to write what you think and keep it recorded for history. If you look at it like this you will doubly careful about the crap you write. This alone will make you introspect about the thoughts in your head and you should then ask yourself, will you be proud of them?

But I also appreciate that this won’t work everywhere on everyone. Otherwise we wouldn’t have so much vitriol on twitter. It’s amazing how crazy we are. I think we were always crazy but the media in the good old days was still run by the elite educated liberal secularists. Now everyone with a mobile has a voice and a chance to be counted upon within the relative obscurity of their lives.

But still it’s crazy to see twitter in action. Additionally these days because the right winger have gotten a louder voice which shuts off the liberals. I can only imagine how easy was it for Nazi Germany to get into power wreak havoc on the world. Right now for brief period we had the country being fanned by the right wing to be ready for war. It was so freaking easy!

History must be taught in a different manner in school. History is all about learning and debate and we make it all about features and dates. But that is something for another post another date.

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bonus Song

random thoughts to start writing

Jispa is now string enough to bully Jasmine. At home she jumps on Jasmine and pins her down. Jasmine can do much except protest. Both of them have these cute physical fights around the house and it always ends with Jasmine getting bullied by Jispa. So when they are whacking each other, I find it amazing to see Jispa getting whacks from Jasmine and standing her ground.

They grow up strong. Jispa and I were discussing the other day on how we have gotten her to grow. Whenever she would get hurt I would ask her “do you enjoy doing what you were doing while getting hurt?”. “yup? Then shut up and grin it and bear it.” She remembers that till now. In some ways, many ways, a father has mildly succeeded. I am happy. Shits gonna happen. You gonna have fun and then move on. You can’t dwell on it screwing your day. Too Much.

I remember the song Sunscreen. I have posted it before. It gives life advice and always goes back to the simple thing of using sunscreen. For me – it fresh tender coconut water. Always drink fresh coconut water. It helps me regulate my acidity and helps me hydrate myself. Everyday morning when I wake up and I have to go to play, I have coconut water. I cannot stress less on the fact that you must have coconut water. On days when I think I haven’t drank enough water, I have a coconut water. It just seems to take away all my issues. It’s the best thing in the world. It’s my answer to Sunscreen.

Advice – here is one – don’t take and please don’t give. Your job is to just hang around and listen. Advice is always subjective. How do I get myself to stop giving advice? I have no clue. I want to stop it.

Food is getting weird for me by the day. As I am growing older I am getting more and more sensitive to different kinds of foods. I feel potatoes don’t work for me in the tiffin. Funnily they seem to work in restaurants. Possibly it’s the ginger or garlic along that works. I don’t know. Tomato soup – can’t have that as well. Funny… I loved that as a kid. Cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Now I feel it gives me acidity. Chopped tomatoes are good. It’s the soup that takes me out.

Coffee – I have written about this. Not two days in a row, else bad headache the third day. Funny nah?

I am trying to get my tummy to be in some better shape. So trying to avoid fried. Oh god, I don’t drink, smoke, no lactose, no potatoes, no soup and now less fried… Jasmine is so done with me. Plus I don’t like pulses as well. They too interfere with my digestion. Dal is also doing funny things. What the hell… I will survive on coconut water now. What say?

But this is the thing that I like about myself. I don’t bother too much with this. I don’t get too annoyed with all these issues. If I can’t help these things then what can I do about it. That’s what I try and tell Jasmine. I can’t help it if I got a weak stomach and a strong brain. Such is life. You have to make do with the best that you get.

Speaking of strong brains. I am struggling to see strong brains in the company from the middle lot. They are really really dumb. You get some amazing talent from the really young guys but there is some serious talent missing from the middle layer. Possibly they are the ones who ran away because not much happened while they were here, and the dumb ones got promoted. Now I look back at my time and wonder if I was seriously underpaid. I was much smarter than these jokers at that age. Talent is so difficult to nurture and find.

Somewhere because of the policies of the past, people did not have the courage to break rules and dream big. Organization culture is so important. Because of an older culture the organisation today is stalled. You have to break. You have to push and you have to get new blood, new thinking and new energy into the functions you work. Breaking is an important part of building. Those who can’t break must be thrown out. Break and burn for new to grow.  Chase cute new things and new frontiers, not try and keep things as they were. The protector role is so glorified in some places.

I have started writing publicly. We have an emailer that is sent out to a bunch of prospects every weekend. The new content kid in my office thinks my writing is kind of cool and effective. She wants me to write every week. At first I wasn’t sure. But I am getting the hang of writing and getting my own mojo for the job. I think it’s coming out cool and succinct. Data seems to suggest that people are reading and clicking and giving us leads basis the stuff they read. Ok. That’s nice. It’s an awesome feeling to write and get feedback on it. I want to hone that skill set even more.

ramble in the morning

Writing is a bloody habit and a skill. I feel that the days I have written my blog regularly, I have written better and the days that I have just lost touch – I have, err… lost touch. I have nothing much to write about. I miss the 2009 days, when I wrote a blog for every working day that I had. It was a particularly fecund time for the blog and also for my mind. I had nothing to do in office but I had loads to read. I think some of that quite dramatically impacted me in a way. I realized that even if there is no work, I can invent work and figure out a way to make life much more productive.

Right now where I have joined, I can still decide to just sit down and relax and let time and tide work its way. I can relax and not push the pedal on anything. But I hate that. I don’t think that defines me. I am defined by the work I like to do and the knowledge I gain. I want to push the people under me to reach their levels of work that they did not think possible. I want to push hard. I don’t know why I am doing this. This is a recipe for disaster, frustration and anger. But I like doing it.

I think over a period of time, I have understood what makes me happy and what drives me. I like this in me. So I guess it’s pretty stupid to stop this. But on the other hand I am 42 years old. So I understand these things about me. I think I have learnt to know that my push is my problem. I can push but people can only take so much. I have the ability today to sit behind as well and relax and chill knowing that things will happen at their own pace. This is what the prime example of opposites reconciling is.

I push but I wait. I demand but don’t expect. I lead but I also allow you to float away. The concept of opposites reconciling is something that only age can teach. Today I understand far more about it that I thought at the start. It is more profound than ever to me. We are a bundle of contradictions. So many times I see people lie, but I don’t think they do it. I think they are merely telling the different truth, again, and this time it’s different.

Sometimes people love me and then the next day they won’t. What’s the truth? Hah! There is none. I have argued much about this in my past blogs. Opposites reconciling is also a case of truth and lies reconciling. It’s also a case of emotions reconciling. An old friend reached out to me after a long time. We were practically out of touch. Her mother passed away. I connected with her and felt for her, but I don’t really feel for her. Move on. Another friend connected with me – she was frustrated with her job. I felt for her, but I don’t feel for her. Another friend…. You know the drift…

In both cases I was warm, genuinely so. This is how emotions are when you are older I guess. You retain the warmth in your heart but you don’t let it fool your brain in wondering if you really care. I think I really care for no one really. Yes I care about my daughter and wife, more so than anything else in the world. But sometimes I wonder if I have become more cynical and hardened over a period of time.

Yesterday for brief time in the night the electricity went out. In her sleep (she didn’t remember it in the morning) Jispa came to our room and asked if the electricity went out, and that it was hot. Jasmine asked to sleep with us, as we have a net window and it was relatively cooler. As Jispa slept, Jasmine fanned her with a newspaper. That is motherly love, untouched by father’s world weary cynicism. I told her not to, but she still did it. Then I took on the newspaper and fanned Jispa. Not because of my love for Jispa, but because I wanted to give Jasmine’s hand some rest. Dumb ass.

Was this love or was this sharing the burden of parenting or sharing the stupidity of an old friend. I freaking don’t know. All I know was that Jasmine’s action had more love than mine.  My thinking for this is that she is yet untouched by the world or she is refusing to be touched by the world. More the former. I think if Jasmine would have worked in corporate life, then she too would have been worldly cynical. But she is unscathed. That’s why I take extra care of her. That’s why sometimes, I let her even face some of the shit – there, realise that it’s stupid, to love unconditionally or give unconditionally. Slowly I have seen her also harden with the ways of the world. So far she has managed a bunch of friends who are loyal to her, by being who is. That’s a happy cocoon to have. I draw from her well of goodness. I wouldn’t have ever been able to have these friends on my own.

Coming to which – I am looking forward to my family Singapore holiday. We are going there for a few reasons – 1 – its free stay. My friend (ex colleague) has settled there and we get free stay. But more importantly – Jasmine and I wanted a nice stress free holiday. I have been to Singapore three times and with family – once. It’s a stress free city. We know the city and all he attractions. There is no rush to complete them all and see them all. We can do it at our own pace and time. The public transport runs like a breeze and is predictable to a fault. There is very low crime and everyone is honest. Jispa can do things on her own there. What more do we want? No stress, foreign, happy vacation. I want that.

Also we are almost broke doing up our new home. We have no money for a large expensive vacation. By the time it’s done, I am going to be so broke. But I see that as an insurance against the vagaries of life. Now that it will be done, there will be less stress on me. It’s a home built for a hopefully a longer period of time. And a home that should last me till retirement. I never knew that at 42 one talks about retiring. But age does that to you. I am pretty aggressive for an old man… hehehe… opposites reconciling.

Last note – a blog that I was writing and didn’t bother to publish – I have a recurring nightmare that I can’t run to catch a train, my legs freeze. With my knee problem, I see that as a reality. While taking part in the parent’s race, this time, I felt that my legs froze and couldn’t go faster. They went slower than they could. I was worried about the knee popping out again. Man… it’s scary to see yourself live your nightmare in some way. I hate it. But I live with it. It’s a big bad dream come true. Arrggghhh.

Free irrelevant song

Discovering yourself, through someone else's voice...

This song is playing in my head since morning… it’s a lovely song. It lifts my mood and makes me feel light and happy.

The other day, a friend of mine played this on her phone.  It was sung by her husband on the guitar. She simply recorded it on her phone while he was singing it. He sang it so well. I felt very very nice. It seems he is not trained and he doesn’t practice. He just sings. Wow/ he did have a lovely voice and he did sing it with a nice lilt.

I felt nice and at the same time I was so jealous. How people can easily sing in tune. I would love singing or playing a guitar or even a flute. I would love to take it out and play at a party or at a restaurant or my dream – play it at a café in the hills, sitting next to a local who plays his instrument for a living. Together we would jam and help him earn a little more for the day. That’s what I would like to do.

But for now I only bray and my family just wants me to shut up when I attempt to sing. They hate it. What to do. I love it. For me it’s not the singing but the lift that the heart gets when the song plays. Who cares what it sounds like? Hence the best for me is to sing along while the radio is on and loud. This way I can mask all my vocal chord issues. This is the best option.

And that’s the only thing I get jealous on. When someone uses a pencil and a paper and makes the pencil do his bidding, straight lines, curved lines a bit of shading and there – a sketch. I get so mad at myself. I have no such talent. Arrgghhh. Forget painting or using oil colors or something. Simple sketching that makes doodling such a fun thing to do. I can’t do it. That irritates me. I feel so limited.

Luckily this blog has happened to me. At least I feel I have some creative skills. I can write something that seems mildly interesting to have a small group of people who like it and take something from it. I possibly have this great desire to spread something, happiness or something… so what if I can’t dance, sing or sketch, at least I can write something. And I completely love it when someone comes back and tells me that – something read from this blog gave them something… a hope, a lesson, a smile anything.

It’s a bit funny. I thought I don’t really care for much appreciation. But I crave for appreciation of a different kind. I think I crave for recognition. Recognition that I have made an impact to someone’s life, thought or moment. I think its slightly different. Don’t thank me or tell me I have done something great but tell me that what I did impacted you in some small little way. Even if I made you smile.

Hmmm.. now that I think about it. Yes. All my actions are towards recognition. I keep telling I don’t care about the congratulations. Don’t bother telling me what a great job I have done. I know what I have done, could have done, haven’t done, could not have done. I know all that. But what I really need to know is how what I have done impacted you. Any small positive impact, a teenie weenie bit.  Now that I think… that’s what I look for.

My colleagues tell me – I am a teacher. I am a born teacher. I like to teach, explain how to improve, impart small small nuggets of wisdom… even long lectures. So that’s what I am doing. Trying to make impacts in their lives so that they can tell me that later.

Hehe. Little did I know that writing about my jealousy can help me understand a nuance about myself. That’s why this blog is so dam bloody useful. Talking to yourself is what mad men do, right? Writing to yourself is what philosophers do! Hah!

thinking

Haha. I liked listening to Salman Rushdie. He says Inspiration is nonsense. It’s more to do with concentration. I resonated with he said. If you sit in one corner and think about your work then you are bound to do a decent job of it. I think a lot of time is normally wasted by the creative in search for inspiration. Sure, some places or incidents inspire you to do something but that is the case when you are not a creative type of person. There is inspiration everywhere, what is required more often is a frame of mind.
My office is pretty boring with a bunch of staid bankers. Yack. They do their dull boring jobs with reasonable efficiency. People like me stick out like sore thumbs. We write on whiteboards with a certain flourish. I even wrote on the glass walls of the cabin. (yes, I have a cabin here. I have finally arrived. Bah!). Seeing my whiteboard itself the guys break into some kind of ‘I am not you’ exotic dance. Now they see the glass walls with stuff written all over them and wonder which planet we creative guys come from.
It’s my standard grouse with them. Just because you can’t think with your right brain doesn’t mean I can think with my left. I use both sides and you have decided to use only one. I understand your accounts, your maths and all your stupid equations. You just decided that to be creative one has to think creative. To me it’s just a question of losing a bit of inhibition and asking ‘so what’. I ask it and you accept it. That’s the only difference. Once when we were presenting something in the conference room, the super boss wanted to ask us ‘right brainers’ for an opinion. That irked me and I sharply told him, what right brain? I am not right brain. You believe I am, but I use both. In hindsight it might have been a CLM (career limiting move) but I can’t stand this – ‘you are creative, a different being’ typecast.
Some think more creatively than others but that does not make one less creative. I agree with Rushdie. One has to sit in one corner, follow a process, concentrate and perform. It’s not like a magician who plucks stuff from a hat. But possible to someone else sitting on the outside, it is that. That’s how I would possibly think of painters, architects, designers etc. In the same way that the bankers think of me.
Hmm. I think I am getting a bit confused here. Are creatives inherently different from those who are not. Can any one learn to be one by sheer ‘hardwork’. What is this beast? I don’t know, but all that I know is that ideas come to me like a torrent. It can’t be that difficult. But those outside of the circle don’t believe so. Possibly right brain and left is different. But one thing is sure ... Rushdie is right. It is a lot of ‘work’ and concentration.
He also says “that when you write you in a way write out of what you think of as your best self, the part of you that is lacking in foibles and weaknesses and egotism and vanities and so on. You’re just trying to really say something as truthful as you can out of the best that you have in you. And so somehow the physical act of doing it is the only way you have of having access to that self. I mean when you’re not physically writing you don’t have the key to that door and but when you get into—and certainly speaking for me—when I get into a state of properly concentrated attention then I do think that that is... I think of that as my best self, the self that does that.”
I don’t write anywhere near as much but when I am blogging and I start writing I don’t know where I am going to end. When I sit down and start writing and I concentrate words flow and I type. I cant think the way I think while writing if I am not writing. Somehow the physical act of writing is required. One of things why I love blogging is that it has in many ways helped me clear my own mind. There were things inside of me that I did not know till I wrote them. writing them helped me get the argument clear, reinforced what I believed in and gave me a ‘pause’ to think. One does not otherwise structure an argument in ones head. It’s the same thing as talking to someone. Most of my thoughts have only been ‘discovered’ by myself while talking o other people. Especially erious conversations. Many times while giving advice or playing agony aunt.
Talking to people, writing a blog. They have helped me trwemendously. While I started this blog and largely continue it as a legacy for my daughter, the fact is that I get great joy in writing and that it hashelped me be a better boss, captain, worker, parent and a better person overall. I also think it has helped me reinforce my ethics.

For such humble beginnings the blog has achieved quite a bit. Thank you for those reading it. When my google analytics shows visitors from across the world, somewhere it’s heartening. Someone is sharing my story now while I try and pour some of me into this. It is a different kind of feeling. Sigh…



Question: You’ve said that the act of writing transforms you into the best version of yourself; is it inspiration?Salman Rushdie: It’s not inspiration. It’s concentration more and it is to do with developing skills of concentration and I think that is something which, well a few things I think about being a writer that you get better at with time. There are things that you perhaps don’t get better at. Energy is something which maybe declines, but I think concentration, focus, the ability to shut out the extraneous and focus on what you’re doing. I think the more you do it the better you get at it. I think that is true and I think it’s also true that… and I think I've heard other writers say it too, that when you write you in a way write out of what you think of as your best self, the part of you that is lacking in foibles and weaknesses and egotism and vanities and so on. You’re just trying to really say something as truthful as you can out of the best that you have in you. And so somehow the physical act of doing it is the only way you have of having access to that self. I mean when you’re not physically writing you don’t have the key to that door and but when you get into—and certainly speaking for me—when I get into a state of properly concentrated attention then I do think that that is... I think of that as my best self, the self that does that. And I wish I had access to it the rest of time, but at least I can find my way to it through that. It’s not inspiration. I think inspiration is nonsense, actually. Every so often I mean like one day in 20 or something, you will have a day when the work seems to just flow out of you and you feel lucky. I mean you feel and often surprised and you don’t quite know why it is working like that. And on days like that it’s easy to believe in a kind of inspiration, but most of the time it’s not like that. Most of the time it’s... I mean I wish there were more of those days, but most of the time it’s a lot slower and more exploratory and it’s more a process of discovering what you have to do than just simply have it arrive like a flame over your head. So I do think it’s to do with concentration, not inspiration. It’s to do with paying attention and I think the business of writing a great deal of it is the business of paying attention to your characters, to the world they live in, to the story you have to tell, but just a kind of deep attention and out of that if you pay attention properly the story will tell you what it needs.

did I know that?

The bandh and a general state of mind that has helped me clear some of my immediate complexities has helped me overcome some of my writers block. It would be appropriate now to write a few more posts and keep my general average up there. The number is simple. One for every day at work. This is in many ways a daily purpose for me. For some reason it gives me meaning.
I also believe that writing a blog has helped me understand my own thoughts. It’s like talking to someone while explaining some stuff. Many times you also don’t kow its there till you blurt it out. And then you feel like a super smart guy. It is the same as having to remember your reading while you are having a conversation. Sometimes I am completely surprised by what I can recollect from what all I have read. There are so many books and if someone would ask me specific questions out of context on a particular book, I am always afraid that I might come up short. That I might not know a dam thing and all my reading is pretty superfluous and a put on.
Just yesterday I was making my profile. That too after a period of at least 8 years. I found it difficult and possibly it was lethargy that made me not make it. One push from a placement consultant tipped over the simmering discontent and I resolved to make one over the weekend. I decided that it won’t be as simple as the others I have seen but would allow for writing some interesting lines. One of things that I wrote was that if you want to know a bit of me you could access my goodreads account at http://goodreads.com/jaimit . As I checked it to see if the link was working, the first book that stared me in the face was ‘Simplexity’. While promising, it did not really go anywhere or did not have anything great to tell me. My mind was blank as I stared at the book. If the interviewer would go online and check the link and ask me from that book. I would probably draw a blank. With that book in hand I would possibly recollect a lot, but off hand it was that – a simple book that went nowhere. At least for me. The second and third books there also did not do me any good. Then some other books appeared down the scroll to give me a few breathing moments.
My philosophy has been simple while reading books. I cant recollect a lot of what I read but every book gives you one or two simple learnings that you could use somewhere. And that if you need something, you should be able to find it upon searching. That should be enough. It is always exciting for me when someone comes home and wants me to recommend books. I start off slowly but soon enough the connections come through and the recommendations start flowing. I suddenly realize what it is to be well read. I then take heart that my years of reading is not that much of a waste.
Years of? Well just about 6 years of reading. But that to me seems like a life time. all those books that gave me infinite amount of learning and I dare say wisdom. Today I know that my thinking has been strongly influenced by my reading. My ideas, my thought process, my views, my ability to balance my thoughts. It has taken my core, shook it a bit and settled it all nicely and neatly. The ‘mental jigsaw’ as someone once called it, is constantly changing and evolving. Sometimes it takes one sentence to shake it and re fit and sometimes you don’t even know that it has taken shape. You only realize it in hind sight when you think about your actions and thought process.
There is a great deal of significance I put on to thought process. I wonder if that is a good thing or it’s simply a case of too much thinking. I like to think about the basics. Some simple rules of thumb, some principles that aid thought process. But I like it and think its pretty cool. I cant understand those who cant. Till sometime back I thought they were just plain dumb or that their thought process was too undefined for it. But now I belive that its not so. There are som any who possibly don’t over think. They keep their mind free and uncluttered. They have simple principles that they too evaluate and change of a period of time. they just cant articulate it enough or are unable to talk at length about it.
We put too much emphasis on being able to talk and express and hence we have great orators as leaders. But if only put enough emphasis on understanding the person… what their real thoughts are… see if they fit the situation, see if they can be channelized, magic can happen. It’s easier said than done. It requires a lot more mere intent. The pressure is on us to know and dig forever and not take what the natural orators give us. Yesterday at class I gave my favorite assignment to the kids. Plot a simple graph for any industry explaining the relationship between profitability and marketshare. It helps the kids understand a lot. I can then explain profitability, marketshare and the industry dynamics. Most would plot a linear and direct relationship between the two. That is intuitive. The answer is a V shape curve which shows that the top three tend to compete with decent profitability with the next few in the ditch with far lower profits. The rear is brought up by niche players who cater to a smaller but well targeted group with lower expenses and possibly premium pricing. All driving up profitability. As usual we split the class into groups and we got a number of answers. The kids had to go onto the board and draw the same. There were ten groups with different number of kids in each. I drew ten graphs. For some reason only nine went on stage. I thought I had made a counting error. When I then analyses the graphs I remembered the missing one. Two girls, very nondescript, had drawn one on their notebook, which I had seen while I was on my rounds while the groups were discussing. They had drawn the V. but they refused to come on stage and draw it with the other groups. I had missed calling out to them and they refused to stand up when I asked if anyone was left. As is my style I destroyed all graphs including the correct one. Then I proceed to explain the theory from scratch and voila… we had a V on the board. I congratulated the two girls and bowed down to them. No one I had taught till now had got it in the first try. When on my rounds I had quizzed them on it, their theory was not well defined but the thought process was clear and in place. Not wanting to show emotions I merely walked away. Possibly they thought they were wrong and I had just been disappointed. But I was simply very very happy and impressed.
But it required me to be on my rounds. If I had given them the assignment and gone to make a phone call and come back to see the presentations, I would possibly never seen them and their graph. I would have missed them. I would have thought that the usual suspects who ask questions in class are the ones who know it all. They are the bright sparks, but hidden there amongst them might be gems of thought. Just because a few know how to argue, how to articulate, how to make a case, how make a show of it; they are not necessarily the ones. Very difficult. They choose to be quiet but it is up to us to make them talk. We would have to give them voice. For long corporate have given enough focus to the natural leaders but have simply ignored the thinkers who might not necessarily speak up. Either we go person to person and peep into their note books or we continue to give them a chance and an environment to speak up, we will be the poorer. It was a big lesson for me and I did not know if it till I began writing this blog. Funny nah. That is the power or writing. If you have no one to talk to them at least write. You would otherwise never have known what you knew all along.

have an edge

Jispa’s composition book is the eagerly awaited one for me. She is supposed to keep her books at school. From time to time her teacher sends a book in rotation home. This is for the parent to sign. I care little about the math and social science or the language books.
Till last year they had the class creative writing. This year onwards it’s called composition. I have always encouraged her to write nice and interesting stuff and sometimes she does manage some really nifty writing. The book is also worth reading as it has one ruled side and one blank side. At her age you are supposed to write on one side and use the other to draw the topic. Both of them are interesting to lok at. Jasmine has been saving her books from all the years and I am sure this one will be the most interesting to see after she’s grown up. Yesterday jasmine informed me that the composition book had arrived. I went through the essays she had to write. Interesting stuff. One essay she was supposed to write was on a shiny new bicycle. She wrote the usual stuff till suddenly she wrote something bang in the middle of the essay… “oops, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Jispa. Ok now where was I? ah, now I remember” and then she continued her story.
I was pretty intrigued by that. It was funny and it came up smack in the middle of the essay. The teacher had taken her red pen and marked a line right through it. as she was asleep by then, I made a mental note to ask her about it the next day.
Today while dropping her off in the car I asked her about it. “you wrote those lines in your essay, the one that said ‘oops I forgot to….’. Your teacher scratched them out?” “Ya”. “But don’t bother I thought they were pretty cool. How did you think of them?”. I have learnt over a period of time to ask her for her inspiration for a lot of things. She reads a lot and she observes a lot. She also retains her learnings and what hse likes in her brains and keeps it in a neural cupboard for later use. So anything she does interesting I ask her. Either she will tell me where she learnt it from or she will tell m “brain”. Then I ask her the logic and she will explain many times, how she got to the point.
This time around she said “I got them from geronimo the mouse. In one of his stories he says ‘opps, I forgot to … (right up to) ... oh now I remember’. So I thought I will put it in the composition. I thought it was very creative” She said the last lines with a little bit of dejection, just a faint little bit. I answered “I thought that was pretty creative. I rally did”
Well according to me it was creative. It was a nice break to the narrative. It did not really matter and I guess I know why the teacher scratched it out. I don’t think she might be yet liberal enough to allow that in. And of course, this year onwards, they have named it composition class and not creative writing.
Jispa now you will slowly see the effort of everyone to straight jacket you. They will slowly be less tolerable of all your edges and your tangents. They will cease to understand them. They will slowly sand paper you to a smooth finish. Till you grow independent you might not be able to really resist. It might be a question of ten or even fifteen years more for you. There is very little we can do in this. I can only tell you that hold your edges inside of you. Slowly as you grow independent you will allowed to bare them. Bare them in style, in power and with confidence. Then only will they accept you or even less, be willing to tolerate it.
I too have become more edgy over the last few years. Till then I was not even allowed to be edgy. The walls around you are pretty tight. Now the only places I am allowed to is where I hold some power some control.
You need to fight back but you also need to know which fights to pick. Some define you some don’t. Choose. It’s not about perceived importance it’s about what you really want to do.
One fight I picked was yesterday. I like jumping on the bed. I have always like running across the bed instead of walking across it to get to the other side. So now its one and two steps to get to the other side. Jispa has been doing that and been getting jammed for it by Jasmine. Jasmine is right. It does spoil the bed and she is the one making it. But I love it to do it too much. Now when Jasmine saw me do it, she chided me. At first I heard her and said sorry. Yesterday I did it again. Jasmine caught me and chided me again. This time I pushed back. “Sorry. All my life I loved doing it. My mom always stopped me. I still love doing it. And you have a bed cover for that reason. And my legs are clean. So I am doing it nevertheless.”
I like stepping on the bed. I see no great reason why it should not be done. The bed spread in on and the little it gets shifted is not an issue. It’s not like we have someone that will see it a little less neat and give us negative marks. So this is the little edge that I would like to retain. There is a lot else that I have smoothened out. Choose your edges. They are your edges. Keep them.

'copy' writing

V-inu says that I write well. If only I checked what I wrote and just rewrote a bit better it would be dam neat. Ya. I know that but what to do, I did not ever like checking the writing. My mom couldn’t make me do it while I was in school. In office I take pains to check and re write and stuff like that and that’s enough. That takes a toll on me in any case. In office I think I have become the chief copywriter, chief visualizer and chief creative all rolled into one. Not many people can write half decent copy. And I have realized in the years gone by. A very few select guys have the intellect to write sense. I believe that I am half decent. There are many better than me, many many; but I get eth benefit of having billions worse off. What shit. I think I started writing better after reading. It’s not just the reading level but the exposure level that counts. The ability to exposue yourself to newer ideas, newer styles and the willingness to learn. I have said this before – the willingness to learn – from anything – from a rock perhaps.

In my job, good writing is not equal to original writing. Thanks to Google, I have the opportunity to pick lines, research the subject and immediately figure out some stuff to put out. We have a internal emailer that we put out. I am the defacto editor there and the privileges are that I write the ed’s note every time. Below is the ed’s note. I kinda like the way I wrote it. It’s just a piece of lifted lines from around but decently strung together. There is a reason they call it copy writing I mean how difficult can that be? How difficult? This quarter we focused on the Monsoon.


Legend has it that on one his trips back from Kerala, Vasco da Gama asked the king whether he could take a pepper stalk with him for replanting. The king, well known for sarcasm, responded calmly, “You may take our pepper but I don’t think you will be able to take our rains',' referring to Kerala’s twin monsoons, almost a prerequisite for the growth of pepper plants.
No Indian in his right sense would need to be explained the importance of monsoon. And that by that logic it is indispensable for someone selling India. The progress of the monsoon is keenly watched, for it holds (mythically, some argue) the key to everything - from crop output to inflation, consumer spending and economic growth. The first Indian monsoon forecast was issued in 1886. In the last 135 years, the monsoon has been "normal" 94 times -- when rainfall was either 10 per cent above or below average. Whatever that means to you.
For most of Indians Monsoon means much more. The Monsoon has been the subject of many creative. They may be of hope, romance, tragedy, an excuse to clasp your love or the usage of the rain as a metaphor. Thoda sa Roomani ho gaye for the right brained, a movie that is a poetic blend of dreams and reality, a story of ordinary people and that what is extra-ordinary in them.
At the end, the question is simple. It is the one that we ask of yourselves, ourselves this Monsoon – can you make it rain?