Not too soon

On Saturday we left for a visit just off pune, to Jadhav Garh. Its quite a nice property. They have restored an old fort and it’s a smallish place but well restored and touched up. Going for the drive with family is decent enough incentive. Every time I end up driving most of the time as I don’t really mind and I guess it’s the male thing to do. But I hate it when I hit the roads in Mumbai and I like to give to Jasmine. She complains that I just drive the mind dead freeways and hand over the bad traffic to her. This time I gave her the wheel as soon as we hit the Expressway on the way back. It was pretty cool to doze off in the next seat. I should do this more often.
We enjoyed the place. It’s a good retreat for a couple of nights. Quite a relaxed one. With no TV at home we hardly do watch TV at the hotels itself. And when we do, it becomes a three way fight with Jispa wanting kiddie stuff, Jasmine for music or stage shows and me going for sports. With Jispa and Jasmine both settling on 9XM for music I get voted out. Now I am forced to watch Bollywood videos being churned out in between funny fillers. These fights help us reiterate our promise never to get a TV at home. The other thing we realized that in the last two and half years the TV and its ubiquitous TV remote has gotten pretty hep as well. We saw games, selection of movies, radio, etc on the TV. And we saw a remote like none other. So many options. It took us a few minutes trying to figure out the keys. We still got it wrong a few times. We shut out the TV a couple of time. But give us some time. We too will get there. Not too soon though.

shit happens

Resilience
The physical property of a material that can return to its original shape or position after deformation that does not exceed its elastic limit
An occurrence of rebounding or springing back
Resilience is the property of a material to absorb energy when it is deformed elastically and then, upon unloading to have this energy recovered. In other words, it is the maximum energy per unit volume that can be elastically stored.
Resilience in psychology is the positive capacity of people to cope with stress and catastrophe. It is also used to indicate a characteristic of resistance to future negative events. In this sense "resilience" corresponds to cumulative "protective factors" and is used in opposition to cumulative "risk factors". The phrase "risk and resilience"' in this area of study is quite common. Commonly used terms, which are essentially synonymous within psychology, are "resilience", "psychological resilience", "emotional resilience", "hardiness", and "resourcefulness".
The mental ability to recover quickly from depression, illness or misfortune.
The physical property of material that can resume its shape after being stretched or deformed; elasticity.
The positive ability of a system or company to adapt itself to the consequences of a catastrophic failure caused by power outage, a fire, a bomb or similar.

Escapist
Intended for or tending toward escape; especially, used to avoid, deny, or forget about reality, as through fantasy
Someone who wants to escape; especially from reality
Escapism (an inclination to retreat from unpleasant realities through diversion or fantasy)
A person who escapes into a world of fantasy

axiomatic

We have three microwaves in the office pantry. Two are behind the counter and one is in front of it. The two are meant for the pantry staff to heat the food and give and the one outside is meant for the employees to heat their own lunch. The dabbawalla has been giving me the slip and hence these days I am carrying my own lunch to work. This means quite cold lunch which needs some reheating in the office microwave. So I have been reheating my food and gulping it down. Since yesterday the microwave outside has been spoilt which means I have had to give the food to the pantry staff for reheating. Today I told them to just shift one of the working ones outside so that it easier for them. The junior merely looked at his senior who said “only you used to use that microwave outside”. Huh? “Everyone else gives US the food for reheating”. What hell? The plates are outside, the spoons are outside. All one has to do is to transfer the food and reheat it on your own. Why would you want to give it to someone else? Its so dam easy to do it. I guess I am a little do it yourself kind of guy. This side of the world there is enough cheap labour for everything and this labour is also ready to do anything. I am sure in the west they would have been pointed to the micro outside. A lot of these ‘self reliant’ thoughts were formed well in advance. I hated to let the servants do too much for me. Its something I like Jispa to learn as well. She is amongst the few kids we know in her circle without a maid. Everyone else has one to piggy back upon. The maid runs for them, gives them water and food on demand, plays with them, follows them to parks, gardens, movies parties, holidays, vacations…everywhere. Jasmine and I, I guess, just prefer to do our own thing. I also learnt to do a lot of my house work from my father. There is no problem doing the dishes, cleaning up after food or having your wife stay up late to serve you. You just get on without disturbing too many people. I first realized this cultural mismatch at my in laws. First the males would sit to eat while being served by the women. They would then sit later. Especially when guests came in. very rarely has the entire family sat in together for the meals. Whereas I prefer everyone sitting in and eating together. The rotis might be a bit less warm but the dinning table conversation will be warmer. Dinner together was the rule when I grew up. Since dinner together is almost impossible in Mumbai given the timelines, I am trying to enforce a breakfast together rule. Jasmine undergoes some stress on this with all her work starting off in the morning but I think it should work. I just have to be at it everyday. I don’t mind being the enforcer in this regard. The axiom - a family that eats together, stays together

understandably rebelious?

When we were much younger we hated to attend marriages. We hardly knew any one. we only met irritating aunts and uncles we didn’t know. The only things they did was pull our cheeks and ask us “audhkhe khe?” (recognize me?). no pea brain. I am 10 years old. I met you once in bad light conditions and then on you have grown balder, fatter and older. I would only remember you if you had an annoying habit like plucking you nose hair, belching after food, and acting shy at the lunch table before going on to gulp 4 rasgullas. Else why would I know you? If I knew of you, I would have answer to the next question “kaun chu, hun?” (Who am I?). Either you are an insignificant grain of my complex adolescence or call you by the quirk of name that follows your habit – uncle burpo, or farto or whatever we remember you by. Inevitably the answer we would shyly mutter – ‘I don’t know; who (on hell) are you uncle?’ acting almost apologetically angelical. It was easier to avoid this marriage mess. Mom you go. Why should I come? I don’t know the bride or the groom or anyone in between. The tweens were an irrationally rebellious age profile.
On Sunday we were to go for a colleague’s marriage. On Saturday Jispa wanted to stay over at her cousin’s place. I told her about the marriage we have to go for. Her repartee was instant “I don’t want to come. Its so boring. I don’t know any one. Why do you have to go for a silly marriage?” I didn’t know that the irrationally rebellious age started this early these days.
Ok fair. I remember my childhood. You can stay with your cousins and enjoy. We are going. Bye.

Fastbreak

Sighhh… back to office from a four day break. One for elections, one for May day and the other two being weekends. They came and went in a breeze. Fast break... get it? hahahaha...
Who do you vote for in elections? In the absence of real issues and choice do you vote for a national party or the independents? Do you vote against a party or for one? Must you believe that you must make your vote count and vote only amongst the candidates that have a chance thus making it count for more? All theories are equally good. Voting is a personal choice. Whatever your theory it’s probably good; propounding your theory to others… probably bad. Whenever I vote I do get a bit emotional. I can scarcely believe that thousands of people gave up their lives and much more so that we have this right. Post independence a lot has been denied to us but on one yet has taken this right from us. It is a democracy’s oasis in the midst of totalitarian deserts. Hehehe. That came out a bit more poetic that intended.
Jispa is a compulsive reader. She reads hoardings, wall paintings, packets anything. Now she has started reading Hindi as well. She was showing me the alphabet ‘zuh’ in Hindi painted on the booth. ‘Did you learn it at school?’ ‘no.. It’s on the milk carton. The milk name is amul taaza. It is also written in Hindi. So I know it’s ta and za. So I know this one is ‘zuh’’ ‘uhhh. Ok. Cool’ am I getting used to her brains? I just hope her teachers don’t drag us to school to tell us not to teach her ahead of the class. This time we weren’t doing anything extra. It’s her kidas… not ours. Honest.
Yesterday we sent to Pune to attend a wedding. The bride was three months pregnant. Don’t get too scandalized. The poor couple had gotten married earlier in a simple court marriage as the groom’s father was unwell. Now they wanted to have the full scale wedding done. Parents too have stupid fixations. I pity the bride. Three months pregnant and going through the ordeal of an Indian wedding. Bending down a zillion times to touch the feet of the elders. I told the groom to take it easy on the genuflection, for his wife’s sake.
It was also the first time that I saw a woman photographer at a wedding. not that it should make a difference, but it’s the first instance that I saw one. Yay, yay…
Here is a photo at someone’s desk of a currently in rage spiritual guru. Notice the not so subtle transformation from God man to God in three simple steps. Cool nah!

its your journey kid

Here she is walking ahead…

Jispa is becoming a big girl. She wants her independence. These days when I go to drop her off to school she does not want to hold my hand. She likes to walk on her own a bit away from me. She knows the way from where we park the car to the bus stop. It’s a bitter sweet. I would like her to be independent but I would love to continue holding my hand. I just can’t get over walking with her hand in my hand. I sometimes give some emotional to her to hold my hand saying, she needs to take care of papa… but I guess its time to let her go. There will be many such moments in her life when it will be up to us to let her go. Many times we will push her to be independent and many times she will push us. I guess the entire trick in parenting is in knowing when to hold on and when to let go. Like this instance when I am holding on for myself and not really for her.
It is the blanket that gives security to Linus van Pelt not the other way around.

healthy mind healthy body (what fart nah!)

I would like to put a premium of fitness. Waking up at 5.55 am getting to work, finishing it, getting to the club by 8 for a game of squash and then reaching home by 9.30 pm to dinner and bad, is not easy. Sometimes one wants to just let it be and relax, reach home early read a bit doze off. But I want to push the body. It must remain fit if it has to last. I hate putting on weight. I like to be lean at all times. Right now I am quite at ease at what I weigh. At 68 I am nearly ten kilos more than what I was at college. I was pretty skinny then and reaching the other end of the spectrum is not my goal. I tell Jasmine many times that if I ever get fat, shoot me. The key to staying there is eating right and exercising right. Squash is bloody tiring. Especially with a player who is purposely hitting you shots that you can reach. The rallies can go on forever. I hate unforced errors and if neither is going for the kill then the physical drain is way too much. I can’t play the game everyday. One day game must be followed by another day of rest. It’s way too much physically demanding. And then we try swim on weekends. The most exciting new exercise for me is holding the board outstretched in my hands and using only leg power to propel. It’s more difficult than I thought and it’s awesome exercise for my knees. It has considerably strengthened them. They pain much less after squash these days, almost negligible.
Jispa has been learning Hindi and she has been using every opportunity to polish her skills. Here is the milk booth near the bus stop which she uses as her reading board every morning. For the record her most boring subject for now is math followed by any subject that has to have her do some writing. With these preferences, she is at present quite the antipode of what I was. I hated Hindi and could do math for hours...

Wolf

On Sunday we went to meet Jasmine’s Grand ma. She is possibly a nonagenarian. They didn’t really track birthdays that long back. She stays at Jogeshwari. Because it’s far off, we don’t get to go too often. She was unwell recently and Jasmine wanted to go and meet her. I was ok and planned to club it with a visit to the Landmark book store near by at Andheri. While I came I must admit I wasn’t exactly super enthusiastic. After I saw granny I realized my mistake. She clearly was unwell. Ninety years and she was tired. It takes a toll on you I guess. If someone you love is not doing too well, you must go visiting right away. You may well regret it later. My attitude sucked. I learnt a lesson that I hope I don’t forget.
We don’t really understand the significance of the ultimate reality as we are younger. But as we grow older one realizes the irreversibility of time and reality. We form bonds, dependence and support. These are hard to work against once they grow stronger. I feel a lot more than I used to.

On an other note:- I love the line that Jack Nicholson muttered to himself in ‘The Bucket List’. He was suffering from cancer and more so from its treatment ‘some lucky guy is dying of a heart attack’

We did go to Landmark later. It’s got quite a nice collection of books. Merchandising is so dam important in a book store. With a world of possibilities at your doorstep a bookstore makes critical decisions on their stocking and displaying that affect both sales and the type of customers they attract. Crosswords comes a distant second and Oxford brings up the rear. Their graphic novel collection is the best I have seen. Pretty decent.

Right now as I type there is a fire alarm that has gone off. No one knows what to do. We are just sitting and ignoring assuming that irritating thing does not exist. Funny, we don’t really expect the fire alarm to actually tell us about a fire. We just assume its not working. Must be some malfunction somewhere. It’s just the boy who cried wolf. The deviation is that we don’t believe it even if it’s the first time he cried. There is no wolf. There is no cry. Sure enough the alarm is now off. With no one panicking and no one caring too much. Next time when there is a wolf….

frayed nerves

This is pooh that Jispa likes to play with. This time she wanted someone to make her sleep. Poor Jasmine tried for 20-30 minutes. Somehow Jispa didn’t sleep. Then jasmine had to go and finish work. Jispa still wanted someone around and I was having dinner. So I got pooh to pet her and put her to sleep. There can you see pooh petting her to sleep. His left hand is on her forehead. He is quite a good pooh. Thanks pooh (bicharu pooh).
Jispa and I continue our face off on the buttoning issue. Random irrational arguments continue too happen. Jasmine has low tolerance for these. I quite enjoy them.

Jispa’s latest book - The concise Oxford English Dictionary. She learned to use it recently. She sits with it and reads it. We have to read out the difficult words and explain the meanings of the words that explain the meaning of the word. This is going to get pretty testing on our frayed nerves.

Cleanliness Campaign – bureaucracy way of telling people what to do and not bothering about it themselves. Who do you think will listen? Look at this poster. Notice the huge amount of dust that has accumulated on it over a period of time.

one two... we are coming for you...

I have been a late adopter of the RSS technology. I guess I just have been plane lazy. I remember being in the fore front of new tech when I was a part of the dot com boom in the year 2000. I gave a better paying opportunity for a lower paying one but with the promise of new technology. Of course it busted in no time at all hehehhe… But it was fun while it lasted and the effects lasted for a longer time to come. It sure helped me get some great learnings and insights. Enough to screw the current network administrators on their own jobs. It also helped that my dear friend happens to work on linux and is an enthusiastic evangelist. He can research a topic till the end and talk on it forever. Good fun I guess. His sign off line “In Googlis non est ergo non est” also bore testimony to this. I don’t think he uses it still. He always gives me enough dope for me to remember a fraction and use it at the right place to look… well… intellectual. Hehehehe.
Carrying on this – I guess I would have to get a little more curious on new tech going on. It is important that one is aligned with the hot stuff as it is stupid to be alien to it. blogging might be an old thing but I still can see a billion in my office not clear about it. Now that I am in to it, I can’t seem to know what took me so long.
The stuff that’s the fad these days is social networking and twittering. Twitter might be interesting but way to minute for my liking (for now at least) and social networking – way to frivolous for my liking (for now at least). Why would I want to update my mood every two hours?
In social networking sites one thing is for sure, Indians don’t seem to have gotten over their fascination for foreign travel. I don’t know how much is show off versus travel that seeks understanding and exposure. It’s more like a flag planting exercise. That is clearly evident in the plethora of profile photos you see online. Man in front of Eiffel tower, same man in front of big Ben, then him in front of Westminster, Brussels square, Times Square, everywhere. Get off the pic dude, you ruining the scene. I can understand one odd photo like that but to have your profile pics like that, the albums have all these photos??? I thought the camera shutter timer was invented for the honeymoon couple. But no, it is invented for the lone flag planting megalomaniac.
Though when I say Indians am I deriding them needlessly? Is this the same across nationalities? I don’t think so from what little I see, I think the Indian do this a lot more as opposed to the first world. I sure the pakis and our other third world nations would exhibit similar traits.
Another factor to new technology is that it is rapidly democratizing the world. Lofty words but I am serious. A case in point is the recent case of an alleged IPL player who is blogging away about the behind the scenes action. He sure is causing the team a lot of stress. The ones doing well, behaving well should not be worried but the others could suddenly have their skeletons exposed. Not so easy isn’t it these days. You could be caught and exposed by a blogger, a camera cell phone, a tele lens or just plane TV news crew which seem to be everywhere catching just about anything. The notion of Big Brother will soon be replaced by BIG FAMILY. Its not just Big Brother that’s going to be watching you, it could be your little sister or the third cousin from your mama’s side or some guy you don’t even know you are related to. Keep your belt firmly on.

it pays to have an imagination

Jispa told me that she is going to learn about Helen Keller. Hmmm. I think I remember. She was the blind lady, right? I ask. Yes, but you mustn’t say blind. She was hearing impaired and seeing impaired. Blind and deaf are bad words. Ok ok. I understand. Thank you Jispa. Jispa also told me about her teacher, Ms Sullivan. A ha… yes now I remember the story. I told her that her teacher put her hand under running water and then wrote the letters on her palm. Yes, Jispa recollected that part as well. It’s quite a cute story. She was only introduced to Helen’s story. The detailed study is to follow.
She also a subject called creative writing. That’s a pretty cool subject where you write stories. The teacher gives a topic and then puts up a chart with some guidelines. Basically a set of four points to follow. For the essay on a gift the first point was like who gave you the gift and why.
I want her to ask the teacher if she is allowed to invent words and write them in the creative writing class. I mean as the name suggests it is a creative writing class, isn’t it? How about words like rubicked - used to describe an action of the dog as he rubs against your leg and licks your ankles or a kiduth – when a kid tells you the truth as she sees it but goes against popularly accepted norms. For example, a tooth fairy comes and writes notes to her. Let me try and get Jispa to do something like this in her class. That should be real fun.
Today morning she was angry at Jasmine while she was wearing her school uniform. Why? Well Jasmine hadn’t buttoned the uniform shirt while she was ironing it. Does Jispa hate buttoning it? No. what she wanted to do was take the buttoned shirt, unbutton it, then wear it, then button it. Simple. Poor Jasmine was needlessly exasperated. Everybody should like doing chores that a complete waste of time, nah? I got in to explain that “if that’s the right thing to do then I would scribble all over the books and then you would have to erase it all before writing on it”. Jispa replied – “ok”. To which I said “not any books, I will do it in your school books”. “teacher will scold you” “I will say that Jispa likes it” “but I will say that I did not like it and papa did it” “I will say that Jispa likes it like that only, the same way Jispa likes the shirt to be buttoned before it is unbuttoned and then buttoned again” “huff (make face, silence) huff (again)”. Please add one point to my tally.

random is what random gets

Jispa lost tooth number three. This time she was ready for the tooth fairy’s white board writing. She left a letter for her on the whiteboard expecting the tooth fairy (TF) to read it. Sure the TF read it and responded back. They have this nice relationship going. They love each other. They also try and write to each other in cursive handwriting. Jispa loves that bit for sure.

Today she was explaining how like the Manoribel hotel where one kitchen is for both veg and non veg food, her school has one room for western music and western music instrumental class. Whatever!

A marriage I went to – the poor guy must be baking in the heat and the lights. Don’t miss the white extended shoes, the raised collar, and the scarf with the resplendent jewel. Oh the groom too deserves the shine he gets. What did I wear at my marriage? well, for starters - brown shoes.

Notice the bag shop on the first floor. What is so interesting about it? Look closely. Notice the glass door. It is open. Now where does that door lead to? To the top of the bottom shop’s signage?

Architecture that does not understand angles? In Wadala Big Cinema’s bathroom, the mirror is strategically placed so that one you turn around from the wash basins to look at the mirror you will not see yourself but you get a view of the urinals. I had noticed this before but I could only shoot this time when there was no one relieving, as the urinals do not have modesty marbles between each other as a lot of bathrooms used to have at one point of time. Modern architecture has gotten rid of those and added mirrors. Voyeurism has new backers

This is entrance to the spanking new restaurant at CST station. It couldn’t have asked for a more horrid placement. That’s the stinking dirty men’s loo next to it. Look at the arc above. It’s common between the two.

role on

Wonder of wonders, its the summer vacations and yesterday (Sunday) the swimming pool was empty barring a couple of energized souls. Wonder why. Vacations are normally such a bad time that one can get a clear lane. Last week I almost crashed into another person. The club also does not allow guests into the pool in the vacations for the same reason. Too crowded. But yesterday was an aberration, or was it? Then it dawned upon me – it has to be the IPL. The IPL season two has launched giving the kids the reason to stay home during the vacations and watch cricket non stop. The Economic times today talks about lower ratings for the IPL as compared to last year. Well the ground level reality is that people are following it. Let’s see how it pans over the length of the competition.
But on the other hand these developments are hardly encouraging. We are building a nation of sport fans. I have a huge axe to grind against their ilk. I hate their lot. A lot of these sport fans are die hard fans who don’t miss a game and analyse it no end. They have opinions and attitude. It’s a pity that their pot bellies match up their swollen heads. I find it ridiculous that the majority of these do not play a game themselves and are hopelessly out of shape. They do not understand the technicalities of a game (they always claim to though), they sit on their butt all day and scream obscenities. I overhear kids in trains discussing the latest football match in Europe, or the cricket game but I never overhear anyone discussing the match they played on the field. I would want IPL to be a role model for a million kids to take the field and play, not sit in and scream. You cannot be a sports fan if you do not attempt to play the game. Play it, understand it and apply it. But for heaven sake don’t be an arm chair expert. I have no patience for it. But then the problem is the parent, he is the role model instead of the cricketer.
Jispa had been going for gymnastics and yesterday at daadi-house I kept gymnastics on TV. Instantly she started jumping around doing cart wheels. Wow that’s a cool. Role models are important in kid’s lives. If you see someone at the pinnacle of the sport you are inspired to emulate. You have goals in your mind. I think this cuts across all age groups. I think my problem right now at work is that I have no role model. Sure there are a lot of role models in a lot of small things that I definitely look at and benchmark. But somehow it’s not adding up. How do I push my craft.

zen in the art of english

It’s nice to have a robust vocabulary. One must use words to convey what one means and it pays (probably) to have an arsenal on your side. I read a fair bit but I am probably constrained in this regard. I have a pretty average vocabulary consisting of everyday words and not anything esoteric.
One of things that I remember being taught about Buddha was that he taught to his followers in a simple language. Thats how the message spread. So when I read ‘the book of Buddha’ by Arundhathi Subramanian, it was quite a task. Quite ‘unbuddha-like’. Here are 55 words I have marked out. From a 139 page thing book. Some you might know approximate meaning, some you will know for sure and some … take a wild guess. No I am not providing answers. Do your own bit of googling. Read at your own risk (to you English ego). Even after looking them up I would still forget to know the meanings.

Sacerdotal
Intercession
Doctrinaire
Veracity
Succour
Apocryphal
Searing
Palliatives
Desiccation
Interstice
Kierkegaardian
Self abnegating
Ascriptive
Esoteric
Exoteric
Pedagogic
Hagiography
Procrustean
Raconteurs
Canon
Florid
Parasol
Eulogize
Patrician
Hedonist
Heterodox
Equanimity
Dialectic
Maelstrom
Mephistophelean
Proselytizer
Dystopic
Galilee
Vicarious
Parricide
Transmigrating
Noumenon
Praxis
Geriatric
Ennui
Sentience
Posit
Welter
Proclivity
Volitional
Emancipated
Ardor
Fecund
Nihilism
Cataclysmic
Syncretic
Propitiate
Laconic
Beatitude
Carapaces

mark it

Ever since I started using the pencil on the books I am enjoying underlining interesting stuff and marking out the important sentences. Its good fun but does not account for a pretty book. But at least it’s easier to refer to later. At least that’s the theory. So I underline, mark out, circle words that I need to refer to etc etc… here is one book that I am currently reading and this is what the pages end up looking like. If you see the underlines are quite shabby and are not done with straight lines. That’s not because my hand is shaky (possibly from too much booze) but because those are lines marked out in a train. Dodok dodok, dodok dodok. The lines will also follow similar rhythms.
Next to the book is my satchel. It’s a Mao bag that a friend of mine brought for me from Chine. It reminds people of their school bags I guess. It is definately the same material as my school bag was earlier on. I love it for some reason and its been my handy companion for some time. Useful to put in a book or two along with the pencil!

That’s Jispa and her sister Angel.

Wait a bit, young man

Age and experience teaches you the power of patience. Hot blood (Garam khoon) takes some time to slow down and cool over. It’s quite a different experience altogether to mellow down. You realize that your reactions are different. You wonder how you could have got this far and thank you stars for the amazing luck that your hot blood and head has not yet landed you in a fatal tempest. Its fun ageing, if you can call it that. In the light of the above I sometimes wonder why these there is so much noise about young blood. The countries general elections are around the corner and everyone is asking for youth. What is youth, what defines it, what are the qualities we are looking for in youth? Politics is not an easy game. Youth find themselves eaten and finished before lunch. I think people are generally disillusioned with politics and the old faces they see. What we want is not younger prettier youthful faces. We want right people with the zeal and the openness of a young man with the seasoned politics of a veteran. Sure youth brings some interesting stuff to the table, especially the power of asking stupid questions. No, I am not being sarcastic here. Stupid questions are important. They break status quos, question paradigms and (to plagiarize a line) boldly go where no man has gone before. So its good in that sense. In politics their role is an important one as well. Ask right questions, demand rights forgotten, push for new and adaptive technologies and ideas. But I would be very wary on them leading. Why do you need to be in parliament to make an impact? Aren’t you better off learning from grassroots for now? Too much power or even for that matter too much expectation thrust too early can cripple it and spoil it. In any case the youth we see today are mainly wards of politicians standing on shoulders of their dynasty not on their own right. I want youth that has bled on the street understanding India, and then coming in with experience, a practical view on reality and with concrete workable solutions honed by insights of someone who has tried and seen failure. Youth can impact a nation in many ways and must. How about older leader with young forces supporting him / advising him and an open mind to deal with issues?
On the topic of patience here is a nice story that I have narrated many times to quite a few people. It’s quite a parable:-

An emperor became cross with his minister and gave him death penalty. Tradition was that the emperor would go to visit the convict a night before his execution. Even so his minister had served him for life. So he went. He tied his horse in front of the jail while the minister is watching him through the prison bars, he came in, the gate opened, tears started to roll down the minister's eyes in continuous drops. The emperor said, "Crying?! You! You cry fearing death! I always knew you as a brave man, you fought so many wars, life and death were always plays for you. You cry?! I can’t believe my eyes that there are tears in your eyes!" The minister said, "I am not crying for my death penalty, I am crying because of some thing else - but now what is the use in telling you? Forget it! You have been very kind, than you for that!" The emperor said, "I won't let go like that, I want to know why are you crying? You have aroused my curiosity. I have never seen you crying."
The minister said, "There never was a reason to cry, today there is. Since you insist, I tell you the reason. After working hard for my entire life I learnt this skill to make horse fly in the sky, but the breed of horse I needed, I never could find in my life. And the horse that you came riding on is the breed of horse I have been looking for. I am crying because the hard work of the entire life time is gone down the drain, I have to die in the morning and this horse has come into sight, today.
The emperor's greed became active. A horse that flies in the sky! The emperor's fame would spread world wide: he has a horse which no one else in the world has. He said, "How long will it take for the horse to fly?" The minister replied, an year. The emperor said, "You quit worrying, you come out. If the horse does fly then I will reward you with half my kingdom and give you my daughter in marriage. If the horse did not fly, then no problem. You will be hanged after an year.
The minister reached his home riding on the horse. The wife and children were weeping beating their breast because the hanging was scheduled for the next day. The could not believe - they squinted their eyes to make sure that they were not seeing a dream. They said, "You are back!" He said, "I am back." "How did you manage?" He told them every thing. Hearing this his wife started to bawl beating her breast more rigorously saying, "You have created a bigger trouble! I know for a fact that you have never learnt any such skill. And if you really had to deceive then you should have at the minimum asked for ten years. One year! This one year would be even a heavier burden on our hearts - each day passing. Your death will approach with each day passing. The horse is not going to fly." The minister said, "You do not fret. Silly! what reliance can you put on one year's time? I may die, the king may die, the horse may die - is there any thing certain about the year? If I would have asked for ten years, he might not have ventured to allow me the time. That is why I asked for one. But one year is sufficient, any thing can happen!"

Bicharu Pooh

The great part of parenting is the creative loose that you get. Inventing stories, ideas, philosophies as you go along the path. Story telling is such an important and integral part of the whole process and (in a lighter vein) so also is story listening.
Jispa has a small 6 inch teddy bear she calls pooh. She likes to call him bicharu pooh, translated: poor pooh. Her bicharu pooh goes along with her on trips, sleeps with her and generally accompanies her at times. He is not a 24 hour support is there, around quite a lot these days. Yesterday I told her the story of some other bicharu pooh. Here is shorter version. Of course a story read misses the drama of a story told. But read on…
Once there was a small girl called nanu bablu (literally: small baby). She loved her bicharu pooh a lot. She played with it, she slept with it. She put it to have bath in the washing machine once a week so that he could be clean and smelt good. Nanu bablu used to play with her bicharu pooh all the time. She loved bicharu pooh and bicharu pooh loved nanu bablu. As nanu bablu grew up she played with bicharu pooh less often. She used to keep bicharu pooh on the table and go about doing her work. Bicharu pooh was happy to see his nanu bablu grow up. One day her mother while cleaning nanu bablu’s room put bicharu pooh in the cupboard. Nanu bablu had forgotten about bicharu pooh and did realize it. So it sat in the cupboard waiting… there was a very tiny crack in the cupboard and het could see very little of his nanu bablu. He could see her studying, growing up, talking on the phone, having friends over. But it was growing sad that it could not play with nanu bablu.
Once nanu bablu open the cupboard and bicharu pooh was happy that he would be out of that place. But nanu bablu just picked up something from behind and shut it. Bicharu pooh was all alone again. It gathered dust. It was dirty. An ant had even walked across it.
One day nanu bablu got married and went away. Bicharu Pooh was all alone and could see no one from the crack. It was very sad.
After some time nanu bablu came back looking pregnant. She was about to deliver a baby. The baby also soon arrived. Suddenly nanu bablu realized that she had bicharu pooh in the cupboard. She dug him out, washed him, cleaned him. He was smelling good and clean again. She put bicharu pooh next to nanu nanu bablu to play. Bicharu pooh was soo happy. Nanu nanu bablu was playing with him, he was playing with nanu nanu bablu. He enjoyed being with nanu nanu bablu. He slept with nanu bablu on one side and nanu nanu bablu on the other side. He was very happy.

There you are simple story. Not really original about the plot line. The interesting thing was that while I in the middle of telling the story, Jispa got quite emotional during the sad part. She actually let a few tears roll. I think the crack part was especially poignant. But as said later I knew it would be happy in the end. All sad stories have happy endings. While as much as I could have got sadistic pleasures, I refrain sad endings. Life must have hope and happiness. Things might bad, sad or wrong but they must result in happiness at the end. C’est la vie. Depression is not our destined end of way.

riddle me ree

‘What is it that never ends?’ a voice comes in from behind the car. “numbers” I answer. “no not numbers, except numbers what is it that never end?” “uhhh…..hmmmm” I am trying to concentrate on the road. I try and swerve through the two dogs, 42 men in lungis, three goats and six cows. “sky?” I ask hopefully. I assume the riddler has not read Einstein’s theory on time and space being curved and hence technically the sky is finite (or something like that). “noooo. Sky can end nah? Beyond the galaxy sky ends nah?” “ok” I think that could be right. I wonder why it required an Einstein to figure that out. So what never ends? “I don’t know, you tell me” A hand comes in from behind my seat with the palm outstretched. Why is that you wonder? Silly you. You don’t get any answers in a riddle unless you officially give-up and the ritual for an ‘official give-up’ is to slap the palm of the riddler before you get any wiser.
I slap the palm with one hand. The other hand still swerving through the infinite mass of humanity roaming around with a small bucket. Half going towards their morning beckoning with their small container full of life sustaining liquid; the other half coming back with their empty containers, the liquid being used for more earthy utilities.
“LIFE” the answer comes in a matter-of-fact tone. “laaiiiiffff?” “ya life”. Hehehehe. I can bury this one. Life is not infinite. People die all the time. Everything dies all the time. I will win this round, I smirk to myself. “but life can die” I blurt out. “but if many people die some others will remain nah?” “ what if a bomb bursts and all of us will die” “then also there will be life. See. When the dinosaurs all died then man came nah? Like that life will always be there.” Oh shit. “You are right. Some bacteria, some organism something will always remain… ALIVE”. “ ya, god will there to put more life”
Quick thoughts raced through my mind. She is right. Even if we bomb the world, radiate it, pollute it, screw it, some life will remain. It is, to my mind, impossible to wipe out life completely. Possibly history is playing a funny trick on us. There is an infinite cycle at play. Organisms create life as we see it, we develop, progress, bomb the shit out of everything, all die out; back to organisms, living again creating new life again, possibly a new set of patterns, different types of living things, bombing polluting, fighting the shit out of each other, dying and then again...
Oops, I can’t over take on this curve, too many people walking on the road and the possibility of mad BEST buses coming from that side. Stay in.
hmmm… a six year (six and HALF) ya ya.. ok... a six and a half year old’s riddle logic can be quite .. quite… ummm… quite… I don’t know. I give up. Where is the palm for me to slap?

The AIR is dead... long live AIR

These days I have rediscovered the magic of government radio. I wouldn’t have heard radio if not for the private players. And I wouldn’t have switched to government radio if not for boring and pathetic private players. Most FM channels play the same music. It’s the same latest songs being played by all. Almost all RJ’s are similar in their pompous and ‘I am soo dam smart’ tone. I thought Aniruddh was the most irritating till I heard Manish Valecha. He is the worst. He does play some lovely music though I wish he just shut up.
The best thing about the goverment run All India Radio (AIR)100.7 fm is the amazing talk shows that they have. Typically after a game of squash, while driving home at around 9.00 to 9.15 pm I turn on it on. News in Hindi followed by news in English (most turn off here but the patient inherit the earth). People like me with no TV love it. The best then follows. Post the news they have a talk show on a current and important subject. This will be a 15 minute chat typically having a senior journalist with an expert on the issue. I have heard shows about the LTTE, Sri Lankan Military response, Right to education Bill, hosting IPL during elections, criminalization in politics etc. It is great to listen to these experts talking with deep insights on these issues. It is a pleasure to hear them. It gives you a rare chance to understand the core of issues that are dealt with. Most of the time either these issues are not carried by national press or they have pathetic analysis on them. Journalism in India is dead in any case. At these forums the expert and the journalist is not afraid to take shots at the political machinery, the current government or even the judiciary. It seems fair and impartial. What strikes me is that there is someone in this government company who is tirelessly working away, identifying issues, the right experts and quietly trying to do his job. This quiet honest worker is as much a hero as possibly Tarun Tejpal. Long live the quiet efficient bureaucrat. If you are somewhere reading this… I bow to thee.
But I don’t know how long this will last. How many of us actually listen to this. Tarun once explained in his edit on the importance of politics and us the elite paying more attention to it. I sure hope this radio station is never privatized. Look at the news channels these days. I miss the Doordarshan news. It was infinitely more balanced. If demand dictates supply then the fact that we don’t have balanced and well analyzed opinions on the news then it is a reflection on our tastes and our demand.

world peace

Everyday as I come into VT station and then board the bus to Nariman Point. And everyday I am deflated at the sight of lines breaking down. I really hate seeing these lines break down. This is a phenomenon we see everywhere around India. People just don’t want to stay in line. I don’t really blame them.
My theory for this :) – inadequacy and unpredictability. If there are adequate bus services for all to reach in (relative) comfort and if the buses come predictably on time, there wouldn’t be a mad rush. People would wait for their turn, offer their spots to the weaker ones and generally be cordial to each other. The cordial quotient goes up significantly when the services are running at off hours when the capacity is more than demand. Afternoons and early mornings are a case in point. Once they are convinced about the adequacy and predictability of their seat they are likely to be much more polite and even magnanimous to one and other. Look at when you board long distance trains. There is a chaos when you are trying to get in at the start. People jostling, making demands on their luggage space, seats etc. They are generally rude and pushy. After they are seated and are secure they get so cordial, happy, sharing food, jokes and … you get the point.
So as long as the services that are run are run with predictability (system heavy) and adequacy (resource heavy) you would have fairly happy people. Even in temples.
When people know that the temple will remain open and all will get a decent darshan (and Prasad) the devotee are epitomes of their sect. But when the time is limited (inadequate) or the temple is being closed for Pooja or something (unpredictable), or when the line is inordinately long (inadequate) or the a few lucky ones will get special Prasad (unpredictable), things will go wrong. Even Santas who will have enough chocolates for all the kids in the store will not be besieged and tugged at, but will see sweet kids standing properly in line. All the stores have to do is ensure that the santa comes on time, has enough chocolates for all and stays back till every kid is mat and patted. Just ensure you don’t have kids waiting for too long and get restless in the process (inadequate)

There: adequacy and predictability leading to world peace.

Small deviation from mean - When people see their friends back in the line they call them in front. Even in the lift line. If you so desperately want to meet them and chat up then go behind to them, don’t call them in front. That is a human empathy problem. Nothing I can do about it.

It will come to bite you in the bum, mind it!

Sometimes I so hate being a marketing person. Most of the times I hate being a worker in the capitalistic environment but then, that’s another story. Coming back to marketing… We at the company and the agency are equally at fault for the marketing shit that we create. Jasmine and I dropped Jispa off at her gymnastics class on Friday. Having a few hours to kill we made our way towards the Crossword book store at the HP petrol pump at Shivaji Park. The option was either a coffee shop or the bookstore. We entered in to find an inadequately air conditioned store. It was quite warm and so was the store. We browse around and then make our way to the first floor section. There were around 8 – 10 shoppers around. They all seemed like book lovers in the way they sat around with their books. The AC on top was slightly better off. There is very little space to sit and read your books in the store. At around three o clock I think you would only have core readers in. after some time some of them got some corners to sit and made them selves comfortable. This is the true core essence of the crossword customer. They are comfortable and they are at ease. No one is really complaining about the lack of anything else. Give me some books and a place to rest my butt. Everyone who is there at the store is soon seated around. Soon enough the manager (if you can call that boy that) comes in. Please get up. Get up. Get up. No sitting here. No sitting there. No sitting near the shelves. People are really pissed. There is one mother with a child sitting near the children’s section. No sitting there as well. What an idiot, there is no one else at the store. No one is hindering anyone else. I have been to a lot of Crosswords. People don’t sit when there is a crowd. They realize it affects others. And when there is a crowd, you can surely get people to get up. But for now in an empty store, this is what he does. We get up and then soon enough Jasmine and I decide to leave. We only bought the books we could browse in the small time we were comfortable. As we start to go down stairs we saw this large poster at the steps.
A lovely shot of a lost customer. I lose it. I call in the boy who made me get up and show him the poster. If this is what your poster shows then why did you make me get up. Is sleeping allowed and not sitting. He had no answer. He was just doing what he was told to. What is the core of Crosswords? Why would someone pay more at Crosswords when most book buyers know that they get best sellers pirated off the road at 100 bucks or even the latest hot sellers discounted by 30% at Strand Book Stall or the like? In any case it’s the browser who looks around, becomes comfortable and then buys more than he wanted to. But this is one category that even impulsive purchases don’t have cognitive dissonance. But my bigger grouse is not that. My big grouse is the smart Alec advertising. Advertising that is smart but does not take into account the culture of the place is the real pain. Having these larger than life posters and then asking customers to get up is just not on. The in store branding at crosswords is great. They are same guys who did it Big Cinemas and Barista also. When we were in a marketing offsite this guru came in to give us a short presentation on it. He is really good. He is the one who made all these ads was showing us the case studies. I made a point to him then. This smart witty branding is very cool, but the companies do not have the patience to pull off this customer experience. They will hire and expand rapid, they will train less and they will compromise the service delivery. Smart and witty advertising just enhances the customer expectation and poor delivery widens the gap. Nobody sits at Depot or at Strand book stall. They don’t complain about the browsing experience. It is better not to have smart witty advertising that only widens the expectation gap. Simple advertising that is boring might help instead. At least that is line with the store managers and management. If they are boring regimented people who believe in targets and discipline then the advertising must be such. It has a better chance of succeeding. All banks face the same conundrum (they of course don’t see it as such). Good advertising only accentuates bad service. Better don’t advertise… or do the simple silly run of the mill adverts.
But agency will not understand this. They want creative stimulus not effective advertising. Marketing managers want CV’s and companies are lazy to know the difference.
This is more pronounced in growing economies where you can constantly get more bang by expansion than you potentially see as retention. So you just hire like crazy, forget core values and expand. Boom, one day customers don’t like you. You wonder what’s wrong with your formula, you change the ad agency but noting seems to work. There goes your plan.

This article came in today’s newspapers. How is it different from the Crosswords episode.

EK CON
The producers of Ek promise, in an ad, to return the ticket money of disgruntled viewers. Read on to know what transpired when one dissatisfied viewer tried to reclaim his money
My name is Vikky Sukharilal Ujjinwar and this is my story. On Thursday, April 2, night I went to see Ek - The Power of One, at the New Empire cinema at VT which is near my office where I work as an office assistant. I bought an upper stall ticket for Rs 55/- and settled down to watch it. Several things about the film did not appeal to me. For one, there was excessive violence, and then there were only two songs. The story line was totally faltu and the characters unappealing. By the time I left to go home to Mankhurd I was thoroughly disgusted with the film. On my way home in the train I happened to spot a Sakaal newspaper and saw an ad by the makers of the film K Sera Sera, on page no.3 which said that they would reimburse the ticket price if anyone did not like the film. Strangely though there was no telephone number in the ad so I had no idea how I should go about it. The next day (Friday, April 3) I began my enquiries and by evening I had managed to get a number for the office of K Sera Sera from someone who knew someone who knew a spot boy on some film. At 4.30 pm I made my first call to the number (40427600) and was told that the director was in a meeting and I should call back in an hour. At 5.15 pm I called again. This time I was told that the director had not come at all and I should call back the next day. At 5.45 pm I made my third call which was transferred to someone called Sanjay who told me to come to the office, give in writing what I didn’t like about the film and collect my money. At 5.47 pm I called again and was again told to come to the office the next day, he also gave me the office address. On Saturday, April 4, I went to the office at Lokhandwala in Andheri and asked for my money. After being made to wait for 45 mins someone, not Sanjay who wasn’t in the office, spoke with me. He was curt, told me the whole world had liked the film and should they make another film for me? Finally he asked me to leave the office, and come back the next day with my letter. When I went back immediately with my complaint letter he took it and said they would review it to see if they found it valid. I was asked to phone and come back on Wednesday (April 8) or Thursday (April 9) for the cheque of the amount of my ticket Rs 55/-). I cannot go back during the week and anyway what will I do with a cheque when I don’t have a bank account? I cannot understand why it should take them a week to return Rs 55/- to me. I am at a loss to know what to do next.

The ad in question

who the bee - not me

Sacerdotal Intercession. When you read a bit and you have a blackberry that connects to Google, its fun to come across such words. You can get the meaning of these words in an instant. Reading is much more meaningful and rewarding. Not to mention – ridiculously slow as well. It gets painful when writers use a lot of these words but sometimes a right word can have a powerfull effect, especially if you have the will (and the means) at hand to look it look it up. So what the f&*% does sacerdotal intercession mean?
Sacerdotalism is from the Latin sacerdos, priest, literally one who presents sacred offerings, sacer, sacred, and dare, to give. Sacerdotalism is the idea that a propitiatory sacrifice for sin must be offered by the intervention of an order of men separated to the priesthood. Simply put it is a belief that priests can act as mediators between human beings and God.
Intercession is a prayer to God on behalf of another person
I would reject the former in an instant and hold my view on the second. Of course when the twain is put together – it’s an outright rejection in my books. Now I know the word for what I believe in.
Thanks to Google it’s easier in office writing and checking spellings. I would not even pass basic prelims at the spelling bees. The spell check in word seems inadequate for a growing vocabulary and an inborn spelling disability. yesterday when the net was off I struggled to get some words. I typically write the phonetic close and hope for spell check to correct – I wanted to write psephologist (which incidentally is correct as I spell it) but the dam word processor refused to know of it. Next I wanted to write saccharine but since I assume its spelt saccerine the only options word gave me was something like – suckering, succoring etc. I had to ask around to get the saccharine spelling. Incidentally saccerine seems perfectly fine by American standards I realize, as I search Google for it.
Language is fun. I keep telling Jasmine that for Jispa - language skills will be very important. The corollary to - Its not what we know, its how well we search – is - its not how much we know, but how well we can communicate what little we know.

Whom are you protecting and from what?

Today is some special day in the annals of web viruses or something. The techies in office have blocked all internet access for one day. Might make sense I guess. But I stopped looking for sense in what they do long time back. It’s a losing proposition. Its always a question isn’t it? How much must we be open and how much protection do we actually need. Layers would protect us from the harmful environment but it would restrict us from interacting and learning from it first hand. These are fine balances we walk everyday. To explain one perspective…
Yesterday jasmine told me that Jispa’s drawing class got cancelled. She came home and spent the evening cycling. Ok cool. She then added that she was cycling all alone down in the compound while she cooked at home. OK stop. All alone huh? Yup. I think it was the first time that we might have left Jispa all alone in the building compound. Though Jasmine did admit that she kept a keen eye from above. Now she is 6 and half years old. Kids her age are down alone all the time. Her friends are not from the building, they are all over Matunga. And they are the ones with maids. So she is typically with her friends who have maids waiting over them. Jasmine and I have resisted this maid concept that has caught on everywhere. We don’t understand it and we don’t subscribe to it. I prefer the involvement. It does mean sacrifices on our side. We can’t watch movies; we have to necessarily do things that only the entire family can do etc. But its something we have taken a conscious call for. So Jispa was alone for the first time cycling away. Are we control freaks, were we too late in allowing this or – we let her be on her own without a maid – are we too open. It’s a perspective that each one balances based on their own situation. We would like to open and give her as much freedom to explore on her own. But we have to counter potential dangers on her being alone. I don’t have answers but I do remember one line from an outstanding book on parenting ‘protect where you must, permit where you can’.
This is a simple logic that might just answer most of our dilemmas on balance. It surely helped me!

Post script: as the internet is blocked for almost everything – I wrote this in the morning and miraculously they have opened the internet in the evening as the danger has apparently passed.

Waste

Oh the things that we buy and use for years with no visible or scientifically tested powers.
These balls you see in my hand were bought from a Singapore store. They claim to make your clothes softer I think or do they help clean them better. Just pop them into the washing machine and there you are. And that’s where they having been lying ever since – the washing machine. We have no clue how effective they or even if they make an iota of difference. But they are there… getting washed everyday, sometimes twice a day, tirelessly getting clean. I think once a brave mountaineer was asked – why do you climb mountains? He answered – because they are there.

Horrendous architecture is everywhere all around us. I never cease to be amazed by our desire for the obnoxious. This is the entrance gate to Wadala truck terminus. Notice the ugly hideous jokers cap on top of that structure. What on earth is the architecture trying to do? Play a joke, what else? I think it was a year or more back when Jispa’s friends were around 4/5 years old. We passing by and I cooked up this strange story of the giant who once lived here but was subsequently killed. The hat belonged to him. The poor kid almost believed me…

its not my fault... i am trying my best

I played my first 45 overs a side killer cricket match on Saturday at azad maidan. What an experience in this March heat. My goals were clear from that last semis I played in. In that 20 20 match, I was tired batting 10 overs and was unable to do justice. My targets were simple. I can’t get tired. I have been working on fitness and reading and working on diet. So I jumped at the chance to play these 90 overs. We batted well at the start putting up a sizeable score till around the 28th over when all hell broke loose. The middle order just collapsed leaving number 8 (me) and number 9 to bat through 14 odd overs. We knew one thing. We had to stay on the crease. We had to tire these guys out, frustrate them, make them field for the full 45 overs. The runs will come on their own. We played with a straight bat, played out their main bowlers and tapped around for singles. The sledging around was a lot. We enjoyed ourselves on the field, making them field. I normally like to run a lot of cheeky runs, convert one into two etc. my poor partner is a bit overweight. He wanted to conserve his energy and hit the ball out of the park. To his credit he did that in the end. So I nudged, cut, played, edged and padded my way around. The wides came as they would. I got off the strike soon enough. And I lasted the whole way till 45 overs. That’s easily an hour plus on the field concentrating hard enough. The banter on the field helped. The result was 75 runs being added for the last two wickets. I scored some ridiculously paltry runs of the bat. But staying there was important. I was quite relieved. I had set out with a clear objective. I would not lose my wicket. I would not get tired. I am happy I came out pretty ok. I learnt that diet and exercise is equally important.
An interesting one – post match when we were analyzing the performances, the captain was blasting the team on the fielding; he said that the youngsters had to show more commitment. He said he had three seniors in the side, the others had to do better. Well I could count two – one was 50 years old and the other was a 36 year old player. I asked the guy on my left (36 year old guy) “tu ek hai, who doosra hai, teesra kaun hai?” “tu hai gaandu” he replied. Oops. I became a senior player (read old slow fart) without realizing it.
I came home to my wife pretty pissed with Jispa. Jispa had been on her trip blaming Jasmine for everything. Anything goes wrong, it was Jasmine’s fault. Jispa pushed Jasmine too far. I had to come in and really get them both together. Jispa is easier. As a result of which we decided to give Jasmine the day off on Sunday. We would do everything. Pick up the stuff lying about, throw the clothes for wash, make breakfast and dinner, drive the car, make the bed etc etc. Well Jispa since I had to do everything, I had to pay for your shit! You better remember this one. You owe me big time.
Jasmine found it very funny to sit and do nothing. I only got respite when the maid came in the evening and Jasmine found it very very awkward to sit while I dried the clothes. Hehehe.
Jispa lost her second tooth yesterday. It came loose at the Oberoi mall while she ate a cheese cube. While putting it back in place it came off in her hand. The amount she faltu mein yelped in anticipation was really weird. Especially when it was her second one. When something gets into her head it’s difficult for any one of us to remove it.
For the record - the tooth fairy came again at night, left her a shiny new coin and a note for her on the whiteboard.

Birth Right

. Jasmine had gone to her mummy’s house for the delivery. It made sense as the hospital we wanted for the delivery was her aunt’s hospital right in the same building. And I am not too much of a stickler for tradition. I remember the doc saying that the delivery would happen at any time. We kept waiting and waiting. At the end on the 30th August in the morning Jasmine was admitted in to induce pregnancy. Jasmine called me to tell me such. The doc said that the procedure will take time and that any action would only happen in the evening. I finished my work and then went to boss to tell him that I would be not likely to come in tomorrow as my wife is admitted and is likely to deliver. He looks at me half agasht. What are you doing here is she is admitted. I say – chill, it’s Jasmine’s cousins nursing home and they say the action will happen in the evening. I was pretty cool. As predicted the action happened late at night. With my mom, mom in law, sister in law – all at the hospital. Jasmine’s cousin shooed them away by telling them that a lot of time is left. Then she got me in to the delivery room as I had requested. I was not going to miss this one for sure. I was by Jasmine’s head holding her hand. She squeezed it real tight. It hurt a bit afterwards. Jispa was born in the morning at around 2 am. The first thing I do after looking at the baby is I tell Jasmine “it’s Jispa”. We had decided the name long time back. Around a year back we had gone from Manali to Leh by road. Jispa is a small idellic village that we halted for a night. Dry weather, a river running through, high altitude and mountains around. I liked the place and I liked the name a lot. A name that is unconventional, not of a particular caste or creed and almost a global nationality.
We then called all the mothers in. We had some talk form them on wondering what the name would be. I let the banter continue for a while before telling them that the name is Jispa. My mom wanted to name her according to the rashi (celestial configurations). I told her to take a hike (in different words though:). Jispa is her name. A name with a dream attached. Someday I wish that she goes there, on her own (or with her partner), spend some time there, go for a trek around there, mediate and be one with her own air. A bit of inspiration.
Before she was born I used to sing to her, meri soni, meri tamanna, jhut nahin hai mera pyar. Jasmine and I used to laugh a lot saying my singing would make the baby cry inside. The morning she was born also, I have carried her singing the song. We realized that whenever she cried a bit and was inconsolable, singing this song would make miraculous quiet. It was her favorite song and I was a horrible singer. It worked!
Post delivery Jasmine needed me as well. She was made to eat all these stupid traditional stuff by her mother who thought it would be good. Ya sure. A lot of stuff is good for you but you just can’t eat it. Yuucckkk. I told jasmine to just throw it out of the window or in the drain. Normally I would not interfere too much, but once her mom pushed too hard. I got in and warned her “if you force Jasmine to have stuff against her will I will take her home” “butt…” she protested. “if you force jasmine to have anything she does not want, I will take her home” I firmly repeated with a dead pan expression. She got the point.
Just after Jispa was born, my office shifted from Nariman Point to Worli. I used to catch a bus from office and run to meet Jispa every day. Go in, wash your hands till your elbows, wash your face and then go real close. She would lick my face; eat (?) my nose. I would love to go in everyday, stay over at her place and play all day long. My mom didn’t like it. It was not proper. I didn’t care two hoots. My squash coach also just became a father. He was saying that he keeps going on and off. It doesn’t look too good if you go again and again. What shit? My wife, my daughter. I wouldn’t listen to any argument. I loved them; I would go and visit them. EVERYDAY.

THE song:

C'est la vie

Wowieee…. Jispa got her first taste of actual school life. Kindergarten was a breezy play way. Welcome to the first standard (first grade). Yesterday she had her very first (I quote) “boring lecture”. She had computers when her teacher took her to the computer lab and taught them computers. They had to just go there and sit on the seats without really doing anything. They were just explained about the computers without touching them. Hehehe. This was the first orientation lecture. I am sure it would get better over time.
Computer classes have surely changed in these years. We had computers when we were in 7th or 8th I think. That too it was a special lab done up in a special section. They needed special air-conditioned lab with us having to remove the shoes outside. This was an extra class done during vacations if I am not mistaken. These were black and white stuff and we learnt basic programming. Woooo. Computers were a big thing. Then also the first lecture was held in a classroom with the prof given gyan on the different parts of a computer. RAM, ROM, Monitor, Central Processing Unit (CPU) etc. It too was really a boring lecture.
I have to teach her to operate the internet. She already knows Google. She know that’s where we keep going to it to figure out stuff she wants answers to. I told Jispa that I would teach her to use the internet on Friday. I figure the laptop is old enough for her to damage in any case. She was pretty excited. She remembered it today as well. Good for her. She might as well get computer and internet friendly.

Look maa, new shoes...

Yesterday was Jispa’s first day in the first standard. She has new smart uniforms that show she is not a baby in the kindergarten anymore. I even saw her brand new text books. Seeing the text books made me feel a funny kind of sensation inside. I don’t like text books. Especially the ones meant for the younger standards. They don’t have happy memories for me. It created a tension of sorts for me. My memories of brand new text and note books (double line) books weren’t too good. We had teachers irritating us to cover them, with brown paper and plastic covers. Plus we were three kids with me being the youngest. Also new year in school started for us on the 13th of June. I remember it being rainy and the socks being wet, the school being a bit darker a lot damper. I just didn’t like it. Sure it was a good school at the time but somehow some teachers were a bit idiotic and irritating. Not child friendly and chilled out for sure. Till the third I was in Dubai and then the fourth standard was a real mess back in India. It was very difficult for me to make the transition. The wet, large classrooms. New guys around. Parents busy with the shifting. Just not happy and cheerfull. I got used to it a bit later in higher classes when one learns to eat a bit of salt :) while listening to the teachers. Jispa sure has it better. With fees that are at a multiple of 166x to the what I paid, it better be a better experience. Yes one hundred and sixty six times what I paid. For the record – I am not complaining.

Here is her standard uniform

and here is her Uniform for the PE days.

chilling under the midday sun

Just back from our favorite holiday. We had been to Manoribel at Manori. Jasmine and me love this as its just about an hour and a quarter away from home. Over pack whatever you want into the dam trunk and run along when ever you wake up in the morning.
It quite a laid back place with most of the staff consisting of local women. It amazing how the entire place runs with minimal male involvement. The men are limited to the watchmen and gardeners. Otherwise it’s women’s lib all the way.
This time we sent on a Wednesday and had Jasmine’s family join us over the weekend. They would normally be wary of coming to a place that has a common veg and non veg kitchen but Jasmine prevailed. Her brother just loved the place in the end. It’s nice in winter but I think it’s nicer in the summers. It doesn’t get hot on the hammocks and under the trees. The water at the beach is also nice and warm when we hit it at 4 pm. Thus we can swim in as much as we like without feeling cols or worry about catching one. A good book along the holiday is an absolute must to enjoy the hammocks. This time I bought the book Outliers by Malcom Gladwell. Good thing I brought this one along. At first I was planning to read the HBR on employee appraisals and I relaised that it was reminding me of office way too much for comfort, till the point that I wasn’t enjoying reading it. I had to chuck it fast. Offices are useless when it comes to transparency, keeping employees interest first, structured processes etc especially mixing common sense and fairness. I believe my notions are way too radical for offices with their myriad structures and politics to follow. So it was nice to chuck that book and pick up Gladwell. He just has this amazing ability to pick different studies, collate them and draw common strings to prove his point. Sometimes I believe it might be much too simplistic and he might overlook strong counter points but, hell it’s a best seller that he is writing and not a thesis. You take it as he gives. It is quite a different read once you are a parent. It almost reads like a parenting book and I would possibly recommend as thus as well.
On of the evenings we were having a discussion with Jasmine’s family (brother, mom, dad, everyone). We were talking Gandhi (jasmine’s dad is quite a gandhian), India etc. normally I am reticent in such conversations (see earlier blogs) but this time in front of family I felt comfortable to open out. I found myself quoting a large number of books for supporting view points. I found myself sounding quite erudite (forgive my self praise). I was surprised that I remembered this much from these many sources. All that reading seems to be helping me somewhere. I hope.
Normally my rule is that one book must give me atleast one take away. Imagining India by Nandan Nilkeni has given me several. I realised this in the conversation that I was having. I think that’s the power of well researched and thought through arguments. In fact I started a new thing thanks to that book. Half way through I took a pencil and started underlining what I liked. I looked up meanings of words and started writing them in the book. I hope to follow this from hereon. Its quite a revelation. I recommend that book fro anyone who wishes to talk, argue, debate, blah blah anything on India. I have not seen a book like this anywhere else.

Just outside we came across a shop that predominantly caters to the beach tourist. He inflates the price of the Kurkure chips by 5 bucks (25 instead of 20). I check the pack and sure enough a stcker that says – specially packed for picnic point – price rs. 25. what a scam. I tell the guy ‘com on – what rubbish is this?’ he doesn’t look me in the eye and smiles sheepishly and says, company has does this. What’s the real price I ask. 20 he says. Since he half admits by his smile and is a sweet guy, I pay the 25 in any case. But I like the scam. Why charge extra, just change the sticker. The novelty of the scam was worth the 5 bucks extra for me.

as random as it gets

Men are worse than women in gossiping. Women deserve an apology on our behalf. I think men seldom know, yet they can talk… yesterday at swimming was one case in point. We went swimming at the club and four men met in the middle of the swimming pool (I was among them). What followed was a 30 minute conversation on markets, depression and recession with much irreverence to the difference in terms or economic understanding. I am no opponent of shop talk but IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SWIMMING POOL. Come one for heavens sake. I took one lap – it was still on. Second lap – still on – third lap – still on… oh boy oh boy. Men can talk.

I remembered an interesting story that we learnt in school. It was in the poem section. This was the story of the a few blind men coming in contact with the elephant for the first time. With each of them having their own version of the truth. You know this one? No? Well here is the synopsis as taken from wikipedia. - In various versions of the tale, a group of blind men (or men in the dark) touch an elephant to learn what it is like. Each one touches a different part, but only one part, such as the side or the tusk. They then compare notes on what they felt, and learn they are in complete disagreement. The story is used to indicate that reality may be viewed differently depending upon one's perspective, suggesting that what seems an absolute truth may be relative due to the deceptive nature of half-truths.

Jasmine’s big brother got for his kid a game called K’nex. Basically it’s a game that requires one to assemble a structure that takes a ball to some height and takes it into a roller coaster ride down to ground zero. Pretty cool. My nephew had been on my case to get it sorted. This Saturday I convinced Jasmine to help with it. We started at 10 pm at their house. First bhabhi went to sleep. Then Jasmine’s brother went to sleep. Slowly my nephew too slept away. Jasmine and I kept going. Well finally it was done. At 5 am. Wow seven hours at a stretch. This was amongst the best 7 hours I might have spent with Jasmine. Jasmine and I have been friends for 19 years. We know what the other one would be doing. We know what the other one is good at. We typically don’t have ego wars when we are trying to do something together. Ego wars are reserved for other mundane things in life. Hehehe. Here is what we ended up creating.
Sometimes I wonder why so many people appreciate the copy that I write. Could I really be that good? To my mind no. if I were to comment on my copy I would rate it pretty average. But there is a reason why people like it. The rest of what we get is horrendous. Badly written prose is rampant. There are too many people who consider them too smart and write over smart copy. At least I write it within the private realms of my blog. I don’t write copy like this on mineral water bottles. This is so crappy. I wonder how this gets on to commercial production. Why would you want to liken your customer to a Broccoli?

“Some say you are what you eat; we believe you are what you drink. After all your body is 75% water. And who would like to be called a piece of broccoli anyway? Qua is 100% natural and well balanced with minerals. Better still, it’s bottled at source using advanced French expertise. You see the water in your body renews itself every six weeks. We suggest you replenish it with something full of minerals. And what better way to pamper your body than with a gift from nature. Oui?”

Oui?? What a way to get some French association for Himalayan water.

Such stuff is there on so many products. I am a compulsive label reader. I can’t get through an aisle without reading labels. First they try and put copy everywhere, which might not be a bad thing; but you have to have good copy and a good thought before you put stuff anywhere.

Here is an SMS I got from my electric company:
Dear Customer,Your Meter Reading Date for MAR-09 billing for CA No.1*&%$#@#7 (number masked by me) is scheduled on 14-MAR-09.Reliance Energy.

Why the sms? Why would I want to know the date you are reading my meter? Have they bought bulk smses from their sister company and are now using it up? God alone knows.

Here is Jispa reading at night before she sleeps.

Here is what the tooth fairy wrote for her.

That's her at the Kala Godha festival (kid's art section). Good job at organising the festival. very cool job they are doing. Kudos.

Jispa got a mechanical camera (reaaly cheap one, 28 mm lens with fixed f stop at 11. no clue what the shutter speed might be) at the festival (freebie). She already uses a digital one. I have put in a black and white reel in it. Lets see if I can click something interesting with it. If its the photographer and not the camera that counts then go ahead and shoot with it, bozo.

Moderate

We don’t appreciate the plurality allowed in our lives. I am tired of listening to Gandhi Nehru bashing over these many years. People argue without a clear understanding of either history or politics and without a remote inkling of the situation prevalent at the time. A complete waste of breath and brain time. I prefer silence in these situations.
Here is an extract from a Tehelka interview with Mani Shankar Aiyar. Of course it’s only a view point but it’s a view point that is informed and cannot be brushed aside. We give too little credit for the freedom we have. I hear of many ideas asking for a totalitarian regime in India. As I heard Nandan Nilekani say – ‘while totalitarian regimes could give you a miracle like China it could also give you a Zimbabwe.’ Democracy might be slower to rapid change but it also protects you from really horrific consequences. The question to be asked internally is the actually how much risk you are willing to take for the promised land. Another brilliant example of this can be experienced in the amazing Guy Delisle graphic novel ‘Pyongyang’ which vividly brings alive the life in North Korea.
Well here’s the extract of the interview.
Q. Why are our neighbours — Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka — prone to such convulsions? Why are they more precarious democracies than India?
A. The answer to this lies in the fact that Jawaharlal Nehru — who was Prime Minister for the first 17 crucial years of our upbringing as a modern nation — was dedicated to five very important principles of nation-building that our neighbours have not been equally committed to. The first of these is the idea of plurality and secularism. Under Nehru’s stewardship, India has, almost uniquely in the world, not only expressed its nationhood as a belief in diversity, but a celebration of it. Unity in diversity is the great subcontinental truth we all have to live with, if we want to survive as a democracy. It is not merely an ideal; it is pragmatic. All our neighbours who are in trouble are nations that have deviated from this to express nationhood in dangerously exclusivist ways.
The second thing is, Nehru was not only committed to the concept of democracy, but also to building the institutions of democracy. That bulwark has almost never been changed in our existence as a nation in 62 years. In Pakistan — under Mohammad Ali Jinnah and Liaquat Ali Khan — there was the same dedication to democracy, but their stewardship did not last as long, and their institutions were far less robust. So, despite an aching yearning for democracy among Pakistanis, they missed the bus by not having a Nehru among their midst in their formative years. The same thing happened in Bang - ladesh. At the beginning, there wasn’t the same commitment to building democratic institutions; soon after, with the brutal coup in 1975 when Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his family were killed, whatever had been built up was brushed aside.
Sri Lanka’s record of democratic institutions was far superior to India. So why did they fail? With Solomon Bandar - anaike’s victory in 1956, Sri Lanka jettisoned the secular ethos with which it had fought its freedom movement and opted for sectarianism and an exclusivist Sinhala identity. Over the last 30 years, Sri Lanka has suffered such a setback because of this, it is almost impossible to remember that Sri Lanka was once poised to be the Singapore of this region.
Finally, the other Nehruvian principle that has kept our democracy robust is Nehru’s commitment to a ‘socialistic pattern of society’. He accepted the Gandhian ethic that the purpose of the state‘s economic policy was welfare of the poor. In Pakistan, on the other hand, there was a blatant and blanket adoption of the capitalist model. In 1965, it was the secondmost industrialised country in Asia, after Japan. But this was concentrated in the hands of 22 feudal families and the notorious ‘303’ — the civil servants in collusion with these families. All of this came crashing down when Ayub Khan undertook his coup. The other factor in the instability Pakistan faces today is the fact that they also happily allied themselves to the Americans. Pakistan was also founded on the principle that religion constitutes nationality. This is an almost untenable premise. If being a Muslim makes you belong to Pakistan, then why is there a border between Muslim Afghanistan and Muslim Iran? And why would some of its most bitter disputes have been with its Muslim neighbours? Religion is a very poor basis for organising a nation. For all these reasons, these nation states did not become as strong in absorbing the buffeting that all nation-building involves. But while we may be stronger and more stable than our neighbours today, we have to remember that the same potential for stability and democracy exists in our neighbours. And if we move away from these ideals of plurality and secularism, we have the same potential for being torn apart.
--------------------------------------------
It is true there are many lessons to learn form this but yet we choose to forget them and take the radical way out. Today’s newspapers had a headline that certain community leaders (kutchi wagad) decided to ensure that marriage happens only within the community. I cannot for one understand why they do this. Jasmine is a Kutchi (different sub catse from one above) and I am a Gujarati. Our family is enriched by the cross culture pollination (albeit small, as we are quite culturally close). And not just immediate families, even the distant families are enriched; may it be in simple stuff like new recipes to try out. Jispa is definitely better off exposed to more culture than less. Close minded radicals are ruining their own race. Modern day Nazis!
When the attack on crickets in Pakistan happened it was easy to blame a community as a breeding ground for radicals. But there are radicals all around us, in all communities. In times like this I fight forces in my head from being a conservative. It is tough being a moderate in face of immediate flare ups but moderate I must be.
Definition: In politics and religion, a moderate is an individual who holds an intermediate position between two viewpoints, neither to be extreme or radical by those applying the term. The word "moderate" can also be used as an adjective describing such a position. Read on - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moderate

While reading Mani Shankar, I was also reminded about another thing I once read. This was in relation to Pakistan’s tryst with capitalism. Disclaimer: do not use this in isolation to be an anti capitalist, but just as a case for more balance. It will also give you idea on why the world financial system finds it where it is.
In the 1930s and '40s, General Motors, the Firestone Tire Company, Mack Truck, Phillips Petroleum, and Standard Oil of California--all operating through a front company called National City Lines (NCL)--bought up dozens of local mass-transit systems that were operating the popular electric streetcars. Their plan was to control virtually all the leading mass-transit systems in America, and replace electric trolleys with smoky, gas-guzzling buses. In many cases, these trolley transit companies had previously been financially looted by their financier owners and fallen into disrepair, which only made them easier targets for acquisition. Once NCL purchased the trolley lines with "borrowed" money from GM and others, the tracks were torn up and the trolleys sold or destroyed, replaced by petroleum-powered GM buses running on tires and oil supplied by the NCL companies. Source - http://www.internalcombustionbook.com/archive/RJFall2006.html
Testimony to a Senate committee last year indicated that over the years GM bought and tore up electric railway systems in 56 cities throughout the country -- including New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Los Angeles. Some riders switched to GM buses -- more bought GM cars.
The fact is that the big 3 shape America's ground transport system. And the system they have produced -- roads clogged with millions of cars and trucks, pouring out pollution and consuming vast amounts of oil, while mass transit remains virtually nonexistent -- that system simply won't do. Source - http://www.library.arizona.edu/exhibits/udall/speeches/antitrust.html
This is a study of the social consequences of monopoly. It shows that excessive economic concentration can restructure society for corporate ends. As an illustration, it focuses on three powerful automobile companies which eliminated competition among themselves, secured control over rival bus and rail industries, and then maximized profits by substituting cars and trucks for trains, streetcars, subways and buses. In short, it describes how General Motors, Ford and Chrysler reshaped American ground transportation to serve corporate wants instead of social needs. Source http://www.worldcarfree.net/resources/freesources/American.htm

On another note I was surprised to know that when I typed promised land in word, it puts up a grammar correction, recommending to capitalize the initial alphabets.

kya scene hai

The 18th anniversary of meeting each other. Easier to remember as it was the 31st of December. Could it have been more clichéd? Its even around the same time. Even more clichéd. I even have a moustache like I had when I first met her. Clichés never cease. Hahahhahahah. This is so funny. I feel like an 18 year old.