a charmed life

I had seen some of the awesome stuff that they do at her school in their art class. Their teachers are so much better than what we had, its quite like living a dream. At the Kala Ghoda festival, there are a lot of art workshops organised and there the teachers at Jispa’s school are at the forefront leading and conducting workshops open for all the kids there. While we were discussing the lovely work that the kids did at the art class with her teacher at Kala Ghodha, her teacher mentioned that some that work was installed at the Prince of Wales museum gardens for all to see. Wow. That included some of the work that Jispa had assisted in doing. They had made life size stick figures with balloon heads. Jispa pointed out to the one she had done. She was excited to see her stuff open for all to see. She had done the head. She had fashioned the eyes, eyebrows, nose and colored the head of one of the stick figures… and it was on display at a Museum, albeit the gardens, but it was there. I would have never even imagined that anything that Jispa would have done, would have been displayed any where near a museum. It was far outside, even beyond my normally fecund imagination. That was one quite proud moment. I was telling Jispa that nothing like this ever happened to us while we were kids. Nothing we did in art class was ever displayed ever, not even in the school notice board, let alone a public display.
Also yesterday was Jispa’s swim meet at the gymkhana. She has been learning to swim properly under coaching for some time now. I could teach and encourage her only to a point; post which she required correct guidance and professional help. She just about learnt the freestyle and the back stoke. She took part in the under 8 category. The gymkhana is known in Mumbai for taking its swimming pretty seriously and produces some of the best swimmers in Mumbai. Jispa was not sure if she wanted to take part in the meet. Another mother around told that she swam well and she must take part, and so she did. We don’t want to push her too much and let her take her own decisions on meets and competitions. Not that she listens to us too much as well :) . So she did take part. There are3not so many competitors in her age category. Around 5- 6 kids who decided to compete. The others just didn’t bother. But to our surprise, she won the silver in freestyle and backstroke. Wow. She puts her slim body and strength to good use. She left a the more experienced swimmers well behind. They gave out trophies and Jispa was pretty proud to win the first “trophies” of her life. She took them to School for show and tell. I missed the freestyle thanks to my treatment was well in time for her back stroke event. I wanted to refrain from shouting out encouragement while she swam. You swim, you compete. If you win great. It takes some amount of self restraint not to be over joyed at her victory and effort. Till yesterday I haven’t really got the chance to see her really swim. When we are together in the pool, she doesn’t like swimming properly. She is more focussed on the fun we are having. I was really taken aback by her speed in backstroke. She is pretty good. After the race my stance has been ‘did you enjoy it’. ya? ‘cool good race’. I told her that she knows how to swim better than me and from now on I can’t really teach her much. In fact, I would be happy to learn some stuff from her. That’s the best encouragement I could muster. I really don’t want her to swim and compete for me. I don’t want her to have stress of any expectations from me. Unlike other kids, I want her to play on her own and not look at papa or mom after playing in a competition. I don’t want her to look at us for approval or disapproval. She has to compete within, find strength within. We will be there to take care, push her training, everything… but I refuse to put pressure on victory. I cant stand parents pushing or screaming at their kids egging them on or constantly trying to coach them. A small chat after the event focussing on the mistakes, learning’s etc, should be enough. Whatever you have to do you must do before the event. Then just shut up and watch it unfold. Afterwards observe, learn, chat and move on.
I was telling her that I had never won anything in swimming ever and she has already overachieved, if I am the benchmark. Jasmine added another point. She never competed in her school sports day as you had to wear shorts and her family did not allow that. Jispa was wondering why. I told her plain and simple – that I think your nana and nani were plain silly.

on another note: - a pic taken at the kala ghoda...

ayurvedic sleep

I have had this niggling lower back pain and it kind of comes and goes. That’s partly the reason I took up swimming as well. My family doc is an Ayurvedic doc, who I credit for giving me my knees back. Years of running on the road thanks to the NCC days and then tons of basketball on concrete floors had completely ruined it. Even now, I rather play on fields and grounds than tar roads. But at least they let me play and run. And I have been going to this doctor for many years. I think ever since fifth standard. I call him uncle and my daughter calls him dadu.
So thanks to this implicit trust I practically follow whatever regime he sets out for me. Ayurvedic stuff can get pretty weird. There is medicine before meals and after meals. The before meals is not like you have the medicine and sit down for a breakfast. You get up in the morning, drink a gulp of milk so that the medicine doesn’t really burn your insides will having it empty. Then you wait for some time. In my case I then wake up my daughter and then later heat the water a bit, mix the thing (after shaking the bottle well) and then gulp it down. You can’t then sit down for a meal immediately afterwards. You have to wait for atleast half an hour and then sit to eat. Sometimes you have look outside at the sky before having it. As in it cant be overcast, else the effect is less, sometimes when you have to mix with hot water means you have to let the dam thing boil for 5 minutes, then let it cool, before having it… etc etc… so when this time uncle told me to be ready for a seven day treatment for my back in the winter, I didn’t ask why. What was that line ‘yours is to do or die, yours is not to question why?’. My NCC training helped here for sure. Ok Uncle. He said but the hospital where I have to undergo the treatment is in Dharavi, infamously and allegedly the biggest slum in all of Asia. Ok. He said that hospital will do what he wants to as opposed to the high end Ayurvedic spas.
That’s why I have been at home in the first half all of this week and posting from home. Something I haven’t done so far. I like to stay away from the comp at home. Coming back to the place it quite ok. Its clean (relatively) and its almost at the periphery of the slum, so its not that bad. But I don’t know many friends who would get them treated there. The treatment involves a vigorous massage with two masseurs working together in pre set rhythm, quite unlike the north Indian akhada massage. And then you have to steam yourself for about 30 minutes. The steam chamber is some kind of a wooden casket (coffin perhaps) into which they send in specially cooked steam with some herbs from a pressure cooker, with a pipe going in from where the whistle normally is placed. Quite a contraption. Only your head comes out as you sleep on planks placed about three inches apart and the steam blowing from the bottom.
As I do this treatment early morning, it’s pretty nice and relaxing. So much so that I feeling like sleeping in the steam casket. Today was one such session. After the massage I get into the casket and he closes the top. There is always a sense of drama when he closes it as the space for the neck to protrude out has to match with where I am lying. A delicate twist of fate and I might history. Nooo…. Sorry for the overacting but he has to close it slowly as I adjust myself to fit right into the opening. As he closes the top I realize that it’s not steaming as usual. I tell him to fix it… and pop I am asleep. After some time I tell him it’s still not steaming. He figures does something while I am asleep. After a few minutes (instantly or a long time, I don’t know) I feel the warm steam as I am deep in my slumber. After I have had enough I ask to free me from the coffin as I emerge all groggy.
I see the time outside as I wipe myself… wow… I had slept for an hour. I never knew that planks of wood can be so comfortable to sleep in, while the steam in blowing. That was my most seeming uncomfortable comfortable bed/ casket/ coffin whatever, I have ever slept in.

you never know what to expect

Jispa wanted coupons that she can use at her school cafeteria. Normally 20 bucks should be enough as moist snacks would be within that amount. But then the last time around she went and bought a cup cake worth 12 bucks completely skewing the equation. So this time around Jasmine asked her if 25 bucks were enough? She was hesitant and we were wondering.
There is a fine line here as a parent. You want to give money as its really not that much but you also don’t want to give excess as you want a sense of value in the child. we can buy around 200 bucks of coupons at a time from the school. It comes in the form of a booklet. We surely don’t want to give the comeplet booklet to her to carry without monitoring it. Though some kids come with the entire lot. I am not sure if that is a good idea.
So since Jispa was a little apprehensive on the amount we gave her 35 bucks worth of coupons, which is ok. But we also gave her a caveat that she should use it with care and clearly 25 bucks is her budget for eating. One batawada costs around 6 bucks and a juice is max 15, so that’s enough for a snack. Also we told her that you will get the coupons only once a week. Here too she was not too happy. So we said that while you can carry the coupons the entire week in case of emergency, you are to use it only on a Friday. The rest of the days we will give you some snack from home to eat. We don’t want her eating too much junk as well.
This time Jasmine gave her 35 bucks worth of coupons for use yesterday due to some reason. In the evening, we realised that Jispa had none left. How did that happen dear? Well first she took a batatawada for 6 bucks, then a corn for 6 bucks. Fine… then she took a cup cake for 12. So that adds upto to 24, then a friend needed 2 bucks extra coupons so she gave it, and another needed 3 so she gave that as well. For the record - the 3 came back soon afterwards and she left it in her locker. And the last 6? Well, when she was eating batawada, her friend ‘pratze’ said that she loves batawada. So Jispa excused herself for a minute and ran and got her a batawada as a surprise.
How can we as parents find any fault in that? Bless that heart.

her school, sighhhh.....

Being fit - nice. Being fast – great. Having Jispa’s physical education teacher telling her that her dad runs like a rocket – priceless. It seems that her friend who was next to her, then commented “even Jispa runs like a rocket”
I got a lot of like papa like daughter thing that day. I am pretty keen that she does her athletics and sports well. A good culture of fitness will go a long way in her life. Studies are something everybody focused on in any case. There are a lot of factors that will force to focus on that part of education, but there are few factors in India that motivate a child’s physical development. It’s changing, with clubs doing their bit, but it is a long way off yet.
While we were at her school for the sports day there was an Art exhibition done by the school, showcasing the work done by the students. Some that stuff was mind boggling. It was done in a variety of media and had multiple expressions. Some of the talent there is outstanding but that’s not what I am so impressed by. Talent many times in inborn. What got me floored was the stuff done by Jispa’s class. Jispa’s painting was hung along side others of her class. They all were similar looking. On that board was also a painting of Jamini Roy. The kids were taught the style of Jamini Roy. How the artist uses forms that need not look real, bright colors that need not match that of the animal in real life, how the eyes are bigger etc. the entire class tried to paint in that style and they came out so beautiful. In my school art class sucked. The teacher couldn’t teach two bits. Those with natural talents did well and the others just ambled along. I never figured the point of an art exam as well. I remember it as being irritating, with paints falling, colors running and an absolute mess. I don’t think Jamini or even Picasso was ever mentioned in the class. Just draw a scene – the scene would change – school, bus stop, fields, etc… those horrible triangles as mountains and the V shaped birds. The best part was the round figurines. Papa figurine, mama figurine and baby figurine. I think they were worse than stick figures.
I quizzed Jispa wheter the teacher drew any of her stuff. She said no, she drew the stuff and colored it herself. That was pretty impressive. I will update the blog on her painting later. That was pretty cool.
The other classes similarly had done work with Picasso, Van Gough etc as inspiration. I wanna go back to school, sob sob.

run along

Jispa’s sports day was there on Saturday. There is always the parents race at the end. Last time I ran, I won but albeit by a smaller margin than what I might have been used to. I had realized that the key to this is the start. So this time, I watched closely. I tried to catch the whistle in the earlier races and figure what his rhythm was to start the race. How long does he take to whistle after he says ‘get set’. Looking at the earlier race I realized one key indicator. He needs to puff his cheeks to blow the whistle. Enough for me. He puffs up to blow. Half a second lead as I get up and push myself from the starting crouching position. Then the whistle, my first step across before the others have reacted and then a burst forward. The youtube videos on racing techniques helped as well, though you really can’t change your running technique too much at 35. That too by just watching a few videos. But playing them over and over again in your head helped a bit. The mind can push the body in ways unthinkable.
The split second lead followed by the burst ahead while the others are even starting, kills competition in the mind as they lose the race right there it self. Suddenly I found myself yards ahead of everyone with almost no competition so as to speak off. This is a 75 meter dash. The start is everything. At around the half way, I wonder why no one is around and I ease up a bit. Suddenly on the far right (I took far left to avoid inevitable race crashes) I see this black dressed guy catching up. I just accelerate enough to keep him in second place. He ran real fast as well. And he is older than me. And he is a celebrity. He is a movie actor with a rock solid physique. Tough guy. I loved his race as well. It was a pleasure to compete with him, no matter the result.
That made me a mini celeb as well. The number of people who came and congratulated me after the race was far more than normal. I have been winning the race since last three years. The celeb in question normally wins the race and there is usual excitement around his race and to see him run. But the fact that someone else won is so easily was something that didn’t go unnoticed. I enjoyed my celebrity status for a complete hour. It’s still not worn off.
The race is held with batches of parents in two standards. The kindergarten papa’s compete together, then the first and second combined, and then the third and fourth combined. The celeb’s kid is in the second standard while Jispa is the first. So next year we might not be able to head off and hence I might have to ensure I bask (internal gratification) in this year’s glory only.

As for Jispa – she won her race as well, with ease. Though I worry on her technique now. In her effort to get her long strides in, she jumps long. It’s almost like a series of long jumps. It breaks the rhythm of her run and slows her down. She is notoriously anal about listening these days and I don’t really want to push her, but I want her to get the rhythm right and that will get her speed up. I will have to work on it in my own way. Might get her to steadily jog with me and then slowly slowly up the beat. Her technique was right until last year, till her mind started working extra time. But anyways, she has a gift for being athletic. Hope she keeps it up, hope we don’t screw up.

Footnote: I think the morning swims also have paid off.

the truth shall set you free

I think I have written about this before. What has reading a wide variety of authors over the last few years taught me? If I were to distill it down to one thing, I guess it has taught me to believe that every opinion is equally valid and true. Truth is subjective. But this simple philosophy is hard to digest and I find that most others refuse to see it this way. For me acceptance of this as the single valid truth has helped me understand people’s statements, motivations and intent. Mere acknowledgement of another’s statement opens your mind to the varied possibilities and helps you see what you probably would have missed.
My frustration on this has been that while I see it plain and simple, are on two counts. First - I am unable to explain this to others. It is that simple, it isn’t that complex. All you have to do is use different lenses to see different things and sometimes you may not have the lens as the other one has and hence you are unable to see it in their light. Even if someone has stated something false. You know it, the other knows it as well, yet there is truth in it. Use the right lens and you will know what true in it. No this not a trick statement. But see, there is my frustration. I am unable to explain it beyond this.
The second frustration – I have been unable to keep this in my mind 100% of the time. I am trying but instinct (competitive?) gets better of me many times, but I will have to try harder. One of the best ways of changing yourself is to publicly proclaim and commit to it. Here this gets difficult as I unable to explain this to others and hence while I attempt to, there is less discourse and debate on this, thus making life even more complicated.

Forget it. I don’t expect you to understand this. Every man must have their own epiphanies. I might not understand yours and you might not understand mine, but hell, even if ours contradicts, this does not make the other false. There. I closed on a simpler summary. I can afford myself a smile.

selfish basterd

A good friend got married yesterday and I far exceeded the brief on helping the marriage get on smoothly. I took charge of the catering, driving the fellow around with three ridiculous bouquets on my car and lastly arranging for a sit down dinner for the family after the reception was done. Why did I do all this. I gave myself many explanations during the day. None too plausible, even to me. Today morning I realized why I did this. Do unto other what you expect them to do unto you. Actually it’s more like – don’t do to others what happened to you, try to do to others what you want people to do.
I got married at 23. Young enough to be a nobody with little support, zero ability and very few contacts. Many times in life I got myself a raw deal. I would have loved to be in a situation where I could have built up my box of good wishes to tide me through. I couldn’t even muster up a car to take me to the marriage hall.
I have a memory that records these many little wishes / incidents in my life. Add one more philosophy of not letting others go through what you have been through – there, you get the point. If we simply saw and understood stuff that we wanted, understood what made us happy or sad and implemented this, wouldn’t all of us be happier. I don’t know. I don’t care. It makes me happy and I find it as a release. Doing it, kind of removes a weight off my shoulders. I think I use it a scar removal therapy or something like that. So while everyone might see it as altruistic, I see it more like completely selfish and internally motivated. Hence I am also at unease if someone compliments me on my behavior. It’s not for you. It is selfish, highly so and decidedly so. So don’t compliment me and say good things about me. These are my motivations, my therapy and my release. Stay out it and please let me be. Another complicated one. I am in a weird mood. Potentially life altering :)

read this

I have started a new thing which seems to be doing decently ok. But when you are teaching you really don’t know. I started sending and provoking thoughts over the emails. Allowing people to send mails with their opinion to all. I thinks pretty cool and allows for general discussion with me getting into moderate only when necessary. This allows for the thoughts to sink in and then taking their answers I can push or correct or close the arguments. Its good fun. And I hope they end up understanding a little more.
Here also it’s obvious that those who are interested and willing think and respond more than the others and the rest are just silent spectators. But then I can only hope. It also lets me bring in interesting observations from my life and share it with much faster and easier. Just email blast the dam thing and 50 students are in the know.

There is only one problem though. I can understand some of their responses. No, it not their thought process, its their typing. Dey dam rit in shtrt cod. Try as I might its pretty tiring to decode every word and den mk sense of it all. capitals at the start of every sentence is long forgotten. It just goes on like a rant, with thoughts flowing anyhow and its feel lyk I am reading some long chats. Their names on the email id’s look like this - ^be@ut!fu~ ^s0u! bladerxrz. Now samle this – “And m nt sure wat neha's trying to say about the device bein wireless... cz its nt... i kinda c d wire connected to it....” wht wud dis mean? Cn u knw wht 2 do… ne1?
Huff puff generation gap.

Angel, stop that

Jispa was playing angel angel. Everywhere. Angel is the name of my brother’s dog. And thanks to her the whole class got into this, pretending to be a dog. This had the mothers wondering what on earth is going on.
Jasmine after suffeing from numerous bouts of panting and crawling put an end to this by using her veto. No more angel angel. Jispa stopped completely.
Today morning as I was telling her that she can play angel angel, when mommy is not around. She said that its ok... She has changed her animal. She is now the sabre tooth tiger, a la Ice age. Grooowwwllll...

You can never win, can you.

look mom, I have become a critic

Tehelka – a magazine I admire – so much so that it’s the only magazine I bother to read. The rest seem so shallow. But last week I came across their cover story on the phantom reader. (link)

It starts with “Our survey finds that Indians read books not for pleasure but for self-advancement. Given our writers, can we blame them, asks GAURAV JAIN” (link)
What’s wrong with that? I see nothing wrong. It is not for us to question why someone is reading. I might even propose that most of us do not even know why are reading. I am purely happy to note that we are. Some where in his essay I got lost in the maze of his words. I am sure what he wrote was amazing, it’s only that I got a bit lost. I might not be the representative of the top of the pyramid, but I am surely not at the bottom. It took some immense concentration for me to catch a few of his words.
Sample this “But reading contemporary Indian writers in English leaves you with a feeling that there remain stubborn layers of butter paper between their prose and the actual life they’re trying to describe. It is really a problem of foggy realism. They remain too mannered and fey to excite their verbal life with an original voice, to drive language hard, to mint indigenous metaphors, and provide little catharsis or pleasure to the reader. Aiming for vividness, they stop short at vivaciousness. Worse, the weaker ones sink into preciousness, petulance, grogginess”
Sometimes I wonder if some of us sit on top of the elite pyramid and pass too many moralistic judgements. If the guy is reading, just let him be. In my classes I have always held the view that people must read… anything is ok. Find your genre and read. I typically don’t like fiction, but that doesn’t make me wonder why my wife wants reads Chetan Bhagat. She reads her magazines, does that mean she reads as a lesser mortal. Just read. It’s ok.

Read this para – again I think the writer is on a plane, a hot air balloon perhaps.
“there are consequences for a culture where writers keep vomiting out family and wedding sagas. TEHELKA’s English book readership survey found that what Indian readers seek most in books is a kind of newspaper – their top reasons for reading are self-education, improving their English and gaining knowledge and data. The Indian reader is, above all else, functional in his approach. For him, a book is just another lifestyle accessory — a mobile phone for the mind (emphasis mine) — and he likewise decides how it might be paisa vasool. The likes of Paulo Coelhos and Robin Sharmas provide him mental balm for a life of material tensions. There is no problem with reading for inspiration, aspiration or improving skills – it’s with having such a pedestrian threshold for exaltation and language. The cost of these simplistic books’ popularity is a thinning of imagination and public debate”

I am happy that peopel read. thats it. Nothing more nothing less.

But Tehelka being Tehelka will get other writers in and have a wide variety of views.
Turning the page I got some pearls of wisdom – here is from Amitava Kumar (link) –
“I HAVE little taste for those readers, or writers for that matter, who want to be pundits. When you meet a person like that you realise that he nurses a secret ambition to be described as someone who has read everything. This kind of reader will always try to sound knowledgeable, moral, balanced, and always, very reasonable. Such a reader will never parade his or her prejudices.
Can you imagine a mind like that? That mind would appear to me like a clean, well-scrubbed pot, very large in size, of course, but also quite empty of anything real. I’d rather sit down for hours with a dented spoon.
I’m not celebrating simple-mindedness or ignorance here. I’m talking about honesty. Of course, one runs a grave risk in calling for a degree of comfort with a lack of knowledge or expertise. Have you looked at the readers’ reviews — though review is exactly the wrong word here — posted on Amazon? You quickly realise from looking at them that the parading of prejudice is an ugly act. The display of any kind of stupidity usually is.”

And the best one - from Arun Mani (link) – “If there is one thing that is cause for some celebration it is Chetan Bhagat having topped the readership surveys …….. This outbreak of maturity is not to be sneezed at. Those who eventually tire of Bhagat will stay and look for narratives that allow them to ask more searching questions of the wisdom that they receive. If that happens, the day may yet be won for reading.”

I agree with both of them. Completely.

For the record as a marketing person I have some huge problems with the survey and the quantification etc etc (link here). The last para should give you a clue - METHODOLOGY: A survey conducted by Ipsos Indica for TEHELKA in nine cities (Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, Chennai, Chandigarh, Shillong, Kolkata, Thiruvananthapuram and Ahmedabad). Sample size: 1,152 people. The respondents were interviewed outside leading bookstores. Apart from this, in-depth discussions were conducted with readers, book reviewers and bookstore owners.

Did you get the clue? If not, forget it – it does not matter. The survey is only good enough to give you a smallish insight in the mind of a yuppie reader. Don’t look for deep searing insights into reading habits of India

Here is an interesting Q&A with Ram Advani (read it here) – “My job is to interact with them and a small bookseller can do that which is a big advantage. You come across a man who is so shabbily dressed you wonder what he is doing in the shop but the way he looks at a book, the way he browses tells me that the man is serious. If a man is waiting to meet his girlfriend he looks at a book differently and sometimes the most unlikely character will show an interest in a subject like gender studies say. These are the joys.”

And also the last word by R Sriram who quotes from Chris Anderson – “Many of our assumptions of popular taste are actually artefacts of poor supply and demand matching – a market response to inefficient distribution.”

Just for kicks I close from the last line from Gaurav's essay "Meanwhile, someone explain to our utilitarian compatriots that if they don’t learn to risk and empathise, how will they be sly?" - I did not understand line this at all.

riddle bog

While I was getting happily bored and was wondering what to write today in the blog, along came this ridiculous forward on the blackberry messenger.

Solve the case:- A man was found murdered on 26.1.2006 at noon in Bombay. His wife called the Police. They questioned everyone. Wife: Sir, I was sleeping when the murder took place. Cook: I was cooking; Gardener: I was picking vegetables; House maid: I went to the post office. Children: We went to play. Neighbour: We went to marriage. POLICE ARRESTED MURDERER IMMEDIATELY.... who is it? Rply IF u r brilliant but with reason...

My reply: I know what you are thinking but you are wrong. Well technically the maid can go to the post office and then find out that it was the 26th of Jan and hence the postmaster is at home with his family watching the republic day parade. By the time she gets back, the poor guy got killed. I would jail the gardener as there is no garden in a Mumbai house where you grow vegetables. An odd rose maybe, but growing vegetables in your garden is just not seen in Mumbai. And possibly the kids were in it as well as no kids go out to play, they either watch TV or play PS2. And surely no housewife in Mumbai with kids sleeps at noon. So the housewife was having an affair with the gardener and those kids were their illegitimate children who all conspired to kill the fellow. Only the cook and the maid were innocent in all this. They were having an affair with each other. And the cook came to know about the plot and sent the maid to the post office knowing that if she is out of the house for something then she would have an able alibi. Its a gujju household and the cook normally kills by serving fatty fried food which is perfectly legal albeit equally dangerous, hence everyone one knows that no cook will kill directly if an equally effective and legal option is available.
What say Watson?

opposites can be true

Another way to look at opposites reconciling is to know that whatever you think is the truth, the opposite might also be true. To this here is an extremely short video (2min) from ted.com. Have fun. Hope it explains my blog title a bit.

booster

When I drew the equanimity graph earlier I was none too enthused by the response I got. See earlier post here. But I guess it went through all compliance and other approval offices, so it went as below. This essentially tries to capture the mood of the company as well as explain the key quarterly numbers. Here is am the creative, director, copywriter and illustrator all rolled into one. If I knew a bit of HTML, then I would have done that as well.
But I suddenly got a burst of steroid on this effort when the Business India carried a small piece on the same. After a few years in the field, one takes on PR coverage with a bit of ‘equanimity’, since I know how much can be planted and ‘nudged’ into place. But this was an email sent only to employees and to see that a journo got hold of it, means that someone actually thought it was worthy of being read and forwarded. As a firm we don’t have the technology yet (I have no clue why) to know how many mails are being read versus being merely deleted. But when something like this pops up, it means that some people are reading and that they believe its worthy pf being forwarded. Though with the inane forwards that one gets I am not even sure if that is a good matrix. In fact a magazine report is also no barometer of quality; But I can take whatever comes my way. Allow me a little vanity.

Here is write up as it appears in the magazine as attached.

But sometimes I wonder, creative is a job that requires positive feedback. It is a job that one aims for notice, and positive feedback is important. I have made a mental note of that. For most other jobs, I am merely happy that work got done. Slip quitely away, as efficiency dictates annoymity. But creative thrives on feedback.....

run jispa run

I just put this pic on facebook and I realised that I hadn’t recorded this interesting information on my blog. This was at the Mumbai marathon. I was running the dream run which is a measly 6 kms. I had run (if you can call it that) the 21 km stretch 5 years back. It took me three hours. At the half way point my left knew froze and refused to bend anymore. I dragged it past the finish line. I was not going to quit that one. Nopes. That was some experience.
But having bad knees and a bad back, the dream run was all that I was attempting. Jispa had seen a marathon and I got Jasmine to get Jispa to view and cheer at the marathon. Good fun. At roughly the half way mark I met them and Jispa was super keen to run along. So I got her to join me. She was running full blast and I had to get her to slow down. She does not know what it means to pace yourself or to jog. She has only learnt the full throttle. But she ran the rest of the three odd kms and I found myself in catching up mode. It was quite an experience. But I was quite proud that three kms was not a patch on her stamina. She was ready for more.
One of the things she told me was “what kind of race is this? You can run, you can walk, you can jog, anybody can join in, and you can even talk on the cell phone.” She was wondering what on earth was going on in this race. And to top it, in the dream run, there are no winners or losers.

A ha. Welcome to the marathon. The participation itself is the destination and the goal

blood off my hands

We had a blood donation drive in office today. I have always been a volunteer for blood donation. I see great merit in doing it. You do nothing much except show up, sleep on a chair and eat a few biscuits and there… good deed done. That too a high level one that involves saving lives. I might have now done this a minimum of a dozen times. I see no logic in not doing it. I remember my dad always ready for it and mom also volunteering. So I guess I grew up pretty much wanting to do it.
I got my first opportunity while I was only 15 odd years old. I was in the NCC air wing and we had to go for some republic day parade. While we were rehearsing, there was a tent put up by the naval hospital, I think it was INS Ashwini. So there they asked for volunteers for blood donation. I raised my hand amongst other like minds. Before I entered the tent I asked the guy in charge, ‘sir, but I am only 15”. In true armed forces style, he looked at me and said, “that’s ok, you look healthy”. There. Simple. I got put on a bed and the deed was done. The queer part was that they were paying us kids for it. I found that rather funny. Since mine was the boring blood group I got 20 bucks. One guy with a rare blood group got 40 bucks. I kept those crisp notes for quite some time. I guess I utilised them on some rainy day.
But then after that I have used every chance to donate blood. When there was a camp in college I got in and jumped the queue. I was in second or third year by then and amongst the biggies in college, so no one really objected. Soon after marriage I got Jasmine to get in the act as well. Her real fear at the start was the really huge looking needle. Now that she is over it, she is an enthusiastic donor as well.
The last time the camp was done in office I got a few more first time donors to get in the act.
Yesterday though was a day for a bit of introspection. I got an sms for liver donation. It seems the liver donation bit is like the blood donation bit and the liver regenerates in two weeks. I haven’t gotten into the details of the same but somehow its gonna take much more than an sms for me to get on to the operating table. After I am dead I don’t care two shit for what happens with my body. I hope not to have enough fat even to make soap but liver donation is yet not on my scheme of things while alive. Not for someone I don’t know at least. For your near and dear, surely one agrees to be put under the scalpel.
Coming back to blood donations. I am a little tired with the guys in office. People finding the excuse not to go down and donate. I wonder what really stops them? Most of them cite work as the reason for procrastination but water cooler talks take more time and yet are more frequent. For me it’s a wonder how we can’t have 100% compliance – that not including the ones on medication or other such ineligibilities.
Probably at some really higher behavioural psychological level, this test might give some clues – ‘Three experiments demonstrated that feeling wronged leads to a sense of entitlement and to selfish behaviour.’ Possibly office space is the wrong place for altruistic behaviour?

Gandhi paid me a visit as well

Ghandhigiri works. We have been after one office collegue to check the mailing addresses of a client list and send it back to us after verifications. This was pending for more than a week. Enough follow up and mails were sent to push this. Today I got involved and asked him to send it. This was at around 12. 15 pm. He promised me the data in 15 minutes. I told him I would catch him at 12.30 pm then. He said, sir, thoda time do, I will take some time. Ok then I will catch you at 12. 45pm. He asked for more time. I said, “Fine, I will see you at 1.15 pm”. Deal closed.
At 1.20pm I catch him. He says “sir I need some time, you eat your lunch, I will send the mail”. I said, “Now nothing doing. I will not have lunch till you give me the data”. Then I proceeded to collect my dabba from the door and put the thing on his desk and loudly proclaimed. “Till you give me the data, I will not eat my lunch”. I then walked away leaving the big red bag on his desk.. In ten minutes he called out to me and said “I have sent the mail, can you collect your dabba from here.”
Sure it was all friendly banter and I outranked him, plus I have a great relationship with him, but I firmly believe the dabba sitting in front of him helped speed up the process. And I really did not have to use any other coercive powers, or write to his boss, or threaten him or use my brownie points. A good fun gag with social pressure did the trick. Good fun and laughs for all as well.

love your face

A ha… I was right. People love to see themselves and of course respond to other people’s faces more than anything else. Thanks to this I was able to get away with moderately amateurish photography. As I earlier said, I clicked the pictures of the guys on my floor, up close and personal. I then printed them together and stuck them up on a conference wall. Result - instant buzz.
We had the floor coming over and watching the exhibition with people thanking me for the photos. Hehe. They kept coming back in groups and discussing the photos. Who is the best, who looks like what etc. Men women are equally vain or receptive to it. But it was a good distraction on a dull day. Does well for morale. The fun bit was people whipping out their camera phones and clicking pictures of the prints.
Here are some pictures of the exhibit. it was titled, whatelse? - "wonderful world beautiful people"

among all the commenst i heard so far the best one - why did you do this? whats the point of this? - some of us just couldnt understand why I did this of my own and without any motive. it was just unbelievable for them. Come to think of it - why would I do it?

What did the chicken tell the doctor?

“Dad?”, she asked while we were driving through some uneventful part of the journey in the morning. Its always fun to have a chat in the morning while I drop her off to her bus stop. You never really know what to expect… a song sometimes, a joke, an incident or a poem… and sometimes we get a moody silence. “yes” “dad, I will ask you a riddle?” “sure”. She and her school friends have gotten into this riddle thing with clever pun built in. a nudge had been provided in the right direction by their reading of the kiddie magazine called hoot. An example of the fare dished out is - what do you call a big mouse? – answer – enormouse. And more stuff there from where it came from. You have to hit the outstretched palm of the riddler to give up and get the answer. So most of the time you don’t win and more importantly you don’t know what to expect.
“Dad, what did the chicken say to the doctor?” errr… ehhhh… hmmm. ‘I give up. Tell me.” “No, you have to guess at least five times before you can give up” “huh”. Not fair… I don’t know shit of this but I know better than to argue. So I blurt out the only thing that comes to my mind “happy birthday?”, “no”, “happy anniversary?”, “no” “happy diwali”, “happy Christmas (sic)”, “happy new year”. “No, give up?” Ya sure… the five choices went off pretty fast eh? “Give up” I say and slap her outstretched hand. “The chicken tells the doctor – I think I have people pox”. Ha ha ha. “Nice one. You learnt it in the bus?” “No, I just thought of it”. “You sure” I thought she was kidding me for sure. “Ya, I was thinking about fever then I thought about chicken pox, then I thought about people pox, and then the riddle”. Hell that was pretty good. My daughter’s first real PJ riddle –

What did the chicken tell the doctor?
Doctor, I think I have people pox

I repeated it for sentimental value. Hehe.
I couldn’t help but get her to call Jasmine and get Jispa to throw the riddle at her, with five trys and et all.

breathe easy drive easy

Driving in Mumbai is a harrowing task and even the best of us I guess grow horns. It affects me in many ways that I thought impossible. Normally whenever I drive and I see some one trying to cross, especially the old and the ones with kids, I stop my car and signal them to cross. Sometimes I am rewarded with a smile. I even do that to a few women who seem to be lost right in the middle of the road. So that’s my good bit.
On the way home, there is some construction work happening for the monorail. This place has slums on the left and the construction has left very little space for the people to move. The footpath is obviously non existent. So we have tons of people on the road. Kids, women men everyone. I went honking honking getting them to move off the road. Then suddenly I realised what I was doing. I was honking to get a guy on crutches off my path. That’s unacceptable. While I stopped honking but the deed was done. It’s been difficult to control your irritation on these roads. It’s been difficult to relax while driving.
Today morning there was a school bus behind us, honking away to glory. A car is obviously faster than the bus and the reason I can’t drive faster is that there is a truck in front of me. I roll my window and request him not to honk via a hand signal. I overtake truck. He comes behind and then starts honking all over again. This is the limit. If he honks once more I will stop the car. HONK! Ok you asked for it. I stop the car in the middle of the road and the famous Doshi anger comes out in full volume. My baritone is used to good effect. Loud Jaimit voice can wake up neighbourhood – old jungle saying. I have seen this Zeus energy used by my dad and sometimes by my brother to good effect. My dad was a little hotter than it was right and I have tried my best to control my own streak. It’s far less but even one is one too many.
I also called the school later and lodged a complaint. You can’t drive like that and if you are a school bus you have no excuses. Absolutely none.
I guess the next time I will simply stop in front and alight and not utter a word. Silent satyagraha might be a better option.
That way Jispa’s school is pretty cool. I have never heard them honking. Even if you are late they simply call up and figure if you are coming and then they silently and patiently wait. The attendant also waits silently. He never gestures to any kid to run faster, au contraire he gestures to slow down. There is no rush. The kids climb in, he closes the door and the bus silently shifts into motion.
Taking a cue from that and an ad that says that driving in the 60 kmph band will help you save fuel, I drove nice and easy today. Patting my horns back inside my head, breathing easy, I realised that driving can be a form of yoga.

up close and personal

V-inu left his camera with me as it needs to be serviced for some minor issue. He also left his lenses. One of them is the favourite 50 mm f1.4 lens. Basically it’s a lens that gives some amazing depth of field. I got it to office to take some photos that we can put in the brochures. Some standard photos of telephones, laptops, handshakes, pens, globes etc... the standard clichés in all private banking brochures.
Its also a great lens for portraits. While I was fiddling with it in office I realised that I was taking some nifty photos of people up close. While some of the colleagues were enthusiastic, some others were really camera shy. After the enthusiastic ones got even more enthusiastic on seeing the results, the shy ones opened up. Then almost everyone was posing. Some will remain irritably shy. These are ones who seem to be so conscious of themselves and come up with the standard, I don’t look good in photos. I will somehow try to break them down today. But forgiven the odd one or two the others were so excited about their photos being taken. The results are quite nice and they love themselves. To see their smile is amazing. The glitter in their eyes when they see the screen is so heart warming. I think people are genetically tuned in to see their faces and other people faces. They love it. So I started shooting only close ups. The cheer that got spread was amazing. People clamouring to get their photos clicked. I so loved seeing them smile and laugh.
I am planning to click all these guys and then print them silently and one day in the morning, stick them all in the conference room on our floor. It would do wonders for their happiness that day. I am so sure.
So off I am clicking away. Will let you know what happens further.

cartoon hai

Yesterday before we went to see the zakir and shiv kumar sharma in a concert, we stopped by my mom’s house. That’s the big source of TV entertainment for my daughter. She gets in, gets comfy in front of the TV and can watch practically anything. But the big favourite with her is Tom and Jerry. She watch that anywhere for any length of time. That goes for me too. I too can watch that stuff forever.
The cartoons from my time as a kid are still being played and they are as relevant as ever. Probably the only thing looking dated is the rotary dial telephone. Rest all is so relevant. With some many things happening in such a short while it’s never a bore.
Yesterday she saw the title and straightaway told that this is a really funny one. She knows them by rote I guess. Once the cartoon started I realised that I knew the dam thing by rote as well. Now Tom is going to be hammered into the ground by the pole, now the ball will drop ahead of him, etc etc.
Schadenfreude is a universal ageless trait. But watching these cartoons with Jispa is even more fun. She goes on laughing and giggling while supplying her two bits. Its like watching it with a laughter track. Its gets really funny. The entire family ended up watching the dam thing and laughing like silly goofs.
Good thing before a classical music concert. In the second part of the concert, Shiv Kumar plays the light classical raga which left my wife and me thinking about the romance in the Yash Chopra films. A lot of those tunes reminded us of the songs that we have heard in those movies. Wonder why they went out of fashion? Listening to the santor made me picture the heroine in chiffon dancing in the cold and green valleys of Switzerland. Wah wah.. what romance.
Just for the heck of it, forgive me while I place these versus the song in the recent hit Wanted – your papa says you love me, your mama says you love me!
Whatever the music, I love the associations that they make in my head. An indian classical concert might trigger hindi movie emotions while the Zubin Mehta concert I went for triggered tom and jerry cartoons. Well that was the only place I hears them!

desktop's day in the sun

Wow…. Today my desk got some action. It was about time. A lot of guys came to my lap top to see it, ogle at it and go back feeling excited.
Normally my seat is at the edge of the office with hardly anyone coming in. the only thing that comes in regularly is sunlight. Baking my table and laptop. But I am not complaining. I kind of like the sun coming in. I see it as a cleanser?
So why did everyone come in today. Suddenly if figured that the sun coming right through the tinted glass outside onto my desktop, today reflected the solar eclipse. I never imagined that I will see my first solar eclipse with my seated on my humble chair in my humble office. Cool. My laptop is pleased as a punch. It is now feeling blessed or… is it cursed. That depends on its belief I guess. Where is it made in? Oh ok… it’s a Dell assembled in India. I guess then it’s a bit unenthused about it. Suppose I throw a few drops of water on it? Will it feel better? Well anyway. Here is the picture of the thing reflecting from the screen.

While we are on it, here is the hit little desktop thing that I bought from Jabalpur, near the marble rocks, for 50 bucks. Everyone loves it for its sheer simplicity. It is quite cute.

And this is what I wrote on the white board so that any one comes in asking questions gets a message. Now if the kids come in asking something I just look at the white board in front of me. They get the message and then rephrase the question as a statement. There. Now that’s better. Automatically you are forced to give a solution in the statement.

job blues

Today is a bloody irritating day. There is a simple task. We have to prepare for the annual report. There is a three line to do – meeting to finalise design route, date on which agency gives design, send to print. But no, we want to complicate the dam thing so we decide to break them down into chotu chotu components. Small small very small.. so the thing now runs into 44 rows on an excel sheet with roles and responsibilities assigned. I spent a gopod solid two hours figuring what all components will be there in all this. Graph design approach, Graphs with dummy data, graph with actual data, are actual entries in the dam thing. Wow. Talk about stupid stuff.
The trouble is because we don’t give simple responsibility and hold people accountable for work. But the flip today was on another thing. People don’t want to be accountable for work. I am tired of telling people not to keep me involved. This red line is right or should I remove it? what on earth. Do what you think is right, you bloody dim wit. Can I change some of the copy you have done? Minor correction..??? OFCOURSE . DO IT.
“Jaimit, I have one question.” “please don’t disturb me now, I am busy.. is it important?” “yes” “then tell it fast”. “I was speaking to x and telling him that we need to send this and then he told me that we can only send one option, but then we require two so I was telling that we need two, but he said that since we have one we need to confirm, so I was thinking which” “shut up and tell me fast. Have you learnt précis writing?” “Should we go with the red design or the plain design”. Oh god.. “is this important? Please go away”
I understand if your boss is a control freak. I understand if he hauls you over coals for taking decisions without his help, but I am driving everyone crazy telling them not to come to me. Come to me if you have screwed up. Come to me, if you don’t understand. Don’t come to me if you don’t have an opinion. Don’t come with a problem, please come with solution and spit it out fast. Bak bak bak…I have told them clearly… if want to rated as a manager then behave like one. If you want me to take your calls and your job is to just ask questions, then you will be rated as such. Here I am trying to build a team that thinks on its own and people just don’t want to take responsibility.
In continuation with today’s bad string of affairs, I had to make the design for eth quarterly announcement. Our CEO talks of equanimity and the need to be stable within the volatile economic environment. I decided to draw an image that best represents this. Taking inspiration from Jessica Hagy who does some outstanding illustrations on her site http://thisisindexed.com/, I tried my little feeble attempt. People did not get it. Its not that people have failed, I as a creative have failed. Of course it’s ok. I am not supposed to be the smart creative but I thought this was very cool and was proud of this, but I guess not.

pongal

Today morning as I was driving down Jispa to her bus stop we saw hordes of ladies all dressed up and trying to celebrate something. All of them looked south Indian and they were accompanied by the children. From a truck near by the men were unloading some sugarcane. I was wondering what is. Jispa was wondering as well. Suddenly I remembered … “Jispa today is the 14th. Right?” yes it sure was. Today is the 14th of Jan. Makarsankranti or Pongal as it is known in different parts of India. I recollected a chapter in my hindi 5th standard textbook on pongal. How today the women wake up in the morning and cook pongal.
There all of the women (from the slum on route) were together celebrating Pongal. All of them had put a few bricks and started a fire over which they were they were cooking pongal. I explained the same to Jispa. I asked her if she knew what pongal was. She didn’t know. So I looked at the watch and saw that we have some time. We in any case leave a bit early to feed biscuits to cute cute bingo (a stray dog). So I told her that today lets try and eat pongal. I knew that some of the south Indian restaurants in matunga would be serving some today morning. I rushed into one (Ramsahraya) and ordered pongal. As it came, I realised that I too did not really know what on earth was pongal. I knew it’s was some rice thing, but I was not sure if its sweet or salty, thick or liquidy… whatever. As it came it was a gob of a dish in the shape of the bowl that was probably used to measure the portion. As I ate I figured, this is not Jispa’s favourite dish. It’s a simple salty rice dish what we commonly call in our language ‘khichadi’. Jispa had a few purely out of excitement. She did not exactly relish it. after some time she tells me that it is just like dal rice. Ya… I tell her ‘its actually like khichadi’. Yaaaa…. Her final reaction with a slightly upturned face (Jasmine will not like this) – “this straightaway takes me to dinner.”

Makarsankranti is a lovely festival that oen needs to be in gujarat to really enjoy with the millions of kites in the skies and every one on the terrace. I had the fortune of being there on while I was placed these in Balsara, and the first occasion I had I took Jispa and Jasmine to my cousin’s place in Rajkot, around four years ago. It fell on a Sunday then. I guess going every six odd years to Gujarat to celebrate this will not be such a bad idea. Enough gap even for the cousins to feel pretty welcoming.

the case of the samosa and the tough university security

We have our office bang opposite the Mumbai university campus, we often go there for a bite. It has so many canteens. At the last count I counted were four. The whole place is like an oasis and campus is so serene. The trees completely cancel out the noise and it is a large sprawling place. The architecture and layout is completely awry. Suddenly modern newer structures stand alongside old depilated ones. One canteen is air-conditioned while another is a heated mess. It’s a nice walk especially when you are completely fed up of your office environs. I have been there a quite a few times, obstinately for the samosas but really for the place. Forests need neglect to survive.
Here I can hear the barbet and the crows and see some mynas fly. In the morning you can catch a few bulbuls fluttering around. But I am not sure if I did want a campus like this. The air is so lethargic that I am sure nothing would ever get done. The over all feeling is not of dynamism but that of babudom. Nothing planned but spurts and bouts of budgets being allotted.
Today morning I was in the mood for a deep fried calorific samosa. With some really unhealthy ugly chatni. Every canteen has its own chatni, some red, some white, some green. The colour is normally never an indicator of the spice component as well. That is jack in the box that springs on you. So we went to the university. They seemed to have some extra measure of checks on this time. No one was being allowed in without being questioned. All rickshaws and cars in were being stopped. All those entering the campus were being asked to show the I-cards. Oh god. Here goes my samosa I thought. But then there is hope. If the Obama’s party can be gate crashed then university should be a breeze. Just look important and walk across giving some answer. What answer, one would only be able to trust ones wit, when one is confronted with it. No amount of preparing would have helped you. As me and a colleague approach with trepidation, I removed my office I-card and put it in my pocket. As hit the gate we were stopped by the security. Oh shit. ‘Where do you want to go?’ Obviously we didn’t look like students. “To the canteen” my colleague answered. I was quiet. He seemed to be the stern guy and one disinterested guy and one spokesperson seemed to be a good strategy to deal with these characters. If anything went wrong I could be the good cop from the duo and save the day. The guard was still stern on getting the answer. “Why are you going to the canteen” he asked, almost bawled. What could we answer? What would be smart enough to get us through? Should be just turn around and run, or make a dash for it? Will he chase? A million answers and scenarios flashed through my mind. I could see my samosas flying away from me. “Why are you going to the canteen” My colleague retained his presence of mind (bless him) and answered without blinking “to eat, what else”. The guard looked at the right hand top corner of his eye for a second and then, with an upcurled lips (we were going to be so screwed), he nodded his ascent and waved us on.
That’s it. The samosas were yum.

wake up Jis

How can any one sleep through this? Put this on full volume and see….. especially if the stuff is playing next to your ears.



Jispa did not move a bit. She did not even bother to cover her ears or move away from the source. After five minutes Jasmine had had enough and wanted to shut this, so I had to wake Jispa my self. Some experiments last for a few minutes, some for a few days. Sometimes duds are strewn in the oath of the Hero’s journey, as he hurtles towards her destiny, with a step there, a step back and some meandering about.

This youtube is a pretty cool thing. It is quite useful thanks to the millions of people who are using it to say / teach something. Jispa’s sports day is fast approaching and she is the fastest girl in her class. Since I never did sprint for a living, I barely know its technique and science. So I try googling and picked up some videos on youtube. It was pretty interesting. One of the most important things that I knew were there put dint know how to use them, was the lean and the use of the foot (ball of the foot versus the heel) while running. Yup. Sure enough. I now am able to make minor corrections in her running. I will never know enough to be able to correct her technique too much but for a seven year old, this is good enough. There some basics, if you get them, right it should work for you.

One thing that works in all sports is head position. No matter which sport you play your head cant be falling off. It always needs to be still and stable, with minimum movement. Once the head moves the balance and coordination is lost. Except in cricket I don’t see too many coaches talking about the benefits of a still head but without fail most spots I see the champions play with a rock solid still head with minimal movement. Even while running I was telling Jispa, in your effort to run faster ensure you don’t move your head from side to side.

wakey wakey time

An nth tryst with Jispa waking up is in progress. Jispa wants to grow up and that means waking up on her own with an alarm. Good noble intentions. So she said that I should not wakr her up but merely put an alarm next to her and she would wake up on her own. Fair. I agree.
So day 1 I wake up on my alarm and press snooze. After which I put it net to her. In five minutes it rings…. Rings… rings… no effect. I put it closer to her... ring… no effect. I put it on her ears… ring … ring… no effect. Then I wake her up myself. I am ok with this, but the growing up by waking on her own is a thing she is having with mom, not me. So in the evening Jispa and mommy are having this conversation. Jispa tells me to hold the alarm near her ear. “but that’s exactly what I did”. “then papa, you should change the alarm. This is your alarm. If I hear that I think its you who has to wake up.” Ok. Lets see day 2.
Day 2 I wake up, shut the alarm and go to Jispa. I look at my playlist on the cell phone.. hmmm… a talk by the economist, nopes… aahhh… here. That should do. Bat out of hell by Meatloaf, the original 10 minute version. That should give her adequate time. It starts loud with heavy guitar and piano. Immediately Jispa wakes up and sits up. Then onto the bathroom she goes.
Very good.
Day 3 I wake up and do the same. This time the song required a full 2 minutes to wake her up. And then wait for her to sit up post which I hug my teddy for some time before sending her to bath. Mommy and Jispa have a conversation where I am called in as the prime witness. I testify and mommy says nopes. You have to get up on own completely. Jispa says ok. But I am not happy that means I have to leave the alarm and walk away from my morning teddy. Not fair. It’s the warmest teddy hug on a cold morning. So reach compromise. She wakes up and then walk to the chair where I will sit and wait for her, so it’s proved that she has woken up on her own without me after which she hugs me and I pack her to the bathroom.
Parenting… kya kya karna padtha hai.

headache

On Sunday I read some article by a critic on how lonely it is to be a critic. He thought 3 idiots was a flawed film. And he was castigated by all and sundry, especially since it was such a huge hit. Well interesting. Criticizing a hit film is always difficult. I have always been faced with the same issue and have been at odds with most others on this.
In any case my taste in movies is slightly off, than most others. I hated the movie ‘black’ which everyone raved about. Some guy even released an ad in the papers praising the movie. I thought it sucked and it gave me a headache. Yup movies and I have this headache thing quite often.
The recent one was ‘ajab prem ki gazab kahani’. I thought it was a complete ham. Result – big hit. I think Akshay is a complete ham. Another big hit. Except Hera Pheri I think most of Priyadarshan’s movies are a ham – a lot of them hits. I thought Guru was nice but the ending made me sleep. I also thought it was the greatest white wash in Hindi cinema history. People came out with a complete different view. I like rocket singh and dilli 6. Both bombed. So that’s a short history of my film appreciation skills.
So most of the time I come out and keep my mouth shut. How did you like the movie? ‘well, I don’t know, nice I guess’ or something like “in my opinion, it was nice though it might not be appealing to all” or “ tp” or some other such diplomatic stuff such as “nice acting”, ‘good locales”, ‘nice body” or even “deadly effects”. I don’t like lying so I try the ‘weaseling’.
For the record 3 idiots was a nice fun movie but it was a horribly flawed movie with too much preaching. I am nowhere near the gushing reviews. I am with the critic here.
And yes I almost forgot the movie ‘kaminey’. Liked by critics and audience alike. I was – I dunno, nice movie, interesting, but it gave me a headache.

self torture

I have taken to a new torture. While playing squash I had hurt my back and it seems to have never completely recovered. So to strengthen it I started swimming. The only window I could fit into my schedule was after dropping Jispa to the bus stop. I rush to the gymkhana at 8 for a quick 15 minute swim and then out, shower and hit office by 9. It was fine when I started this in around end November. These days with the temperature dipping I find myself the lone ranger in the pool at 8 in the morning. The water is nice and cold. I figure the best way is to dive right in and get your whole body wet as fast as possible and then furiously start the swimming. Then for some reason, (probably the breeze) after a lap or two, the water is warmer than the air outside.
For someone like me who has bath only with hot (really hot) water all through the year, even in summer, this is unreal. Earlier I never liked swimming as I hated cold water, but now I realise that the reason was that we hardly swam. It was just a place to laze around and do precious nothing. One lap and then relax for ten minutes. Now in the pool I like to get in, swim swim swim, and then get out. Unless of course it’s Goa!
Also what has helped was the really ridiculous looking swimming cap my wife got for me. When she first got it, I refused to wear it but then I slowly came around to appreciating it. This cap was shaped in a way that you cover your ears while you wear it, making you entire head water proof. With ears and head covered, the coldwater is much more bearable.
Since two days the swimming pool attendants are looking at me as if some real hard core nut has come to swim. Today she was wearing a sweater and her assistant had covered her ears with a 70‘s style muffler. If they thought that would psyche me out … they surely did a dam good job about it. But I put on my trusty ear covering cap and blanked out all the noise around me. Splash, swim, away we go.

bookish

Sometimes you get good books and sometimes you get bad books. Invariably the bad ones are slow to read and the good ones finish fast. One wants to pick up and read at all times and the reading time per pickup also improves. Sometimes there are a string of duds and sometimes the batting average just shoots up. I generally try and read one book at a time these days. In the good old days that I used to travel by train, I would have one for the train and the other for the night. So I always try and have one or two books ready to read after I have finished one. In fact the best pressure to read is when you are reading a good book and you have another promising read as a follow up. The second book pushes me to read the first one faster. I feel like a kid at Christmas Eve dying to tear open the wrapper early morning on his gifts. He can’t wait for the night to get over.
When you have a string of these lined up the reading rate gets pushed amazingly high. That’s why I keep the in line books at my bedside. They encourage me to read much more. Sometimes sacrificing a bit of sleep in the process.
Every time we travel in the train I used to see the James Hadley chase books at the book stores. I wondered what they would be like. At the time Johny Gaddar was released, it was said to have been inspired by the JH Chase series. The movie was fast with things happening constantly. From then on I wanted to read atleast one of these books. Having been a late starter in reading, the spy novels and other fictions completely passed me by. I never felt the use or the pleasure of reading fiction, especially spy fiction. So this time when we went to Jabalpur, I managed to pick up a James Hadley Chase novel at a railway book shop. Now I know why it’s a bog hit. Straight story line with fast pace and simple English. I was a bit disappointed with the s+ex in it. There isn’t any! It is limited to ‘he then had a ravishing night with her’. That’s it. The least I thought that these books could do was give two pages of description. I mean else could enliven dull train journeys for the multitude of passengers. But this is strictly James Bond stuff. Lovely women, handsome men, 30 minutes of foreplay and suggestion and 2 seconds of the real thing. Haha. The plot was bumkum and it plays out like a b grade thriller. It did take some patience for me to get through with it. I wanted to know what happens at the end. Answer – nothing really.
On books – when we got the raddi wala to come home and take the old newspapers, we also asked him if he takes old books. Will he pay per piece? He said nopes, he pays per kilo except …. if it is a mills and boon. That is something he will pay per piece. That still manages to sell. Rest is raddi. Ooh. My poor historians, philosophers and management consultants. You might be worth your weight in gold but your words don’t match up to the humble mills and boon. Which reminds me of my favourite saying – the markets can be wrong longer than you can remain solvent.

equanimity

My CEO writes a letter to all employees at the start of a New Year. He is a really sharp guy and he sees the situation much better than most others. But of course sometimes I like them and sometimes I don’t. This year was a letter I liked. We have had one roller coaster of a ride in the last few years. An orgy followed by a purge.

I will let his words talk now
“There are two important lessons we have learnt over the years. One, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Two, when things look good, they are not as good as they look. And when things look bad, they are not as bad as they look.
In 2006-2007, we all felt extremely exuberant. We dramatically increased manpower and costs as if there was no tomorrow. Things looked good. But they were not as good as they looked. The threat of the global financial crisis was lurking in the shadows.
From October 2008 to March 2009, things looked bad. In hindsight, they did not turn out as bad as they looked. Thanks to an extraordinary effort of intervention by big governments, the world managed to avert what seemed like a retread of the Great Depression.
The key is not to get carried away on the way up or on the way down. We probably sprinted too fast in 2006-07 and probably slammed the brakes too hard in 2008-09. The ideal path is building at a decent trot and growing steadily.
It is perhaps worth noting that you cross many milestones in a marathon and none in a sprint (unless you are Usain Bolt and the sprint is itself the milestone).
If I had to encapsulate our desired temperament in one word, that word would be equanimity.”

My big lesson on life has been that the first step towards change is to look at yourself and admit to yourself the mistakes you have made. Then only can you look to change and improve. Here the great man admits to his learnings from the ride.
Also I loved the last word take away. Equanimity: The state of being calm, stable and composed, especially under stress. The ‘especially under stress’ words actually belie the truth. One needs to be calm and stable against a seemingly irresistible force. These forces can be interpreted as positive or negative. A stable mind is required both ways. Basically it is the mind that does not get carried away.
Another incident comes to mind: Once my team was under severe stress and we went to our boss. The boss very wisely said that right now you look at it and it looks very large. Wait and watch as time passes by. This problem will over a period of time look very small and you will wonder what the fuss was all about.

grace

2010 is a good time to write some end of year bores. You get them in all papers and just about everywhere. I can’t read one more story on New Year resolutions. But since it’s also the end of a decade, a lot more newsprint gets devoted to rubbish sepia. But for me the year end would mean something special always. This date acts as a proof in my life that being brave and stupid is better than being scared and intelligent. Discretion is not the better part of valour. It was on this date 20 years ago, I first spoke to Jasmine; and the first words were something of a proposal.
After which I have always told would-be-Romeos and would-be-Juliets that if it is in your hearts, bring it to your lips. Better to speak out your heart and face rejection than to think of what could have been.
As a 14 year old my heart was pumping hard and my hormones clouded my brain and I still sometimes wonder what my dad would have done to me if Jasmine had complained instead of being sweet. Also now I wonder what would have happened if I had a tight slap in return? But life knows its destiny and it hurtles towards it. (wisdom of oogway). Just for the record she refused and it took another year and more of following to finally wriggle a yes. (Tenacity? but that is another story).
So I can look back on twenty years and wonder about the various phases we have had together. The first four and half years of being together but hiding from her parents. The next few of being together but slightly unsure about how our life will unfold in terms of career etc. The next few of setting it up. Then Jispa and then the least three years of staying and setting up our nuclear family.
Superficially we are very different but at so many levels we are the same. There seems to be no set formula or philosophy to make it work. I think all it needs is the will to make it work.
God has been good so far. We sometimes wonder when, with him, we will find ourselves afoul.

many idoits

I had seen 3 Idiots over the weekend. It’s quite a cute funny movie but quite frankly I cant quite agree with eth gush of compliments that its been receiving. I for one found it a bit too preachy. Surely the actors have done a great job but the script was not as great as I thought it would be. They even incorporated a huge bunch of internet jokes doing the rounds. But this is not a blog about movies. I leave that for the experts.
Watching 3 idiots one big growing up grouse came to my mind. Letters to family and remarks for the parents to sign off. This was the single biggest stress tool that the school used to get the child to be disciplined. I so freaking hated it. The shame associated with it was so large and the scare that one would have trying to anticipate the parents reaction. It is so freaking silly. Talking in class – bad remark, not in line – bad remark, did not do homework – bad remark, your partner broke the lab equipment – bad remark, eating in class – bad remark… and this one was my favourite.. I got a rap for being too enthusiastic in class. The teachers got some real pleasure in calling parents to class and in the principal’s office and making them cry and plead. It was a ego boosting ceremony. If the child smashed your ego, get the parents to set it right. Can’t you solve the freaking problem yourself? Aren’t you like paid and qualified to deal with children, without getting their parents involved.
My dad was once called into school. The reason was that I was arguing with the teacher. I was right (at least I thought so) and that the teacher was needlessly picking on me. This was in ninth standard. I had a higher sense of right and wrong versus some other students and I was a rebel to start with. Always inspired by Gandhi and other Amar Chitra Katha characters, I would not stand for something that I did not believe in, which I knew to be wrong. So I stood ground and entered into a verbal duel. The teacher did the next thing, call you father. I want to speak to him. This time I was not scared. I was right. I chatted with my dad. He heard me and did the best thing he should have. He explained to me while I might have been right it is improper to argue like that with the teacher. He came in and had a nice conversation with the teacher and closed the issue.
I don’t expect Jispa to be scared of me while doing some kidas in school and college. That cannot be her stick for discipline. Missing a homework assignment can’t be a reason for a scolding. Talking in class? Go ahead… arguing with authority – be smart about it. I would like her to do what she wants to. This is obviously not a blanket approval for her to do anything but it is an assertion that I am surely not scolding her for minor deemed transgressions. Especially when it comes to basic schooling and studies. Fiddling with substances – no that a serious issue. Holding hand with boyfriend? – come sit down, let me tell you what all I did.
These sound simplistic, especially when you have a relatively milder kid in the form of Jisa. She typically has no issue with authority (so far) and does not really test parenting. Who knows what happens when the tide changes. Sometimes parents would need to assert themselves more strongly. I only hope that I think through before I do that. I only hope I am aware of the environment when I take these calls. I hope I first see what was my fault in all this, what was the teachers fault and how we can first correct ourselves. I have seen enough of parents and teachers punishing children what I essentially see as their fault. Most of the time it’s a tripartite responsibility.
But of course, life in educational institutes seem to have moved on in some places and have retained their ‘culture’ in others. Her schooling has been a lot more evolved that what I had. And I hope her college had evolved as well. Even in my management college one of the profs wanted to scare us telling he will write letters to parents. To such characters, and those that will come in my daughter’s life, I have only one message for you – up yours.

santa who

I think I have spoken about this before. Jispa is at an age where she does not really know whether to believe in santa or no. As I had explained to her once. What does it matter if he is real or not. If you believe it, it’s real, if you don’t, don’t bother. While I really did not expect her to get it, she actually understood what I meant. So she is largely indifferent to a lot of this ‘is Santa for real theory’. Ditto for the tooth fairy. This year Santa did not come visiting her. Not because she was not a good girl, nor was is it that she did not believe, but for eth simple fact that she was a satisfied kid. When we asked in advance for what she wanted from Santa, ‘nothing’ came the reply. Was she sure. Yup she was. She did not want anything for Christmas. So that’s what she ended up getting from Santa.
This year we were not in town as well. Suddenly she remembered that she normally left some cookies and muesli and milk for Santa and his reindeer. So she asked me ‘we did not leave anything for him this time, but he will open the fridge and have it himself, right?’ again it is difficult to tell you if she was just playing along or she actually believed this stuff. I think it’s a case of happily ignoring possibilities and focussing on the fun. I replied saying, since you haven’t asked for anything, he isn’t coming. ‘oh ok’ and that closed the chapter on Santa I assume.
While I suspect Jispa is largely a satisfied character, not wanting too much, I nevertheless asked Jasmine ‘is she really that satisfied or we thoroughly spoilt her by giving her a lot, so that she does not want anything’. ‘she is generally the satisfied types’ replied Jasmine, reaffirming my belief in Jispa’s core trait. She s the understanding types as opposed to the ‘I want’ types.
On the subject of gifting, Jispa and I were playing the ‘I spy’ game in her new and extremely cute book ‘where’s hanuman’. Here you need to spot hanuman along with a bunch of other characters in different scenes from the Ramayana, drawn on a double page. The artists seem to be suffering from a hangover of Astrix comics going by the type of fun the characters seem to be having on the pages. So after I played a while, I was helping jasmine with some work. Jispa wanted to play on, but I told her to solve the I spy clues by herself. On a lark I promised her a gift if she did one full page. It was a lot of obscure spotting stuff: ring, discuss, man flat on ground, man in water etc etc. She completed the task, so before a movie I took her to crosswords and asked her to choose any book she could under 100 bucks. She picked on the adventures of suppandi. A comic book compilation from the tinkle comics series. 80 bucks. Suppandi is big hit with her friends as well. It seems they share Supandi jokes in the bus. As a kid, I loved him as well.
But a simple book, here again she was mighty satisfied.

Thanks Jispa for making parenting that much easier.

Two assorted santa links for further reading:-
http://communities.canada.com/vancouversun/blogs/parenting/archive/2009/12/14/santa-claus-myth-children-harmful.aspx
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091209/ap_on_re_us/us_fea_lifestyles_letters_to_santa

my insensitive avatar

I saw the movie avatar yesterday. At the IMAX flat screen in 3D. I suspect these movies need not be seen in 3D. It seems to be the latest Hollywood scam. For some reason I don’t particularly enjoy the 3D googles. First I hate the fact that I have to really clean the grubby sticky pop corn fingerprints from the lens. Then they seem give me a mild headache. So thanks to that many times in between I keep removing them, and voila… the scene is as pretty. Any who has seen the floating mountains scene without the 3D will also love the visual spectacular. Avatar and others seem to be movies that were converted to 3D as a last minute decision. So while you see the depth but there is no real need to see it in 3D. I guess there is no point in 3D unless you have things flying at you and keeping the third dimension well utilised. Almost all who saw India first 3D movie – Chota chetan, will invarialbly remember the scene in which the protagonist offers the melting ice cream cones that come right at you. Wow… even the alice in wonderland trailers show the magic of 3D where they keep throwing stuff at you. One movie I liked in 3D was monsters versus aliens.
But why am I making such a hullabaloo over this? Real reason: The price of the ticket was 350 bucks a head. Luckily Jispa wasn’t interested so we went while she was at garnny’s house. I weigh the movie by the price tag. 700 bucks for jasmine and me, plus a 220 for the soup and ginger rice. Was it worth a grand? … hold on…220 for what? Well at imax, we always go to Zenzibu and order some soup and rice. The special part begins here, we ask or it to be served to our seats around 30 minutes into the movie. So right in the middle of the movie the guy sends us hot food, while treading on everyone else’s toes, while the movie is on. Hopefully (for the others) it’s not a delicate time of the movie’s narrative. So in the cold theatre we get our warm lovely tasty soup.
But did I tell you the best part? Zenzibu is a south east asian joint. So yes the aromas are packed inside the food waiting to be released in the cinema hall as soon we get the lid off. I am sure that disturbs everyone else. But what the hell, at a net cost of a grand I am having my soup and eating it too.

the jungle

Hiya…. Back after a one week break. Had been to kanha national park. The best place in India to see the tiger. The tiger is a magnificent animal. He walks with a grace that is unseen and a disdain for the tourists in the open jeeps. The fear and the excitement is palpable when a bunch of jeeps come face to face with the tiger. The tiger cares two hoots about your presence as he goes about lazing in eth sun or scratching his claws, peeing in the sand or even as we saw him licking sand.

But going to a national park to see the tiger is missing the point. I hate the safaris that run in search of the tiger. The only aim is to take you from point A to point B as fast as possible so as to get you to see the tiger. The jungle has many splendours to show the willing senses. There is so much to hear, see, smell and feel. A simple case in point – seeing a tiger is one thing but we had the opportunity to hear the calss before we could spot it. We heard calls and then saw the spotted deers with their tails up, erect, looking in a particular direction. This gave us the direction of the tiger. But is still only half the point, or a smaller fraction thereof. Kanha is such a lovely jungle. Going into the jungle in your open jeeps early in the morning with mist all around was unforgettable. I am pretty weird, of all that I saw I will remember the mist and the sunlight falling through the trees, leaves and the tall bamboo grass. The mist was doing the job of the haze machines, which spread smoke in concerts so that you see the light effects.

Jasmine and I have over time learnt the perils of mammal spotting. Contract that with the beautiful abundance of bird life in all their form, colour and crests. Rarely do we return unhappy from a jungle. We love seeing the jungle for all that it is. We love seeing the spider webs, the gigantic ones that spread from one tree to another and the tiny ones that are on the floor and catch trap the morning mist in the form of dew in its web. We loved spotting the red headed vulture gliding above in the sky with its huge wings outstretched. We love the interpretation zone where a lot of the jungle is explained with exhibits and details.

One thing that pleases me no end is the fact that Jispa has developed a love for museums. So she wanted to go through the interpretation zone the second time as well and see and absorb the exhibits. You can’t hurry her through this. She like to wait, see, understand before moving on.

Jasmine and I can see the birds for hours on end. Stopping to soak in the scenery and jungle. This experience was in marked contrast to the one we had at Ranthambore where the bloody canter drove like a maniac for the entire trip across the jungle in an attempt to catch the elusive tiger. We learnt nothing about the jungle, nothing about the trees, birds and felt nothing for the environment. the guide was also quite pathetic and knew nothing. The best naturalists / guides we had so far encountered were in Bharatpur bird park. Kanha also had their fair share of trained naturalists. Guys who could reel of bird names, tree names, their latin names, and most important… they would enthral us with stories about the wildlife behaviour, the plant characteristics and even jungle life (including Jim Corbet stories). When you are in a safari the excitement is not linear, there are spurts followed by lulls. It here that a good guide with his stories makes an impact. After enough of India bashing, these experiences come as fresh air. These guys are trained by the forest officials and the tourism department. They are eager minds who learn from their tourists as well.

As most good guides tell you that a lot is learnt purely interacting with tourists as some come with books, some with some knowledge and some are clear experts who teach them while looking around. A mutually benefiting interaction in the jungle. What more can I ask for?

For the record we saw the tiger in three of our five safaris. A fantastic stroke of luck aided by good tiger density and lovely expanse of grasslands. Also for the record we saw a bird that eluded jasmine and me for some time – the greater racquet tail Drongo. Supposedly fairly available even in borivili national park but this one has eluded us for long. The bird becomes even more special as we see its quite boring cousin the black drongo on almost every wire stretching alongside the length of India.

And one more amongst my favourite is the yellow footed green pigeon. Invariably found as groups on dead barren trees basking in the morning and evening sun. They make a pretty sight in the lovely yellow light, contrasting against a clear blue sky. I remember taking some nice photos of them in Gir. They might there in the one TB of storage that we have at home.

Another big experience was not having the camera with me. I have learnt that the best thing to do on trips is not to carry any sort of camera. It takes away from the trip. What is the point of seeing a beautiful sunset through the viewfinder or the tiger through a LCD screen. Why should I fiddle with the moment. I happily stopped taking photos. I had carried my camera because Jispa wanted to but then I gave it to some another person who wanted the thrill of clicking away. The first day I clicked a few really bad shots of the tiger. The next day after I gave it away, I saw the tiger entirely with my own eyes. NO VIEWFINDER. I might remember that moment better. Ok I might not. But I lived it better for sure.

Last note – I now understand what inspired Rudyard to write the jungle book. It seems it is set in Kanha.