Jispa has been improving in her badminton class and her coach has asked us to get her a new light racquet. We went to town and got one for her. A yonex full graphite racquet. I thought that was overkill for her. But it cost around 900 (MRP 1500). I wanted to buy something cheaper but jasmine was keen on buying something nice. My theory is that her game hasn’t really reached a level where it would have made a difference and a slightly cheaper one might be the right thing for her. Whatever. But since there was hardly a price differential, we bought it nevertheless. Life has changed and how. When we came in from Dubai to Mumbai in 4th standard, we had a cultural shock of depravation. India had third grade equipment and epically in sports it was pathetic. My dad played sports in Dubai and we got along to India, some of his equipment such as tennis, TT and badminton racquets. In India mom went hyper and stored these racquets in the cupboard, safe from our eyes and hands. That Yonex racquet was only meant to see and feel, not play and spoil. I guess its still lying in her cupboard hiding somewhere. It must feeling bad that it has grown old without seeing too much sunlight. Even the tennis racquets have become obsolete now. One was a Wilson wooden frame racquet. She might probably get some cash from Sothbeys for it. I don’t think she ever realised that India would grow to be a land of relative plenty. The way these racquets are kept in a shop a metro, they almost look like vegetables. We used to remove the Yonnex racquet from the cupboard when mom was not at home, swing it around, smell it etc etc and put it back. I never dared to play with it. Jispa was excited on getting a new racquet. That too with a cover, full body cover. She was pretty happy. A new piece of equipment is always cherished and if used well and happens to grow old with you, it will be cherished even more. What an emotion. I grew up with very little of these. I felt happy and excited when I bought myself a pair of new gloves around five years ago. I loved buying my batting pads as well. Now they are old but I am at loathe to get rid of it. I have been rapped on it many times and they are in many ways my saviours. How can I discard them in such a hurry and simply but new ones? Sacrilege!
On another note, we saw this movie on Friday -“Road, movie”. This was before the reviews came in the papers. Any movie with Abhay Deol, would be an interesting watch. At least it would be different. Well this one was different. It had very nice characters and some amazing shots of the Rann of Kutch…. Er. That’s it. We did not understand anything more about it. It was an 11 pm show and Jasmine toh even slept through parts of it. We had a bunch of Gujju guys behind. They were probably on their bachelors’ night out and their commentary was constant and irritating. If they got a joke they would repeat it and translate it for their peers. Oh man, really tiresome. These movies must have a warning for these gujjus. So what’s the verdict on the movie? I don’t know. It was nice but weird. The next day I attempted to understand it through the critics, but sadly they were even more pathetic. I guess when you make such movies that supposed to be arty not but too complicated for any one to really understand, they tend to get such reviews. I guess no one wants to call the emperor naked for fearing of exposing their own stupidity. Like the TOI who gave it a good rating but said it does not have any story. I thought a story is central to a movie. Good locales and scenery is meant for a gallery release not a mainline theatre. But hell. Go see it. It is difficult to dislike but it is also difficult to fathom or comprehend. A real mixed bag.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Friday, March 05, 2010
the blind spot
Arrogance almost cost me something very important and good. HR sent a mail saying that they are organising a yoga class which will be held in the premises. Which was very good according to me. Then I read on … it said that the yoga class will cost some amount. They did not disclose the amount.
“Hence please rush & send in your entries to the following mail id latest by February 08, 2010. Please note that participation will be on a first come first serve basis. This opportunity comes to you at a small price which we will let you know shortly.”
The amount never came in. I was like what on earth. How can you expect me to respond when you don’t tell me what the amount is? Tch tch what arrogance. Then one of my team members who had enrolled came to me and said that she had enrolled and it was around 700 bucks. She urged me to enrol. I sent a mail to one of the HR personnel and left it at that. No response. I didn’t pursue it much further. More arrogance. I had sent the mail nah!
Then I came to know that the class was full. 20 slots were all taken. After a couple of classes I asked around and found that hardly seven to eight regularly attend. There was room. I barged in one day and started attending the sessions. Lets see who has the balls to throw me out.
Nobody did. It has already made an impact in my life. My back feels much better. Soon enough HR reconciled and added me in and I paid the fees today. Cool nah?
My arrogance almost cost me a berth but my resilience bailed me out. Bach gaya saala.
Sometimes in our arrogance we don’t realise what we end up missing. Our arrogance in making the first move – “she should say something nah!” Our arrogance in ignoring advice, etc etc. my own personal arrogance that I fight daily because I read a lot so I think I know a lot. Our arrogance does not let us enjoy movies, plays or even simple things in life.
I have to and I will fight it daily and everywhere. I must.
“Hence please rush & send in your entries to the following mail id latest by February 08, 2010. Please note that participation will be on a first come first serve basis. This opportunity comes to you at a small price which we will let you know shortly.”
The amount never came in. I was like what on earth. How can you expect me to respond when you don’t tell me what the amount is? Tch tch what arrogance. Then one of my team members who had enrolled came to me and said that she had enrolled and it was around 700 bucks. She urged me to enrol. I sent a mail to one of the HR personnel and left it at that. No response. I didn’t pursue it much further. More arrogance. I had sent the mail nah!
Then I came to know that the class was full. 20 slots were all taken. After a couple of classes I asked around and found that hardly seven to eight regularly attend. There was room. I barged in one day and started attending the sessions. Lets see who has the balls to throw me out.
Nobody did. It has already made an impact in my life. My back feels much better. Soon enough HR reconciled and added me in and I paid the fees today. Cool nah?
My arrogance almost cost me a berth but my resilience bailed me out. Bach gaya saala.
Sometimes in our arrogance we don’t realise what we end up missing. Our arrogance in making the first move – “she should say something nah!” Our arrogance in ignoring advice, etc etc. my own personal arrogance that I fight daily because I read a lot so I think I know a lot. Our arrogance does not let us enjoy movies, plays or even simple things in life.
I have to and I will fight it daily and everywhere. I must.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
sawal ka jawab
This is a painting that Jispa was doing in MS paint.
This is what she was also doing and she emailed this to me via her mommy.
So I also replied thus
Those who don’t get it – go here
This is what she was also doing and she emailed this to me via her mommy.
So I also replied thusThose who don’t get it – go here
profoundipity
One of my regular readers was talking to me the other day about my blog. How she reads it everyday and how she likes to have coffee (or was it tea) while reading it. It is her two bit of reading before she gets into work… and other such similar stuff. She had one complaint though, or should I say feedback. She says that I nowadays write too short and there is no gyan there. She urges me to write something profound.
Well profound is not a rabbit that I can pull off from my hat but it is as a result of something that might have happened to me or something that made me see light of day. That doesn’t happen everyday. Also after you simply life largely, you get less and less stuff that’s profound. It’s like the ultimate truth, once you know it, there is nothing more to learn. Not that I know the ultimate truth but things have surely simplified for me over the years.
The ultimate strength of your truth is the fact that you keep applying often to many and varied situations. These help you ratify your theories and strengthen them. They then aecome the basis for your actions. Now here I do not pass a value judgement on these theories. Now of my colleagues was talking about an ex boss who happened to be my college friend. My colleague and I had complete opposite images of the person. It seems like he was the greatest guy in college who went on to sell his soul to the corporate devil. What happened? I answered that possibly he encountered corporate life and realised that this place stinks and he would have seen no option but to sell his soul. His must have learnt something along the way.
So each to his own truth.
Yesterday I got pissed at the stress levels in my team. Unwittingly they had gotten them selves into a position that made them forget balance and were sitting till late everyday. I gave one short terse lecture on leaving office at 6 everyday and that I need to know specifically if anything was keeping them at office. A small nudge on this was provided by one KRA mail that was sent by the boss. One of the division’s KRA was to make ours the best place to work. I see it as one in the line of empty statements. I believe that making this statement is useless; you have to believe and act accordingly. And if you believe in it, it should have been done and there is no point making the statement. But whatever the wisdom, if the statement is made, I am going to be the guy trying to make it work in some manner in my control. Hence the tirade…
On another profound note (dedicated to that earlier mentioned reader). I go for swimming in the morning. Some of the kiddie champs finish about the time I get in. one of the boys (around 12 years) was in the shower. The door is open. He is there standing under the shower with his trunks on. He is just there. He is not moving. The shower is just falling on his back. The steam is coming from it and he is just there not moving, simply staring. A typical 12 year old to bored to really shower. I am looking at him. No movement, just a stand and stare. For some reason I reach out and close his shower cabin door and he wakes up from his stupor. He quickly comes out and starts drying himself. He wet his bum. That was his shower after the swim. Kid, I mumble to myself.
What was profound about that? You dip in the water and sharpen it again and again, o kaalia I read your mind.
Well profound is not a rabbit that I can pull off from my hat but it is as a result of something that might have happened to me or something that made me see light of day. That doesn’t happen everyday. Also after you simply life largely, you get less and less stuff that’s profound. It’s like the ultimate truth, once you know it, there is nothing more to learn. Not that I know the ultimate truth but things have surely simplified for me over the years.
The ultimate strength of your truth is the fact that you keep applying often to many and varied situations. These help you ratify your theories and strengthen them. They then aecome the basis for your actions. Now here I do not pass a value judgement on these theories. Now of my colleagues was talking about an ex boss who happened to be my college friend. My colleague and I had complete opposite images of the person. It seems like he was the greatest guy in college who went on to sell his soul to the corporate devil. What happened? I answered that possibly he encountered corporate life and realised that this place stinks and he would have seen no option but to sell his soul. His must have learnt something along the way.
So each to his own truth.
Yesterday I got pissed at the stress levels in my team. Unwittingly they had gotten them selves into a position that made them forget balance and were sitting till late everyday. I gave one short terse lecture on leaving office at 6 everyday and that I need to know specifically if anything was keeping them at office. A small nudge on this was provided by one KRA mail that was sent by the boss. One of the division’s KRA was to make ours the best place to work. I see it as one in the line of empty statements. I believe that making this statement is useless; you have to believe and act accordingly. And if you believe in it, it should have been done and there is no point making the statement. But whatever the wisdom, if the statement is made, I am going to be the guy trying to make it work in some manner in my control. Hence the tirade…
On another profound note (dedicated to that earlier mentioned reader). I go for swimming in the morning. Some of the kiddie champs finish about the time I get in. one of the boys (around 12 years) was in the shower. The door is open. He is there standing under the shower with his trunks on. He is just there. He is not moving. The shower is just falling on his back. The steam is coming from it and he is just there not moving, simply staring. A typical 12 year old to bored to really shower. I am looking at him. No movement, just a stand and stare. For some reason I reach out and close his shower cabin door and he wakes up from his stupor. He quickly comes out and starts drying himself. He wet his bum. That was his shower after the swim. Kid, I mumble to myself.
What was profound about that? You dip in the water and sharpen it again and again, o kaalia I read your mind.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Character
We are planning another holiday. Two actually. One that we hope to take in June and another that we plan to take right away in March.
We have gotten into this travel bug since the last five six years. Before that Jispa was quite small to really take her anywhere and before that I guess I didn’t really earn enough. I also had skipped quite a few jobs, so no one job could really have me settled enough to get leave.
So of late we have been travelling, enough to plan one vacation as soon as another is ending. That is good fun, but the stress on planning one is quite tiresome.
I like to be sure of where I am going, what am I likely to be doing / visiting etc. The trick is in being fluid as well as having a list of places that one can visit. So we would typically be armed with print outs from various web searches and of course the favourite – the lonely planet.
I first started using the lonely planet for trips abroad and loved the detailing and honest reporting. That made me look at the same for India as well. Wonder why it eluded me till now. Now we don’t go anywhere with out. Our standard procedure is to read the book, mark out, discuss and then surf for the same on tripadvisor.com. We only stay at the place if you we get a thumbs up from both the sources. The book being the proposer and the site being the seconder. So we look for reviews that say ‘charming’, ‘clean’, ‘welcoming’, ‘friendly’. Those key words gets our attention and then go through the photos online and voila – decision taken.
Yesterday while researching Goa (upcoming trip) we realised that now we have been spoilt. We saw quite a few clean places and nice ones but I somehow couldn’t care enough to stay in them. I was telling Jasmine – I want hotel with a character. A clean box with a fan and a fridge is not enough. Some old villa perhaps, some interesting owner, close to action perhaps, or just a lovely view. But it has to have something. I guess this thanks to a few years of roaming around with the lonely planet and being enchanted with their hotel descriptions.
So now with Jispa and Jasmine – we try and get mobile – walk around, see the places and eat at the lovely cafes. The foreigners have got their travel right. I cant understand the concept of organised tours at all. One of jispa’s friend’s dad was once asking me ‘ how do you guys travel?’. I was like – just research and travel. “what about Jispa?” he asked, “what about her?” I replied. He then explained “we always go with an organised tour. This way there is always company with us and hence our kid doesn’t get bored as well”. Huh. I mumbled something about… yaa… right.. correct… something something… I always hate travelling with other families. I am pretty picky about whom I go out with. Really known and amiable friends only. Not some random known acquaintances or a vacation group.
Some other parents wonder what the kid will do at a fort. What she does? Jispa listens to the guide along with us, trying to understand. We try and translate what we can to her. Simple.
People take servants to their vacations. To take care of the kids. Great. Someone in office told me – when we go on a vacation my husband sits at the pool with his beer and chills; I then roam on my own and I plan for activities for the kid. Cheers to you too.
I don’t see their point. I love vacation time. It’s a chance to spend time with Jispa and Jasmine. Its time to play with my daughter, understand stuff, translate stuff for her, have coffee together etc etc. its also a reason that jasmine and me never understood the need for a five star. We are never in the hotel. What’s the point? A nice clean place with ‘character’ will do. Home stays are awesome as well.
I guess as kids grow up they get pretty independent but as of now, I guess I am pretty ok company. One recent deadly example.
On the morning of Holi we are waking up Jispa to get her to go to a friends place for Holi. She suddenly does an about turn and does not want to go. ‘I don’t feel like playing holi’. Her friends are frantic and try talking some sense to her on the phone. It more like selling to her, but she remained adamant. Her obstinate reason: She wanted to stay at home and play with nanu. Whose nanu? ME. Its the game I had invented for her to hold my hand. I play the role of the small boy who needs to be taken care of. If you leave his hand then he will run around like crazy. It works awesome in malls when we are bored while jasmine is shopping; I suddenly keep running around with her trying to catch me, while shouting “NANU, NANU, come here. Naughty boy”. Full timepass. It sure beats helping Jasmine choose footwear. This game has caught on with her friends as well as they play with their papas. Its one fun thing. No matter how pissed she could get with me, one Nanu face will get it all sorted.
This has been played almost 24X7 since more than a year now. I am the nanu (small), she is motu (big) and jasmine is bau motu (very big) baybu (child).
We have gotten into this travel bug since the last five six years. Before that Jispa was quite small to really take her anywhere and before that I guess I didn’t really earn enough. I also had skipped quite a few jobs, so no one job could really have me settled enough to get leave.
So of late we have been travelling, enough to plan one vacation as soon as another is ending. That is good fun, but the stress on planning one is quite tiresome.
I like to be sure of where I am going, what am I likely to be doing / visiting etc. The trick is in being fluid as well as having a list of places that one can visit. So we would typically be armed with print outs from various web searches and of course the favourite – the lonely planet.
I first started using the lonely planet for trips abroad and loved the detailing and honest reporting. That made me look at the same for India as well. Wonder why it eluded me till now. Now we don’t go anywhere with out. Our standard procedure is to read the book, mark out, discuss and then surf for the same on tripadvisor.com. We only stay at the place if you we get a thumbs up from both the sources. The book being the proposer and the site being the seconder. So we look for reviews that say ‘charming’, ‘clean’, ‘welcoming’, ‘friendly’. Those key words gets our attention and then go through the photos online and voila – decision taken.
Yesterday while researching Goa (upcoming trip) we realised that now we have been spoilt. We saw quite a few clean places and nice ones but I somehow couldn’t care enough to stay in them. I was telling Jasmine – I want hotel with a character. A clean box with a fan and a fridge is not enough. Some old villa perhaps, some interesting owner, close to action perhaps, or just a lovely view. But it has to have something. I guess this thanks to a few years of roaming around with the lonely planet and being enchanted with their hotel descriptions.
So now with Jispa and Jasmine – we try and get mobile – walk around, see the places and eat at the lovely cafes. The foreigners have got their travel right. I cant understand the concept of organised tours at all. One of jispa’s friend’s dad was once asking me ‘ how do you guys travel?’. I was like – just research and travel. “what about Jispa?” he asked, “what about her?” I replied. He then explained “we always go with an organised tour. This way there is always company with us and hence our kid doesn’t get bored as well”. Huh. I mumbled something about… yaa… right.. correct… something something… I always hate travelling with other families. I am pretty picky about whom I go out with. Really known and amiable friends only. Not some random known acquaintances or a vacation group.
Some other parents wonder what the kid will do at a fort. What she does? Jispa listens to the guide along with us, trying to understand. We try and translate what we can to her. Simple.
People take servants to their vacations. To take care of the kids. Great. Someone in office told me – when we go on a vacation my husband sits at the pool with his beer and chills; I then roam on my own and I plan for activities for the kid. Cheers to you too.
I don’t see their point. I love vacation time. It’s a chance to spend time with Jispa and Jasmine. Its time to play with my daughter, understand stuff, translate stuff for her, have coffee together etc etc. its also a reason that jasmine and me never understood the need for a five star. We are never in the hotel. What’s the point? A nice clean place with ‘character’ will do. Home stays are awesome as well.
I guess as kids grow up they get pretty independent but as of now, I guess I am pretty ok company. One recent deadly example.
On the morning of Holi we are waking up Jispa to get her to go to a friends place for Holi. She suddenly does an about turn and does not want to go. ‘I don’t feel like playing holi’. Her friends are frantic and try talking some sense to her on the phone. It more like selling to her, but she remained adamant. Her obstinate reason: She wanted to stay at home and play with nanu. Whose nanu? ME. Its the game I had invented for her to hold my hand. I play the role of the small boy who needs to be taken care of. If you leave his hand then he will run around like crazy. It works awesome in malls when we are bored while jasmine is shopping; I suddenly keep running around with her trying to catch me, while shouting “NANU, NANU, come here. Naughty boy”. Full timepass. It sure beats helping Jasmine choose footwear. This game has caught on with her friends as well as they play with their papas. Its one fun thing. No matter how pissed she could get with me, one Nanu face will get it all sorted.
This has been played almost 24X7 since more than a year now. I am the nanu (small), she is motu (big) and jasmine is bau motu (very big) baybu (child).
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
relax....
I have started attending the yoga class at office. It’s twice a week at 6 in the evening. A very nice and sweet lady comes to teach. She obviously got tons of experience as a yoga teacher and she surely knows what asans the guys are absolutely pathetic at. She makes the class a bit light, so it gets nice with everybody smiling. Of course some will never smile and roam with the weight of the world behind them. Yoga cant do everything I guess. And also at 35 years I realised, I am the oldest idiot on the floor. The whole bloody class is younger than me. I guess I cope pretty ok, thanks to the fat stiff buggas but its something that I guess I have get used to as I grow older.
Back to the instructor…While the chatter box approach helps, it is a little distracting doing savasan. That is the pose where you play dead and relax your whole body and mind. So its fine when she askes to relax… relax the mind… the body… forget all thoughts… and then she goes on to say “forget everything… your spouse, your family, your job everything”. There that does it. How can you keep a blank mind when somebody is busy telling you what to forget? Oh shucks, she reminded me of all my responsibilities. No more relaxing for me.
Back to the instructor…While the chatter box approach helps, it is a little distracting doing savasan. That is the pose where you play dead and relax your whole body and mind. So its fine when she askes to relax… relax the mind… the body… forget all thoughts… and then she goes on to say “forget everything… your spouse, your family, your job everything”. There that does it. How can you keep a blank mind when somebody is busy telling you what to forget? Oh shucks, she reminded me of all my responsibilities. No more relaxing for me.
Friday, February 26, 2010
budget blues
Today is the day for the annual finance jamboree. The day the finance minister of India announces his budget. Me and budget go back a long way. All self respecting gujjus would follow the budget. My first memories of the budget was following it on DD news where the highlights would be telecast. I remember the then finance minister VP Singh under the Rajiv Gandhi government talking about lowering taxes. That created quite a flutter and I remember asking my dad what the hullabaloo was all about. What on earth was a budget? I remember dad explaining me its significance. Since it was VP Singh I remember, a quick Google search dates that to around 1984 to 87. Indoctrination at age around 12 is good gujju legacy. Of course post that the budget and of course the finance minister got rock star status, thanks to Manmohan Singh. The live telecasts and people huddling around to watch what on earth was going to be presented. If I am not mistaken it used to be presented in the evenings (an old Raj legacy) and the stock market would have special sessions timed to coincide with the budget. Over the years it has become lesser and lesser of an event with few surprises and a whole host of policy decisions being taken outside of it.
Also one another thing I remember was that in the good old days, prices would always rise after the budget. I think it was obligatory for the FM to raise taxes on soaps and shampoos and other such stuff. There used to be a huge round of pre budget buying by people in an effort to beat the budget blues. We never did really indulge in it. Till I remember one day mom and dad coming in with a whole host of goodies from Shakari Bhandhar. They had gone shopping and dad used the budget ruse to buy stuff just before the budget was announced. That year Manmohan Singh did a complete U turn and started dropping taxes introducing a more benign taxation scheme, thwarting all efforts of my Dad at beating the blue. Hehehe.
Also one another thing I remember was that in the good old days, prices would always rise after the budget. I think it was obligatory for the FM to raise taxes on soaps and shampoos and other such stuff. There used to be a huge round of pre budget buying by people in an effort to beat the budget blues. We never did really indulge in it. Till I remember one day mom and dad coming in with a whole host of goodies from Shakari Bhandhar. They had gone shopping and dad used the budget ruse to buy stuff just before the budget was announced. That year Manmohan Singh did a complete U turn and started dropping taxes introducing a more benign taxation scheme, thwarting all efforts of my Dad at beating the blue. Hehehe.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
thanks tendlya
Today went by with me thinking many times on what on earth to write. Some times I have been woefully short of ideas and material. But over the last one year, I have been writing an average of one blog for every day that I have come to office. I think this started from Feb 09. A lot of entries have been rambling, a few funny, a few recorded Jispa’s growing and a few were, to my mind, deep. But write I must. I think having this discipline is important over a long period of time. The primary aim of this blog is a legacy and that’s the only way to nurture it. So write I must.
I had hardly anything to write about till around a few minutes back. I was lucky to be in office today while he scored those runs. With no TV at home, office time cricket is the only time I get to catch up with the game.
Sachin scored the worlds first double century today. For someone who grew up watching this man play for India, it is an emotion that is unparalleled. It was something that I always had in my heart. The first that somebody must eclipse the record Saeed Anwar scored against India. He had batted with a runner and I am sure my entire generation found that unfair. The second is that I wanted Sachin to do it, with 200 runs.
We grew up watching him bat all alone, holding up the entire team. These days India has many stroke players and finisher. In those days it was him alone. I remember some great days watching him bat with my dad and all of us cheering and screaming together at home and the deathly silence that shouted in the home and stadium alike when he got out. I relive all those emotions when I watch Sachin bat, I remember my dad. We both were ardent Sachin fans. When I see Sachin bat I can feel the excitement I shared with dad watching cricket. I remember the stress that we carried together and the silent despair we shared when he got out. Those were the best of times I have had with dad. I am sure he would have been thrilled to see this knock. While Sachin scored all the runs, on a personal level I dedicate this knock of his to my dad.
I had hardly anything to write about till around a few minutes back. I was lucky to be in office today while he scored those runs. With no TV at home, office time cricket is the only time I get to catch up with the game.
Sachin scored the worlds first double century today. For someone who grew up watching this man play for India, it is an emotion that is unparalleled. It was something that I always had in my heart. The first that somebody must eclipse the record Saeed Anwar scored against India. He had batted with a runner and I am sure my entire generation found that unfair. The second is that I wanted Sachin to do it, with 200 runs.
We grew up watching him bat all alone, holding up the entire team. These days India has many stroke players and finisher. In those days it was him alone. I remember some great days watching him bat with my dad and all of us cheering and screaming together at home and the deathly silence that shouted in the home and stadium alike when he got out. I relive all those emotions when I watch Sachin bat, I remember my dad. We both were ardent Sachin fans. When I see Sachin bat I can feel the excitement I shared with dad watching cricket. I remember the stress that we carried together and the silent despair we shared when he got out. Those were the best of times I have had with dad. I am sure he would have been thrilled to see this knock. While Sachin scored all the runs, on a personal level I dedicate this knock of his to my dad.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
ccp to a johari window?
Is fair and objective and does not play favourites
Is fair in his/her expectations of others
Makes good decisions
Generates good solutions to difficult problems
These are questions asked of me in my honest self assessment for a 360 degree. Can you really truly judge you’re your own fairness objectively? I am not so sure. I would assume that people would do things that they consider fair.
“I slapped him because he slapped me. It’s only fair. I always take good decisions because even if I take bad decisions they are what the boss will let me take. My solutions are good. How else can you react considering the conditions.”
I don’t think too many people will say that they are not fair in their own assessment. I mean cant understand that if someone knows that he is unfair, why would they not do anything about it. It’s quite weird.
They obviously ask me for self assessment so that these are the same questions they ask others about me. This will help them show an assessment gap. Cool. But that really does not mean asking these stupid questions. You have to think a bit before asking these questions. I think a HR consultant has to have a string backing in research if they are to administer such questionnaires.
If I want to be honest to myself, which I did, I ticked the option which I thought best – ‘did not have opportunity to observe’. I haven’t had an out of body experience yet.
Is fair in his/her expectations of others
Makes good decisions
Generates good solutions to difficult problems
These are questions asked of me in my honest self assessment for a 360 degree. Can you really truly judge you’re your own fairness objectively? I am not so sure. I would assume that people would do things that they consider fair.
“I slapped him because he slapped me. It’s only fair. I always take good decisions because even if I take bad decisions they are what the boss will let me take. My solutions are good. How else can you react considering the conditions.”
I don’t think too many people will say that they are not fair in their own assessment. I mean cant understand that if someone knows that he is unfair, why would they not do anything about it. It’s quite weird.
They obviously ask me for self assessment so that these are the same questions they ask others about me. This will help them show an assessment gap. Cool. But that really does not mean asking these stupid questions. You have to think a bit before asking these questions. I think a HR consultant has to have a string backing in research if they are to administer such questionnaires.
If I want to be honest to myself, which I did, I ticked the option which I thought best – ‘did not have opportunity to observe’. I haven’t had an out of body experience yet.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
sikhau
Oh man. This is soo stressful. We are trying to make Jispa study her hindi. To teach first standard hindi we require Jasmine and me together. With jasmine teaching her the basic stuff that even I find difficult to understand. In the book there are words that have two alphabets. I don’t know the meaning of so many of them. Some of them even jasmine does not know the meaning. We were wondering what on earth they are. Words such as kharal, thanak, khag, phalak etc.
So while Jasmine is teaching Jispa, I am on the internet logging into a shabkosh. Hehe. A hindi into english dictionary. Man this shit is really tough. I would have never known these meanings. And instantly as I teach them, I forget them as they come. Some of them like dapat, even the online shabdkhosh does not have. यह शब्द (दपत) अà¤ी हमारे डाटाबेस मे नही है.
On some words I thought I knew the meaning but Jasmine had to correct me. At some time I have decided I will merely let her learn this shit by rote. I have no clue on helping her. I might have failed her first standard hindi test. so now I am merely just taking her hindi reading. If she asks me for any meaning I am going to smash her to the ground.
So while Jasmine is teaching Jispa, I am on the internet logging into a shabkosh. Hehe. A hindi into english dictionary. Man this shit is really tough. I would have never known these meanings. And instantly as I teach them, I forget them as they come. Some of them like dapat, even the online shabdkhosh does not have. यह शब्द (दपत) अà¤ी हमारे डाटाबेस मे नही है.
On some words I thought I knew the meaning but Jasmine had to correct me. At some time I have decided I will merely let her learn this shit by rote. I have no clue on helping her. I might have failed her first standard hindi test. so now I am merely just taking her hindi reading. If she asks me for any meaning I am going to smash her to the ground.
Friday, February 19, 2010
dark knight?
In one of the blogs I am following the writer talks about how her mummy believes that her curly hair are due to the fact she was born in Zambia. I recollected one such story about my birth.
My mom was pregnant with me while she was in London. I am the youngest of three and my brother and sister take their complexions from mommy who is pretty fair. When my mother was in her eight month of pregnancy, her mother called her back to India to deliver the baby. Obstinately this was done, so that my mommy could have all the post pregnancy care. My granny was quite a naturotheraphy person and was well versed with all the gharule recipes for everything. I used to get pus boils and she would ask us to gather the leaves of the hibiscus shrub and then she would pound them to a paste and apply on it so that it would burst. She would do all the gross part of pushing the pus out while my mom would barely be able to watch.
So mom, while technically not being advised to fly in the eight month came back to Mumbai and with it she puffed away all my chances of getting the hallowed UK passport. I was hence stuck with the Indian passport which I rued, for all of my adolescent life. Bah!
But the story is not this. The story is that when I was born my granny nearly disowned me. I was dark. I guess not dark as in south Indian dark but just not as fair as my brother and sister. My brother especially, as he was even fairer. My granny was quite clear. She thought I was exchanged at the hospital. How could I have been born so dark if my mom was in London while she conceived? There everyone is so fair. The weather is all cold and it snows and all that…how on earth was this dark kid ours.
Sorry gran. For that answer you gotta take one look at your son in law. I can get my skin colour from my dad as well. It takes two to tango.
My mom was pregnant with me while she was in London. I am the youngest of three and my brother and sister take their complexions from mommy who is pretty fair. When my mother was in her eight month of pregnancy, her mother called her back to India to deliver the baby. Obstinately this was done, so that my mommy could have all the post pregnancy care. My granny was quite a naturotheraphy person and was well versed with all the gharule recipes for everything. I used to get pus boils and she would ask us to gather the leaves of the hibiscus shrub and then she would pound them to a paste and apply on it so that it would burst. She would do all the gross part of pushing the pus out while my mom would barely be able to watch.
So mom, while technically not being advised to fly in the eight month came back to Mumbai and with it she puffed away all my chances of getting the hallowed UK passport. I was hence stuck with the Indian passport which I rued, for all of my adolescent life. Bah!
But the story is not this. The story is that when I was born my granny nearly disowned me. I was dark. I guess not dark as in south Indian dark but just not as fair as my brother and sister. My brother especially, as he was even fairer. My granny was quite clear. She thought I was exchanged at the hospital. How could I have been born so dark if my mom was in London while she conceived? There everyone is so fair. The weather is all cold and it snows and all that…how on earth was this dark kid ours.
Sorry gran. For that answer you gotta take one look at your son in law. I can get my skin colour from my dad as well. It takes two to tango.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
gujju
I am a quick thinking penny pinching hard nosed gujju. Proof as follows.
Jasmine and I were walking inside a lifestyle expo. While I got off the car, I realised that I was wearing my office lanyard with the I-card attached. I removed it and put it inside my pocket. While we were making it towards the entrance we saw a ticket booth selling entry tickets worth 20 bucks each. WTF an entry ticket for an expo where I am a consumer? I asked Jasmine ‘lete hai kya?’. I was not too enthused about the idea. Jasmine suggested we try getting in free as it was just about opening.
Ok. I will try. I started walking towards the entrance which was manned by a security guard. God knows what I was going to do. As I walked towards the entrance it struck me. While walking on I pulled out my I-card and lanyard from my pocket. And slowly kept it in my hand and putting on a bored scowl face I marched up. The security guy stopped me to ask for ticket. I kept the scowl on the face and unfolded the ID from my hand, half bored and half wanting to get on with it. OK he said. I then gestured to Jasmine who was walking a few paces behind ‘she is with me. Come on in Jasmine’.
We both get in and a few paces inside, Jasmine comes up to me and tells me, what a kamina I am. She had a tough time keeping her face straight. She calls me a 40 rupee saving kamina. My defense – why would you want to take a gate charge from a consumer for a dam expo. F U.
Real reason - Gujju blood. No option. It is genetically ingrained.
Jasmine and I were walking inside a lifestyle expo. While I got off the car, I realised that I was wearing my office lanyard with the I-card attached. I removed it and put it inside my pocket. While we were making it towards the entrance we saw a ticket booth selling entry tickets worth 20 bucks each. WTF an entry ticket for an expo where I am a consumer? I asked Jasmine ‘lete hai kya?’. I was not too enthused about the idea. Jasmine suggested we try getting in free as it was just about opening.
Ok. I will try. I started walking towards the entrance which was manned by a security guard. God knows what I was going to do. As I walked towards the entrance it struck me. While walking on I pulled out my I-card and lanyard from my pocket. And slowly kept it in my hand and putting on a bored scowl face I marched up. The security guy stopped me to ask for ticket. I kept the scowl on the face and unfolded the ID from my hand, half bored and half wanting to get on with it. OK he said. I then gestured to Jasmine who was walking a few paces behind ‘she is with me. Come on in Jasmine’.
We both get in and a few paces inside, Jasmine comes up to me and tells me, what a kamina I am. She had a tough time keeping her face straight. She calls me a 40 rupee saving kamina. My defense – why would you want to take a gate charge from a consumer for a dam expo. F U.
Real reason - Gujju blood. No option. It is genetically ingrained.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
one big leap of faith
Yes. I managed one big moral victory. Ever since we bought our first car over six years ago we have been playing ganapati bhajans the first thing we get into the car. Even if I get in at night or in the morning. The first time you get into a car for the day you have to play bhajans – old jungle saying. Now jasmine and I are not that ritualistic so there is no real reason for us to play it. One day many years ago I did not play it and my car’s bumper got damaged. Ever since I have not had the guts to not play it. And we like to play the specific ganapati bhajn from the specific album. We have now expanded it to play one more album – the scared chants of shiva. But then that’s Ganapati’s dad, so that’s ok.
I have wanted to get rid of this superstition from my brain for sometime now. I haven’t had the guts. Just listen to the mind play here. I used to get worried that in case I don’t play and by chance if something happens that day which may be unrelated then the dam superstition will stick in my brain forever. Hence I never did try that stunt. But this Sunday I thought about it and took a chance in life. It required me to think of the worst case happening that day and take that chance. Four days hence… I live…
I have wanted to get rid of this superstition from my brain for sometime now. I haven’t had the guts. Just listen to the mind play here. I used to get worried that in case I don’t play and by chance if something happens that day which may be unrelated then the dam superstition will stick in my brain forever. Hence I never did try that stunt. But this Sunday I thought about it and took a chance in life. It required me to think of the worst case happening that day and take that chance. Four days hence… I live…
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
connection
The few days my blackberry device did not work I realised what I had suspected all along. I am now sure of its true use to me. Nothing much besides – deleting unwanted mails. I use that all the time. Deleting spam, rubbish mails and reading mails that are marked to me for no real reason. My job is to be marked on them. It’s only my name they require on the email. There is no action that I do on it. I am merely a cc, a statistic, no… not even that. My name must be having the power either to get work done or give assurance (albeit false) to the sender that work will get done. Or a collective responsibility in case something happens, which does not really work. Or it’s something that is merely done with hope. Someone, something might propel movement. Someone will give in. Something might transpire. Hope, ummeed, tis’ what makes the email go around.
Besides reading and marking it as read and deleting shit, there is no real use. Sometimes it helps in catching issues before they snowball. Then in a sense it is an insurance against blow ups or a bunker that helps contain the blast. Sometimes it useful as a diary with you all the time. But then not having it won’t really kill you.
So there. I figured out what it is by it not being there. Sort of negative learning’s, if there exits such a phrase.
Now I realise that I like checking the mails on the blackberry often enough, purely to keep my inbox at work as clean as possible. So while I might look and behave the part, spare judging me. Its not that I want the umbilical connection.
Now there – that’s sound logical enough. I almost believed myself for a minute.
But what I really missed – my gmail access which is banned in office and hence the blackberry is a saviour and of course google maps, which helps me in case I am totally lost, which is many times these days on the road.
Besides reading and marking it as read and deleting shit, there is no real use. Sometimes it helps in catching issues before they snowball. Then in a sense it is an insurance against blow ups or a bunker that helps contain the blast. Sometimes it useful as a diary with you all the time. But then not having it won’t really kill you.
So there. I figured out what it is by it not being there. Sort of negative learning’s, if there exits such a phrase.
Now I realise that I like checking the mails on the blackberry often enough, purely to keep my inbox at work as clean as possible. So while I might look and behave the part, spare judging me. Its not that I want the umbilical connection.
Now there – that’s sound logical enough. I almost believed myself for a minute.
But what I really missed – my gmail access which is banned in office and hence the blackberry is a saviour and of course google maps, which helps me in case I am totally lost, which is many times these days on the road.
Monday, February 15, 2010
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.
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...
Thursday, February 11, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, February 08, 2010
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 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.
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 :)
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 :)
Thursday, February 04, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
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?
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?
Monday, February 01, 2010
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.
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.....
Friday, January 29, 2010
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.
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
Thursday, January 28, 2010
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?
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?
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, January 22, 2010
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?
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?Thursday, January 21, 2010
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.
“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.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, January 18, 2010
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!
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!
Friday, January 15, 2010
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.
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. 
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.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, January 11, 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)