whats worth more?

When we grew up we hardly had any swimming costumes to choose from. You just went to some sports store and picked yourself a costume. I used to swim regularly in Dubai, that is till the third standard. When we shifted to India we stopped swimming. No club, no pool. One big posh building (Avanti) in the locality had a swimming pool which was empty. They repaired it a few years later and started it, but it was out of bounds for outsiders. The only accessible pool was the municipal pool at Shivaji park, which was some distance away.

As a kid I went into the pool but I hadn’t really properly learnt swimming. So after a long time when I finally went swimming with my friend at the Avanti swimming pool, I realised I had completely forgotten to swim. I used to do some variation of the underwater stroke or something, which just about kept me afloat. So there was no swimming for me for many years. Till one day V-inu and I in the first year of college (F.Y.B.COM) decided to swim properly at the Shivaji Park pool. We figured out when the forms come out (once a year), got the forms, filled it in and started swimming. We saw what the coaches taught and learnt that one has to hold the sides of the pool and splash ones legs to learn to float. So we sat and splashed. Slowly we figured what we thought was free style and swam.

We also had started doing odd jobs as sales promoters. One assignment was at the defense canteen. So there we used our contact we had built up and I remember buying for myself a swimming costume. A defense canteen would have heavily discounted stuff, thanks to the non-applicability of taxes. I don’t remember the brand but it was some home grown, possibly Jalandar made brand. I don’t remember too well, but I think I couldn’t afford and hence did not even dream of buying swimming goggles or a swim cap. I did try and buy ear plugs but quickly released that they didn’t help a bit. Speedo was a brand that was not available in India and was something I could only drool over. OOO… Speedo swimming wear.

So when Jispa started swimming seriously we went and picked Speedo swimming costumes. They were an upgrade from her home grown ‘mad max’ or some brand like that swimming costume.Speedo. Wow. She had not one but three speedo swimming costumes. When you go for competitive swimming, you change your costumes after every race so that you can remain nice and dry while you await your race. Speedo costumes, cap, goggles. Not bad eh! Till recently we realised that even Speedo is not it. Now Jispa is a walking talking Arena billboard. She prefers that material over Speedo. Slowly we are seeing Arena  taking over. Speedo seems to only stock during the summers. Most sport shops are out of stock of Speedo or any decent swimwear the rest of the year. Whereas Arena is slowly building credence with the serious swimmers. This is a serious marketing lesson. In the last three four years, I have noticed suddenly Arena swim wear on the bodies of the athletes. This has an effect greater that what we can imagine. If the champions in the pool start wearing Arena, then the others will slowly see and realize that Arena is ‘real’ swim wear what champions wear. Even the casual swimmer will see this and slowly gravitate towards Arena. Speedo is in real danger in Mumbai at least of being the lower performing swimwear brand.

This emulation effect is larger than we realize. Big brands have understood this and that’s why you see the bad rush to pay obscene amounts of money to make champions wear your brand on the stage. But what Speedo is failing to see, is the fact that there are champions in every small nook and corner. The classic marketing case of Arena having really high end swimwear in stock, which probably doesn’t sell at all but defiantly has a strong rub off for the more boring models. They sponsor the Otter club meet where they have a stall. I glanced through the selection and quickly ran out of there when I saw my costumes for two thousand bucks. Hah! One other parent told me, forget that. There was a kid’s model for 12 thousand bucks. A high end costume which has to be worn in a particular manner. It probably took around 15 minutes just to wear it. Oh come on.

Then we got talking and I realized some kid champions were wearing real high end costumes, costing upwards of twenty thirty thousand rupees! Oh dam you. Some real special fast costumes. These costumes I had read reduce your drag and help you swim faster. The net effect would be something like one tenth of a second at best. One tenth! In these club meets and state meets, timings are taken by hand held stop watches. There are two time keepers for every race and then timings are taken at the end. One tenth of a second is the easily human error in the stop watch, it surely is not what the kid needs for now.

The most of the timing improvement at this age is not the equipment but strokes. The right strokes help you slash off seconds. Your improvement is measured in seconds. The coach works on this every day. For Jispa the coaching fees are around 900 bucks a month for 5 one hour evening turns and 3 one and a half hour morning turns. From which the gymkhana keeps a cut and shares the rest with the coach. For a coach that produces state and national champions, it’s hardly any fees. Jasmine and I find it really cheap.

The coach has a strict policy of not accepting any extra gifts or money. They refuse any attempt by the parents to give them anything.  They are extremely sweet. This year the club decided to honor them at a party (tomorrow) and the mothers are using this as an opportunity to collect and give a cash envelope with the felicitation. It interesting to see the reactions of the mothers and others while the hat gets passed around. For me the coach is paramount. I hold him in the highest esteem. It because of him that we are around. They make or break us. We did not know Jispa would swim so well. We had no dream about her swimming prowess. The coach has dreamt of her victory. We can only be grateful. I never had any sport coach. I value them immensely.

While we were have the discussion on expensive costumes I wryly remarked – ‘we can pay 30 thousand for a swimming costume that saves us one tenth of a second but we don’t pay much for the coach who helped our kid cut 20 seconds to start with’. It’s embarrassing for me to have Jispa’s swim bag contain equipment that is worth almost twice as much as what the coach makes from teaching Jispa in a year. Whats worth more?

Tough shit

In around Jan I twisted my knee to end my best ever cricket season. I was averaging 30 plus runs in every match. This was all due to a simple lesson that I overhead one coach at Shivaji Park give out to his wards. The most important one was to keep your hands close to your body while playing the shots. These 30/40 runs also could have gone to become higher scores if not for the fact that I used to run myself out so that others get batting. In all my cricketing outings, playing twenty twenty for the corporate team, I haven’t ever hit a fifty. I came close, tantalizing close to 50 once, around four five years ago. This season was the season to hit 50. Normally my job as a youngster was to hit and clear the ropes or as an elder to eschew all risk and ensure the team doesn’t lose all the wickets. Over the last two years I built the B team into a decent formidable team that had decent batsman and decent bowlers. So my role changed to keep one end up for around 7 to 10 overs while keeping the runs flowing and then attack the bowling from 10 to 15 overs. With the technical flaw getting ironed out, I started to score runs and keep my wicket guarded. The team was also doing very well and we were building a strong nucleus in the side. So I was pretty frustrated when this Jan I twisted my knee and was out of the action. The team then went on to lose two semifinals and generally morale was down. Yesterday I decided I was fit enough to play. I had been keeping my workout going in the intervening days. Swimming was on. I even started cycling in the gym and I was doing 10 kms in 30 min with a 5 resistance. So I knew my stamina and speed wouldn’t be an issue but I was very worried about being in touch. Also the issue of captainship. Men. We love to play politics and we hate giving up power. We play our game and we take every chance to play a little game. Even the game of cricket where there is probably nothing at stake, we will play our political game. In my absence, coteries had formed. The captain had formed his own favorite gang. I realized why the B team had lost its knockout matches. We lost our core and we lost it so bloody fast. I had drilled it into the team that we play, not to win but to enjoy the game. We play to have fun, and to give everyone a chance. Slowly in my absence the team forgot about this. The captain would over bowl himself and his coterie, possibly in his desire to win. The B team doesn’t have talent. They have potential. Untapped and waiting to be let lose. You will never know on which day, which player will perform. The key was to ensure enough guys get enough chances. That simple principle was thrown out of the window. People just don’t get it. “When you treat a disease you win, you lose, but when you treat a patient you always win” – Patch Adams. When you play to win, you may win or lose, but you play to give people a chance you will always win. Winning is not the objective of the sport I play. It is the happy outcome. Having such an attitude helped me unearth good talent that helped us win and build our side. But all this is complete bullshit. I left the team for a few months and we forget all that. We mess it up completely. Now I know why some guys just kept bumping into office kept asking me to come back and lead. They indicated that they would come in only if I came in to lead. In yesterday’s match I did not lead. I stayed around the fringes. The guy in charge made some stupid, silly noises and asked for my opinion as if to pay due deference. I also did not seize it as I wasn’t sure of my own fitness. I struggled on the field missing a few catches and letting a bowl go from under my feet. So I was a bit apprehensive going into bat. Opening the batting, my job was to hang around till a few overs. I hung around a bit. Hitting a few drives and a missing a few. I stayed there till the fourth/fifth over to realize that possibly we were a bit slower than required chasing 160 in 20 overs. I gestured to captain if I could start hitting. Affirmative came the gesture. I started playing aggressive, trusting my footwork and my drives. I started stepping out to the spinner. A few boundaries and a few shots played out. I was on a roll! My shots were connecting and my technique was supporting me. The heat was also oppressive, but my cycling and swimming kept me through. I was a bit tired but not dead. Ten overs and I was still going strong. I realised that we still had bench strength, which meant I could go for more shots. Up the run rate even more, if possible. In Mumbai cricket is played on maidans with the pitches never in the centre. So you will have one boundary closer than the other. Typically the spinner will always use bowl from eth end where he gets a long leg side boundary and a short offside. It’s a trap I have used many times. Get the spinner to toss up to a really long leg side field and tempt some BIG shots. You might giveaway a six but you will get his wicket next. It always works. I was not going to be suckered into this trap. I wouldn’t be able to clear that. Especially against the left arm spinner bowling away. But that meant I could get the ball to clear the offside with the spin. Easier said than done. From a Leg side player when I started playing maidan cricket twelve years ago I had slowly evolved an offside attack. I hit a few boundaries there and then… there… one of my big dreams of my life. I danced down the spinner on a pitch that was holding up and smashed the spinner with the spin for a lofted cover drive and cleared the boundary for a SIX. I have never been able to cover drive a six. I have once smashed one over point. But that was a fast swing bowler. This was the shot to unsettle the spinner. He had no option but to bowl short and that meant easy pickings. Anything on the offside was being hit hard. Your game is over. While batting I felt a twitch in my knee. The same knee. I felt my back a bit. Oops. While running and turning sharp I realized I might have hurt my toes (two blue toes when I saw them later). So now I knew I was close to my first ever fifty and I knew I might not play another match this season. What should I do. Slow down. No. never. The team comes first. So I continued hitting till one mishit and I was in the pavilion. I had batted for thirteen overs, ran like crazy for a lot of runs, hit 6 boundaries and a six and when I saw my score I wanted to kill someone. 48 of 41 balls. My god! Another chance missed. The form of my life and I had not converted it. Was I going to retire without a 50 ever? We won the match eventually and I was declared man of the match. A huge achievement for someone who never had formal coaching and learnt by reading, listening and playing. Playing cricket in my mind. Promising never to repeat my mistakes. That’s the way I learnt. The real hard way. Here is me getting my award….

And here is my scorecard, for my record. Sorry to inflict this on the reader...

But I still walked away completely tired and frustrated. Frustrated that I did not hit 50 and even more so that my team was getting destroyed. I could see the resentment on the few players. I could see that people would not come in to play in the next few matches. I could see my team disintegrate and I knew that my knee, my back and my toes would not allow me to play again this season. And hence I have no option. Shut up and walk away. I will have to rebuild the team next season. I can’t interfere from outside and I can’t change a dam thing. Oh dam, I tried explaining this to the fellows in charge but people just don’t get it do they? Simple principals are forgotten in our desire to win. We forget why we are there, to start with. All we want to do is win and we start doing stupid things. The current guy in charge is a good cricketer but he will bowl himself more than required and he will not experiment as much as he should, he will rely on old hands and do old tricks. They don’t always work for you. And you can’t build long term on short term tricks. So I walked away with a win, man of the match and a great shot with disappointment and anger. Quiet seething rage. No fifty and a team being killed and I can’t do jack. Tough shit. Really angry tough shit. I will wait for time. Possibly rebuild the team and possibly hit at least one 50. At least one.

a nice mix

It’s a bloody mela. Summer follows winter. And if you are the person swimming in winter then you tend to look at all the others who come in summer with a little disdain. They are not real swimmers. I dont see them when the water is cold. Real swimmers come and swim even in winter. They swim even when its 10 degrees. They don’t crib about the cold. I swam thru the coldest winter we ever had in Mumbai. But it’s also true that the only reason I swam was -circumstances. First reason - I had to come to the club in any case. My daughter had her swimming at 545 am. Second reason - I twisted my knee - that meant no squash no treadmill. Only option - swimming. But I can take credit - I decided to brave the water instead of lying around on my butt, waiting for Jispa to finish swimming. So I have some moral ground to stand on :-) even if it is a bit wobbly. Of all the things in the world, I never imagined I would be swimming alongside my daughter. I dreamt of other stuff. Like trekking, camping, cycling. Yes cycling.
V-nu gifted us a cycle of his. A nice expensive light cycle. Jispa had hers and we bought one more Jasmine. This was a few years ago. In our enthusiasm we dreamt of a family cycling together. We put a hook in the garage to chain the cycles to and we cycled a few days. Then the cycles just lay there securely chained. They stayed unused gathering lots of dust. Neighborhood construction ensured enough cement layers formed on the cycle. We got Jispa’s cycle up and kept it outside our door which meant it was relatively dust free. She cycled a bit. But for two years or more our adult cycles just sat and withered away.
A year back we sold one cycle to one of the maids working in the building. Her kid goes to school on a cycle and his cycle just got robbed. I had great intentions of fixing and servicing the V-nu’s cycle. Those intentions finally materialized last month. V-nu was in town and we hauled the cycle on a truck and took it to the repair guy for a complete overhaul. This was at Dadar. The day I had to collect it back from work, I decided to cycle back the 6 odd kms. I would assume that would not be too difficult. But I had never cycled on congested Mumbai roads in peak rush hour. Collecting the cycle I set off. At first out of sheer habit I hit the traffic and was waiting behind the car in front of me. It then suddenly struck me that I was on a cycle and waiting like this in a traffic jam is what you do in a car. A cycle would weave its way through the traffic between the cars. Whoops. I set off between the cars. The last time I saw a cyclist waiting patiently behind a car at a signal was at Geneva. He was taking the same amount of space as a car would, maintaining distance. This is crazy thing to do in Mumbai. I guess I would have been run over. I enjoyed weaving between the cars, going uphill then downhill. The cars I thought were pretty ok; the problem I faced was from the motorcycles. We were fighting for the same aisles between the traffic. I, with pedal power and them on their powerful motors. I had to cut lanes and out of sheer habit again, I found myself looking towards the imaginary rear view mirrors on the right. I really don’t understand how cyclists twist backwards in their attempt to see what’s behind. But on the whole I thought the experience was pretty much nice. I avoided the roads where one normally saw truck traffic and weaved through the bylanes. The greatest fun was crossing signals as a pedestrian and taking shortcuts through the wrong way. A cycle has many advantages in Mumbai.
Now with the cycle home and happily serviced, I could take Jispa to the garden cycling. With the long summer days I could cycle till late and enjoy. The first day Jispa went cycling, in some time she soon complained about her calves. Calves hurting? That too for Jispa. Thanks to swimming, Jispa has a very well toned body. She has a six pack stomach, muscular legs and a gazelle like structure. He calves paining sounded very funny. We realised that she does a lot of swimming. A WHOLE LOT OF SWIMMING. She has swimming muscles in her calves and they are different from cycling muscles or even walking or climbing muscles. The coach has given strict instructions not to swim on weekends and give the muscles some rest. So cycling muscles are different. So Jasmine and I decided to get her to cycle on weekends. Nothing as strenuous as her swimming but a bit of light cycling in the garden on weekends might do her good. Over the next three weekends, her cycling calves seemed to loosen up and she could cycle with ease without complaint. It’s probably a good thing. We really don’t know for sure, but we guess that a little bit of all round muscle development is good. I read once about Armstong (the champion long distance cyclist) complain that cyclists hate taking stairs. Its hurts them. I saw a variation happening at home. So light cycling is a nice thing, we assume.
This weekend, Jasmine packed some fries with mayo and ketchup along with some water and we took the hamper for a picnic. We cycled a bit. Now Jispa cycle a bit more on her own, take sa few rounds and then we sat down to enjoy our picnic. Just daddy and kid. Here…



I loved the time we spent. Just cycling away and then lazing around. A couple came in with their dogs with which Jispa played a bit. A nice way to spend your Sunday evening. Time well spent.

treasure your silver

“Uncle”, one kid called out to me yesterday at Jispa’s school swim meet. The school swim meet is the eagerly awaited meet at our home. Jispa always does better at her school meet and her best times are at the relay there. It is easily the most important swim meet as she gets to show case her swimming in front of her friends. All her friends know that she swims regularly. They participate but know they can’t match her. Of the four strokes you are allowed to participate in only three. You pick your ones. For Jispa the breast is the weakest stroke and hence she opted out of that one. So you had the kids sighing a relief that she was not in that stroke, which means the others have a chance. She won the golds in the three stockes and that too by a wide margin. The second place was ten seconds behind in some races. It was complete domination.
“Uncle” she called out to me, “you must be very proud of Jispa nah?”. “why?” I asked. “you must be proud of her because Jispa is so talented”. She was alluding to the fact that Jispa has had a rocking year. She did well in English elocutions, Hindi elocutions, sports day and then the swimming event (technically it’s the next academic year) etc. “er, no kid. That’s not why I am proud of her. I would be a proud parent irrespective of her talents. It doesn’t matter”
Talent. Versus hard work and perseverance? Talent is good but you still have to work a lot on it. when parents tell me congrats for my kid, I just point them in Jispa’s direction. That’s the one doing all the work. I got a chance to explain this to Jispa over dinner. I told her you have had a great year but its all becausue of the hard work you have put in. “do you remember” I asked her. “do you remember in peak winter crying before going to swim because the water would be very cold”. She nodded. I asked another one “do you remember when you practice your elocutions, I would sometimes get angry and scold you and you would cry”. She nodded again. It’s a lot of hard work. Very hard work. I keep telling any parent who cares to listen. Please put your child in any one sport / discipline outside of school. Pursue it properly with the help of a coach. Don’t aim for any medal category but preserve with it. Something that the child enjoys. Do it properly. It teaches the kid a thing or two. It teaches hard work, discipline, the fun of improving every year. A mental makeup that will hold in good stead.
Jispa knows a thing or two about swimming, about getting up in winter morning to brave the cold waters. She saw her timings improve after the weather warmed up. These experiences are more precious than the golds she wins. I don’t hold any of her medals close to my heart. They are a means, not the end. Some of her races are more fun than others some more exciting but really, its about training every day, focusing on technique, concentration and above all perseverance that counts.
After her three strokes, came the time for the relays. One was the girls relay which she anchored and the team won effortlessly. Fourth gold. The last was the mixed relay in which they take the top four swimmers per house. She was anchoring that as well. At the start her friend went in first. A competent swimmer, I saw she missed her tumble turn to touch the wall and come back. That is clearly one to two second loss. Why did she do that? I later realized that it was because while swimming her goggles twisted and she was almost swimming blind. She bravely yet barely gave a lead which was lost due to a weak second and third swimmer, which meant that Jispa would start being around 15 meters (half length) behind. Now that is the best situation for Jispa to be in. Anchoring a relay and starting well behind. Go jispa go. Last year she came from behind similarly to clinch gold. This time her adversary was the fastest boy in primary. She took off and swam like hell. She gained and gained and gained. Till the very end. People were screaming and going wild. Could she do it? The last 15 meters and the boy was still ahead. Jispa wasn’t tiring; she was going fast, still gaining. An improbable coming from behind victory looked probable. Can lightning strike twice. GO JISPA GO, I was screaming, I couldn’t stop myself. Last 5 mtr, the boy is ahead and only just, and the finish. Boy wins by one second. WHOA. What a race. Jispa misses her fifth gold to get silver.
In the evening I asked Jispa “do you remember the athlete’s prayer”. “Which one, dad?” “When a great….” I started to have it completed by Jispa “player comes to write against your name, he writes NOT if you have won or lost but how you played the game”. “Yes Jispa. You came in second in the second relay, but then what happened? Everyone forgot the first place and came personally to congratulate you. They all told you that you swam a lovely race. You did very well, you were surrounded and everyone was talking about you and congratulating you. Who remembered the winner?” “Yes, you are right”. “Understood Jispa? It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you have played your game. They saw your game, not your victory (or lack of)”. The penny dropped. She understood. She smiled. All these I wasn’t talking bum. These are things you can’t understand when you win. That’s a pretense of humility or talk. But you experience it when you have played your heart and yet you have lost.
That silver Jispa, that silver… is more valuable than your Golds. Treasure it.

light ears

We are wondering on how smart should smart be? The other day Jispa took news cut out to school. It said that some scientists found a new galaxy (an odd shaped one) 79 million light years away. I have been talking to Jispa about physics and the speed of light. So I explained to her that that statement meant that the galaxy is so far away that light will take 79 million years to reach it. “And” she added “nothing can go faster than light”. Yup. So here is your cut out and there you go to school.
In the evening I asked her, how her day was. She said, “the teacher corrected me. I said the galaxy is 79 million light years away. That means that light takes 79 million years to reach there. Then teacher told me – no that’s wrong Jispa. A light year is not that. On earth we measure time in years and in space we say light years”. ARRRRGGHHHHH. Oh God. That was a real painful one for me. It isn’t wrong. Her teacher is wrong. I was livid. If you don’t know, you should keep quiet but you shouldn’t correct the child. I went online and showed Jispa what the correct definition is. I was thinking of sending a print out. In the evening Jasmine suggested that sending a book instead of a google print out. Anyone can have a printout but a book is somehow … different. Ok fine. I am sure I have a book on galaxies that explained the light year. So I hit the shelf and found one. Sure enough.
The light year is a unit of distance not time. And it is the amount of distance the light covers in one year (technically – in a vacuum). So I was all ready to send it today morning with her. On Sunday though, I got cold feet. What if the teacher thinks we are too smart? Over smart? Should we, shouldn’t we? Or just let it be. What difference does it make? Like the teacher in second grade who does not know the difference between a parrot and a parakeet, or an egret or a stork. So I told Jispa “wait a bit, take it to school a few days later. Tell your teacher that you read this in a book and then you thought you could show it”.
Well, we really don’t know. The power equation in a school, any school, any classroom is completely in favor of the teacher. When I teach I try and shift the balance a bit back to the class. Allow them to talk, allow them to discuss. Let them know that they could be right and also better than the professor. It’s not that tough to say I don’t know to a class. That’s what I try and do. Only when things get a little edgy I explain who the boss is. Status maintained, now we can get messy again.
So we are wondering. I will probably ask Jispa what she feels like doing and get her to do it. I would like her to go and have a chat without being too haughty about it. The book is also the perfect book. It’s a guide to the gob smacking galaxy. A simple nice, easy to read book in a really simple language. It’s probably the right thing to do, but I am going to let Jispa take that call. Let’s see.

Lord almighty!

Man. God is in fashion. Real fashion. Many years ago I had been to Trambakeshwar and I remember it being a sleepy town and a sleepy temple. But last week I went there to be confronted with a three hour queue. Dam it, the architecture wasn’t even cool enough for me to wait in that line. And I am not too keen on worshipping stone. The queue outside the complex looked innocuous enough and we stood for an hour to get in to be faced with a long winding queue inside. Jasmine and I wanted out, but our friend and his wife wanted to stay. We would waited outside if not for Jispa who wanted to stay. Dam you Jispa. So we stayed on a snaking queue which was 22 lanes long. Another two hours. Very painful.
Only one way in and one way out. High metal bars so that people don’t jump the queue. Railings in the middle so that people don’t squeeze in thru the bars. Luckily there was a roof overhead and a few fans, but overall it was bloody tiring and hot. Here is a picture of Jispa waiting in the queue. I feel like cattle being herded in. Why do we mistreat our people thus? The people have no bloody option. There are only twelve special Shiva temples – the 12 jyotirlingas and if you want divine intervention you have to go in and pray there. After waiting for 12 hours, you get only 2 seconds in front of the deity with the ushers constantly pushing you out of there. The whole point of the 3 hour wait is to get an audience with God. To tell him I was there, that I waited. And my friends were very happy. They managed to get the Prasad that they had bought through to the God. The priest took their packet and touched it to the deity and gave it back to them. Awesome for them!
I got out of there and sat behind. Jispa came along and I explained to her; if enough people believe it, even a piece of stone can become a God. But I guess it works both ways. To me the lines show me that there is no God inside. This is pure delirium. To the others, the presence of this line might only ratify that there is not only a God in there, but a huge powerful God with boon granting facilities.
Its amazing how many people come in and follow rituals, how many try and beat the line, how many push and pull, how their tempers flare. How badly is the pilgrim treated? All this must an integral part of pilgrimage. Here is the photo of the line in which we stood. Its stupid and chaotic.



And if you think India is shining and that India is improving, one just has to look at the loo facilities provided. The common loo outside was a really bad place. It was dirty, dark, dingy and never cleaned. Luckily Jasmine had a scarf which she first gave me. I wrapped it around my face to get in. There was no way I could have held my breath for that long. In many loos in India we have suddenly understood that we can start charging money, but hell, we just understood that. We did not understand that after charging we must ensure hygiene and cleanliness.
Sacerdotal intercession. The belief that we need a conduit to get to God. The all-powerful Pandit in this case. He has a vested interest in keeping you insecure, in making you explain that all you need is a mantra or a ritual to set you free from the encumbrances in your way. I am lucky. I consider myself very lucky, I soon realized the fallacy in believing in this. I refused many years ago to believe in it. My mom and dad were practical about this yet we did go all over India to different places of religious interest, stood in lines, prayed and performed poojas. I think, like most others, we too were confused Jains. Fundamentally you can’t have the Jain and the Hindu faith intermingling in your mind. The Jain faith is about a way of life, a kind of athesism that says that the answer lies in living your life in a certain way. To give up desire and greed. The Hindu faith has pandits, who can help you. In Jainism there are monks who can only explain the path to you. But to my parents and to so many others I saw, it was all confusing. I like the way we called ourselves Hindu. Forget that – I love the way Shiva is a Hindu God when it seems there is no mention of him in the vedas. It seems he was a probably a tribal God of fertility or something that got well integrated into Hinduism. So many don’t even realize that the lingam in which form the God is worshipped is actually considered by many as a phallus (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingam) and it stands on the female organ. Of course there are numerous interpretations but people do worship blindly without knowing or understanding these concept as well.
But there is a line – a queue outside that is three hours long. And I dam it stood in it. Ok. In hindsight it was probably a smart decision. I don’t know what Jasmine and I would have done outside the temple complex for two hours in the heat. It isn’t like there is a café there to hang out in. no proper restaurants and like all Hindu towns, there are lots of cow, which produce copious amounts of cow dung. So the line was good. As the devout would say – you were there because God called you in there to witness his star presence. It was only willed by him. Cool. Thanks God. Was worth every penny. Just forgive me if I don’t do it again.

Sports mind

I guess it’s important to feel good as well. Brands make you feel good. Jispa has been swimming pretty good these days and I like the way her strokes have improved. And with the amount of swimming she has been doing, she did run out of costumes. Jasmines keeps around four to five costumes for her. You need these many if you are competing. In a typical competition she would take part in 5 races and you need to come out, change into a fresh costume and remain dry till your next race. So jasmine went yesterday to buy Jispa’s costumes. These are among the few things that I don’t like to see price. You get simple Indian costumes for around 500 bucks and you get the speedos or the even higher end Arena for upwards of 1500 bucks. Jispa prefers the Arena. She says it’s lighter in the water. And somehow the material and feel is much better. Though I am quite sure it would not influence her timing one bit.
As a kid, we hardly got the right material to play with. Not that I played any sport seriously but even a simple TT racquet would be the cheap one if any. I like buying good sports equipment. If you play the sport you have to buy the equipment. Many times it’s even a bit about feeling good. You can debate forever about how much impact it may have but there is no denying that having a better brand on your side makes you feel better. When I first started playing cricket I too had the hangover of days gone by. I did not have my own kit. No bat, no proper tracks, no proper shoes. The first thing I bought for myself was cricketing gloves. I was pretty proud of them. Then I remember buying pads and thigh guards. Finally only about a year back I bought proper cricket shoes. I would make do with the running sneakers till I realized at my age I was slipping and falling and not having rubber spikes on my soles was a bad thing. I even relished buying my squash racquet then upgrading it and then breaking it and buying another one in its place. That was really fun. I love the smell of new equipment, the feel of new equipment.
One colleague once remarked – Jispa is spoilt nah? I was like – no she isn’t. She definitely isn’t. But then I decoded the statement. Ya. I answered she is privileged. She definitely has more resources at her disposal than what I had at my age. She gets more shopping, more fun, more games, more books, and a lot more. We try and give her more but we try and not spoil her. Spoilt is a relative term. Sure we take the car and go roaming about. We don’t travel 2nd sleeper non AC. We stay good, we eat ok. But we don’t have a full time maid after her. She doesn’t get down from the car and expect someone will pick her bag. She has no right to on the air conditioning on her own. She walks where possible and she eats largely what’s decided upon. Sure she is privileged but I wouldn’t say she is spoilt.
And if I don’t buy three Arena costumes for my kid who swims 12 to 15 hours a week, what’s the point of taking shit from office. Hence when Jasmine called me and asked me, I said – sure. Buy them. She swims so much, she is doing decently well, the least of all she deserves is a costume she likes wearing. I don’t want her to go in the pool, eyeing another girl’s costume.
I was talking with my boss the other day. His son plays tennis at the inter-state level. There the costs are phenomenal. Costs for shoes every month, racquets, gutting, coach, a marker, etc. It easily comes to around a million rupees (10 lakhs) a year. and what do you make back from it? probably nothing. Unless you seriously break into the top league. Then I look at Jispa’s costume that lasts a year and look at the price and think – sure kid – buy one more. Here.
Here expenses will come if she breaks into something really big later. If she has to go abroad to train, then she buys those really specialized costumes, and does some serious Olympic level training. But till then I am a relatively happy soul and Jispa is relatively privileged girl.
Side note – she met and saw Rehan Poncha train at her swimming pool. He is India’s swimming hope at the upcoming London Olympics. She spoke to him about his training and food. And more importantly she saw his swim. She was gushing about it and was pretty excited. “He went so fast”. Jispa was lucky to see it. Champions are champions and when you play the sport seriously you realize what a champion is. Jispa could see the champion, his strokes, his power and his speed. She said – ‘dad, when he came out of the pool, his body looked like a triangle. Really big shoulders and a small waist… and his calf muscles had lines...”. I was happy that she saw a champion through the eyes of a sports person. I have always felt that one must play a sport. In nothing else you will understand a nuance to life. You will have a sportsperson’s mind and a sportsperson’s eye. Just being a dad to a swimmer has changed my perspectives to sports in general, I can only imagine what it might have done to Jispa. Mission accomplished.

swim for me

22 laps… that is 550 meters. That’s what I swam today. The most I have ever swum at one time. Wohooo.. I feel good. A few days back I found a trouser of mine closing a bit tighter. The scared me. I promised my self that I will swim hard now. Probably age is catching up. Metabolism is slower and the propensity to put on a rounder self is greater. Probably this was also due to two days of marriage revelry which was preceded by three days of conference. Five days of pure sugar. Feasting and pumping your body with sugar can only add a few inches to your mid riff. I have this tendency to binge on food and then completely stay off without even feeling any craving. It’s not like I punish myself when I am off fried or sweet food. It’s a natural shift. SO right now – I am healthy Sam. So I told Jispa that I will do 20 laps.
It’s always the best thing to announce your goal to someone. I keep telling myself and Jasmine and Jispa that I would do 20 laps. 20 laps. Out of which 10 will be in one go. So today morning also I told Jispa that I will hit 20. At six am I jumped in. There are some days when you somehow have reserve energy and you end up swimming quite well. The moment you hit the water you know this is going to be a good day. Your legs keep splashing and your hands glide through the water. Today … today… was NO such day. After the first lap, I was thinking about resting. The third lap and I wanted to stop. Legs not moving, hands not in sync, my reserve dipping and I was left wondering, what I ate last night. Why am I tired already? But a word made to Jispa was a word made to Jispa. If she does it, I have to as well. I started pushing myself. Four, five, six…. Then on it was good. You get tired but you are ok with it. The muscles then get used to it. Slowly slowly pushing it. Easy on the hands, hold your position. Keep kicking. Check body, head a little ahead, the arms must bend while pulling back, imagine you are pulling a rope, yes, keep going, push the water back. Everything that the coach told me was going through my head. Ten Down. A bit of rest and the next set begins. Taking a couple of breaks I finished the rest.
I sat out of the water, at the edge of the pool for a few seconds. Taking in the achievement. Wow. I have never swum so much at one time. 20 was a big goal of mine for some time. Now on to the next goal. 40 laps. That is a proper kilometer of swimming. Of course the mini goal on the way is the doing 20 without stopping. Another Big goal is to learn the tumble turn from Jispa. It seems that’s a tough one. You end up blowing out with force so that you don’t breathe in water when you somersault inside.
Now that my swimming style has been refined, one doesn’t get that stressed out post the swim. It a bit sore on the muscles but it’s not like I am limping or anything. Now I can really appreciate what Jispa goes through every day. In the evening many times while sleeping, Jispa requests us to press her legs. Especially when there has been a kicking session at the coaching camp. I have always loved massaging her legs. These days we have been using olive oil. It’s a dad thing I guess. I can understand but now I have the right to say – I almost truly understand her … pain? Well it’s not really a pain as she never really does complain about it. She seems to enjoy it. I once explained to her that her pain is due to muscles tearing and repairing and getting stronger. I think knowing the reason for pain is enough for her to bear it. Also she is doing something she loves. She enjoys her swimming, she enjoys improving her timing… and that’s pushing her forward. That’s important. I have always maintained that a motivation for a champion must come in from within. You can’t push from outside. I can’t push her. I won’t push her. I can only wake up in the morning at 5, wake her up by 5.15 and take her to the pool. That’s my deed. I can press her legs and give her a good diet. But the Pool is hers. I have to stay out.

Shopping requires growing up

It can get frustrating shopping with Jispa. Not that I really blame her. It’s just that as parents we need to grow up. Jispa is nine years old and like a good nine year old she has an opinion. Whatever the reason, whatever the thought process in her mind… how can I fault her for having an opinion? She just can refuse to wear something out of the blue. So we always get her to choose her clothes. These days I have been trying to get her to buy a dress. Too much jeans makes a tom boy. She has very clear stuff that she would like to wear. Rule one – no sleeveless. I don’t know why… she never gives a reason except – just! And most of the pretty dresses are just that – sleeveless. So this time I really picked her brain and told her to explain to me why she doesn’t want a dress. I finally cornered her. She was not clearing her preference because if she explained to us what she wanted and Jasmine got something basis that then she would have to wear it, whether she liked it or not. So she and I got into a pact. I would only buy what she liked and she would not be pressured into buying anything. In return she will shop with me for a dress. I finally understood what she wanted.
She wanted a simple solid color dress. No frills, no stupid embroidery, no extra flowers or motifs, not too much flair. Basically a women’s dress and not some baby Barbie pink floral dress. I like that. That’s my girl. It’s a different thing that we never did get anything to that specification.
But I think I figured a little bit more about her. She does not immediately explain her mind. She thinks a lot. Many times I tell Jasmine that don’t take her answers or behavior at face value. There is a lot she doesn’t tell and her mind ticks faster than anything else Jasmine has ever experienced. Be aware of her insecurities; be aware that she thinks a lot. She thinks about what you might think basis the answer she gives. She is two steps ahead of you. Not in a shrewd selfish way, but in an acute perceptive way. How do I know all this? Simple – I remember my childhood.
Now I think I might have got her shopping pulse - How am I to get shopping with her without my brains being fried? This time we went shopping for an Indian dress at fabindia. A Salwar kurta. I led her to the place. Showed her the designs and we quickly agreed to a piece to which I quickly agreed. She is an action lady not a dainty girl with a Barbie purse. Jasmine keeps blaming me for making a tom boy of her. What I realized one day, is that possibly Jasmine is the one influencing her dress sense. Jasmine never wears a dress. On a daily basis she is a sloppy dresser, being in a track and t shirt through the day. What role model does she have at home. No lipstick, no make up, pants and t-shirts. Further proof – Jispa loves chapsticks and guess what – jasmine applies chapstick. Jasmine will definitely point at me for a lot of things, but I guess here – she underestimates her role as a role model as well. It’s impossible that I am the root cause of all evil :).
So Jispa found her single color salwar kurta and tried it out for me. Man, has she grown up, she looked nice and cute and grown up. I am finally coming to terms with her growing up. It’s difficult but I have no choice. It’s a funny uneasy balance. I push her to grow up and behave on so many things, and then she keeps reminding and fighting for us to recognize that she is grown up. Whoops. This is one tug-o-war.
Here is she… trying one for size. She finally picked this one. I really like this photo. I really love her. Gosh.

haw many have you missed?

Finally I seem to be getting a grip over things. I guess this job change has been very good from a learning perspective. I joined here in November 2010. It’s been a year plus on the seat. With the benefit of hindsight I can say, I came in with a bit of arrogance. I thought I could radically change the way things are done around here. Give new direction to the way marketing must function, show the fellas a trick or two, ‘oh what a great boy am I’. Quickly I ended on the wrong side of things. No one likes to be shown that they are wrong. I realized that I wasn’t exactly entirely welcome here. People are resistant to change. Things change far more slowly in a large organization. Egos are volatile things. Everything can move must it requires a gargantuan force to move it. I am reminded of a phrase ‘when immovable object meets unstoppable force. Yes. It’s been tough. Very tough one year.
Also managing 15 heads is another challenge. I have to understand their jobs, their restrictions, their own strengths and their own weakness. Yesterday I arranged for a talk with the IT guys with my team. I thought it was pretty informative. Any one is worth listening to as long as he is saying something from his experience. The head of the department said something which I hope to never forget. He was talking about his a-ha moment when he changed some fundamental things about the structure of the trading engine. I asked him about the risks associated with the change. He said “we realized one thing. Whenever you do something it is very important to understand the limitations of what you can do. As long as you can understand that , you are not likely to go wrong”. Yup. It takes time to understand that. I think those words are golden. I too came in knowing my strengths, knowing that my strengths are my weakness, but I really did not know my limitations enough. I did not know the limitations of my team, I did not know the limitations of the infrastructure they are dealing with. Its easy for a guy who is new to the system to come in and say that the way things are run here …. It doesn’t make sense. But I learnt – and it’s taken me a year to learn, that things are difficult. Have patience, understand people, understand their limitations, and understand the limitations of the system. The fine line is to understand this yet push through change. Yet keep that fire. Of course I have to change the system, but by staying inside of it, not by being outside of it.
Wasn’t that the reason I left consulting and joined the business? The chance of doing real work and making a real impact by staying inside of it. That was my objective. No matter how smart you get, life always gets the better of you. That is the best part of it. It never ever fails to teach you a trick or two. You have to be willing to put your nose to the grind, bend and have patience.
Speaking of life, parenting also teaches you something every day. Every time when Jispa sleeps we know she will rotate quite a bit. She twists herself in unimaginable postures. She flips around and changes her pose in ways you think are impossible. So every time she sleeps, I put a bunch of pillows on the floor. She might fall anytime and at least the pillow will help. Sometimes, she likes to sleep in our room. We put the mattress and make her bed on the ground. Then as a precaution I put a pillow near the leg of the bed, just in case she hits it, then near an edge near the wall, just in case she hits it, then near the cupboard, just in case she hits it. The day before, she wanted to sleep inside. We let her. I helped her make the bed. And I missed putting the pillows. Also she’s grown up now. At four am, I hear a thud followed by her saying ‘ouch’. I get up to see her sitting up and rubbing her head while she saying something. I ask her what happened. “ I hit the bed”. “oops, don’t worry, go back to sleep, its ok, I will put a pillow there”. Now she is old enough not to cry on getting hit. She went back to sleep. In the morning I asked her how was her head. She looks at me for a second and remarks “oh, I thought it was a dream”.

That’s the thing with parenting – you don’t know how many you have saved, but you surely know how many you miss. I won’t know how times my prudence will have saved her, but I will definitely know when I missed doing something and it resulted in something bad happening.Hah!

I have been writing.... elsewhere

I have written stuff that has appeared in press before but it was always for someone else. Sometimes for the business head, or sometimes on a product. But this one was published in my name. It’s not a great achievement for sure. Online sites are always hungry for content… but hell… it’s there, isn’t it?
I don’t expect great views, reviews, comments but the essence of it is pretty much strong. It is pretty much strong marketing fundamental stuff. That I am ready to risk my neck out. Read on only if you are marketing inclined, else it’s not likely to be of much use. Though I did try to simplify it.
Thanks Dharen if it sounds good. And if it doesn’t – I am sorry. I probably did not get it right.
http://www.exchange4media.com/45298_font-colorredguest-articlefont-so-you-think-that%E2%80%99s-a-nice-ad-eh.html

Because its there

On Saturday Jispa had her sports day. She is a nice light tall runner. I have a lot of problems with her running style but have learnt not to correct them. She seems to be jumping around taking strides longer than natural. I think she loses too much energy and effort in her bid to run faster. But nevertheless – she struck three golds. The max possible. The 50 meter dash, 200 M and the relay.
A few weeks back, she told us that from this year onwards she has a 200M race. It involves a circular track and she was wondering why not all the kids start on the same line. I explained the dynamics of length alongside a curve to her. I also told her that for her good, its probably the best thing to be at the innermost circle. This way, she would always be trying to catch up and suddenly on the last curve she would turn the fastest and find herself in an amazing lead. Being on the outer curve gives the illusion on being in the lead at the start and one could possibly slow down.
When we saw the race on Saturday, we realized that the 200M race allowed for lane change from the start itself. They only gave curved starting line a la the 1500M race. But she was still starting from the inside lane and she ran well to win. She tailed till around the 100M mark, which was more due to the staggered starting line than anything else. Pretty cool. She also ran the first leg of the relay to give her team a good lead which they comfortably held on to, actually increased it, till the end.
Then came the father’s events. I had my knee jammed a few weeks back playing squash. It’s an old injury which somehow came back to haunt me. Basically I twisted my right knee and my ligaments became loose. I had been half nursing the knee. A few days back Jasmine asked me if I was participating and I said no way. She seemed cock sure I would be. She asked me a couple of time more in the days coming upto the event. She did seem a bit eager. On the event day she even kept abreast of the schedule. She seemed so keen that I decided to run. Love is blind and combined with vanity it is completely stupid. Wearing my knee cap I trudged towards the starting line. Ready to run dude. Ready to run. The heart rate moves up a bit in anticipation. The Mind is focused on the finishing line. You take the track line that seems to offer less gravel. It’s a relatively less crowded line. I began observing how the guy was giving the clap. What is the giveaway. As he is about to slap the boards he first takes them slightly away before bringing them together. That’s your cue. That split second gives you the start faster than others. Impossible to catch and perfectly legal. Your muscles just push the ground a spit second faster. I pushed off the starting line. Legs pushing up and hitting the ground hard. Only the ball of the foot and toes hitting the ground. I was in a comfortable lead. Running hard, I felt an effortless glide. It was one of my best runs. I was enjoying every moment of it. Half way through I could see no one beside me, and I also contemplated slowing down for the final leg, till I felt a twitch. My knee. Dam. My knee. The muscles had come lose around it. STOP. There is no glory in walking out of the stadium in a crutch. I stopped and walked off the track. I did it. I screwed my knee completely.
No regrets though. I started well, I ran really nice and I would have won. That’s all I need. And in the process I just pushed my knee recovery a few weeks. Worth it. In mind I stay on as the fastest father. What else do I need? A little bit of prudence, possibly? Next time.
Winning at 36 feels good. When I entered college I was 58kgs with a 28 inch waist. I feel ill often enough. I had no muscles and a really wiry frame. My god I was a thin weakly child. I loved sports but wasn’t fit enough to follow through on it. It’s taken a lot many years to come to a winning position. In my cricket team there is a player who even played Ranji in his heyday. He is now a pale shadow, he put on weight and I outscore him. I got a bit better over the years and the others simply deteriorated. For some people life blooms late.
I never thought I would swim, play squash, cricket or run this much, so late in my life… and actually be half decent at it. It’s a dream I am living. And so when people asked me after the event why did I run, or why would I want to spend half the day in a hot sun laying cricket, or why would I get into the pool early morning in the cold. What can I tell them? What answer do I give?
George Mallory is famously quoted as having replied to the question "Why do you want to climb Mount Everest?" with the retort "Because it's there", which has been called "the most famous three words in mountaineering. I guess no one will understand a real reason and this is the best answer to give.
I play because is there to play. I run because I have legs to run.

Speak it, pur pyar se (but with love)

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

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

we know not what we want

When I was a kid I always fancied myself as an actor. I knew I had the emotional range, I knew I did not have stage fright and it surely can’t take this much to win an elocution competition. I could be loud, I could be clear and I could have tons of expressions. But the truth is… I did not win any competition. How could I? you need to take part if you want to win.
Jispa has taken part every year in her school elocution competition. She is pretty cool, loud and she loves to modulate her voice and give out emotions while reciting. But she never hit the first place yet. Either second or third. That is good for me. I always wanted her to participate but I was pretty cool, if she won or not. Winning is a combination of a lot of things. The choice of poetry is also important. It must be difficult, allow for a range of emotions, long and stuff like that. So finishing in the top tree ain’t too bad.
Especially as Jispa is home coached in elocution. A lot of them from school go for elocution or speech and drama class. I find the very idea ridiculous. Why would need a class for this. Of course as one grows up and if one wants to this up seriously then it’s important to do it professionally, but for now I think the classes for the kids in the subject is nothing but a sham. And of all people, I can do enough for her now. So far I seem to have been proven right.
Our process – first thing, Jasmine and me sit and search for the right poetry. In the English elocution, I just have to open my collection of Shel Silverstein books and there – a large collection of fun poems that allow for tone to be varied during the recital as well as allow for a crucial twist in the end. For Hindi, the problem is far more severe. Till last year, we had a collection of cheap Hindi books that helped us choose a nice poem. Fun poem. But now we have exhausted the stock. No more long, fun, interesting poems there.
So this year I hit the internet in the hope of searching for a nice poem. But I did not even know where to start – elocution poems for kids? Harivanshrai Bacchan? What should I search for? I tried a few forums, a few blogs, anything; in the hope that I would hit something at least. I had been in the past searching for a poem I heard in my school elocution competition. I remember it being funny and the guy had won the competition. All I could remember of it was – gol hai kaise dhara, gol puri papad, isliya masterji, dhara bhi gol hai, marks bhi gol hai… something something. These were just words in between. They weren’t even coherent lines of the paragraph. All these years I returned a blank.
This time while searching on the net I tried some phrases from the poem again and BINGO! It was bloody there. I found the poem. I went crazy. After all these years. I must have been in the eight grade – that’s about in the year 1989 I must have heard the poem for the first time and then I saw it again. The poem name was Vinti (full poem at the end of the blog). Wow. I read through it. It was the same funny poem. But there was one catch. It seemed too advanced for Jispa. In fact to seemed too advanced for me. I did not understand some words I did not know how to pronounce some other words. Dam. What to do?
I showed Jasmine and decided to send the print to school and let the teacher decide. It got selected and we proceeded to get Jispa to learn it. We went too sure of a lot of meanings and pronunciations so we specifically asked Jispa to get it checked form her school Hindi teacher. And we explained the general meaning of the words, sentences and the poem to Jispa. Jispa is now a pro. She put in her own emotions and all we have to do is to mildly correct it here and there. Jasmine and I are also pretty tired these days. We have our hands full managing Jispa’s hectic schedule. We hardly have any time left for practicing elocution. In the evenings, jispa comes home and eats and gets ready and poof… she is asleep.
So Jispa put in a lot of emotions herself and a lot of the grammar and pronunciations were taken care of by her teacher. We put in a few corrections and she was off to go. She told me that her elocution date is a few days off, and then on the D day in the morning, I suddenly asked – it’s today isn’t it. AH yes. ok. best of luck. Jasmine went “aren’t you supposed to wear your normal uniform today for the elocution?”. Oops. Today she was wearing her PE uniform as it was PE day. So I ran inside to iron her uniform and we packed it in and left. One quick round and a few guidelines, a few reminders to be loud and clear and …. She was on her own.
19th Jan 2012. Also our 13th marriage anniversary. Jasmine calls in the afternoon and says “your daughter is such an ass.” “Now what?” I enquire. “She came in and looked all sad. She got in the car and turned her face towards the glass and refused to talk. I kept asking her what happened and then she turned and screamed – I WON!”. Yaaaaaa… good one wow... let me talk to her now..
Now I have always maintained. Forget the results, just focus on having a good time and whether the crowd laughed or clapped. The result is the judge’s problem. That’s what I always told her. SO while I was excited how could I show that on the call? I was excited beyond all what I thought I would be. so I said, “ hey, wow, Dam cool, did the crowd enjoy?” I tried recollecting all the questions I asked the last year when she finished second best and asked them again – when did the crowd laugh, which part they found funny, what did the teachers say, did the judges laugh etc etc. She said, that she came first and she beat K (name withheld). K is the one who normally comes in first. She goes for drama class and Jispa looks up to her. Jispa normally resigns to second place knowing that K is better.
It was a tough moment. I was on top of the world. I did not know that winning the elocution meant so much to me as well. Why? Not that I wanted her to win so much. I was perfectly ok missing first place, coming second or third. Finishing strong and pushing the barriers was what I was always keen on. As I said ‘the result is for the judge, not for the participant’.
I came home to hear the story better. Jispa was a little nervous this time it seemed when the results were getting announced. She was a bit jittery, when the third place was announced. Then there was a joint second result with K and I. Here is where she got ‘wobbly knees’ in her words. She was excited and possibly scared. All or nothing situation. And then it was announced that she had WON! She screamed and she felt like crying. She said that her eyes were moist and she was really excited. Those around her, wished her and some it seems hugged her. And when she went to class, the girls all pounced on her like every time. She is a legend in her class. K is one year older to her and hence in a higher class.
I came in and was emotional for the rest of the evening. I don’t know why – I felt ecstatic and I felt like crying as well. I think over time my tears seemed to have been dried up but I definitely felt the twinge in my eyes. I also felt like screaming and I felt like jumping. I did not know it meant so much to me, I had no clue. Why was I feeling so strong about this? I kept looking at jasmine and I thought I would burst any time. Jasmine knows how much I have wanted to act and how much this means to me.
While I was having a shower, jasmine comes in and tells me. “I told jispa, that papa is always proud of you, but this time he is extra proud of you.” Then she said that “Jispa said, that’s because papa likes elocution a lot nah and he taught me a lot of it and I corrected her saying that papa always wanted to do these things but never got to”. I came off the shower and went to put Jispa to sleep. As usual, her legs were hurting from the swimming and I was to oil and massage her legs. Jispa spoke “I know why you are extra proud of me”. Well yes “I am extra proud, because I always wanted to do well in elocution. When I was in school, we were three kids. India wasn’t so rich, so our parents did what they did best, pushed us to study. We had only one chance to do well in life, and that was by being good in studies. So they pushed us for that and did not encourage us for elocution. I wanted to be a part of elocution, or drama or debate, mom would not really encourage. The only time I did something was when I refused to listen to her and took part in dramatics to win the second best actors award in the play ‘the watermelon cure’. We were asked to study. Mom was busy with running a nursery to get some extra cash, then three kids, home work and everything else. so she focused only on study study study. So funnily while I always tell you it not so important to win, suddenly I am all excited and extra proud now that you have won. It a funny feeling”
Three days hence also while writing this blog I am so bloody emotional. When I first saw her on stage in school, I was a bit emotional. Now that she did well in elocution I am emotional. It means much more than what I thought it meant. What the hell. How little we know of ourselves. As parents the dreams we dream for our kids in spite of our best efforts are bloody ours. We keep trying to avoid mistakes our parents made (or seemed to have made), we want for them what we would have wanted for ourselves, we give them the infrastructure we wished for and want them to win what we wanted to. Funny. This all in spite of repeatedly, and intentionally trying to be a parent that says, its your life, your desires, your feelings. Live them the way you want to. Well at least we are aware of this. What about the kids who parents push them hard towards their own dreams. We may not push, but I got so emotional when she achieved what I buried well down inside of me. My God, am I tired, happy and content. I slept thinking I don’t want anything else of her… at least for now :). Till dream again… knowing or unknowingly.

---- ps - how tough it is to be a parent. I was visibly excited in office and one friend said, take something for her today, a gift. I said - how can I? I always tell her its not important to win and I show no great emotion - win or lose - how can I take a gift for WINNING if i dont take for losing? dam parenting. Bloody hell.

http://www.hyd-masti.com/2008/05/vinti.html

Vinti

hey prabhu itni vinay meri sun lijiye,
is baar meri naav ko us paar tho kar deejiye,
my nahi dartha pralay se ya kisis toofan se,
kaampti hai ruh meri par sadha imthihaan se.

taay-taay taay taay roj rat tha hoon prabhu,
raat din panne palatha hoon prabhu,
bhagya mein na jaane kaun sa abhishaab hai,
raat ko ratna subah maidaan milta saaf hai.

akal ko algebra jayegi jad se pacha,
3 mein se 6 gaye tho aur kya baaki bacha,
pee gayi english humari khopadi ke khoon ko
main samaj na paaya is betuke majmoon ko
paas hona chahata tha fail mujhko kar diya,
zindagi bhar main likh na paya chekislovakiya.

naash ho itihaas ka sun ke samundar beh gaye,
mar gaye woh log rone ke liye hum rah gaye,
shah jahan, humayun, akbar sahab tha,
kaun tha beta na jaane kaun kiska baap tha,
bhoo gol mein ek prashn aaya gol hai kaise dhara.

ek hi pal mein humne likh diya uttar se khara,
gol poodi, kachodi, poohe, papad gol hai,
gol ras gulla, jalebi gol laddu gol hai,
jhoom uthe masterji is anokhe gyaan se
likh diya parche par unhone badi shaan se,
teek hai beta humari lekhni bhi gol hai,
gol hai syahi humari, number bhi tumhara gol hai.
kya karo hindi, maana mujhko isme aata nahi,
laakh sir jakhjhortha kuch samaj pata nahi
gadhya ho ya padhya dono kaal hai mere liye,
dono samajho ji ka janjaal hai mere liye
haay hindi ki jagah main aaj hinda likh gaya,
bainsa ko pashu ki jagah main parinda likh gaya,

prabho chod kar saare sahare aagaya hoon dwaar par,
maar ghoonsa laat thaapad kintu baed paar kar,
hai dayamay har tarah se main daya ka paatr hoon,
naam hai deepti mera is desh ki chaatr hoon.

SANDHYA SHANKAR

no fun robbing what you get on a platter

I have often said that my parenting rule is not to make the mistakes that I thought my parents did. Also at the same time I love remembering the stuff I enjoyed and I try to get the same thing done with Jispa. But I think I might rob her of some fun by being a little over enthusiastic parent.
Look at the picture below. Does it ring a bell? Does it evoke fond memories of raiding fridges and having it when no one was looking?



We often had an open can of milkmaid in the fridge. Milkmaid for uninitiated is sweetened condensed milk. Yummy. It is often used in Indian recipes like kheer or the sorts. So whenever mom made stuff like kheer or halwa we often had a half-finished can lying in the fridge. One of the things we kids loved to do, was raid the fridge. And an open milkmaid can was a really mouthwatering invitation. We dived in and put our finger in it and then ran out licking the finger. Of course we also used a spoon. I don’t think that was for reasons of hygiene. It was plain greed. A spoon carries much more than your finger.
Slowly but surely the half-finished can would become empty and mom would reach out and scream – who ate the milkmaid. Well, it was a pretty useless question. There are three kids in the house. Everyone knows that we all ate it, one spoon at a time. And during vacations it was one spoon at a time, three times a day – just like the doctor ordered :). That’s nine spoons a day. Enough to finish it in 4 to 5 days. But it was so yum. Nobody would own up and mom would simply get exasperated.
The condensed milk was bought just to make the delicacies and not to be consumed raw. It was a treat, not regular meals. But how can you explain that to three kids.
Recently I got Jasmine to buy condensed milk to make fruit salad. I was explaining to her how it’s done. We simply add half a can to a litre of milk and put in as many fruits you can think of. So obviously half a can was left to consume in whichever way we wish. I called Jispa. I was a bit surprised; she did not know what this was. She hadn’t tasted condensed milk yet. I guess it’s a cultural thing. My mom made a lot of stuff using condensed milk but Jasmine doesn’t use it a lot. She simply boils the milk for some time and makes her own. Hence while I loved it while growing up, jispa seems to have so far passed it by.
Not wanting her to miss out on this, I made her taste it. YUMMMY… she went. How can anyone pass up on think sweetened milk? It’s an instant like button. Then I put a spoon in it. See pic above and I told her, it’s in the fridge. You can have it any time. Just be careful not to drop it while eating it. It is quite gooey.
So I gave her the freedom to do something I loved doing, but I unwittingly took a crucial element out of it, which probably made it quite flat. I removed the forbidden from forbidden fruit. So while she will like it, she will never be able to write a blog on how she robbed a few spoons from the fridge. Whoops. I just sanitized her childhood.I even put it in the fridge with a spoon inside. :(
Jispa also doesn’t raid the fridge a lot. She seems content most of the time. Also most of the time, Jasmine is trying to get her to eat. And as she is a swimming kid, we try to get her to eat sweets, chocolates and the works. Why would you raid something that is forced down your throat?
Also another crucial thing is that she doesn’t have siblings. We were three of us. If something went missing, whom can you blame? It’s impossible to get to the root of the crime. Most of the time parents will run in circles trying to apportion blame. Here, Jispa will be the only person found at the scene of the crime. But a lot of times, I try and fill that gap. I irritate her and then she gets angry and complaints to mom and I tell her it’s futile, you will only make Jasmine irritated and you will get equal shit. Yet she complains and I make faces behind Jasmine. This time Jasmine saw me doing it the last time and I got a scolding from her and Jispa was pretty happy. Jasmine keeps saying – she has two kids in the house.

Hmmm. The curse of parenting – no matter what you try, you will always miss something. To not allow milkmaid is being mean, to allow is to remove the fun of raiding it.

new things

Hey, Christmas passed us by without Santa visiting. He broke a tradition lasting more than five years I think. Oops. Are nine years old off Santa’s visiting list? This time Jispa was spending the Christmas at her Nani’s house. Jasmine and I all forgot about it till in the evening. We then called Jispa to ask her about it. Oh its ok she said. I don’t want anything this time around.
Normally Jispa’s always a content kid. She doesn’t ask for too much. She is ok with what she has. So Christmas is no great occasion. From when I can remember, she was always happy to ask for some small gift, that too on being repeatedly asked. So I don’t really understand the stress stories about parents rushing to buy the Christmas toy. It’s so Hollywood! Possibly we still have some time before crass commercialization pervades our lives. I guess I am happy that Jispa was born at a slightly better time. I see it getting more and more commercial as the toy shops keep opening in the city. Five years back we hardly had shops dedicated to toys. I remember once going to a shop called big tom or something in Colaba. It was the only half decent Toy shop at the time along with another one called ‘souvenirs’. There is one tucked away in breach candy behind Premsons as well. But none of them were anywhere near the experience that Hamleys, which opened in Phoenix, provides.
So I asked Jispa – “do you really believe in Santa?”. “I don’t know” she replied. “serious, tell me”. “I think I believe around 70%”. What the hell. Ya sure. The kid is kidding with me. She is playing me. I am sure she knows there is no such thing and she knows that its dad and mom writing and gifting, but she seems to be enjoying the ride. I guess here I am at fault. Because I think that it was me who told her – it doesn’t matter whether you believe in it or not. You got your gift and that’s something real. Right? Hehehe. Parenting is a circle. You get back exactly what you give.
So this Year, jispa was not surprised and excited on Christmas eve. I remember her five years ago getting all excited about Christmas and super excited that Santa had come in the night while she was asleep. That video is my favorite video. You know we take a lot of photographs and videos. We see the photos immediately after the trip or occasion, but the videos are the real hero. The value of the video dramatically increases after a period of time. You want to sit and watch old videos. Somehow the photos just get lost. Possibly because there are too many of them. There are atleast two for every moment.
When we were kids dad had photography as a hobby. He bought an SLR – was it Nikon or Cannon?. He bought a set that included a camera, standard lens, a wide angle lens and a tele lens for shooting long distance. Then he went and got a slide projector. So he shot most of his photos with a slide reel which was different from the normal reel you put inside the camera. If anyone reads this post after 15 years – yes – upto ten years back we put reels in cameras. They could typically take upto 36 photos and then we would send it to the photo lab for processing and printing. So dad would have these slides that we would project on the wall using a projector. The projector was a really wild thing. No one I knew had one in India. (remember – we were a deprived country). So photo sessions were family time when the whole family huddled around the hall, pulled the curtains and watched the slides of vacations and events. It was a fun thing. We would even subject guests to this torture. We assumed they loved it. In India, I think they were just too dazed with all this technology to say anything. Set up the projector on the stool and start. The fight amongst siblings was to control the remote for the projector that sent the slides forward or backward. Just for the record the remote was not cordless. That was fun.
I enjoyed it so much that a lot of my photos till around the time Jispa was born were on slides. Our trip to Leh as well. I think I bought my first digital camera in 2004. Mom never actually let me use Dad’s camera too much. It was expensive equipment and we must use it with care. It soon rusted away with no real use. The wheel of progress is brutal. It is important to discard to get something new. Throw out the old to make space for something new.
The pace of this change seems too fast, it seems to have quickened. I think it’s just that we were not used to it. A protected environment holds on to the old. I guess it realizes that new will not come in a hurry. But if you break these shackles and constantly update yourself with something new, you will find yourself forced to throw out the old. Sure there is warm comfort in the known, but progress lies with the unknown. Not that it is good or bad. It’s not a value judgment, but merely an observation. Whne in doubt – go for the new.

What parent are you?

The big girl doesn’t like skinny fit jeans. She doesn’t like them period. But didn’t we ask you before we bought them? Did you not try them out? Yes I did. Yes I said yes, but I don’t like them anymore. Arrggghhhh! Now you tell me what should we as parents do?
Should we just be sweet parents and say – Oh its ok sweet heart? That’s all right. You can just buy stuff and then decide not to wear them, because you don’t like them. Its ok to change your mind. Or should we tell her, no you bought them you will wear them. You better not throw them. Or should we say – hey. That’s not done but its ok… this time is ok but the next time, you are in for trouble if you do that. Or I am not going to buy you anything else. or if you throw them then the next pair of denims are going to come from your pocket money. A ha… the last one also promotes that its ok to throw as long as you can afford to do so. Money comes and money goes, its ok.
And hold on – it’s not that this is happening for the first time. We have bought stuff before after she has tried them and then decided that she doesn’t like them. She gets stuck on certain things. If there is a phase of denims then it’s that, shorts – then it’s that – one particular t shirt – then that’s that. The problem is giving too much of choice to your young one. Well it’s not that it is a problem. We are teaching them to think. To choose and then to be responsible for their decisions.
With movies – Jispa seems to have a definite choice when it comes to movies. There are movies she wants to see and those she doesn’t want to. It might be this and I might not like it and blah blah. She tends to stay within the baby animations which are always a safe bet. While we were renting movies, I had to put my foot down and get her to rent movies like Flubber, Jumanji and honey I shrunk the kids. I am taking them as I am not watching any more kiddie animations. Sure I like animations but there is a limit to it. I can’t watch animations all the time, especially if I have seen them multiple times. I even had to put my foot down and take complete silly movies like Daddy day care, just to change her genre of movies. See other movies dude. Just recently she did not want to see Tintin. Dam you man. It’s a nice movie. I did not insist too much as I hate watching 3D movies and funnily I haven’t come across any one in my circle who actually enjoys watching them. But that is another story. So I kept quiet till I saw that there was a show in Regal in 2D. Ok that’s not so bad is it? So I put my foot down again and we ended up seeing it. All these movies Jispa has come out happy. She liked them all.
I then rib her – you did not want to see it nah? Yesterday I sat her down and had a chat – dude – you have to see other stuff in life. You have to experiment. Just because you might not like it doesn’t mean that you don’t see it. Come on man. Why would you not take the risk? What do you have to lose?
Helicopter parents – from Wikipedia
“Helicopter parent is a colloquial, early 21st-century term for a parent who pays extremely close attention to his or her child's or children's experiences and problems, particularly at educational institutions. The term was originally coined by Foster W. Cline, M.D. and Jim Fay in their 1990 book Parenting with Love and Logic: Teaching Children Responsibility, although Dr. Haim Ginott mentions a teen who complains, "Mother hovers over me like a helicopter..." on page 18 of the bestselling book Between Parent & Teenager published in 1969. Helicopter parents are so named because, like helicopters, they hover closely overhead, rarely out of reach, whether their children need them or not. In Scandinavia, this phenomenon is known as curling parenthood and describes parents who attempt to sweep all obstacles out of the paths of their children. It is also called "overparenting". Parents try to resolve their child's problems, and try to stop them coming to harm by keeping them out of dangerous situations.
Some college professors and administrators are now referring to "Lawnmower parents" to describe mothers and fathers who attempt to smooth out and mow down all obstacles, to the extent that they may even attempt to interfere at their children's workplaces, regarding salaries and promotions, after they have graduated from college and are supposedly living on their own. As the children of "helicopter parents" graduate and move into the job market, personnel and human resources departments are becoming acquainted with the phenomenon as well. Some have reported that parents have even begun intruding on salary negotiations.”
Dam hell… there is a thin line between helicopter parents and involved parents. We can have more than one child as we want to be involved with the child. We face bumps and trials as kids and we struggled to ensure that our kids have easier lives, but not that easy. What is ‘that’ easy? How easy is easy. How tough is tough. How big is a big bump? What should be allowed and what should be disallowed? These are difficult questions as there is no mathematical formula. Or even a magical one.
To take the case of the lawnmower parent – what’s the opposite of that one? Speed Breaker parent? When we see that it’s possible to just chuck the jeans out of the window and say – forget it kid. It’s only a denim and it’s ok. That’s being a lawnmower, but then to say no – shut up and wear it, that’s being a speed breaker parent. The road is smooth but you are throwing up speed breakers to break the speed. But then to know about it and to try and do something about it –this way or that – that’s being a helicopter parent. What the hell. You just can’t win. So you are trying to balance the act this way or the other. I don’t want to be a helicopter, a speed breaker or a lawn mower. I want to be DAD! Plain and simple DAD. I want her to grow up but not get too hurt. I want her to be independent but yet be able to connect. I want to play with her yet let her go to her friends place to play. I want her to experience different things, new flavors, and new ideas, break out… yet be happy being by herself within the warmth of familiarity. Oh God…How difficult can that be?
As we grow up together – I am molding her and she is molding me / us. That’s parenting. So I guess that’s Clay Parenting. Soft enough and hard enough. Just right for molding. Not fall in a heap and not hard enough to use a chisel. And not play dough that you can keep playing with. Everything we do will slowing have lasting impressions. Like a potter’s wheel, it’s constantly on. Constantly shaping. Only thing is that in the cliché one expects the child to be the clay as the potter is molding but here, we all are clay and we all are potters.
Aila – too much philosophy for now. Now can I borrow an action movie please?

Foot notes: -
a quiz to help you figure if you are a helicopter parent (here)

A small comic :)



TIME -The growing backlash against over parenting (here) -

CNN – How to ground a helicopter parent (here)

FOOT FOOT NOTE –
Jispa told us only a few days back but this happened some time back in class. Her teacher asked a question to the class ‘why are flamingoes pink’. One kid answered because they eat pink fish. Teacher said – very good. Good answer. Jispa raised her arm and said, no miss. It is because of the algae they eat. NO that’s wrong. Oh God. Flamingoes don’t eat fish. They eat algae and shrimp. And they get the pink color from the algae and shrimp. It seems they have something like carotenoids that given the flamingos the color. Now what do you want us parents to do? So I checked Google and told Jispa that she was right and her teacher was wrong, to which Jispa said, the chapter on birds is over. I said ok and next time if she says something that the teacher doesn’t know, come back and we will check it up. Then you can go to school with the right answer and a print out if you wish. Or forget it. At least now she knows that her teachers aren’t the final authority in this world. Google can change a lot.