ashes to ashes....

One era’s terrorist is another era’s freedom fighter. Who is right who is wrong?  It’s impossible for us to sit and pass judgment. Yes it’s wrong to kill but shouldn’t we take a second to understand why would somebody send someone to kill other people or why someone would do something like this in the first place. While we Indians sit and pass judgment on some many issues we don’t take a second to think about the atrocities we might have inflicted on others. There are mass unmarked tombs being uncovered in Kashmir, thousands missing, torture inflicted upon, rapes committed. We miss this and it’s just passes us by.

Ajmal Kasab was one of those who came into Mumbai as a part of the terror attack and killed people and spread mayhem. He was the only one caught alive. Surely he is guilty. And surely as the rule of the land allows, he must be tried fairly and then most obviously hanged. That’s the rule of the law. If you like it great, if you don’t – then try and change it, it’s a democracy. And if you cant change it, then you are welcome to live elsewhere if you can’t bear it. These are plain truths.

Ajmal had to be hanged. The evidence was overwhelming. He was caught on photos, in the act and on CCTV cameras. Unlike the Afzal Guru case of the Parliament attacks this seems to be an open and shut case. Simple. In fact the verdict was passed by the millions of Indians who saw the drama unfold. HANG HIM. We simply were angry at the extensive trial that was undertaken. We were angry that a ‘terrorist’ was given a fair trial that lasted so long. Forgetting that only a fair trial can label you thus.

But that’s still not the point of it this blog. Today morning he was, by the law of the land, hanged till death. Done. There was no doubt in my mind that he would be hanged and that this was his ultimate fate. But today as I saw the news spread on Facebook, I was saddened. Very saddened. There was talks of a party, there was rejoicing, show of bravado, finally we did it, about time, etc. Ya sure. We hanged one misguided youth. Without thinking why, how and under what circumstances did he do it? Possibly he was a mercenary, paid to kill as a Wikipedia entry tells me. But I still couldn’t be happy seeing the revenge in people’s mind. KILL. HANG. DIE. I don’t know. I somehow don’t have those feelings and I did not like seeing them in my friends. Revenge is not a great feeling. Yes he must die, as is the law, but the law doesn’t tell us to rejoice on it.

So yes, I am happy that the law took its course. I am happy that the procedure was followed. A court was appointed who in turn appointed a competent lawyer to represent Ajmal, his mercy petition was sent to the President, dutifully rejected and the procedure was carried out. That’s a good thing. Still it took four years. Wow, if a high profile case can take four years, its no wonder that cases of lower national attention take so long. But still, I cant be happy that someone died. Simple. It may be a good thing. Someday India’s most wanted man, who is holed up in Karachi may die, but still, while it may be a good thing for a larger set of people, death on anyone can’t be a thing to rejoice.

I can’t be at the party hall attending a funeral party. I don’t know. So much hatred for something we know little about. What were his motivations, how was he brainwashed, why did he do this? All this while his handlers continue to plot further.

Revenge is such a primal instinct. We want it. We strive for it. we are gladdened by it. Even I am prone to this. I too like it when my tormentors get a dose back. But I have learnt differently over a period of time. Forgive, let go. Let karma take care of the situation. KARMA? Where did that come from? For a guy who is decidedly non religious, where is Karma coming in from. I have no clue. Karma is something I use to explain things beyond my control. In simple – you somehow get back the fruits of your actions or inactions. It’s simple. No past life, no future life. You and those connected to you affect what you do and what you get. It’s not like a balance sheet which balances it. Sometimes you get good and sometimes you get bad. But good or bad, the circle of control is internal more than external.

But anyways, its surely a time to think and introspect not rejoice and dance like the cannibals over the mortal remains of a man. Sorry I can do that.

Yesterday I was watching Pushpak, the dialogue less movie from the 1980’s. I remember it final sermon being – the ultimate destiny for any man is … death. So that it is. Whether it was senior right leaning politician who died a few days back of natural causes, who was seen as a messiah by one set and a perpetrator of violence by another; or Ajmal  - one set who sees him as a martyr and another as a terrorist. The deal I ask for is stoic. Quiet observer. Seeing life play out in its many hues. Quietly sitting on the bank and seeing all the ripples made and guessing what designs they will make when they collide. Learning no more than to observe and wryly smile.

admit it, write it

OK. I don’t like going bald. I always thought I was prepared for it. But I think … no … I know… I am ill prepared for it. I don’t like it. Fundamentally I don’t think I am narcissist. But the whole thing is irritating me. I don’t really have a major issue with it but I hate the way it’s looking right now. I have a different problem. Problem 1 – I don’t like a hairstyle that makes others think that I am hiding my balding. So definitely I am not growing the sides of me hair and combing it over the top to cover it. Surely not an option. The other thing is that I am not growing the little hair I have on the top itself to cover for the ones missing. So I can’t grow my hair anything more than a little. Because then it looks to me that I am hiding my bald patches. So that is also not an option. So the only option is to cut it short. But not too short. Because in that case it looks even funnier :). Arrrggghhh. I admit. I don’t know how to deal with this issue.

My dad was bald and all my memories with him are of him almost bald. Atleast my daughter has a good ten years of memories of me not so bald. That’s the good part.

So in photos now days, they tell the truth. They call it like they see it. BALDING. And that is irritating me. The people in office calling me bald or pointing to my bald spot – that’s not so irritating but my photos…. They seem to be irritating me. WHY? I hate this. My rational brian is calling me a narcissist but I hate being called that by anyone…. Including me.

So I was telling Jasmine. The first thing I see on the photos is the bald spot. She told me that its not that prominent. I know sweetie and that’s what’s irritating me more than anything else. The fact that it is not prominent but it is irritating me is irritating me all the more. Arrrgghhhh. Dam it. What to do.

The thing is when reality hits you in the face you know what your true nature is. And I don’t like seeing my true nature on this one at least. Its bloody irritating. I was having enough struggles handling my age related issues. My knees hurt my back hurts, I can’t jump over stuff that I used to. I still am much, much fitter than almost all in office and many in my age group, but those are not my standard. My standards are mine. And for hair – I did not have any standards. I only combed my hair once a day. I hardly looked at it then. The bathroom mirror was just a quick glance and a quick run through on the hair and I was done. For years as a teenager I did not know what to do with my hair. My mom called me a golliwog thanks to my hair. It was a thick unruly mop all over the place. I tried all the barbers I could afford but it was to no avail. No one could really subdue it. Then I got to the twenties and thirties and most of my office life I learnt how to deal with it. I just kept them short and smart. I liked them that way.

But now… the middle of a rapidly declining cycle… arrgghhh I can only express my angst. Jasmine told me to keep a cap on for photos, but that’s not the solution. I have to be happy irrespective of what I look like. Am I so bloody concerned about what I look like? I hate being concerned. Call me bald, I am ok; point to the bald spots, I am ok; call me taklu, crack a joke, I am ok; see myself in the mirror, I am ok; but show a photo of me with a balding patch… and it gets my goose. Why! This is irritating me and this is something I have to solve upfront in my mind. It’s bloody ok. I have to keep telling myself.

Hopefully this phase is transient, hopefully I won’t be as obsessed about it as I am now. Hopefully I can laugh at the photo as I can laugh when someone is joking about it. Hopefully it will all come together and it will be all ok. At least I know I will never wear a wig or going for transplants or catch some quacks. At least I know enough to see myself reacting and not liking what I feel. Admitting is the first step towards changing. I am admitting and I am changing. This is nice.

The big one – I am writing a blog about it. That’s a nice one. It’s always helps to write it or talk it. I like to open up on my blog. My blog has helped me a lot. I was talking to one young student who reads my blog often enough. I was telling her that over the years I don’t know if the blog has shaped me or if I have shaped the blog. We both have changed. Matured over the years, lived with each other, spoken to each other. The blog has helped me more than anything else. Helped me think, rationalize and live my life. It’s been lovely. Surely the big motivation is leaving a legacy that hopefully Jispa will treasure, but importantly it’s helping me shape my present. And this is what I treasure.

there much more to a vacation than a vacation.

I just returned from a vacation in Dandeli and Hampi. Of late I have gotten into taking everything as a learning experience and everything or every moment seems to be teaching me something. Possibly its only my old brain getting into too much thinking or possibly because I have suddenly decided that change is the new mantra. I have changed a lot in the last one year. I have been at least for my standards much more patient and willing to listen and understand the other side / point of view. I don’t know if its my life stage or my job or the environment around me that’s changing me, but it surely is.

WE went with a friend and she had her child along with us on the trip. It took a lot of restraint from my side to stop fathering the child. Trying to get the child into shape. I realize that is not my problem and it shouldn’t be. A child is like what he is because of so many factors. Earlier I would have made for a really bad ass travelling companion, trying to get every child into mold by being a disciplinarian. I was an ass and I can’t undo anything of that. But luckily this time around, I was less of one. I was much more patient and happy. At the start I was getting into old habits till I understood what I could or could not do. Even my friend was willing and would have given me a free hand but in spite of that I controlled. I stood firm on my stand and spread more love than discipline.

There are many factors that shape a child’s personality. Its own intrinsic behavior, the rewards and the punishment that its gets as growing up, the habits around the house, the behavior its apes, everything. And who are we to decide what is the right way to behave. Especially on a short holiday. Isn’t it enough that we are tyrants to our own children from the time they are born? I am so sorry for all the tyranny I caused to everyone.

Being a  dad earlier in your life is a good thing. You can do a  lot of things with the child that only the power of youth can help, as I will show you below… but it cant beat the older wisdom that comes with it. Possibly that’s why the dad’s role is to be a younger friend and the grandad’s role is to impart wisdom. Using patience and love. As I grow older I realize a lot of the mistakes I made, but I would have only realized them thanks to making them. So someone had to take the brunt of it. I guess this is the rule of life and it is philosophized as karma. At an overall level, you get what you deserve and to really rationalize it and balce it, you go back a few lives to get the balancing figure for the shit you are getting. Haha.

Forget that … back to the fun stuff. I always wanted to do stuff with my daughter. Go boating, rock climbing, exploring, swimming, diving into the cold rivers… headfirst. Wow those were dreams, but now Jispa is old enough to do some of them. In fact a lot of them got done this time around.

First one – Kayaking – we went kayaking into the rivers. Just she and me. We even spotted a crocodile on the banks. It saw us and splashed in. like idiots we went further till I got a little chicken and decided to turn back. We were less than 15 meters away from where it was sun bathing. It was a medium sized one at around 9 feet long. Jispa and I were initially in different boats. She then got a bit tired and we got onto a boat that had both of us. I told Jispa… it was dream to go kayaking with you, both on individual boats and on a joint both. Exploring the river, seeing the wild… and yes we even spotted a black capped kingfisher.

Here are pics…

Then another dream, diving into a river in the wild. Here you are. In case anyone is thinking… yes it’s the same Crocodile River. The crocodile was spotted by us on the opposite bank. Call us foolhardy, but it was fun.

And the last – to go on the wild boulder mountains of Hampi. My knee doesn’t permit us to do much of this. But we climbed our small hill and waved out to mummy down below. Really small hill :).  But it was a start. The next time I am in Hampi, I am going to go in with a properly strengthened knee and going to spend a day or two just climbing these monsters and walking around.

and this one is just for kicks

and a few more

inspired by lion king

and - we are just another rock!

and this one is mildly inspired by titantic

there is no real truth and that is the truth (relatively speaking)

Earlier in my life I never understood how truth could be relative. Truth could never be relative. Either it is there or it is not there. It is a binary equation. One or zero. Either you speak the truth or you are lying and if you speak the truth then you are not lying.

It took a whole lot of experience to understand it otherwise. Now I argue against the absoluteness of truth. There is no such thing such as the absolute truth. Everything is relative, situational and depends on perspectives. I should have guessed this as a kid. I remember as a kid, possibly in third standard or so, thinking to myself… how do I know that the blue I see id the same blue you see. You must be seeing the blue I see as green and since you are taught to call that color as blue and so have I, we will never know if we both see the same color in the same way, though we call it the same. I still love that argument.

That was an interesting introduction for me into relative truth. And now that’s what I believe in. it’s difficult to say something is the truth. There are always more variables at play than you can imagine. That’s why economics is so difficult. Earlier on the economist thought that they had cracked economics. You put in the variables in a formula and voila – you have human behavior. But you never know all the variables and you never know the relative behavior to any of the mix. So to the economists who thought they cracked it all, they came out pretty confused. They should have understood it when they saw Giffen goods. Giffen goods. One of the earliest theories taught in economics showing the surprising side of economics. Simply put – it talks about a phenomenon of demand for a good going up due to the rise in its price. It violates the simple demand curve. So this made economics fun, but then the boring teachers got into the game and completely killed economics in college. I wish we had some exciting economic teachers who loved the fun of the subject as opposed to the weariness normally associated with it. bloody hell, I learnt this stuff for five years and I never understood its true principals till much later in life.

So coming back to the relativity of truth. It’s always depends on the point of view. It’s easy to pass judgment on the side. One so many things we just don’t understand the complete implications. We want terrorist killed but we fail to realize that one era’s terrorist is another era’s freedom fighter. I always question Jispa on many things. I ask her simple questions and leave her to ponder. I think she is now old enough to understand even more complex equations. On Sunday we sat down to eat breakfast. It was the same breakfast we ate on Saturday. Roti rolled up with paneer, fresh veggies and some chutney and sauce inside. On Sunday as I put in the green chutney and then put the red pizza sauce on her roti before putting the veggies, Jispa wanted the brown sauce on it. “Brown sauce? There is no brown sauce” “yes, yesterday you put in a brown sauce, there was one”. “no Jispa, This roll is the same as yesterday. There is nothing else missing from what I put in yesterday. It’s the same dam thing. I am the cook, I should know”. “No dad, there was a brown sauce in it. Can I have that”. Arey yaar. What the hell. Till Jasmine figured… “Jispa. yesterday dad had premixed the green and the red sauce and that’s why it looked like brown sauce. Today he is just applying it on your roti separately”. Oops.

After a minute I explained to Jispa. You were right and so was I. There was a brown sauce and the roti today is same as yesterday. Both were right but we were both fighting with each other thinking that the other was wrong. Many times two people can see two versions of the truth. It’s not necessary for one to be wrong for the other to be right. Sometimes it’s not even necessary to know the difference. It’s simply best to let it be. Many times the truth is too difficult to dig out and then the relativeness of truth makes it possibly an exercise in futility. Move on! But isn’t that such a difficult thing to do.

fortune favors the brave?

Killer instinct. What the hell is it? We have been playing badminton regularly these days. Today after a few games something inside of me just went tick and I decided to focus on the shuttlecock.  And lo and few hard smashes and a few points in. I was surprised at the intensity I brought into the game at the time. But what left me pondering for a long time later was ‘why did the intensity not last’. I kept thinking through the game. I brought it on again in spurts and then fizzle it went. What’s with the game? What’s with the intensity? Am I too old or am I too tired.

I have seen this happen many times. At one level that’s a good thing. I don’t keep the score, I don’t bother too much about the points I lose, I am only focused on improving my game but to kill the shot when you have the opportunity. Why did I not do that? Possibly since I have a bad knee, I am very careful while playing. I don’t lunge too much while playing and I don’t stress too much. Is that why I go into a shell? It must be impossible to have the intensity and then tell your body be selective about it. only the shots you can have it, have it and rest, IGNORE.

Since morning I have been thinking about it. Possibly even in my cricket the intensity is missing. I am more focused on playing each ball. Slow down. Get it right. It’s ok. Possibly my cricket has improved… but that killer instinct that will kill and smash opponents is missing. It’s more the death by thousand cuts than to put in one big body blow. Possibly its age. Age that tells you to relax, it’s not worth it. It helps you pick your battles and choose your opponents well. Live to fight another day.

Age (and experience) is an important factor in one’s behavior. With age you surely slow down on various parameters. You tend to use your intelligence and your experience rather than relying on brute force or power. I remember as a 30 year old, I wanted to do everything myself. Take charge of the situation and go screaming into battle. I would even have little patience for the advice of the elders or even be irritated by their contemplation. What the hell are you guys sitting here and discussing while there is work to do elsewhere. Go charging into battle! There is power to youth a raw sensual power that somehow finds a way to do what it wants to do. It achieves a lot more. You fling yourself at the crease to avoid a run out, you smash a ball for six while out of position, you bowl hard and fats and you smash with all your might. Youth has an important role in society. There is tremendous energy there that needs to be harnessed for a greater cause than itself. It needs to be molded and shaped.

I have learnt over the years to rely on trainees in my team. We try and take two to three trainees every year. Kids who are just out of college aged 20. They bring with them fresh insights, enthusiasm and a desire to succeed but not for money or growth. Success for success sake. They have tons of distractions, come with tons of baggage but are eminently moldable. They are here with us for a couple of years and then they move on to do their post-graduation, making way for a fresh set of kids with fresh ideas and fresh enthusiasm. Surely they take away a large part of the learning and we start all over again, but the change in culture, vitality and excitement within the team is well worth the effort.

I blogged in the past about how a cities need a balance between a migrant and a permanent population. Some with a  lot to lose and some with nothing to lose. The same seems to be playing out in my team. If I have too many people who have become furniture in the system and are unable to move or change or even too scared to, or have too much risk; then the team slowly erodes its power. It needs a balance of flexibility and sturdiness.

Your age is an important factor of your role in society. We make our young ones in office slog hard. I have no respect for their time and their effort. So what… put in more. This is the age to slog your butt out. Use your time and work hard, that’s what you are here for. Question everything. Bring new ideas, try harder. If the young one doesn’t question who will? So when I see someone younger than me in a state of bliss and not ready to put in the extra effort, I pull them up. If they are scared of a challenge I chide them. If they are scared to take the first step, I push them. Experience by definition is a larger set of prejudices. And lack of therefore is the power of a few prejudices. I expect a younger person to have opinions. He is designed to … but to temper then with the ability to listen and rearrange them… that will lead to experience. Easier said than done….

My favorite quote on this – when a man realizes that what his father said was right usually has a son who thinks he is wrong.

Jispa – if we have disagreements and shot and fight and get angry with each other, it’s a sad thing. But if you agree with me on most issues – it’s a sadder thing. Can we simply agree to disagree?

speak right

Jispa’s teacher is in major pronunciation correction mode. She likes to get her accents right and everyday Jispa comes in with a new way to say a particular word. It was fun till some time. Just the other day I probably had enough of it. I started explaining my point of view to her. What is the most important job of a language?” I asked her. “To talk?” she replied. “To communicate” I corrected her. As long as the point is made by the speaker and received by the listener, language has done its job. Isn’t it? Surely accent correction is a possibly a desirable thing but it isn’t as important as our primary teacher would like us to believe. I explained to Jispa that “even the English language in UK would be spoken differently in different parts. The Scottish speak differently from the Welsh and also so do the Irish differ. It changes. Even our Gujarati changes from a person in Surat to a person in Ahmedabad. So who is to say which accent is right or wrong. I don’t know which accent your teacher is teaching you but remember it’s not that important to get it right. Grammar is possibly much more important. It can change meanings”. I gave her the favorite example of how a comma can completely change the meaning of a phrase.  “A panda eats shoots and leaves” versus “a panda eats, shoots and leaves”. She was pretty amazed at that example. Also it’s important to get your words right.

One big silly stupid thing I keep hearing from a lot of people is the word improvise instead of improve. For some reason people just like to use improvise instead of improve. That is completely wrong. I explained to Jispa the difference between the two – Improve is to do better and improvise is to perform with preparations. They can’t be used interchangeably. Now that is important. But accents... Yup they are nice to be corrected but, it’s finally not that critical. Especially not as important as the time we spend on correcting them. And most definitely not the pride we feel when we correct someone else. What’s there to be proud of an accent?

I remember once one really stupid teacher in school telling us that these British are now jealous of us because we speak much better English than them. I repeated this at home only for my sister to laugh at me. She asked me if I actually believed that we Indians actually spoke better English than the British and we were now going to tell them that their mother tongue is all wrong. Use our version instead!

Haha… That was an insightful moment. How certain things just stick in your head.

Of course some of the stuff that the teacher taught Jispa is right and good. Like inflammable is not spoken with the word being spoken different from the way we say flame. But some of the other stuff, we don’t know where she gets pronunciations from. So we just hear Jispa and just get the real thing from the online dictionary which also has the voice link. Now that Jasmine has a smart phone which is connected 24X7 she checks it instantly and explains the same to Jispa. There – so it’s either – nice… didn't know it was said like that or – buzz off, your teacher is a twerp!

As I was growing up English was a big thing. We were taught that knowing how to speak English differentiated us from the rest of India and will stand us in good stead, give us a competitive edge and propel us forward. All of that is true but what is also true is the importance of getting your point across in any language possible. I was surprised when I started my career to see a lot of Hindi being spoken inside meeting rooms in office. Now I am at ease with it. I break into bumbaiya Hindi at the drop of a hat and don't shy away from Gujju if I know that the other side responds. Focus on getting the point across rather than scoring a point. What say? (wow… that last line sounded pretty intelligent nah?)

Family time!

We burnt the Raavan again this year.  This year it got bigger with even more people coming in. We got parents and children all involved in the making. To cope with the rush we made two Raavans. Two other kids used this occasion to celebrate their birthdays and it became a party with cake cutting and food. So first we made the Raavans, and then we burnt them and then we played with firecrackers. With the kids being a majority of girls there were no bombs, only lots of sparklers and flower pots to be lit up. That’s a nice way to celebrate it. Some kids from also joined in and it resulted in a whole evening of fun. This was all in the garden behind our home. For dinner, we moved into the garage. We removed the cars and lo – we had enough space to fit in 30 guests and a lot of fun.

This around though I haven’t yet asked Jispa if she enjoyed the party. I haven’t had the guts to ask her. kids came, we burnt Raavan and we enjoyed. Jispa was exceptionally well behaved. Normally when the kids come in in large number they are now at an age where they start having ego wars and groups. Kids start crying, one is set against the other and they want to do their own thing. One kid cried on something and the mothers were trying to mollify her. After some time, we had to proceed with the cake cutting at which I told Jasmine to read the riot act at her. Just get on with it and stop crying. No time for molly codling. The mothers were still trying when I just walked up and said – too much now…get on with it, there is no time for this. We are cutting the cake now! I think the kids too much attention and its spoiling them in different ways. But forget that.

Jispa was active in the process of making the Raavan. Devoid of any ideas the other kids simply made the Raavan faces and then left to play on their own. For Jispa this is not new. She knew what all the Raavan needed and she proceeded to make the sword and the shield for the Raavan. Quietly she stayed inside and made the relevant stuff and decorated the Raavan. I was impressed.

Buts it’s also a case of the parents being actively involved and showing the kids what to do. A few kids were sent it by the parents along with other parents. But that’s not the point of this event. The Raavan can’t be made by the kids. It is a big thing. It can only be made by the parents who also struggle a whole lot. I think last year we could make it as Jasmine and I were actively involved. Normally our partnerships work very well. This time with two Raavans we struggled. Then Jasmine asked me to help the other team and then I was concentrating on both the effigies and then it could translate into a semblance of form and structure.  It came out pretty good in the end. Some of the other mothers were also actively involved.

Everyone finally enjoyed in the end. Some craft work, some snacks, some coke, a chance to work and build something, firecrackers, cake cutting and pav bhaji. What else does a family want? What else.

Here you are - 37 heads plus two champions with ten each! What a lovely day!

The Big Splash

Last Saturday was a blast. For Jispa’s birthday I had organized a pool party and made the kids play games in the pool. Post this some parents wanted to play again, so we had one more game-day. Seeing the game day and the fun that we were having the Gymkhana committee wanted me to organize one game day for the gymkhana as an open fun event. Sure. My logic is simple. I want my child to have fun and my friend’s children to have fun as well. Everything else is a bonus. Well it’s not that hard core but yes, organizing games for the greater public is always fraught with danger. People not behainving the way you want them to, people suddenly leaving, suddenly fighting, my child this, my child that… known people are easier to control than unknowns. Or possibly the reverse is the truth. Sometimes mothers are really tricky.

I see it all the time. the mothers are really agitated at the sports meet. They are the ones pushing their child to do better. Possibly they are living their aggression through their children. At Jispa’s birthday and the other party it was the mothers who really I had to stop from fighting and cheating and trying too hard. STOP IT gals. Fathers possibly get their dose of aggression at the office place and this is the time for them to unwind and not show their agression. Whatever… the mothers are the worst to handle.

This time around there were hardly any mothers registered for the meet. The mothers possibly were shy of roaming around in a swimming costume whole day. A few fathers registered and a few semi adults… kids aged older than 18. I branded it splash day, ensured that the tone was fun and whole sale fun. Made the kids dive in, splash around and played some ridiculous invented games. The kids needed to learn to relax and play the game with the fun association as opposed to the competition association. Luckily the mothers stayed at bay. The kids did what they wanted to and to my relief it was a huge hit.

We started at 3 and went on till 7. Splashing around. Mikes went kaput, games had to be modified. Some kids were really bad swimmers. But overall… good fun. I kept asking the kids and they kept saying yes, it was fun. Some kid even said, it was the best day of their life! Wow, that was a big compliment.

Of course organizing this event was back to college days in terms of partnering with Jasmine. That is the best part of the entire event. When Jasmine and I take up any project together, it’s always been a great experience. We complement each other’s skill sets very well. I will do up all the mike handling, crowd handling, big vision, thinking over all; and she will get the process in place, man the tables, ensure things move in the back ground, food is served etc. I become the style and she becomes the substance. We think together and plan together and execute together. It works well. We don’t get too many opportunities to do that these days but these small ones are worth their weight in gold.

So we did get a lot of appreciation but the greatest moment was at the end, when the kids started pushing me into the pool. I handed over the mike and jumped right in and I was surrounded by kids jumping all over me.

That a nice pic I say.

Of course it all finally comes together thanks to a team. When I was younger I would want to change the world all alone. Push the bar, be in all places, walk, run and pull the entire event on my own. Over the years I have learnt that it’s not possible, or even if possible, the strain is too much. So I have been learning to delegate and then manage. People will rise to their level of competence. And people who want to work will see work and not raise hands but will move their entire body there and start working. That simple. I got a few volunteers from the mothers, essentially our friends. And I got a few fathers are well. Predictably some worked harder. The trick is to let them do it the way they want to. Normally I would have briefed and rebriefed. But I realize that this is just a gymkhana event. People are here as volunteers not paid jobs. They will do what they want and they do because they enjoy doing it not because they ‘have’ to do it. I let them handle the situation and they did so admirably well.

it’s a team game. Kids love to see everyone involved. We had around 90 participants at the Splash Day. What a day. At the end, the kids enjoyed and that the main thing. Someone told me that the gymkhana must be more appreciative of me for doing this for them. To which I say, our kids enjoyed, right? Then it was worth all the effort.

For me parenting at its core is doing stuff that I thought I wanted my parents to do with me. I wanted them to play with me. I wanted them to enjoy games with me. At the end I asked many kids, they all enjoyed it… and then I asked Jispa “so how was it?”. She said “ok ok”. “so what… you didn’t enjoy the day”. “it was nice” she answered, “but there were too many people”. Oh yes there were. But I think Jispa is used to having fun with her dad. Going out and playing. Swimming pool games. Good fun things. He excitement level is possibly set up pretty high. Well it is my doing I guess. So at the end of it – the final verdict that counts was – ok ok. Awwww…..

But then the photos came in and I saw the kids very very happy. So I am back… we will raise the bar next year. We have a lot to learn. Here catch a few moments…

at the start - forming the teams. i wanted them to come with their own teams... but the committe over ruled. hell... it was still fun

The kids at the games - some kids couldnt do much. The life gaurds just dint dive in to help out teh stugglising kids. I think its a socio economic issue. they would only get in possibly if someone was drowning or something. not sturggling. No problem. I dived right in. the kid clung onto me and it was a great feeling. Hugging / reassuring the kid, its ok...

SMILEY faces....

More smiley faces

My favorite kid. This was atough race. One kid sits pretty while the team pushing them to the close. I had "saved" him in a previous event. He was tiny.. I promised him the next event, he will be the most important part of the team. Being light has its advantages.

 Sometimes instructions have to be given from the pool itself.

 More fun...

dream with a view

Well, it’s official. Day dreaming is good for creative thinking. Read here. I didn’t need a scientific paper to prove that to me. My best ideas are always when I am day dreaming. Day dreaming is the best thing to happen to me. When this new office was being set up I was most happy that my cabin had a window. So far in the last eight years, I have been very fortunate to always have a window next to where I sit. This is my fourth seat, but all with a window (not counting a temporary seating place with no bloody window).

I can sit and look out and see stuff.  When I am on the phone my mind can wander away. When I look down I see people scurrying around. Cars zipping or parking. In the last office my window overlooked a busy junction. Some action is always happening. Right now, it overlooks a small back lane and a residential building. The fun bit is the trees there. So bird life is normally not an issue. There are only five birds I spot roaming around. The pigeon (blue rock pigeon) is common and so is the crow. Sometimes I spot the sparrow. But I consider myself lucky if I catch the coppersmith barbet or the red vented bulbul. Typically I always catch them while I am on a phone call. Sitting and listening and staring out of the window. Mind is relaxed and wandering. Oops yes, I do catch a sixth bird sometimes – the pariah kite. Most of the time it’s gliding through the air. Day dreaming.

Now to convince Jasmine that Jispa’s day dreaming is actually good for her.

Here’s my first of the good window seats. Ignore those guys workings there. That was for a brief period. It was the best office I worked in. No cabin but the extra-long cubicle was nice. I had the best neighbors and an awesome team, not separated by any stupid glass wall.

 

Here is the second one. Forgive the grainy snap. Again a cubicle but a nice corner, left alone to myself. The best memories were of the recession and me spending hours on my RSS feeds and learning new stuff.

 

The third one in the same building and position but different floor. A cabin for two. Some sales guy or the other would be there. I always appreciated the interaction. It was a cabin but since they dint want to show it as a cabin, the HR had the door removed and left the glass. Stupid. But Road view!

This is the current view. The best thing is that this is east facing and I get morning sun. I don’t switch on the lights till quite late in the day and I am growing plants!

 

Daddy knows

We are dam irritated with Jispa’s school class teacher. We have had a series of issues. It started by her wrongly correcting Jispa on the light year concept, then came a few more incidents and these days Jasmine and me are completely pissed off as she doesn’t even bother to explain the concepts properly. On the weekend I was given the task of explaining different plants to Jispa. Especially the carnivorous plants. These were the Pitcher Plant and the Venus Fly trap. Normally Jispa always came in understanding the concepts very well but this time I realized she knew very little. And she was just given worksheets to memorize or learn from.  So I decided to teach her properly.

Now I also don’t know exactly how the mechanisms work. From the explanations it seemed obvious that the Venus fly trap simply smashed shut it leaves, but the pitcher plant seemed more complex. Here is the picture of the Pitcher plat. Looking at it, it seems obvious that the top part closes in after the insect is within grasp.

 

But that is not the truth. Thanks to power of youtube, you realize that the top leaf is practically immobile. The Ants slip in thanks to the fine waxy layer at the edges. They first get drawn by the nectar at the sides and then they simply slip into the pouch which is a deadly concoction that helps digest the insect. Lovely isn’t it. See this video for the whole truth.

The uglier and more sinister looking one is the Venus Fly trap. This video on youtube is very good and makes you feel bad for the fly. But one thing you are sure of – Jispa won’t forget this in a hurry. See it. Highly recommended. http://youtu.be/O7eQKSf0LmY

Then yesterday jasmine was also pissed that the teacher doesn’t even explain words and other stuff. She just reads out and expects kids to understand. This was corroborated with Jispa. According to her , the teacher just reads and then if you ask for a certain meaning, her standard response is that in fourth grade you guys should know. Jasmine was  super-duper pissed when Jispa was given worksheets for horizontal division without the teacher explaining how its done. For example solving 330/11. Which you have to do without using the standard horizontal method. Jasmine had to explain this to Jispa.

So in the evening Jasmine and me discussing this and we both were cribbing when I just turned around and said, “great. We always wanted to be involved parents, right? This is the perfect opportunity. I am ok teaching whatever is required to Jispa. In any case I do a better job of it. I love teaching and I think this is my life’s calling. What better than to teach my own daughter”. I guess this is the best thing that happened.

I told Jispa the next day – don’t bother about school stuff. What we will do is that you tell me what all you are studying over the weekend or over dinner and I will teach you how it works. We will use Videos and internet and learn the real stuff. Her teacher also taught her that the pitcher plant closes the top leaf as a trap. Let’s learn the real thing. Exactly how it happens and what all else we can learn from it.

This also helps me and my general knowledge. The other day I learnt that Delhi while having a chief minister and a high court is not exactly a state. It is still a Union territory and has some special privileges that help it get managed as a state. So that’s your favorite quiz question, Is Delhi a State? One idiot in office challenged me. He even put 1000 bucks on the table in a brazen act befitting a brash North Indian (sorry for racial prejudices). I told him don’t do it, I just taught my daughter that and I looked up Wikipedia and the internet and it’s a UT with special privileges. Don’t bet. He still bet. He lost. I gave him back his thousand. He was serious on his bet so I took a hundred and that should have taught him a good lesson. Don’t bet with a man who kid goes to the fourth grade. Just don’t.

From wiki entry on Delhi -

“The name Delhi is often also used to include urban areas near the NCT, as well as to refer to New Delhi, the capital of India, which lies within the metropolis. Although technically a federally administered union territory, the political administration of the NCT of Delhi today more closely resembles that of a state of India with its own legislature, high court and an executive council of ministers headed by a Chief Minister. New Delhi, jointly administered by both the federal Government of India and the local Government of Delhi, is also the capital of the NCT of Delhi.”

God knows?

 

OMG. It’s the new movie in Bollywood. The movie is a different call on religion than the rest of the movies we get to see in Bollywood. Its starts with an interesting premise wherein an atheist sues God as his shop was destroyed by an earthquake, and he can’t claim insurance as it was an act of God. But since you can’t get God, you get the godman who work as representatives of God. While doing so it questions the rituals we believe in. To help the protagonist along the way, God himself comes in and guides our man.

While it is an interesting take on religion, it’s not a movie that I would recommend watching. Too many flaws, some bad direction, silly moments, melodrama and of course the worst them all – Akshay Kumar. I hate the guy. He was from my school (much senior), but I hate the guy. He acts like a dodo. Let’s forget him. Some parts of the script I kind of liked. They quite clearly talk about the futility of some rituals and go so far as to call statues – stone. Brave. They also clearly and openly smashed the ritual of offering milk to the Shiva lingam to see it flow as waste … while of course making the moral point of wasting that milk while the poor starve. A lot of it (except the moral preaching and giving to poor etc) was something I resonated with. I too don’t see any meaning in these religious rituals and I found myself rooting for the protagonist. I also dint mind God coming in to help but (spoiler alert)then God punished him for saying too many mean things and then brought him redemption and revealed his form to him.

Ohhh come one. Final redemption can’t be God. I wish the man would have done stuff himself. God can help but he should have won it all by himself. Or even lost it… But the power must come from within. My friends know about my beliefs and the other day I was again trying to explain to them. I am not an atheist. But I am not a ritualistic and of all the bloody things in the world, Jispa will not learn to pray from me. I will not teach her to bow, fold hands or pray to God. That’s for sure. She can learn it from her grannies if she wishes, she can practice what she wants, but I am not teaching her this. I will openly get her to question her faith. I will ask her and even possibly teach her what I understand of the faith. I will get her to know what she is doing while she is praying. If she wants a boon in return, there the Hindu Gods might still grant you one, but the poor Jain gods do no such thing. So if you want some special favors then you better bark up the right tree.

I keep telling people, please understand what you are praying to and what the religion of that God is saying. I have nothing against faith. Faith can move mountains. Stuff can happen when you believe in it. How it happens is mysterious. What happens typically stays within scientific principals, but faith can mean many things to many people. One of my favorite authors, Steven Levitt of Freakonomics fame who teaches behavioral economics at the Chicago school, says that it’s not surprising that we have so much crime. It’s surprising that we have so little. He reasons that it’s pretty simple for most of us to commit crimes, small or large. But we don’t. A vast majority of people possibly have a moral code that stops them. It is an interesting thought. I kept thinking on that line. Possibly religion also has had a part to play in it. I am a vegetarian and by choice, not bound by religion. But if I probably grew up eating meat I would have perhaps not been open to being a vegetarian. My belief in Karma ,as in if you do shit, in the end it comes back on you, in some form or the other, is also possibly shaped by religion that I was exposed to as a child. So I am not against religion per se. It’s a straightforward stand but to the layman … fed on a diet of religion, sacrifice and ritual, it does seem highly nuanced. So to my friends it’s always a funny one. And the weirdest of them all is that once somewhere one of Jasmine’s friends was having some conversation with me and I said something that helped her put fix the Rubik’s cube in her head and she understood the power or significance of religion in her life. Aila… I promise I didn’t do anything of the sort, intentionally, at least.

Unintended consequences, faith, prayer… WTF? God knows!

Anyways… long time I haven’t put a video on my blog. I like listening to this song these days. Don’t judge me. But it’s definitely sung well and I like the beat. And it’s got no complicated lyrics. None. And you can hum along very very easily. In fact the lyrics can be written on the back of a tissue paper. What? Four lines? Hell… God knows!

 

Communicate everywhere

“You cannot not communicate. Every behavior is a kind of communication. Because behavior does not have a counterpart (there is no anti-behavior), it is not possible not to communicate.” Paul Watzlawick’s First Axiom of Communication

Nice… really nice. that is the essence of my job. It’s to explain to people that this is it. I keep telling people what you wear or don’t wear is also a communication. You shave or don’t shave, you speak or don’t speak. Everything is sending signals. Over a period of time people read these signals and decide on your behavior. They figure out something about you and they are right in whatever they think. You can’t then protest, that is not me, and people have misunderstood me. Yes of course people will misunderstand you but then that is your doing. You can’t complain about it, but you can merely take responsibility about it. Then it’s easy. Sure… he thinks of me that way. Part of it is the clouding in his mind, but the stimulus is my behavior. No complains – only acceptance.

Once you accept that you will realize that marketing is nothing but this. You take one single point of communication that you want the consumer to get across and relentlessly take it across every touch point. Of course your ads, your PR, your offices, your policies, your décor, your loo, your staff, hiring every bloody thing. Because at any touch point, if you choose not to communicate then you are communicating that you don’t want to communicate. Is that what you want to communicate?

Now apply the same in your life, in your house, in your behavior with your child. What is the message you are constantly sending and what is the message that the person is constantly getting. Add to that the complexity of the recipients pre fed prejudices. Manage it and take responsibility for it. And don’t complain. Smile shrug your shoulders and learn. Because there is no such thing such as ‘not communicate’.

So Jispa – if you don’t want to tell me stuff, then remember you are not “not telling” me stuff. You are telling me that you don’t want to tell me stuff. Hehe… same goes from me to you.

Start monkeying around

What’s the deal with kids and parallel bars?

These are the parallel bars that I played for hours on while at school. Yup these are the very same parallel bars. We were at the school that day just for a walk and I led Jispa to these bars. I wanted to tell or show Jispa how much fun I had with these bars and wanted to teach her all the tricks I knew. Little did I know that Jispa too played with the parallel bars in her school. She showed me all the tricks she could do and stupidly I had none to teach her then. The daughter is the father of the parent :)

This one is the simple one – hanging like vetal on one bar.

This one is the flip over.

As a child I loved doing all sorts of stuff. Climbing trees at parks was my favorite. Hanging upside down on one the branches and then jumping around. The monkey climbs were my instinctive destination. Go jump on it, climb, hang, swing everything. When my parents and uncles called me a monkey, I took it as a compliment. I was called a monkey for the longest possible time. I loved squeezing into the gaps between the bars. I used to pretend that it was some obstacle course or some war going on or the favorite that kids pretend on these contraptions – the pirate ship! That was the greatest game ever. Almost all my childhood memories of parks are with monkey climbs or slides attached to them. No simple slides and swings for me. That would be the most girlie thing to do I guess.

It’s difficult to do any of that stuff anymore. The body doesn’t bend, the grip isn’t that great and the back is unable to take the load. Oh dear me. How I miss monkeying around. Earlier every obstacle on the road or park or anywhere is an obstacle to jump over or jump on, balance and out. A hedge is nothing but a hurdle. Today I get scared to jump over them. What’s on the other side? The body doesn’t heal as fast and it surely doesn’t want to take any chances with the unknown. I run towards the hedge in the park behind my house and then pull out… no leap. I don’t even land as well after the leap. It hurts my ego but I have no option. It’s better to live to fight another day. Rather – fight another battle… a simpler battle. A puddle to jump over perhaps.

Footnote - as a father now, I wonder - why did the school have a stone floor under the parallel bars. shouldnt they have had a sand pit or even a mud floor? and I wonder why that never did strike or bother me when I was a kid.

what a racquet

When the markets were doing very well, many years ago, one friend asked me a simple question. “what are you investing in these days?”. Ever since I was working in the broking or the HNI wealth advisory part of the financial world, everyone normally expects me to know a lot about investing. And not the boring simple, invest regularly in a mutual fund kind of investing, but the more exotic hot stock or hot deal kind of investing. To their utter disappointment, I knew nothing of the sort. I am not a great investor. In fact I can’t be even called an informed investor. My investments style is simple. Don’t.

I have been relatively lucky. Thanks to the firm where I work, I have given a decent sum of stock options. They used to be a decent sum, till I had to sell most of them to finance the new house I purchased. So being heavily invested in the options, I saw no great need to put more money in the share market. Also my job prospect is largely dictated by the share market and hence I would want to add any more volatility to my income and net worth. And now if you add the math and the EMIs that I pay on the housing loan… you are right. No money left to invest. So by default I have no investments to be made. But ya technically I am over invested. Opposites reconciling?

So the cool answer I gave to the question was “I am investing in my health”. The greatest investment I ever made was the gymkhana membership. That is one thing we use so bloody often. We are there in morning and evening, using or should I say squeezing the most out of our membership. Thanks to that I am living my sports dream. So now I carry stuff to swim, play squash, table tennis, badminton and tennis. The tennis racquet was there more out of hope than anything else and yesterday I was most pleased to start a little bit of tennis. So that completed almost the whole circle for me. Now that that to Jispa’s training we wake up everyday morning I convinced a few friends to wake up along with as well. They too come to the gymkhana and play with me. It’s great fun and it’s good for their health. I am investing my time in their health. It’s not a bad trade off. I get my bit of exercise as well.

Well that’s it. There is probably nothing remotely insightful in this blog. Just that I thought it was dam cool, that I now actively play all the sports in the gymkhana. Of course I consider billiards and the card room out of bounds from my perspective. I just loved the fact with tennis my circle is some what complete. Especially tennis. Till we were in Dubai in the third grade, I saw my dad play tennis in the club. I used to be the ball boy at times. He had a yonnex tennis racquet or something like that. Then he got me a junior tennis racquet. It was a Wilson – made of wood. I loved that piece. It was my racquet for me to play tennis. The tragedy of that racquet was that it was of no use ever. It never ever got used. I never played tennis with it. I could only feel it and smell it. We left Dubai soon enough and in India I never did get a chance to use that lovely racquet. I always wanted to play tennis. I guess in many ways thanks to that Wilson more than anything else.

I don’t a pic of that racquet and it’s been years since I last saw it, locked in mom’s cupboard, but here is a pic that I assume comes close enough. We must have bought it in 1983 or there abouts.

clarity in a cafe :)

All you need to do is smile.

On Sunday we were at the Café coffee day opposite Don Bosco high School at Matunga. This place somehow has been a favorite of mine. Every time we get good guys for service attached here. Around eight years back, this was a favorite haunt for Jasmine, V-inu and me. Many evenings were spent here. I would come in from office and we would all catch a coffee there. Whenever there was a bit of stress at home with mom and all that… a coffee to soothe the nerves was a welcome break at this café. Jispa too played  a lot here. Whenever Dinesh who was in Paraguay at the time came into India, we would again spend evenings at this café. There was a certain warmth with the café.

Over some time, the café décor seemed a bit dated and AC would not work as well and the chairs would be a little wobbly and we too moved to Wadala. This café moved out of our sight and mind. Recently they redid the café. The essential layout remained the same but the décor looked new and fresh. The AC was new and the furniture no longer wobbled. We made it back to the café.

These days I have been noticing a lovely trend. Girls from middle /low income households working at stores and cafes in Mumbai. They are pretty sweet, know a bit of English to get around and are eager to smile. They are not the sales girls of yester years that came with an attitude and looked at every male guy who smiled as a guy wanting to pass a line. In variably these new girls are dressed smartly in work uniforms which are pants. I remember reading somewhere  or was it my teacher telling me that one of the big developments after the world wars was that women worked shoulder to shoulder with the men in factories producing stuff for the war while their men went out in the battle field and fought it. One of the things that they learnt to do is wear work pants. This helped them work, and the stupid skirts no longer restricted movement. It far easier to wear pants that skirts when you have to work. I think this is a major development as far as women empowerment goes. Now they don’t have to look girly or even behave like one. They stand next in line to the guys and can do whatever the guys does, even possibly better. From the dressing there is no way to know who is weaker or incapable of working hard. Pants bring men and women together in many ways.  Jasmine could never wear pants while growing up. Her dad was far too conservative for that. But after engagement she wore what she wanted to and now – she doesn’t have a single skirt in her wardrobe. Every day wear for her is track pants. They are easy and efficient.

I am seeing kids (girls) across India now wearing pants. Their parents are allowing them to do so and slowly they will grow up wearing them. In college today no girl comes to college ever in a skirt. Even mini skirts are rare – they rather wear shorts. To me it shows that these kids are growing up to believe that they are capable of doing a lot, irrespective of their gender. This is the generation that will lift the nation’s income and attitude. These girls will grow up and kick their husbands. They will play a greater role in shaping their child’s independent thinking.

I have also realized that they are open to conversation. They smile back and …. A big one… if casually, they give great service or something and if I pat their shoulder, they don’t shudder. It’s ok.

Coming back, this CCD has a good bunch of staff. Smiley and cute. These girls tend to be shorter than the average, possibly alluding to the situation that they possibly did not get enough nutrition in their growing up years. There has been a lot of research that the girl child gets lesser nutrition than the male and hence their height over the long run gets affected. It just takes two generations to sort this right with adequate nutrition.

So these cute tiny girls smile a lot when I give them the order. And I have a habit of constantly thanking the staff. I think I started this after Jispa was born and after I got comfortable with myself. Possibly after dealing with five stars or something. I don’t know. I can talk to any one right from the five star lobby manager to the usher at the cinema. Talk sweetly and thank them for their service. Then the next thing I do is call them by their name. They have a name tag – it must be used, right? So I gave one cute lady the order and thanked her and then when the order came to the table by another lady I thanked her as well. I have precise instructions many times. I want the coffee a little hot, I want an extra glass, one sugar sachet is enough etc. I must said thank you one time too many. And the lovely cute lady smield back and said “sir, aap itna thank you kyun bolte ho” (why do you thank me so many times?). “well if you keep giving me good service I will continue to thank you”. I always like to thank people for working. It’s a tough job and at the least – they should get a nice smiley customer who thanks them for their work done.

Lovely service must be rewarded by simple praise. And repeat business. So we went there again on Sunday. This time there was a lot of rush happening. There was an interschool chess tournament at Don Bosco and kids and parents were thronging to the CCD. They were overwhelmed. The lady at the cash counter recognized me and smiled. I asked her hows it going. She told me that today was huge day for them. They are doing record business and the crowd is great. She has been working whole day. They even got staff to come in from other stores to cope with the rush. I could see that they were in huge trouble. Orders were getting wrong, especially when clients wanted some customization. Orders were taking time and the customers being affected by the heat outside weren’t exactly forgiving. Luckily I got a seat that gave me ringside action to the stress they were in. Tempers and irritations were obvious inside the team. This team doesn’t normally work together and they were put in to work in a hostile and demanding environment. The manager was trying to work as hard as possible. But there was an issue…

That’s the problem with India. The pressure on growth drives corporates to expand and open as much as possible. What goes wrong is in the training of the people. These cute ladies weren’t smiling as much as they should have. The first response to an aggrieved customer was not a disarming smile or a body language that said – yes I am listening. It was .. no but this is what you asked for.  For a service joint, food is only a small fraction of the cost. McDonalds understand this very well and has a lovely policy here. They just take the stuff back and give you new stuff. Burger is cold – ok, thank you sir, dump it goes and here – take this new one. Once in a delhi Mac, I spilled all the cola while taking it to the table, NO Problem sir. We will clean it and voila – new coke was on my table.

As I saw them, I thought to myself… the only thing that is important here is that the manager should smile. The captain must smile in such situations. I always try and keep my spirits high when a match is going against me. SMILE. Don’t shout and don’t scream. SMILE. Then I realized that this simple learning is what I seem to have missed recently in office. I was losing my cool a bit too often for my comfort. Smile, Shit happens. At one time I used to be the cool dude who smiled when you did shit. My smiling when shit happened was enough for guys to feel like shit. Smile. I explained the situation to my daughter. See what’s happening. Look at the stress, see how they are behaving with each other. The only thing is for the captain to smile. At least he will improve the atmosphere inside the pantry at the CCD outlet. This will start a virtuous cycle. His staff will smile, his staff will smile with each other and then at the customer. Things will move smoother. Smile.

A simple learning that I have had all along but forgotten in the middle. Smile. I do it on the cricket field all the time. Smile. We lost the match we should have won. Smile. The guy just thrashed my bowler for the biggest six on the ground – Smile. Be aggressive, go for the jugular, but smile. The memory of the South African captain Hansie Cronje is etched in my memory. He normally has a dull dour image on the cricket field, he rarely smiled. But once in one match when the normally reticent Rahul Dravid was tearing his bowlers apart in a rain truncated match, the Proteas seemed to be losing the plot.  My memory of him smiling as broadly as possibly that day, is something I will never forget. Possibly I have that memory of the cricket field and possibly I don’t have any similar memory of office. But I have to try and do that. Smile. It’s different from Don’t worry be happy. Worry , stress out, anything, but smile. You will learn to cope better and your team might cope better. If there is shit in your head, don’t spill it in the open. Smile.

Its bird, its a plane... its a....

Here is Jispa cutting the cucumbers. I am not a big fan of her using anything as sharp as a knife and definitely no chance of her cutting the veggies. I am not sure if at ten years old she is old enough to cut the veggies. So while we peeled the cucumber and left the table I returned to find her cutting them. I think she did ask if she could cut the cucumbers. Neither jasmine nor I answered her. She easily interpreted it as a yes and she started cutting. My first reaction was to have a go at her, but then I saw that she was super careful while cutting. Look at the pic. Her left hand is well away from the place the knife will make the cut. It’s pretty safe. I held back and said “ok, but don’t cut the tomatoes”. Then the next day again I was slicing the veggies and she wanted to cut the cucumbers, and I agreed. She then asked me “you said yes? So now you think I am old enough to cut the veggies?”. “Well no, I don’t think so. But here cut the cucumbers”. What am I supposed to say? I did say the truth. I don’t think my kid is grown up yet. I don’t think she knows yet how to handle a knife and I don’t think she should be cutting the veggies. But she seized and demonstrated that she can cut the cucumbers and who am I to then rob her independence.

This is critical to evolution. You will force to be independent. You will push your way into places where you want to grow. There is nothing to stop the cub from taking over the pride when the time and strength is right. It’s time for the big cat to move on and forfeit the right to rule. The faster one understands this the better it is. We can’t keep the cub under our protection for much longer. Jispa is now ten and by the time she is fifteen she better be independent. I think she is going to make rapid strides in independence in these five years. More than anything that we would be able to handle. Both jasmine and I need to learn to give up and give way. This is genetically coded in her and this is essential for her survival. How much should I plan for her and how much can protect her. the good old adage ‘protect where you must and permit when you can’ rings true. And as your child grows up the latter takes precedence over the former. Slowly slowly it’s become easier for me to let her be. The problem is that the risks are very large and till they are able to handle it I am unable to bear the burden of their probabilities.

A child will fight for independence and the patriarch must find a way to give it. In a way that both co -exist and exist so in harmony. I too walked away from my old home in a bid to carve out my own niche. I felt far too restricted and constrained to be able to live freely. Passing on the baton is crucial to long term survival. The challenge is to pass on at the right time in the right manner. You read of the strife that people have over ancestral property, that kids are fighting with their elders over the money and property and most importantly the business that needs to be inherited. It’s easy and obvious to think that the son is wrong in this case. It is his duty to take care of the elderly and move on in a manner there is least resistance. But then the father is also at fault. From day one, the child is expected to take over the reins and is taught that all of this will logically once belong to him. That he has to run it independently and when he does so the father is threatened and wants to still take string control. It is there in business and is present in homes at well. Even at home there is a power struggle as to who rules the house. I have heard this and I assume so have many – this is my house and in my house you have to stay by my rules. What this leads to is different under different circumstances – one – the growing boy will lead a revolt to either take over. This will happen when the stakes are relatively large. He will mount a coup. The second – the boy stays put and stays with simmering rage. Third – he walks away and risks bad ties forever. Fourth – Stays put and loses identity and worse – loses his notion of independence.

Coexistence is always the fifth option. But that takes two to work on it. The parents to allow the child leverage and the child to allow the parent respectful and happy place in the family. Enough moral science books (possibly written by the elderly) put the focus on this squarely on the shoulders of the accommodating child, but the reality is always a bit convoluted and murky. Who started it? Who set the ball rolling? Who allowed for independence and groomed for it only to keep it subdued. That’s why reality is always a relative thing.

One old student came and asked me for advice. He was telling me that in interviews he loses out because he calls a spade a spade. “is that so? And how do you know it is a spade. Dude, reality is always multi-faceted. “. I raise my right hand and asked him “what do you think I am doing? From one angle it’s a Hi, from another it’s a slap and from the third it’s a karate chop. What the hell is a spade?” I too was a lot like him. I possibly still am a lot like him. I too loved calling a spade a spade. How does that help? How do you know it’s a spade to start with? You have to see all the angles and at best you can remark that from your angle it looks like a spade and that in all probability it is a spade and assuming it is a spade, this is what I am going to do.

Well that’s enough for now. Simply put – I hope Jispa grows up fast. I hate it and I would love her to be my small baby forever, but I really would love her to grow up fast and strong. I hope to happily take a backseat when she drives forward, relaxed in the knowledge that she has learnt what she has to and the stage is set for her to perform. Clapping quietly is an art form to hone. Possibly her swimming is helping us grow up. Every time I talk to her I realize that her knowledge and understanding is far greater than mine and I am completely mesmerized when she talks about her swimming, I realize that I know so little about something that she can talk long and strong on. I want to be the sponge to absorb all I can. At best I can guide her mentally or ensure she doesn’t stress out too much, but on the whole it’s my role to step back and keep her towel ready, water bottle handy and food warm and shut up and enjoy the competition. Hopefully I may say something intelligent, but on the whole, the shadow belongs to me.