Alexanderian grace

Jispa is getting her teen attitude and she isn’t so much of a push over these days. She can get mighty pissed with us and especially me. Today morning she forgot to take her school shoes when she left with me for her swim training. So she decided to go to school in her chappels. She had another (non-compliant) pair of shoes in the car. I asked her to wear those but she refused. Black chappels are preferable to shoes that are not completely black. Oh hell. I tried telling her otherwise but she refused and I left it at that. It’s her problem. She has to deal with the school authorities and the head. So I let her be. Then Jasmine got on her case and then both of us just let her be. Her issue. While we were waiting for the bus to come in Jispa said today she also had physical education class. Ok that was the limit. Jispa wear your shoes – jasmine and I put our foot down rather forcefully. Jispa said fine. But then she was pissed as hell. “why do you have to scold me and tell me.” “because you don’t listen otherwise” “but that doesn’t mean you have to scold me at the start itself. First tell me properly and then scold me if I don’t listen”.”sorry but on this you wouldn’t have listened to me and we were telling you about it”. “no but you shouldn’t start with a  scolding” “you start listening. I also don’t like scolding. When you were younger we would only speak sweetly, but now if you don’t get a scolding you don’t listen” “no… I do listen” “ok you promise to listen and I promise not to scold. Right now also I am talking properly” “ no you are not”…. You get the drift. Jispa and I were having a conversation in which she was pretty pissed. No she gives me a push back and she gives Jasmine a push back on a lot of issues as well.

I try to listen to her and talk to her if she pushes back, I try not to clamp her down. Speak. Talk converse. If she screams or talks rubbish when there is conversation then I raise the tempo and clamp down, but then also normal speaking and civilized arguments are allowed.

This time she was pissed as hell. She refused to give in. Then I told her “forget, your school bus is coming, you leave”. She refused to tell me bye. I told her “while going say bye dude. don’t leave like that”, She didn’t listen. In fact she made a point by telling Jasmine bye and ignoring me. She was pissed as hell. I am smiling. It’s ok.

Many years ago when my marriage was being discussed, Jasmine’s parents had to finalize the hall in which the ceremony was to take place. Earlier it was the girl’s side of the marriage that bore all the expenses. Now the progressive gujjus have a discussion. Typically marriage is borne by the girl’s side and the reception is split into half or some ratio. Or some such logic. In my sister’s marriage we had chosen a hall which her in-laws made a slight noise. Not too much but a simple question about it is also viewed very seriously. I know the big agonizing issue that went about inside my house but we pressed on nevertheless and possibly it was a non-issue at their end but it created a huge discussion at our end.

So in my marriage Jasmine’s parents were looking at a hall but that one nearer to where we stay and which was the normal choice in their family as well was under reconstruction. So you needed to look elsewhere. So they zeroed in a hall which was nearer to their house but not an upmarket neighborhood. In fact it was a pretty non-descript place. I was aghast at my parents disapproval. Those days I worked in Gujarat and when I was in Mumbai I had a showdown with them. I found my normally liberal leaning dad suddenly turn conservative. Mom was completely unhappy. I couldn’t believe that they were going against the very values they inculcated in me. How can we object with the choice of hall? They said they will pay the whole expense in any case as it was a smaller function for marriage and simple reception. I had a show down with dad on this. It wasn’t pretty. I was pissed as hell. And we didn’t speak to each other. The next day I was to leave for Gujarat and mom and dad offered to drop me to the station. Sure. I don’t think we spoke in the car as well. As I got off, I paused for a brief moment and I turned around and said bye mom, bye dad. I guess dad was waiting for me to say bye. He said bye as well. It was brief period of making up. I guess if guys simply say hi to each other – it’s reconciliation. I remember his face. He too was a bit pissed but he too let it go. It was both side giving an inch and then an el.

I am forever glad about how I behaved. I am so happy and I remember that moment very clearly. I remember that pause and I remember thinking, I must say bye. It is something I will never forget. As it turned out, that was the last time I saw my dad. I know that in the 23 odd years I would have known him he would not have held the last 23 hours against me but still, last chats are last chats. I would hated going through life knowing I refused to reconcile when I had the time. It didn't take much from me or him to forget. It’s ok to have disagreements but at the end you must part as friends, agreeing to disagree at the worst.

I have always hated parting badly. That’s not on. I always tell people to part properly. It’s not that we can’t behave in a civilized manner. Even if people mean you harm, when they leave you have a chance to sow a seed of love. Like Porus, everyone deserves to be treated in a manner that befits them. It’s for us to be Alexander. So it was history repeating all over again. Jispa was pissed at me and had an argument with me. While she left the car, like my dad I too was in the driver’s seat with mom in the adjoining seat. But this time, I tried to say bye but my pre-teen refused.

Awww. Jispa. It’s ok. I understand your rage. It’s a good thing. You are growing up. Push back is good or parents will forever be hovering around you. Just remember it’s never personal and it’s definitely never for keeps. We both are growing up. You faster than us. But in the end – my advice to you is simple. While leaving always have the grace to part well as you never know when you going to get that chance again. You can have a disagreement but do not let that take away your grace, dignity, ears, sense, responsibility and love. It’s tough but to conquer that is Alexanderian. I was really lucky once.

Read more about the epic battle here. Its quite a nice fascinating read ...  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Hydaspes

is it supposed to move or isnt it?

There is nothing that WD 40 can’t solve of course with a little help from duct tape. Both together form a formidable team that can be used to solve almost everything at home.

My first brush with WD 40 was when my dad used it on so many different things. What is WD40 you ask. Tsch tsch. WD 40 is the amazing spray in a blue can which when sprayed on anything will make it move or stop it from creaking. In a home over time everything creaks. Hinges of a door, the stopper that wont stop, the swinging hinges of a swing, the fan, the rollers… everything. I remember dad would remove the WD40 can and pssssttt noise gone. Here is the classic shot of the can. You see the red straw at the side – that is the thing that goes inside the nozzle and helps you direct the spray appropriately. My memories of this bottle is always with the straw. Both would be bound together with a rapidly deteriorating rubber band that half melted and was brittle thanks to the heat.

The other thing was duct tape or cello tape as its popularly called. We would have lots of the borwn tape in the house ready to fix almost everything. Dad was an engineer. He used to have a tool kit around the house and would love to fix everything. Duct tape was the next thing he would use. Just tape it and it would be done.

I can picture my dad on a holiday in his jurta pyjama roaming around the house. Mom would complain about something and dad would examine it. He would either call for the WD40 or duct tape and then a few sprays or tears later – presto – its solved.

Just a couple of days back we had a problem at home. Our fan started giving off a violent noise. A violent creaky noise that would be difficult to ignore while sleeping. I wondered what had gone wrong. Jasmine told me that our maid Devki doesn’t reach clean the fan properly. She simply pulls down the fan blade and dens it while cleaning it. That is the classical Daniel Kahneman thinking fast and slow problem. Jasmine was thinking fast and she was jumping to a conclusion. She put two and two together, saw a cause and an effect and said that Devki must have spoiled it. Possibly the blades are bent. I wondered if we needed to call the electrician. Then I wondered if the fan would fall down on us as something as really wrong with it. I don’t why but I don’t do the ‘do it yourself’ fixing bit these days. I was pretty good at it in the good old days. But now I seem to have given up that part of me. I don’t know why but I think mind experiments are getting the better of hand experiments.

So this time I thought let me look at it myself. I tried aligning the blades. Really rubbish stuff I did. Then I switched the fan on. Still the violent noise was there. So I played around and tried to think about the source. It seemed from the hook by which the fan is hung from the ceiling. So I tried to realign the fan on the hook. It still seemed to be an issue. At varying fan speeds, the noise would stop and start. I told Jasmine that the noise is from the top and she suggested WD40. Yes. Did we have it at home? Of course she said. Wow. I forgot we had the essential ingredient at home. So we took the can – with the withering rubber band from the bathroom loft (always there) and sprayed. I felt like dad all over again. A few sprays here and there and a few more just be sure (like dad again) and we switched on the fan. Poof Noise gone. Simple isn’t it.

I told Jasmine that there is nothing you can’t solve with WD40 or Duct tape. Today as I was searching for the WD40 image I saw this image as well of the flow chart of WD40 and duct tape. It seems the world has gotten this idea well before me. Hehehe.

Classic isn’t it?

eating hats

Choose your words very carefully. You will have to eat them soon enough. But that should not stop you from still saying what you have to.

Over the years it’s amazing how words I have been forced to eat of my own. It’s not a lesson in keeping your trap shut. On the contrary just because I had an opinion and that I opened my mouth about it made me realize after many years that I was wrong. After continuing to open my mouth on a lot of issues pertaining or completely outside my realm I realized that I know jack!

You can’t really live life without having an opinion. We may or may not express it but we will definitely have it and it reflects in our actions. Jasmine and I are different in a way that she never expresses her opinion and I would always volunteer it. But that does not mean she doesn’t have an opinion. In many cases she may have an opinion and a very strong opinion. Her actions will speak louder than the words coming out. But opinion is definitely there.

Now when Jispa was born I so happy it was a girl. One of the reasons was that at least there won’t be a pressure to study. India was shining and there were many field opening out that were not directly related to studying too hard. You need have been the best of the best to make your mark. I reasoned (openely I may add) that while the girl is the same as the boy child, the society puts too much pressure on the boy child to make his mark. While the girl child can get away with whatever she chooses to do, hence the pressure to perform in class is less. While it still may be true that the society treats the boys separately, it is not true that I would ease the pressure on studying on the girl child.

As a parent I realize that Jispa has it in her to perform. She can and must do her best in studies. With her grueling swimming schedule she must make time at every available moment to study hard. From Tuesdays her tests start and we have started teaching her and pushing her to study. Earlier my stand was that keep me off the study thing. I am not going to help her study, after all these are all stupid things and don’t really test understanding.  But there are many flaws. If Jispa must have the freedom to choose then she needs to study now. And it’s impossible for Jasmine to take this burden alone. Its way too tiring and mentally exhausting. So I must pick up the studies as well. My weekend is equally ruined and not to mention, this results in strained relations with my daughter as well.

I try and teach her stuff but I am so dam bloody depressed after all this. One I have to make her study. To do that I have to shout at her. At one point while studying Hindi I whacked her with the book (not so hard though). I forget she is not a boy. It was a whack that boys don’t care too shit about. I also gave her a slap. Again not so hard. But then Jispa protested… no it’s not done. You shouldn’t be slapping me. Mom makes me study and if I don’t understand she repeats and explains again. There, I was the bad guy. I know I mustn’t raise my hand but I really don’t know how else to get her to concentrate. I never slap her or scold her on her grades. That’s a n outcome not the act. While studying, it’s so goddam frustrating. But as soon as she told me, I understood. I protested that it wasn’t hard and it’s almost playful. But she refused to accept it. So then I said sorry and I told her that no more whacks, but you need to start concentrating. It worked for then. But it still was tough on both of us. At start I don’t know Hindi well enough to teach a fifth grader. Then she writes some random stuff in her books from which I have to take up.

I should be slapping her. I shouldn’t be. Even if it’s a light one. It’s not done. My only come back is that I listen to protests and immediately make up.

The fact is that I am ill-suited to making kids study. I can make them dream, I can make them think, I can inspire, but I can’t make then study. That is one thing I can’t do, not in the current system. But I see no option for a lot of study pressure we put on Jispa. She also realizes it, she also wants to push the bar and top, but then it’s up to us parents to bear the cross. And of course eat our own words.

The more I see of life the more I realize the value of hyper-specialisation. The world belongs to specialists. Specialists who take on specific fields and are the domain experts in them. They are the ones who will inherit the earth. Standard average joes will find themselves good work but will never be able to break the ceilings. In good times and bad, it’s the hyper specialists who are constantly up on the curve and adapting to new and new changes in technology are the ones who will be in demand. The key point here is constant adaptation. A hyper specialist carries a curse. Whatever she knows will be common knowledge soon and could be obsolete sooner. So she needs to go deeper and deeper and constantly stay relevant. So I hope to push her to study and I surely hope I don’t push her to choose a field. I wish she chooses a field of her own liking and I am not forced to eat my hat then.

I have eaten too many of my own hats to the point of indigestion. I don’t want to do that. The trick is not to wear less hats but to wear more edible hats – you understand the point?

how little

When we grew up in an India of less resources we fought for more and more for ourselves. The age was characterized by have nots and an amazing string of shortages. I have heard stories (probably not apocryphal) about 7 year waitlists for cars. I know for sure that when my dad came to Mumbai from Dubai, he bought the Bajaj Chetak scooter and got it immediately by paying in foreign currency. I think it was almost exclusively available in foreign currency. A lower end brand was available if you paid local currency.

Like idiots we fought and discussed all the issues that lay before us. Corruption, economics and everything else. The big cause as we and almost everyone saw it was a Malthusian curse of over population. It was only natural to think so. When you have less to go around, you think the best solution was to have less demand to start with. Everything boiled down to lowering population. Having less children was patriotic. First I remember the family planning programs having this slogan – hum do humare do. (we two ours two), alluding to one couple having two kids.

I remember noticing when the not so subtle shift happened to the program showing one couple and the male child simply removed from the posters. It was one couple with one girl.

All of us looked forward to the China model where they strictly enforced a one child policy to curb the effects of population growth and enough and more statistics emerged which showed that while being larger for now China will soon be eclipsed by India as the most populous country the world. We would have the ignominious reputation by, I remember, something like 2035! Wow that was a scary statistic. If you thought there wasn’t enough, here – have even less. Compete with more people. Eat less food. Wear less clothes. It was crazy.

I am suddenly reminded of these arguments as on Independence Day I was at the club where there was a bit of flag hoisting and celebration. The chairman or someone got up to make a short speech and he highlighted the population problem. He obviously was from the 60’s. I sniggered to my wife that he definitely hasn’t heard about the demographic dividend. China with its one child policy has another weird set of issues. You have older population that now has a much smaller younger  population to support it. India seems to have a, what they now term as, demographic dividend. A larger younger population earning money for a smaller older population. Some even split India into four zones and talk about how the demographic dividend has already been witnessed in the west and south while the north and east are now poised for reaping the benefits while a host of factors need to be considered.

So it’s a bit of a U turn that we see. Similarly such views are also seen in immigrants. At first cities flourish thanks to the waves of immigrants that come in and then we suddenly hate them with the right wing stroking fears of ‘them’ overpowering ‘us’. Then we want to throw them out. Then different statistics come out explaining how the immigrants that come in are the best brains from around the world and that if we shut them out our own innovations die out and we as a city we will die. Today India’s (arguably) two richest cities – Mumbai and Delhi are completely immigrant led. You would struggle to find anyone in these two cities who could trace their ancestry for greater than two generations. I haven’t found any son of the soil in Mumbai at least, nor known of anyone like this in Delhi.

Such u turns are common and thanks to the amount of reading I do –I am reconciled to them. In fact the law of unexpected consequences shows up almost in everything. In a lot of my life I have seen myself turning around and questioning my own beliefs. There are two sides to the coin. These days I have been far less opinionated on a lot of issues. I have spoken of this in my earlier blogs as well. This has also led to me blogging a lot less. If you have fewer opinions to talk about you obviously are going to talk less. Unless of course you have this space and time to rant on both sides. It becomes difficult to talk to start with.

You can hear about a bit of it the demographic dividend and other stuff at this talk.

And here is the link to why population growth is required –

In fact I never would have imagined seeing a story title like this  - ‘Low Birth Rates: Causes, Consequences, and Remedies.’ Remedy for LOW BIRTH RATES? I thought that was the cure. Oh man… how little we know. How little.

http://www.becker-posner-blog.com/2013/08/low-birth-rates-causes-consequences-and-remedies-becker.html

Can you stop it?

One day Jispa old me that she has this great desire to once touch the fan while its moving. Hah! Ya sure. I told her that I wanted to touch the fan as well when I was her age. I wanted to stop the blades from moving. She said – ya she wants to do that as well. We both laughed as we shared our similar childhood fantasies of holding the blades of the fan. She told me ‘when I was small once I put a stick in the fan, thinking that I would go round round round, like in the movies.”. “ya? You serious. I have done that as a kid my self” I told her. “So what happened” I asked her. She said “nothing, the stick banged against the fan”. Yup. That’s the thing that happens. Then I asked him “do you really want to touch the fan while it’s on? There is one trick. You can touch the middle motor and not the blades. You should be fine then. Come let’s do it”. So I first touched the middle round bit and then I held her hand as she touched it. But I warned her to do it only under adult supervision. I told her that I did this as a kid. Then I narrated one incident to her. Once, (I must have been around 17/18) I wanted to check if I could stop the blades of the mixer with my fingers. So I tried experimenting with the mini boss. The hand held blender. I held the blades with my fingers and then started it. I got a deep cut in my finger and of course – the blade did not stop :) . that was my stupidity. I then tried showing her the scar on my finger. We could see a faint line. It was fun sharing these stories with Jispa. We really share the same weird ideas. How would it be to stop a fan?

A few stories that I did not tell her was that one of the things I experimented with was that I would do two more experiments with the fan. One was after I switched it off, at what point before it stopped moving altogether – would I be able to stop it. Putting my hand on the motor and increasing the friction was one. Putting a stick and even my hands on the blades when they are slower was another. The other experiment which was very successful and led to the finger in blender experiment was I would switch on the fan and then immediately try and stop it from moving by holding on to the blades. Now in a large ceiling fan that takes a lot to shrug off the initial inertia – it worked. You can stop a ceiling fan from starting by holding on to it. WARNING – any kids reading this – DO NOT TRY this at home. The fans can be of varying speed and this stuff was tried in the 90’s or 80’s. Motors and speeds have surely moved on from then on. SO since I could do that to the fan I wanted to do that to the blender. That successful experiment is not something I am going to tell Jispa about. Prudence prevailed.

But it was still fun to share a lot of these fun things with Jispa. Most of these experiments are garbed under scientific research in our brain. Once Jispa got a scolding for using nail paint in her fingers without asking. Later on I found out that it was a part of a scientific experiment on the effects of chlorine on nail paint. How long will it last while she swims.

But let me leave you with a video of a blender and stuff I would love to do at home. I think they got the amazing insight of every childhood fantasy… will the blender blend it? see all the related videos.

Choice to be reborn a hero

You are fundamentally the choices you make. Not so much as the choice itself but the act of choosing determines you.

When I first went to London around eight years or so ago, I entered the toy store Hamleys. I was mesmerized by the offerings, the toys and the whole host of sales guys playing around. It was a magical world. Of course later Hamleys entered India and I got to take Jispa there. She had grown up a lot since then and she was less fascinated by the toys and the experience. This time we went to Hamleys in London, just to see the original store.

Inside the store were guys doing magic tricks and the various different sales guys demonstrating the toys. It’s almost a pressure sale. They show you how easy and magical a thing is then almost give it to you. It’s impossible to say no. In one case, I let Jispa take it and then I chatted with her and explained that this is available in Mumbai and then she realized and put it away. It’s a difficult task to walk away from the demonstration without the product in your hand so I let her walk away with it and then in quiet the rational explanation starts. It just saves you and the more importantly the kid a lot of embarrassment. And it also teaches the kid one simple rule – just because its in your hand doesn’t mean you have to bill it :). You can always say no.

Then on one of the floors was the Harry Potter memorabilia section. There we saw the different wands of the different wizards. Harry’s wand and those of his friends. Of course the famous elder wand was also there. Plastic wands at around 40 pounds each. Wow that is expensive. Jispa felt attracted to it. She looked at me. I looked at her. She wanted one. She had a 5 pound a day budget to do what she pleases. This was easy. It was six days savings. Jispa was not a spendthrift in anyways so she was hardly spending her 5 pounds. I asked her if she was sure. She nodded. And then Jasmine and me said fair – go ahead buy your wand. She took fifteen minutes to choose her wand. She choose Harry’s wand I think. And she was happy with her choice. After a few minutes she comes back to us and tells us – no, she doesn’t want it. Huh? Jasmine and I told her to take it, no worries. We can surely afford it and we even promised that it was a gift from us. Her five pounds would remain intact. But Jispa said ‘no, I don’t really know what to do of it. I am not going to play with it in any case’. We tried to assure her but she was clear.

Now that’s a bit of character. A bit of growing up. I have referred in the past to the Hero’s journey. In our life we go through many deaths and rebirths. In our quest, in our journey of the Hero we overcome many odds and many temptations. We overcome it to emerge stronger and tougher. Jispa had one such moment. She probably saw the wand and was completely driven to own it. For a brief period she owned it and once that emotion wore off rational mind set it and she realized she was above it. She died to live again. A hero’s journey.

Londonw as special in many ways. Jispa, I realize is now an adult. She makes her choices and in the process drives us up the wall. It is easily the most difficult period Jasmine and I have faced so far. By far the most difficult. She exercises judgment but not all of it is smart. She chooses not to listen so many times. She tries to get away. In her process of growing up, we are dying a thousand deaths and are getting born again. For a fundamentally sweet kid she is now in the process of tearing away her cocoon and butterfly parents are just not being able to manage it. Probably teaching 60 kids every year and managing office colleagues, makes me possibly more … should I say  ‘philosophical’ than Jasmine. I get driven up the wall as much as Jasmine but I just bounce back faster. Jispa has been far more tougher on Jasmine then me. But then Jispa’s journey is as much of importance as is Jasmine. Both will die a thousand deaths and see the cycle of trials and temptations. They will be helped along the way by mentors and talismans. It is for them to die and be reborn to get the ultimate blessing. When they do transform themselves and come back to the real world to spread the awareness to others, will then reach mastery of their worlds. Possible the blog has helped me remain sane or stable. Possibly the fact that I teach to so many forces me to brood less over these issues. This transformation is accentuated but the death and rebirth are something for me too.

The more times in life the cycle turns the wiser you will get. And to be stronger t is important for you to share your stories. Here I am sharing mine with you. Have you shared yours with anyone?

Read more of the Hero’s journey here  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomyth

perspectives

Long ago I too thought that the solutions to all traffic woes would be to build flyovers. As many as you possibly can, just build them and the traffic will simple cease. The simple logic being that if you don’t have halts you don’t have traffic.

Reading books by intelligent people gives you a perspective on life that is different than the average Joe. You look at life from different angles. That is the single biggest thing about reading. You understand that there are multiple perspectives and viewpoints for various issues. You also realize how much to trust propaganda and simplistic thinking. Also being in marketing you realize that you are not the center of the world. Most people (even in marketing) market to themselves and their own sensibilities. That’s not the right way to understand things. Just because you like it is no reason to have a pack design in a certain manner. Its what your core customer wants that’s important. I have learnt that India is not English speaking and we continue to throw English inside our communication. We marketer’s believe that everybody understands English. In offices in metros we think since we use English as the primary means of communication, that is the answer to everything. Of course you must understand English. May be earlier it would suffice as the big markets were the well-developed metros. But now as we look beyond the metros the vernacular languages need to addressed. The politicians and the film world have got it bang on. They are ones who have embraced the vernacular since time immemorial. But since we marketing people are based out of cities we forget the basics.

Simplistically as well, we think that the only spending on infrastructure we must do is the roads. So many people (very smart at that) have told me that the solution to Mumbai’s infra mess is more roads, costal roads, ring roads and flyover etc. No one seems to understand the huge amount of money being spent on what is a fraction of the people enjoying the service. Mass Rapid Transport is not about roads for cars but using bus and train services to connect people across the city. A network that takes a huge mass of people from one end to another. This opens out the city and flattens it evenly. People want cheap reliable mode of transport. The car is the worst thing for solving city woes. My argument has been rather simple here. My guess (only a guess) is that the amount of money the city spends on these massive flyovers can be simply utilized to do something else. Suppose we just take the number of busses on the road and triple it thus reaching far off corners and for good measure put air-conditioning to placate the office goers, the cost of which can easily be borne in lieu of the flyover constructed. Me thinks that with this kind of money you can even charge normal rates and give AC service. Ofcourse this is simplistic thinking. Flyover can last many years, far more than an average life of a bus. Plus no point having busses if your roads are jammed to start with. But the thinking is different. The point is to look at lakhs of people at the lower level than the few bums at the top.  

But it’s not easy to change habit. Over the last few years I have got the habit of travelling by car. First at kaliana and then at worli – my house is ill connected to office by public transport. It doesn’t make sense to travel thus. It takes far more time and is tedious. So I have the car habit. While I was in nariman point I used to take pride in travelling by train. This way I got my reading time as well. There is some loose talk that our office will get transferred back to Nariman Point. Jasmine and I saw it differently. I thought great - there is a new freeway from town right upto my building (literally – mine is the first building you get off to) and Jasmine said – great, now you can go by train and catch back on your reading. Oops. I missed that one. No body like change from routine.  I too am a victim of my own routine.

whats with the lecture?

My brother and I used to fight a lot and sometimes they would get bitter. We would be at blows and we would just not get along. Being younger most of the time I would lose, especially the physical fight and then I would go crying to parents to complain. My brother hated my crying and called me a complainer. What other option I had. As a young kid who lost and was subject to what I thought was unfairness I would complain.

Many times after all this my dad would sit me down and talk to me and I wondered why it that I am getting the lecture is. It was his fault. In many ways I did see dad admitting that it may have been his fault but I needed to improve. I needed not to cry. “why should I not cry. It was his fault to start with. He did this and that… blah blah blah.” I never understood why I would get the lecture. I am correct. I was wronged and hence I must be righted. Justice was not giving me a lecture but my brother getting a lecture. But I felt that I was getting it all.

I remember as a small boy I would cry my heart out and my dad would tell me to calm down. Then we would have a chat and he would explain to me in vain what needed to be done. I understand my dad much better now. In fact in hindsight I was the luckier one. I had those conversations with dad which wouldn’t have happened if he did not choose to lecture me instead of my brother. I really don’t know what conversations he had with my brother. Funnily I don’t remember him having too many which I think may not be the case.

But it took a lot of thought and age for me to realize the answer to my question “why me”. I guess the answer was I was getting the lecture not because I was wrong in the fight. I was probably right or it was impossible to call or even futile to call; but more importantly it wasn’t necessary to call. The bigger issue was how I needed to react. My reaction was wrong. I shouldn’t have fought like that. I shouldn’t have behaved like that. I should have greater control over my reactions. In fights with mom or family, I must remain calm collected and precise. I must open my mouth less. I may be right or wrong but I must understand the bigger picture. It’s a difficult one.

Especially when you are angry. When you are angry it is difficult to stay quiet. You want to talk, you want to blurt out. And if someone elder comes down to you and talks to you instead of the other one, don’t consider yourself unlucky or wronged. You are the lucky one. You will learn from the fight and the other one will lose from the fight.

Most of the times that I have fought I have learnt the most when the elder came to me and told me to look at the big picture. It hurt me at the time. Real bad. But in the long run, I learnt the most from it. But when you are at the receiving end of the lecture, you don’t care two shit for it. You are focused on only one thing – justice or revenge. Which to the accused is one and the same. Talking about which – I think for the first time in my life I think the law and life seems to have taught us – that justice and revenge is one and same thing. Now that is one tough ethical question. In fact I hate to think of it as that. How is justice equated with revenge? Dam it – this post is suddenly troubling me. I will have to leave this question in my brain for some time till I get an answer to this one.

But from another perspective, I think there is great learning just being the elder guy. If you are the one doing the quiet talking then there is so much to learn. You can see the situation from both ends, look at the issues, realize the folly of it all, and learn without getting too hurt.

Teaching is amongst the greatest way to learn anything. A close second to actually experiencing it.

badminton metaphors now?

As I was wondering what to write in my blog, one of the things that is occupying my mind right now is my badminton game. I keep reflecting back on the game and I wonder why I do what I do. For the most amount of time I play only as good as my opponents / partner. I don’t bother to raise my game needlessly at all. I only have spurts of power when have a close game or suddenly when I feel like the underdog. I don’t push to take all shots and I don’t push for kills. I have no clue why so many players run around like crazy in a badminton doubles game.

Most of the time you have partners who run like crazy all over trying to take all the shots. Why would they do that? I have never understood. It’s not like they are supreme players who can reach where no man can. It’s just that they run like mad all over.  I guess it takes time to understand a partner  but the first reaction is to play stupid. To my mind the first rule of playing doubles is to understand that you are playing DOUBLES. You have to trust your partner as well. I am guilty at times to play my partners shot. but then I kick myself and try and make amends. Understanding where your partner is possibly more important than understanding where your opponent is. Blocking out space on your court by working well as a team is winning more than half the battle.

Recently we had two new players coming in to play with us. They are pretty decent players and I realized I could match up to them. Though I don’t play the back hand smash and I don’t really do the drop shot too well but my ability to cover the court quickly and suddenly take up impossible shots is what I work to my advantage. I can keep the shuttle in play for the longest and force either an unforced error or a chance to play it into the gap that comes up. In fact because these fellows try reaching for all the shots, many times the best play is to play right in the middle when both can reach. They both will reach and either knocks themselves or end up together leaving space in the court for a simple kill. I think these are trust issues and an over self-reliance that city breeds in people that is possible to blame.

(unrelated point – I just saw a coppersmith barbet outside my office window on the tree. I love it when I see her)

But what amazes me is how my game goes up or down depending upon the players I play. I am amazed how large the change is. So with one guy who is a really bad player, I have rallies with him and then sometimes some average players come along, I have rallies with them and then with some good players – I have rallies with them as well. Why is it that I am doing like this? I like it this way. It puts less pressure on me while playing but I am forced to think of a more fundamental point. Does my badminton talk about the kind of person I have become? Do not take pangas unless absolutely necessary or if you think there is merit in it. In a way I have become less aggressive or controlled my aggression. I am aggressive enough to reach for a shuttle that seems impossible. In fact so many times the players wonder if I have picked on one bounce and that I think is a factor of my aggression and ability to move fast. But why is it that I cant kill anymore. Has age caught up with me? The wisdom that all is transitory and that you must always live to fight another battle another day?

In office also I try and let go. Focus on battle you can win but more importantly I see myself silent in many meetings. If I don’t see the point of it all, and I know my suggestion would not be understood, I keep quiet. Let go, relax, let people atleast do what they are capable of. No real point in pushing them too hard. They will simply not be able to reach the shuttle. You will win the point but the dam score in the end doesn’t count. Let them play, throw it around where they are, but more importantly practice you game, keep honing it, push yourself to do different things.

Many times I try and play not to win but to only give the other guy a good game while trying my best to improve my game. Try and be nimble, work on anticipation and stuff like that. The raw aggression of winning or killing every point doesn’t work. In doubles you don’t need to win every point as well. You let the other guy play his game, understand his game, be happy with the second fiddle, put it back in play and then look to improve. Then push and keep perfecting your skills. Points be dammed. Look at others, see their game, spot weaknesses, play easy. Is that my daily life philosophy as well? I don’t know. I guess it is a reflection of some of it.  Don’t play for a win, play for a win win win.

one way street

It’s a vortex that you are going to be sucked under. Power and politics is normally a one way street. You just can get out. The only way is to constantly try and push yourself up.  Entering is not necessarily a bad thing.  In fact we need to enter and make a change if we want to see the change. There is no point sitting on the sidelines and waiting for things to move in the right direction. Let’s take the example of the building society. A lot of stupid things happen, but you can’t really crib about it as when it comes for elections and meetings, you just don’t have the time or are willing to make time for it. Plus who really wants the additional responsibility that you take on for no real consideration, especially if you are a honest man.

At the Gymkhana I had no choice. Too many idiots were harassing the swimmers who were training. Change the timing, call them earlier (earlier than 5.45 am), restrict the batches, change the  coach. It was time to step up. And now I am a part of the committee and being a part of the change I want to see. A lot has improved. Water testing, monitoring the chemicals, life guard duty etc. Now, while we are the part of the swimming committee we face issues with the general committee and in the next elections we see no option but get involved at that level. I don’t want to do that. But the risk of idiots coming on top must be mitigated.

Power is one way street. Now that things are working fine, you want them to work fine. You want good things to continue. I think what motivates everybody is the fact that when you are in power three people  look at you greet you. The power you have over people down the line is really not that easy to let go of. It definitely corrupts. You will get and take some additional privileges and that are difficult to let go of. I try my best to ensure that none of this goes into my head.

In office I see more eyes on me than ever. The older I got the more adulation I got. Balls to it. It is a clear case of power shining through the backside. But how do I get it off from my head. How can I refuse it. I sit out of my cabin for a lot of the time. I can keep the door open, I can do a lot but the fact is that I can do all that because I have it. I can sit outside the cabin because I have the cabin. If I did not have the cabin to start with, what would I have sat out of?

Many years ago I worked at a construction company called Hiranandani. I was part of the upcoming projects of the daughter of the patriarch. I had got the manager’s cubicle. As the core team relating to sales increased I was asked to vacate and move into the smaller worker cubicle. I remember not liking it at all. I made a brave face but it hurt. At that time I vowed never to be bothered by the size of the cube or the status associated with it. Now that I have one, what do I do about it? I can’t get used to not having one when I have one.  

All this is a one way street. I am reminded of the movie Naam. Here the villain Paresh Rawal tempts a crestfallen Sanjay Dutt into the world of drugs and crime. He explains to him – this is a one way street. You can come in but you can’t get out.

I forget where the street comes in but here is one part where the temptation begins and Paresh Rawal brilliants explains – here you can get everything you want but …an exit. And then he laughs. Check it out. It’s in the first two three minutes itself

In this part go to around 12 minutes – he again explains that this is a one way street…

And here is the part where our hero gives it back to the villain when he shows the one way street back to the boss. Go to the 8 minute mark.

On that morose note…

It’s not that bad. I think the challenge is to remain level headed and calm when you have tail wind. You realize that it’s the tail wind that causing the speed. There is no real harm in enjoying it too much. You just need to get a reality check from time to time. You keep reminding yourself of the tail wind and somehow try and step aside on the one way street. To keep the parable running – the one way street doesn't allow a U turn but it surely allows you to step on one side and park. Wait quietly and try not to reach anywhere faster than others. Who says it’s important to go to the other side or lead. Stay in there. Knowing the flow of the street is also a valuable experience that you pass on to other travelers.

On the last line – a poem got triggered in my mind. It’s not exactly in context but I like this one. There is a story behind it – but that is for another day

The Bridge Builder

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim, near,
"You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again will pass this way;
You've crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head:
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him."

Freedom

We spend the first year of a child's life teaching him or her to walk and talk "and the rest of their lives telling them to shut up and sit down."

I read this somewhere and its really true and so truer than now with respect to Jispa. Jispa is suddenly becoming a big girl. She understands stuff, is able to argue back and is broadly able to resist. So whats wrong. Nothing – just as parents now we have to be all ready to handle a different child than the one we were handling six months ago. The nature of adolescence is now panning out. Neither she nor we know if she is an adult or a child. Should we treat her as if she knows nothing or should we treat her as if she knows everything. We have to get after her to do her stuff and she says she knows what to do. Jasmine is letting her peel and cut cucumbers and I baulk at the approval. That’s not done. I don’t think she is ready yet but then many girls younger to her do this and much more.

She fights and fights aggressively for freedom and responsibility and on giving she promptly screws it all up. She would  then proceed to just not do what is expected of her. Its not that she doesn’t understand. She does but just something happens and …. And it just creates more confusion in our minds. Is she old or is she young. Every phase gets tougher and tougher. Now that she is in the fifth grade the pressure of homework and studies have cranked up dramatically. There is a lot more to study and with her swimming schedule the time that she has is dramatically less. Time seems to have been condensed these days. So much so that we are now constantly on her case. Jasmine gets completely done in by the stress and then it gets to me. I try and understand and allow but then Jispa will simply mess things up and make me wonder whats going on. I allow her leeway in the morning to relax and not rush – the consequence is that when we are to leave she will not be ready and there is a mad rush for the bags. I allow her some time to read  a magazine at night – the consequence is that she remembers in the morning about the home work to be done and there is a mad rush with unfinished home work. We let her see a movie and project will remain unfinished or she will be ill prepared for her reviews.

Oh dam me. I always maintained that I will not put pressure on her to study. She is free to enjoy her life and do as she pleases. Studies will not be the main focus of her life like what my parents did. Studies they knew was the only way out of a life of struggle. They were right in their era. Time shave changed. I maintained always but then it lasted only till I became a parent of a 10 year old. So now I have changed to from studies is not it to only studies is not it. You need studies and something else. Or you have your something else and you have studies as well. Earlier when Jispa was born I was a complete ass. I even thought that great it’s a girl, at least the pressure on her to grow up and study and become an engineer is not there. But dam… that’s not the thing. We know she is smart and we know that she can do well. She has a great brain that is able to memorise as well as reason. So what’s my job as a dad? Is it to give her a great and happy childhood that she will remember for life (and not blame me like how I sometimes blame my parents) or teach her to study, make her study for now and then hopefully she takes a call later on what she wants to do in life.

I really don’t want to pressurize her. Yesterday as well I had to take the school magazine from her and get her to study and finish her homework. She obviously did not like it. It showed on her face. Later on I asked her about it and then I spoke to her. I told her I was sorry. She had to finish her stuff, I hate being a  mean dad much more than you hate having one. But I am sorry. She understood. At the end as was sleeping I told her “I am sorry and I promise you that it WILL happen again”. We laughed. It’s a tough one. And it’s not as simple as ‘let Jasmine do the irritating discipline thing and I will do the fun thing’. That’s not on as well. That’s unfair to one parent. So we both have to be mean and sweet. The thing is to alternate. But it’s getting freaking tough on both of us. We are constantly being pulled in by our true nature, our role as parents and our desires to see our child do well.

So what’s the answer to all this? its difficult. The way I see it right now and the way I explained to Jispa is simple. I have no option but ensure that you have a great base. She is around 11 right now. I have another 5-6 years at best to hound her and get her to study. If this base is well constructed then she can build it from there on.in fact she can then even decide to chuck it all and do something else altogether. But to have the freedom to choose you need to be able enough to get the choice in the first place. If you want to reject an admission in a college you need to get the admission to start with. That leave sus with very little room to play with. And that little room is gobbled up with her swimming. If she swims so many hours a day, she is eating into all her time for everything else. Plus we have to ensure she plays a bit and movies and relax and read… wow. I keep explaining to her that if she was a simple fun kid then she would have had time for a lot of simple cute fun. But is choosing to be a champion. Representing Mumbai is no mean feat, there are choices to be made and scarifies to be done. It is up to the athlete to choose. But she will need to.

On this a bit of philosophy that I read might help. It’s quite an interesting story. I have read this story as a kid, but I never did figure that this is an interesting and deeply philosophical construct. Read on. How limiting Jispa’s choices now we are actually giving her the freedom to choose! Sorry Jips, I think you are not going to find this one inspiring. Atleast for now.

http://bigthink.com/experts-corner/odysseus-nudged

Odysseus Nudged: How Limiting Our Choices Can Give Us More Freedom

by DAVE NUSSBAUM

According to legend, the Sirens were beautiful women whose voices were so alluring that when sailors heard their song they could not resist approaching and were drowned on the rocky shores of the island where the Sirens sang. No sailor had heard their song and lived until Odysseus, who, on the counsel of the goddess Circe, had his crew tie him to the mast of his ship. When he heard the Sirens’ song he begged to be released, but his crew, their ears plugged with beeswax, would not unbind him and saved him from his own desires. Odysseus was lucky – he knew that he would be unable to resist the Sirens and had himself bound – but people often have difficulty foreseeing their weakness from a distance. Sometimes they need help.

I love watching my not-quite-two-year-old son learn about the world from his mistakes. I look on with sympathy at his falls and bumps and spills and I try to restrain myself from interceding. But when he’s about to tumble down a flight of stairs I step in. It is difficult to balance preserving his freedom to explore and make his own mistakes with the desire to keep him safe. There’s a lot to be said for giving kids autonomy and letting them learn from experience, but sometimes you have to behave paternalistically and tie them to the mast (or at least install safety gates).

When you start treating grown men and women like you’re their father, though, the charge of paternalism becomes a more serious one. There may be cases in which a heavy-handed approach is necessary (particularly when people’s actions harm others), but we should be careful about using it. A more circumspect approach is libertarian paternalism, described by Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein in Nudge (and re-articulated more recently by Sunstein in his Simpler) as a way of influencing people to make decisions that they themselves would consider beneficial, without restricting their freedom.

Here, we are not tying Odysseus to the mast – the more appropriate analogy would be to the beeswax that Odysseus had his sailors put in their ears. The wax prevented the sailors from hearing the Sirens’ song and saved them from being lured to their deaths, but it also left them free to remove the wax if that is what they wanted to do. This sort of intervention is an acknowledgment that the sailors’ freedom is important, but also that people are not always perfectly rational. As Carnegie Mellon economist (and psychologist) George Loewenstein recently explained to me, “When people have problems exercising self-control, restricting their choices can, in some cases, leave them more freedom to choose.”

On its face, Loewenstein’s claim may seem paradoxical – isn’t a person most free when presented with all her options and allowed to choose among them? But as the mythical Sirens make clear, there are some options that we are not truly free to resist. Without beeswax in their ears Odysseus’ crew would have been doomed; the wax gave them the freedom to choose.

memories

I remember green carpet, my dad in his kurta pyjama, in our hall in Dubai and dad fiddling with his new beautiful Sony cassette player system. It is an amazing memory. Its morning and dad puts on this cassette of Mr Natwarlal and I am listening to Amitabh doing a fantastic job of singing mere Paas aao mere doston ek kissa sunoh. Wow those memories are something else. I must have been no greater than 6 or 7 years old. (the movie released when I was around 4). But I remember it andwhen ever the song runs I am immediately transported back. Here is the song

The song is forever etched in memory and frequent references to it come when someone askes or mentions about life and says something to the effect of ‘aap toh ache ji rahe ho’ and I retort “yeh jeena bhi koi jeena hai, lallu?”. Only those who are around as old as me would understand the reference to the dialogue. Yesterday I cracked that dialogue with my office gang to a very cold response and then like an old man I went onto youtube and explained the context of the dialogue to the very young team.

Some memories can never be explained to others. They are yours and yours alone. The significance of hugging someone older in a  kurta pyjama is something that is mine alone. Now I don’t need to put Jispa to sleep. She sleeps on her own but everyday after a bath and wearing my nightsuit (kurta pyjama) I go to Jispa’s bed and hug her tightly and kiss her good night. And she goes ‘yay yay… papa smell smell’. According to her there is a distinct Papa smell which she loves and takes in. in the morning also she will hug and say ‘papa smell papa smell’. I guess this is her memory that she will take with her wherever.

These memories are so emotional. Smells, touch, feel.. they all have their own connects. Most Mumbai residents will have a distinct memory of the smell of monsoon. Of course their associations could be good or nasty. It varies from experiences and people.

Like there is this other song from the same movie. I love this song as well. Obviously I would have heard it from the same cassette. It’s a nice song with folksy feel to it. I must have heard it at the same time as the earlier song but the emotion is somehow missing. (don’t miss those boots. I remember them distinctly. Ya this visual memory is stronger)

I guess what must have happened is that dad would have looked at me or called me or I must have laughed with him when the earlier song was played and this one was just played – without special intentions or eye contacts or something. So while I love both the songs, the mere paas aao, has a special ring to it. In fact watching the video leaves me cold. I love listening to the song. Amitabh’s baritone reverberating through the room. I love to listen to it but not watch it at all. There is nothing in the video and everything in the audio. Memories are a funny thing.

And while we are at it, here is one song that could have a similar effect on Jispa 30 years hence. Again we have Amitabh and his signature baritone. His voice has definitely aged but the distinct quality remains unchanged. Here is a song I love and I listen to it many times in the car, on speakers. Jispa has not even seen the movie and hence may not even know of the video but she would recognize the song and I tried explaining to her to the best of my ability the meaning of the song. And we have played it upteen number of times. So here listen on Jispa and tell me when you come back to it in the year 2043 if it rings a bell! What is it that you feel? What do you remember – iTen, car, papa, papa smell, drive, vacation… what is it triggering. A penny for your thoughts

I find this Ekla chalo re rendition inspiring and it does help me when in office I am going to (or feel like I am going to.. ) kick some ones butt.

monsoon blues

The monsoon are truly well upon us. This time around they came with a  bang and have stayed since. We have had heavy rains. Ever since the big floods that created havoc around seven years ago, the psyche of the average Mumbai dweller seems to have been scarred. That day the city came to a standstill, a few died and a large majority walked home or stayed at friends place or stuck inside their cars. We were very  lucky on that day. A couple of days before we left for Goa in my car. Jasmine, Jispa and me , on our very first road trip. We stayed at Ganapatiphule on the first night and we saw the fury of the monsoon on the second day onward to Goa. That monsoon travelled from south to Mumbai causing havoc. On the way we too faced quite a bit of the action. The Goa highway was submerged in many places. To our luck we kept asking around, referring maps and always took an alternate route from inside. We reached till the edge of Goa. At Malvan we seemed well and truly stuck. I remember getting off and asking for directions at a shop when a slightly drunk kind of guy was behind me and overheard us. He first tried to help which I ignored. Then he kept insisting and explaining the route. The others did not know of it. He explained and the others agreed. There was one way from inside. It went through the fields and farms and some nondescript villages. We took it and some how reached Goa!. We phoned home to know of the horrors that Mumbai faced. It was a Black swan event. Unprecedented heavy rains coupled with a very high tide threw the Mumbai storm water drainage system into a mess. Water rushed in from the sea instead of the other way round and Mumbai was horribly flooded.

I guess that was really bad and I was happy to escape it along with my car. Many cars suffered. But then something changed about the Mumbai spirit. Earlier no matter what Mumbaiites would turn up for work. Knee deep water – of course. Trains stuck – sure. Traffic – that’s ok. Somehow people managed to get to work. Without complain or major delay. You just showed up. I used to stay at kings circle which was a low lying area. I would simply wear my sandals fold my pants up and get to work. Simple. I don’t know what stopped anyone. While going home people would struggle but somehow reach. No complains no issues. But now I wonder. They seem to be giving to much importance to the news. It’s flooding everywhere, things are very bad, and traffic is a killer. I guess things are bad many times, but not as bad as the media hypes them. People are permanently scarred and that’s a big issue. The TV channels keeps reminding them again and again. The whole world then tries to leave early and the result is a bad jam at 5-6 pm. And that keeps the vicious circle running.

I am sure on some days it’s bad and today is another impending calamity. We have forecast of heavy rain with high tide, which is a bit of a problem. I hope it all ends well but for now I already got calls about the knee length water around the homes and why people can’t come to work.

Knee length water. When we first came in from Dubai as kids we loved so much water. It was crazy. From a childhood spent so far in a desert to the Monsoon rains. King circle would invariably get flooded and when the neighborhood boys came to call us – come come, lets go and see the floods, I was superbly excited. Mom allowed as some good big boys were also around. So we went to see the floods which were till my thighs or waist. The water was dirty for sure and I wouldn’t want to dip my tiny toe in it now, but at the time – it was big fun. When a truck would push its way through the flood it would send a wave of water all around which made the flood resemble a sea. Oh that was awesome fun. Would I now take Jispa to the floods. I don’t think so. I don’t know but I find the water dirty mucky and … unhygienic. Poor thing will grow up without playing the floods. Then she too will grow up and refuse to turn up for work – stating knee length water. Hah!

One time I was horribly stuck. We were at a friend’s house in breach candy. This was before marriage. We took a bus and somehow reached Jasmine’s home. I then dropped her off and set off for my home. I had to walk a lot, I climbed onto a truck laoded with metal scrap (along with hitch hikers) waded through water and reached kings circle – where the dark ocean awaited me. There were two lines a la the partition, going through the water. One  or two good Samaritans were standing where the drains were and pushing people away from there. Mumbai has this drains which the municipality open the covers off for the water to flow off faster. That is what you need to avoid and be careful off while walking around the floods. At one juncture, I had to turn into a small lane. There were no lights and a truck which was stuck and the tyres submerged. I had no option. I knew that there was a drain there somewhere. I turned in and continued. The water was at first till the thighs, then the waist and then slowly slowy it rose beyond. I held my wallet in hy hand and keeping my hands in the air I walked. The water was almost till my chest. It was dark and I was alone in that crossing. I tried to avoid the corners where the drains could be open. I walked through and slowly I reached higher ground. Wow that was a little scary experience. And I lived through to tell you about it :).

That’s my deal and that’s why I wonder at all the fuss. Knee length water in broad daylight, if that is scary you don’t know what scary is.

But that’s all right. I guess I have missed the really big flood so I also don’t know what real scary is. But I do know what funny is. See this. Guy on bike on the highway with a guy behind him trying to hold an umbrella. Wonder what he is trying to do? There is no way you aren't getting wet.

so whats the point of a vacation, anyways?

So whats the prime focus of a vacation. Getting away from it all. Yes and no. getting away from it all is important. You cant really face the stress of everyday living on a vacation. You like to go away, forget the daily grind and enjoy life a bit. So getting away is important. But another one is trying to bond and spend time with family. That’s an important one for Jasmine and me. For us vacation is family time. Spending time with each other and spending time with Jispa. Full on family time. We like to do things together and hence we end up searching for stuff that allows everybody to be together. Of course that means that we elders can get really really bored trying to do things that the kid enjoys because you can’t really expect eth kid to understand stuff that parents enjoy. So invariably it becomes a kid centered vacation. I understand why my mom once told that she is now completely bored of seeing zoos. Everywhere we went she and daddy would just take us to the zoo. Yup.  It does get boring after a while. Where all have we visited zoos. From the more interesting ones at Singapore and Mysore to the more tiring one at Junagadh. We have been everywhere. Go to a city and check – zoo? Yup we are coming. One full hot day gone. Man it’s a good thing that Jispa is growing up. I am nearly totally done with zoos.

This time around in London as well. I was completely tired of them. I was going through the motions. Trying my best to enjoy the dam zoo, but it just wasn’t fun enough. Also the fact is that Singapore zoo is far better than the London zoo and once you have done that London doesn’t come close. It does seem to me that Singapore copied the London zoo model and taken it to another level altogether. It’s great and I was awestruck by it. So I honestly hope and pray that is my last zoo experience to come for a long time.

But the point I am trying to make is slightly different. Jasmine and I often discuss this. There are many of our friends who leave their kids and go on vacations. The kids stay with the grandparents while the couple takes off. That’s also a cool vacation but we just don’t understand it. I would want to spend every time I get off with Jispa and Jasmine together. Of course the dumb ass zoos come with the package but there are so many other benefits as well. There is so much to talk to them, listen to them, have conversations and have fun. Jispa is integral to the whole thing. I guess will grow older without the chance to do many fun young stuff that young adults can do. But it would have still been fun. I probably started working early, got married, became a father before I got the money to do what I could have done as a young adult, but hey, the joy of growing up with Jispa was unparalleled. So Jasmine and I just can’t understand the others who go out for vacations without kids. But then eacht o their own. Who am I to pass judgement.

The other thing about vacations is – luxury. Of course as income goes up the kind of money one spends also goes up. We don’t travel by second non AC sleeper trains anymore. That is too much. The loos and the crowd and the dirt are probably too much to handle. And if the trains aren’t convenient a flight booking is in order. But I think I want to draw the line as far as a complete luxury holiday is concerned. I FOR NOW… don’t want a holiday in which the family goes to a resort of sorts and stay at ease for a week, eating , drinking and relaxing. I don’t have anything against the five stars. I think they are pretty cool and nice to be pampered, but I am not too sure on the pampering thing for us. There is so much learning to be had just by staying in slightly less sterile environments. You stay close to the city, you meet and talk to more people, you take the train and public transport, you walk around… the works. That’s the fun bit. When we stayed in London we stayed at a friends place. She opened the doors of her home and heart to us. That was the only reason we could afford a London vacation for as many days. It’s impossible otherwise. But in hindsight, that was the smartest move we made. I think vacations are as much about learning as much about relaxing. You go around, you meet, you see, you explore and you learn. You learn about people, cultures, nature, and life. Everything about things you weren’t exposed to. In London, staying at a friend’s place gave us a sneak peek into the life of an everyday Londoner. What’s the commute what’s the life and what normal people do. Taking the train and the bus to reach home gave Jispa a real feel of London and its people. That is important. She all sorts of people in the tube, she saw all the different types of stations, she changed trains and understood how efficient and organized it is. That’s the learning bit and who said learning can’t be fun. Staying with our friend in the end is what made the trip extra memorable and FUN.

I admit I was being a  bit judgmental or a bit of an ass when a friend was asking me about my vacation and I replies “well, we have a choice either to go on a one week luxury vacation and come back dumber or go on a different vacation and come back smarter”. I am not saying that every vacation has to be a boot camp but hell, going out and feeling the city is a great thing to do. Leaning may be as important as anything else in a vacation. It doesn’t cost too much to open your eyes. In fact in hindsight I’d say it’s far better a call then a five star. Money can make people do many things. Losing touch with reality is probably one of them. But hell, when you are rich – do you really care about reality? You can afford not :)

What a great dad am I?

Good intentions. They are good but they are not just good enough. And I mean real good intentions. These are intentions that are followed by good action that gains the praise of the world and all round you. People go back happy and love what you do, but they are just not good enough.

Just the other day I was asking Jispa that her birthday is coming up and we can celebrate with a pool party like last time. Like last time I will organize and conduct all the games and we can have a blast. So you want to have one? No was her reply. What? You don’t want to have a pool party. NO. She did not want to have a party this year. I couldn’t just understand it. Why is it that she did not want to have a party? We let it be at the tie but the matter kept ringing in my head. I thought it was a great party. The kids enjoyed, Jispa enjoyed and everyone had a great time. Wasn’t it a fun day to spend at the pool? Evidently it wasn’t so much fun. Jispa refusal did not seem right to me. There was something more to it than I understood. Yesterday in the evening I asked her – “you really don’t want a party this year?”. ‘No”. “why”. “because you don’t listen to me. Last time when the other girl kicked me in the pool you just ignored it.”. “No sweet heart. I can’t favor you or even take your side. You are the host and you have to always let go of it. You must listen.” “No you listen” she said. “Listen. I don’t want you to give me the point but I want you to listen to me. She kicked me and the coins dropped and she took the coins. I was hurt. You must tell her that. That is not fair.”. “And what did I tell you when you told me that?”. “You just told me to shut up and go”. Whoops. “did I really tell you that?”. “yes” she said softly, “you did”. I was stunned. It was obviously me fault. I tried to be a great dad to her. I organized the party, I got into the pool. I made the kids play and everything. I had a lot of fun. In a party when I playing judge I have to be extra fair. The benefit of the doubt must go against my daughter and her team. Always. So I tend to ignore her. Or possibly I am too caught up with my organizing to really become a dad. In my effort to become a Great dad, I ceased to become Her dad. I looked down at her and said “I am sorry. I really am.” I gave a tight hug and she hugged me back. Yup. “its ok”.

I say her down and spoke to her. I explained my point of view. I said I was sorry. I did not mean to do that but I was too focused on the party. She said she understood that I needed to be fair. That I needed to not let her win. She knew it did not matter but all she wanted was me to listen to her. She was right. But the issue was different in my mind. Not that I was a jerk. That I was. But the bigger one was that – why did she not tell me about it. She remembers an incident so well from a year back. And she was obviously hurt by it that she refused to have a part thanks to it. It was a big issue. Why did she not tell me about it? Why did she not talk to me about it? I asked her and I told her that she can always talk to me. Don’t I listen to her so many times? I talk to her whenever I am angry and ya, we fight but we also make up and talk. She said she was afraid that I would just not listen. That really really hurt. Here is one more person telling me that they can’t argue with me. Now this is too much to handle man. I don’t want to win these arguments. I explained to Jispa that I always say sorry immediately, nah? Yes you do dad, but I don’t know. In the end she reassured me that she will speak to me. I urged her that I may be an ass and I may not talk properly but there is also a chance that I may talk nicely. If I hadn’t raised the issue then we would not have had a chance to talk openly and we would not have had a party, she would have suffered in the end. Talk. I always teach you to talk. You respectfully talk and let me see who will not listen to you. Then as a measure of insurance I told her, that whenever she felt she needed to talk to me and I wasn’t listening all she had to do was make the T sign to denote time out and I will stop everything and talk to her. Many times I may not understand the importance of your situation, but a T sign is something that I will always respect. Always. That’s a good note to end on. We hugged and I apologized again and again. I am really sorry sweet heart. Will try  my best, TRY my best for it not to happen but there is the T sign to fall back on.

But the issue of people not wanting to argue with me stayed. People don’t argue for afraid of losing with someone who may have a strong logical skill. So do not argue with him. Dam shit. I hate this. Argue dude, argue. I don’t know who will win. And it’s not about winning, its about talking. HELL DAM> same shit. So I guess now the tactic will be to lose arguments just to reassure people or tone down my arguments or what … I don’t know.

Forget that. I will figure that one, but the bright side. At least now that my kids growing up, it’s nice to have a chat like this. it was a bit emotional and we both were almost crying but we held. We grew up a bit together yesterday night. It was a pretty picture in the end. She is growing up and fast. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use the T sign again and hopefully when she does, I listen. I have been happily humbled. The only good thing about all this is that she assured me that she loves my games, she loves that I make her and her friends play, she loves the twist in the games I do. And that WE RE HAVING A PARTY THIS YEAR AS WELL. HURRAY! I am not that bad a dad at all.

Good intention, good execution, but keep the empathy at all times dude. You are after all her Dad first and a (hopefully) Great dad afterwards.

its not you, its them

We came back last week from a vacation. This one was in London and was amongst the longest I have ever had. A full 17 days away from office. That’s not a normal holiday. In fact the last time I took so long was when we went to Leh. That was more than 10 years ago. This time the occasion came in the form of a friend of mine from London. In fact she was not actually a friend to start with. Just a colleague who I got along with, very well. Swati.

Swati was one star employee with our London office. She would be very demanding and my team would hate to service her. She would want things now. And she would want a lot of articles written by me. The fund manager would invariably write some rubbish for her to circulate to the clients and then she would insist that I clean it and write something better. And invariably I would do it. The way I saw it, she was the star sales person in the team. She would be the one actually doing work and it would be my duty to at least support her. The others would irritate for no reason and she would have a genuine reason to push the bar. I gladly did so always. She would call on some issues and I would solve it. Simple. No special favours. Simple work.

From then on we became slightly better friends and one day I realized (through a mail or chat or something) that she was a reader of my blog. For some reason this blog gave her something to chew on, some meaning from time to time. That was cool by me. I am not writing all the time for some deeper meaning. And when someone takes a meaning from it, that’s nice. It makes me feel nice that she read it regularly and that it made sense. That would mean that Jispa would take some sense from it when she grew up as well. That’s a nice feeling.

So we just kept in touch and she would catch up with me when would come to India. The last time she came she wanted to see Haji Ali and offer prayers. I was the happy guide. I love doing this guide thing. If there is anything that I like as much as teaching it is being a guide. Not that I know too much, but I’d like to show the world what I know. And at that time she genuinely offered to host us in London. I didn’t think too much of the offer, but then when the circumstances turned benign early this year, I mailed her. She responded and there – we just came back from a lovely London Holiday.

We had the chance of spending a good fortnight in London thanks to her amazing hospitality. A small house, but willingly and lovingly shared. More on the vacation some other day. But you know, I used to think that people are nice to me because I was nice to them. That’s what I used to think before. Now I think I have changed my stance to the opposite. People are nice to you because they are nice people themselves. There is nothing too self-satisfying here. I don’t think she was nice to me or so many people are nice because someone did something nice and we must reciprocate. People are nice because they are like that. Some people don’t trust other people, some are inherently conserving by nature or whatever. It’s them and their choice and not yours. I am nice to a lot of people but some of them choose to be nice to me, not all. It’s not me – it’s them, stupid. Which in some way is really true. Of ocurse, your contribution is not being an ass of a person, not being mean and not being unkind. Basics are required, but the choice is always theirs. They choose to be nice. Swati and her extended family were the nicest of people we met. I am convinced that is that because they are nice to start with and not because I did something great to them. Sometimes I feel some kids give me respect as I was their teacher. But that does not explain why so many don’t. The kids who are nice to start with are nice to me. Those who didn’t care, continued not to.

This is not some stupid humility stuff, but something I suddenly felt. So when someone is nice to you, thank them for being nice and don’t think about yourself. You probably contributed by not screwing up. But they are the real heroes. They are the nice guys in the equation. So it’s only upto us to learn and emulate. Hopefully someday we will catch up. Simple copy cat.

Just yesterday someone in my team was complaining about someone else and then praising how another guy was so sweet. My recommendation was to simple copy the sweet guy. There – you are done. Simple. Thank S and M! Lovely people. I am so happy I am not a freaking racist or a misplaced patriot. I am so happy I teach my daughter to be open and love everyone and try and be nice to all and not judge. The rewards are in so many different ways. Thank you god.

suno sab ki, karo apni

I too can sing? Can I really sing. Of course not. I bray but I love to bray in style. I like singing and humming along songs. I have always been jealous of people who can sing. Dam you guys. How the voice comes out automatically in tune. These are guys who don’t need any training. Ever since they were born all they had to do was open their mouth and sing in tune. These are guys who now walk into karaoke bars and grab the mike and sing. They know all the lyrics and the tunes and just throw themselves ta the music. I never loved music enough to listen over and over and get the lyrics right as well. But one song that has stuck in head since a long time is the famous Kishore number from Door gagan ki chaon mein. I love the wordings. A father is dreaming with his child about a place he wants to take his kid to. A fairy tale place where happiness lives. It’s a lovely song. When we were kids we had started a kids club called the Blue Star club. In that we had these singing competitions among other things and one guy used to win by singing this song.  The simple tune and the easy lyrics captivated my mind and with the advent of fatherhood, I found deep meaning in it.

Last week end we were in Pune for Jispa’s swimming championship. We stay at the VITS hotel and there they have a karaoke bar. We were with friends and they naturally hit the mike. After singing along a few songs, they urged me to try my hand at it. Seeing the playlist I saw aa chal ke tujhe. The same Kishore beauty. I couldn’t resist. I let go. At first I was reluctant. Then I started to get eth hang of it and then started singing. By the end of it I was in full flow, trying to sing in tune with the pitch going up and down and generally making a complete happy fool of myself. I loved it. As usual my lovely wife was providing all the encouragement she could. She told me while I was singing that I suck at it and should stop. She made all sort of faces, she told me I am too hoarse and that it was really bad. I happily ignored her. Thanks Jasmine. But now I can rest. I always wanted to sing in public. I sang! It was a big relief. A sense of achievement. I always sang along with the radio in the car. Jasmine would always tell me to shut up.

Moral of the story – those who really care for you will offer you unbiased and well-meaning advice. They care about you and tell you the truth. So when you want to do something discuss with them and then go ahead and do or don’t do exactly what you want to do or not do.  It’s your life. Only you know what you really want to do. In end you answer to yourself. Not your mom or dad or anyone. The closer they are the greater the vested interest in you. They really care for you and hence they can’t really be unbiased as regards you. So they will tell you the truth but progress never depended on what accepted as truth. There is no real truth to start with. Do your bit. It is finally your life at stake and it’s not likely that you will get the chance to live it again.

So Jispa when you grow older and I give you well-meaning and trusted advice that is likely to be the right thing to do. Listen carefully and then just go and do your own freaking thing. JUMP!

the struggle to reach the fleeting buddha

I still find it queer (pun unintended) that a lot of us educated people are also homophobic. My favorite rejoinder is when people talk about how in today’s generation, we will have to accept whatever cast or creed the person who our kids choose as their life partners. I correct them to ‘yes, also whatever the sex of their partner is’. Invariably I get a slight pause. The person looks at me, catches my eye for a few seconds and tries to ascertain if I was cracking a joke or something. Nopes – no response. It’s obviously not cool to be a homophobic. So in the face of a high moral ground taken, the other guy invariably is silent. Yes I have a daughter and yes I am ok to the choice of her partner. Surely I will freak out if she chooses a druggie or someone I consider completely dumb. Also it’s another story that I am likely to find anyone who has an IQ slightly lower than Einstein as dumb especially if that person is dating my daughter. But definitely the sex bit is out of the equation.

So if it’s a senior person I am talking to – I always learnt to give that person an exit hatch. I allow that person to wiggle out of a potential wedge. So this time I allowed for – it will take one more generation for us to accept same sex marriage as it will take this generation to accept inter cast marriage. Hehe.

Allowing an exit hatch in a conversation is something I have learnt over a period of time. Especially when you have the benefit of strong insight or knowledge behind you or simply you have a strong enough counter opinion.  Life is too short to fight over such small issues such as a humble opinion. So many times I actively try getting an outlet. So I explain how the other point of view is valid and likely to be the right one or search for an excuse to honorably exit. Too many wars have been fought over petty ego issues.

There was one other incident somewhere related to this issue. I was being wooed for a job by a senior person recently. I declined but was happy to recommend a friend. The friend then told me that while having a conversation with the senior guy, the senior guy referred to me as ‘The Buddha’. To my mind there is no better compliment than that. Especially considering the fact that I have consciously worked on this. I laughed and told the friend that if you were to tell my mom something like this then my mom would burst out laughing. Jaimit a Buddha? HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH. I told my wife about the incident and guess what – she almost spat out her coffee and started laughing. ‘you a Buddha?’ HAHAHAHAHAHA. Sure. That’s the drift. Dam you guys!

Being a Buddha doesn’t come easily. You need economy of motion and expression and mental thought. The ability to leave things there while simultaneously trying to change them. That did not make sense did it – then it is a buddha’ism. But seriously that word struck me serious. I managed to, in some small tiny way, achieve a balance in my persona and achieved for however a fleeting moment – the concept of the Buddha. It felt really really nice. A lot of that comes in meetings when you don’t fight on ego and when you allow the honorable exit in meetings and discussion and then when you take people’s opinion and try and forge a consensus. And people like me – die a thousand deaths in the process. It is unnatural and difficult. But I am still gloating about the fact that someone referred to me as the Buddha. However fleeting a moment – you live in it for eternity… a ha that’s another one that didn’t make any sense… or did it.

And just a verse from William Blake. I recently read it and hence the show off

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.