I have started attending the yoga class at office. It’s twice a week at 6 in the evening. A very nice and sweet lady comes to teach. She obviously got tons of experience as a yoga teacher and she surely knows what asans the guys are absolutely pathetic at. She makes the class a bit light, so it gets nice with everybody smiling. Of course some will never smile and roam with the weight of the world behind them. Yoga cant do everything I guess. And also at 35 years I realised, I am the oldest idiot on the floor. The whole bloody class is younger than me. I guess I cope pretty ok, thanks to the fat stiff buggas but its something that I guess I have get used to as I grow older.
Back to the instructor…While the chatter box approach helps, it is a little distracting doing savasan. That is the pose where you play dead and relax your whole body and mind. So its fine when she askes to relax… relax the mind… the body… forget all thoughts… and then she goes on to say “forget everything… your spouse, your family, your job everything”. There that does it. How can you keep a blank mind when somebody is busy telling you what to forget? Oh shucks, she reminded me of all my responsibilities. No more relaxing for me.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
budget blues
Today is the day for the annual finance jamboree. The day the finance minister of India announces his budget. Me and budget go back a long way. All self respecting gujjus would follow the budget. My first memories of the budget was following it on DD news where the highlights would be telecast. I remember the then finance minister VP Singh under the Rajiv Gandhi government talking about lowering taxes. That created quite a flutter and I remember asking my dad what the hullabaloo was all about. What on earth was a budget? I remember dad explaining me its significance. Since it was VP Singh I remember, a quick Google search dates that to around 1984 to 87. Indoctrination at age around 12 is good gujju legacy. Of course post that the budget and of course the finance minister got rock star status, thanks to Manmohan Singh. The live telecasts and people huddling around to watch what on earth was going to be presented. If I am not mistaken it used to be presented in the evenings (an old Raj legacy) and the stock market would have special sessions timed to coincide with the budget. Over the years it has become lesser and lesser of an event with few surprises and a whole host of policy decisions being taken outside of it.
Also one another thing I remember was that in the good old days, prices would always rise after the budget. I think it was obligatory for the FM to raise taxes on soaps and shampoos and other such stuff. There used to be a huge round of pre budget buying by people in an effort to beat the budget blues. We never did really indulge in it. Till I remember one day mom and dad coming in with a whole host of goodies from Shakari Bhandhar. They had gone shopping and dad used the budget ruse to buy stuff just before the budget was announced. That year Manmohan Singh did a complete U turn and started dropping taxes introducing a more benign taxation scheme, thwarting all efforts of my Dad at beating the blue. Hehehe.
Also one another thing I remember was that in the good old days, prices would always rise after the budget. I think it was obligatory for the FM to raise taxes on soaps and shampoos and other such stuff. There used to be a huge round of pre budget buying by people in an effort to beat the budget blues. We never did really indulge in it. Till I remember one day mom and dad coming in with a whole host of goodies from Shakari Bhandhar. They had gone shopping and dad used the budget ruse to buy stuff just before the budget was announced. That year Manmohan Singh did a complete U turn and started dropping taxes introducing a more benign taxation scheme, thwarting all efforts of my Dad at beating the blue. Hehehe.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
thanks tendlya
Today went by with me thinking many times on what on earth to write. Some times I have been woefully short of ideas and material. But over the last one year, I have been writing an average of one blog for every day that I have come to office. I think this started from Feb 09. A lot of entries have been rambling, a few funny, a few recorded Jispa’s growing and a few were, to my mind, deep. But write I must. I think having this discipline is important over a long period of time. The primary aim of this blog is a legacy and that’s the only way to nurture it. So write I must.
I had hardly anything to write about till around a few minutes back. I was lucky to be in office today while he scored those runs. With no TV at home, office time cricket is the only time I get to catch up with the game.
Sachin scored the worlds first double century today. For someone who grew up watching this man play for India, it is an emotion that is unparalleled. It was something that I always had in my heart. The first that somebody must eclipse the record Saeed Anwar scored against India. He had batted with a runner and I am sure my entire generation found that unfair. The second is that I wanted Sachin to do it, with 200 runs.
We grew up watching him bat all alone, holding up the entire team. These days India has many stroke players and finisher. In those days it was him alone. I remember some great days watching him bat with my dad and all of us cheering and screaming together at home and the deathly silence that shouted in the home and stadium alike when he got out. I relive all those emotions when I watch Sachin bat, I remember my dad. We both were ardent Sachin fans. When I see Sachin bat I can feel the excitement I shared with dad watching cricket. I remember the stress that we carried together and the silent despair we shared when he got out. Those were the best of times I have had with dad. I am sure he would have been thrilled to see this knock. While Sachin scored all the runs, on a personal level I dedicate this knock of his to my dad.
I had hardly anything to write about till around a few minutes back. I was lucky to be in office today while he scored those runs. With no TV at home, office time cricket is the only time I get to catch up with the game.
Sachin scored the worlds first double century today. For someone who grew up watching this man play for India, it is an emotion that is unparalleled. It was something that I always had in my heart. The first that somebody must eclipse the record Saeed Anwar scored against India. He had batted with a runner and I am sure my entire generation found that unfair. The second is that I wanted Sachin to do it, with 200 runs.
We grew up watching him bat all alone, holding up the entire team. These days India has many stroke players and finisher. In those days it was him alone. I remember some great days watching him bat with my dad and all of us cheering and screaming together at home and the deathly silence that shouted in the home and stadium alike when he got out. I relive all those emotions when I watch Sachin bat, I remember my dad. We both were ardent Sachin fans. When I see Sachin bat I can feel the excitement I shared with dad watching cricket. I remember the stress that we carried together and the silent despair we shared when he got out. Those were the best of times I have had with dad. I am sure he would have been thrilled to see this knock. While Sachin scored all the runs, on a personal level I dedicate this knock of his to my dad.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
ccp to a johari window?
Is fair and objective and does not play favourites
Is fair in his/her expectations of others
Makes good decisions
Generates good solutions to difficult problems
These are questions asked of me in my honest self assessment for a 360 degree. Can you really truly judge you’re your own fairness objectively? I am not so sure. I would assume that people would do things that they consider fair.
“I slapped him because he slapped me. It’s only fair. I always take good decisions because even if I take bad decisions they are what the boss will let me take. My solutions are good. How else can you react considering the conditions.”
I don’t think too many people will say that they are not fair in their own assessment. I mean cant understand that if someone knows that he is unfair, why would they not do anything about it. It’s quite weird.
They obviously ask me for self assessment so that these are the same questions they ask others about me. This will help them show an assessment gap. Cool. But that really does not mean asking these stupid questions. You have to think a bit before asking these questions. I think a HR consultant has to have a string backing in research if they are to administer such questionnaires.
If I want to be honest to myself, which I did, I ticked the option which I thought best – ‘did not have opportunity to observe’. I haven’t had an out of body experience yet.
Is fair in his/her expectations of others
Makes good decisions
Generates good solutions to difficult problems
These are questions asked of me in my honest self assessment for a 360 degree. Can you really truly judge you’re your own fairness objectively? I am not so sure. I would assume that people would do things that they consider fair.
“I slapped him because he slapped me. It’s only fair. I always take good decisions because even if I take bad decisions they are what the boss will let me take. My solutions are good. How else can you react considering the conditions.”
I don’t think too many people will say that they are not fair in their own assessment. I mean cant understand that if someone knows that he is unfair, why would they not do anything about it. It’s quite weird.
They obviously ask me for self assessment so that these are the same questions they ask others about me. This will help them show an assessment gap. Cool. But that really does not mean asking these stupid questions. You have to think a bit before asking these questions. I think a HR consultant has to have a string backing in research if they are to administer such questionnaires.
If I want to be honest to myself, which I did, I ticked the option which I thought best – ‘did not have opportunity to observe’. I haven’t had an out of body experience yet.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
sikhau
Oh man. This is soo stressful. We are trying to make Jispa study her hindi. To teach first standard hindi we require Jasmine and me together. With jasmine teaching her the basic stuff that even I find difficult to understand. In the book there are words that have two alphabets. I don’t know the meaning of so many of them. Some of them even jasmine does not know the meaning. We were wondering what on earth they are. Words such as kharal, thanak, khag, phalak etc.
So while Jasmine is teaching Jispa, I am on the internet logging into a shabkosh. Hehe. A hindi into english dictionary. Man this shit is really tough. I would have never known these meanings. And instantly as I teach them, I forget them as they come. Some of them like dapat, even the online shabdkhosh does not have. यह शब्द (दपत) अभी हमारे डाटाबेस मे नही है.
On some words I thought I knew the meaning but Jasmine had to correct me. At some time I have decided I will merely let her learn this shit by rote. I have no clue on helping her. I might have failed her first standard hindi test. so now I am merely just taking her hindi reading. If she asks me for any meaning I am going to smash her to the ground.
So while Jasmine is teaching Jispa, I am on the internet logging into a shabkosh. Hehe. A hindi into english dictionary. Man this shit is really tough. I would have never known these meanings. And instantly as I teach them, I forget them as they come. Some of them like dapat, even the online shabdkhosh does not have. यह शब्द (दपत) अभी हमारे डाटाबेस मे नही है.
On some words I thought I knew the meaning but Jasmine had to correct me. At some time I have decided I will merely let her learn this shit by rote. I have no clue on helping her. I might have failed her first standard hindi test. so now I am merely just taking her hindi reading. If she asks me for any meaning I am going to smash her to the ground.
Friday, February 19, 2010
dark knight?
In one of the blogs I am following the writer talks about how her mummy believes that her curly hair are due to the fact she was born in Zambia. I recollected one such story about my birth.
My mom was pregnant with me while she was in London. I am the youngest of three and my brother and sister take their complexions from mommy who is pretty fair. When my mother was in her eight month of pregnancy, her mother called her back to India to deliver the baby. Obstinately this was done, so that my mommy could have all the post pregnancy care. My granny was quite a naturotheraphy person and was well versed with all the gharule recipes for everything. I used to get pus boils and she would ask us to gather the leaves of the hibiscus shrub and then she would pound them to a paste and apply on it so that it would burst. She would do all the gross part of pushing the pus out while my mom would barely be able to watch.
So mom, while technically not being advised to fly in the eight month came back to Mumbai and with it she puffed away all my chances of getting the hallowed UK passport. I was hence stuck with the Indian passport which I rued, for all of my adolescent life. Bah!
But the story is not this. The story is that when I was born my granny nearly disowned me. I was dark. I guess not dark as in south Indian dark but just not as fair as my brother and sister. My brother especially, as he was even fairer. My granny was quite clear. She thought I was exchanged at the hospital. How could I have been born so dark if my mom was in London while she conceived? There everyone is so fair. The weather is all cold and it snows and all that…how on earth was this dark kid ours.
Sorry gran. For that answer you gotta take one look at your son in law. I can get my skin colour from my dad as well. It takes two to tango.
My mom was pregnant with me while she was in London. I am the youngest of three and my brother and sister take their complexions from mommy who is pretty fair. When my mother was in her eight month of pregnancy, her mother called her back to India to deliver the baby. Obstinately this was done, so that my mommy could have all the post pregnancy care. My granny was quite a naturotheraphy person and was well versed with all the gharule recipes for everything. I used to get pus boils and she would ask us to gather the leaves of the hibiscus shrub and then she would pound them to a paste and apply on it so that it would burst. She would do all the gross part of pushing the pus out while my mom would barely be able to watch.
So mom, while technically not being advised to fly in the eight month came back to Mumbai and with it she puffed away all my chances of getting the hallowed UK passport. I was hence stuck with the Indian passport which I rued, for all of my adolescent life. Bah!
But the story is not this. The story is that when I was born my granny nearly disowned me. I was dark. I guess not dark as in south Indian dark but just not as fair as my brother and sister. My brother especially, as he was even fairer. My granny was quite clear. She thought I was exchanged at the hospital. How could I have been born so dark if my mom was in London while she conceived? There everyone is so fair. The weather is all cold and it snows and all that…how on earth was this dark kid ours.
Sorry gran. For that answer you gotta take one look at your son in law. I can get my skin colour from my dad as well. It takes two to tango.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
gujju
I am a quick thinking penny pinching hard nosed gujju. Proof as follows.
Jasmine and I were walking inside a lifestyle expo. While I got off the car, I realised that I was wearing my office lanyard with the I-card attached. I removed it and put it inside my pocket. While we were making it towards the entrance we saw a ticket booth selling entry tickets worth 20 bucks each. WTF an entry ticket for an expo where I am a consumer? I asked Jasmine ‘lete hai kya?’. I was not too enthused about the idea. Jasmine suggested we try getting in free as it was just about opening.
Ok. I will try. I started walking towards the entrance which was manned by a security guard. God knows what I was going to do. As I walked towards the entrance it struck me. While walking on I pulled out my I-card and lanyard from my pocket. And slowly kept it in my hand and putting on a bored scowl face I marched up. The security guy stopped me to ask for ticket. I kept the scowl on the face and unfolded the ID from my hand, half bored and half wanting to get on with it. OK he said. I then gestured to Jasmine who was walking a few paces behind ‘she is with me. Come on in Jasmine’.
We both get in and a few paces inside, Jasmine comes up to me and tells me, what a kamina I am. She had a tough time keeping her face straight. She calls me a 40 rupee saving kamina. My defense – why would you want to take a gate charge from a consumer for a dam expo. F U.
Real reason - Gujju blood. No option. It is genetically ingrained.
Jasmine and I were walking inside a lifestyle expo. While I got off the car, I realised that I was wearing my office lanyard with the I-card attached. I removed it and put it inside my pocket. While we were making it towards the entrance we saw a ticket booth selling entry tickets worth 20 bucks each. WTF an entry ticket for an expo where I am a consumer? I asked Jasmine ‘lete hai kya?’. I was not too enthused about the idea. Jasmine suggested we try getting in free as it was just about opening.
Ok. I will try. I started walking towards the entrance which was manned by a security guard. God knows what I was going to do. As I walked towards the entrance it struck me. While walking on I pulled out my I-card and lanyard from my pocket. And slowly kept it in my hand and putting on a bored scowl face I marched up. The security guy stopped me to ask for ticket. I kept the scowl on the face and unfolded the ID from my hand, half bored and half wanting to get on with it. OK he said. I then gestured to Jasmine who was walking a few paces behind ‘she is with me. Come on in Jasmine’.
We both get in and a few paces inside, Jasmine comes up to me and tells me, what a kamina I am. She had a tough time keeping her face straight. She calls me a 40 rupee saving kamina. My defense – why would you want to take a gate charge from a consumer for a dam expo. F U.
Real reason - Gujju blood. No option. It is genetically ingrained.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
one big leap of faith
Yes. I managed one big moral victory. Ever since we bought our first car over six years ago we have been playing ganapati bhajans the first thing we get into the car. Even if I get in at night or in the morning. The first time you get into a car for the day you have to play bhajans – old jungle saying. Now jasmine and I are not that ritualistic so there is no real reason for us to play it. One day many years ago I did not play it and my car’s bumper got damaged. Ever since I have not had the guts to not play it. And we like to play the specific ganapati bhajn from the specific album. We have now expanded it to play one more album – the scared chants of shiva. But then that’s Ganapati’s dad, so that’s ok.
I have wanted to get rid of this superstition from my brain for sometime now. I haven’t had the guts. Just listen to the mind play here. I used to get worried that in case I don’t play and by chance if something happens that day which may be unrelated then the dam superstition will stick in my brain forever. Hence I never did try that stunt. But this Sunday I thought about it and took a chance in life. It required me to think of the worst case happening that day and take that chance. Four days hence… I live…
I have wanted to get rid of this superstition from my brain for sometime now. I haven’t had the guts. Just listen to the mind play here. I used to get worried that in case I don’t play and by chance if something happens that day which may be unrelated then the dam superstition will stick in my brain forever. Hence I never did try that stunt. But this Sunday I thought about it and took a chance in life. It required me to think of the worst case happening that day and take that chance. Four days hence… I live…
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
connection
The few days my blackberry device did not work I realised what I had suspected all along. I am now sure of its true use to me. Nothing much besides – deleting unwanted mails. I use that all the time. Deleting spam, rubbish mails and reading mails that are marked to me for no real reason. My job is to be marked on them. It’s only my name they require on the email. There is no action that I do on it. I am merely a cc, a statistic, no… not even that. My name must be having the power either to get work done or give assurance (albeit false) to the sender that work will get done. Or a collective responsibility in case something happens, which does not really work. Or it’s something that is merely done with hope. Someone, something might propel movement. Someone will give in. Something might transpire. Hope, ummeed, tis’ what makes the email go around.
Besides reading and marking it as read and deleting shit, there is no real use. Sometimes it helps in catching issues before they snowball. Then in a sense it is an insurance against blow ups or a bunker that helps contain the blast. Sometimes it useful as a diary with you all the time. But then not having it won’t really kill you.
So there. I figured out what it is by it not being there. Sort of negative learning’s, if there exits such a phrase.
Now I realise that I like checking the mails on the blackberry often enough, purely to keep my inbox at work as clean as possible. So while I might look and behave the part, spare judging me. Its not that I want the umbilical connection.
Now there – that’s sound logical enough. I almost believed myself for a minute.
But what I really missed – my gmail access which is banned in office and hence the blackberry is a saviour and of course google maps, which helps me in case I am totally lost, which is many times these days on the road.
Besides reading and marking it as read and deleting shit, there is no real use. Sometimes it helps in catching issues before they snowball. Then in a sense it is an insurance against blow ups or a bunker that helps contain the blast. Sometimes it useful as a diary with you all the time. But then not having it won’t really kill you.
So there. I figured out what it is by it not being there. Sort of negative learning’s, if there exits such a phrase.
Now I realise that I like checking the mails on the blackberry often enough, purely to keep my inbox at work as clean as possible. So while I might look and behave the part, spare judging me. Its not that I want the umbilical connection.
Now there – that’s sound logical enough. I almost believed myself for a minute.
But what I really missed – my gmail access which is banned in office and hence the blackberry is a saviour and of course google maps, which helps me in case I am totally lost, which is many times these days on the road.
Monday, February 15, 2010
a charmed life
I had seen some of the awesome stuff that they do at her school in their art class. Their teachers are so much better than what we had, its quite like living a dream. At the Kala Ghoda festival, there are a lot of art workshops organised and there the teachers at Jispa’s school are at the forefront leading and conducting workshops open for all the kids there. While we were discussing the lovely work that the kids did at the art class with her teacher at Kala Ghodha, her teacher mentioned that some that work was installed at the Prince of Wales museum gardens for all to see. Wow. That included some of the work that Jispa had assisted in doing. They had made life size stick figures with balloon heads. Jispa pointed out to the one she had done. She was excited to see her stuff open for all to see. She had done the head. She had fashioned the eyes, eyebrows, nose and colored the head of one of the stick figures… and it was on display at a Museum, albeit the gardens, but it was there. I would have never even imagined that anything that Jispa would have done, would have been displayed any where near a museum. It was far outside, even beyond my normally fecund imagination. That was one quite proud moment. I was telling Jispa that nothing like this ever happened to us while we were kids. Nothing we did in art class was ever displayed ever, not even in the school notice board, let alone a public display.
Also yesterday was Jispa’s swim meet at the gymkhana. She has been learning to swim properly under coaching for some time now. I could teach and encourage her only to a point; post which she required correct guidance and professional help. She just about learnt the freestyle and the back stoke. She took part in the under 8 category. The gymkhana is known in Mumbai for taking its swimming pretty seriously and produces some of the best swimmers in Mumbai. Jispa was not sure if she wanted to take part in the meet. Another mother around told that she swam well and she must take part, and so she did. We don’t want to push her too much and let her take her own decisions on meets and competitions. Not that she listens to us too much as well :) . So she did take part. There are3not so many competitors in her age category. Around 5- 6 kids who decided to compete. The others just didn’t bother. But to our surprise, she won the silver in freestyle and backstroke. Wow. She puts her slim body and strength to good use. She left a the more experienced swimmers well behind. They gave out trophies and Jispa was pretty proud to win the first “trophies” of her life. She took them to School for show and tell. I missed the freestyle thanks to my treatment was well in time for her back stroke event. I wanted to refrain from shouting out encouragement while she swam. You swim, you compete. If you win great. It takes some amount of self restraint not to be over joyed at her victory and effort. Till yesterday I haven’t really got the chance to see her really swim. When we are together in the pool, she doesn’t like swimming properly. She is more focussed on the fun we are having. I was really taken aback by her speed in backstroke. She is pretty good. After the race my stance has been ‘did you enjoy it’. ya? ‘cool good race’. I told her that she knows how to swim better than me and from now on I can’t really teach her much. In fact, I would be happy to learn some stuff from her. That’s the best encouragement I could muster. I really don’t want her to swim and compete for me. I don’t want her to have stress of any expectations from me. Unlike other kids, I want her to play on her own and not look at papa or mom after playing in a competition. I don’t want her to look at us for approval or disapproval. She has to compete within, find strength within. We will be there to take care, push her training, everything… but I refuse to put pressure on victory. I cant stand parents pushing or screaming at their kids egging them on or constantly trying to coach them. A small chat after the event focussing on the mistakes, learning’s etc, should be enough. Whatever you have to do you must do before the event. Then just shut up and watch it unfold. Afterwards observe, learn, chat and move on.
I was telling her that I had never won anything in swimming ever and she has already overachieved, if I am the benchmark. Jasmine added another point. She never competed in her school sports day as you had to wear shorts and her family did not allow that. Jispa was wondering why. I told her plain and simple – that I think your nana and nani were plain silly.
Also yesterday was Jispa’s swim meet at the gymkhana. She has been learning to swim properly under coaching for some time now. I could teach and encourage her only to a point; post which she required correct guidance and professional help. She just about learnt the freestyle and the back stoke. She took part in the under 8 category. The gymkhana is known in Mumbai for taking its swimming pretty seriously and produces some of the best swimmers in Mumbai. Jispa was not sure if she wanted to take part in the meet. Another mother around told that she swam well and she must take part, and so she did. We don’t want to push her too much and let her take her own decisions on meets and competitions. Not that she listens to us too much as well :) . So she did take part. There are3not so many competitors in her age category. Around 5- 6 kids who decided to compete. The others just didn’t bother. But to our surprise, she won the silver in freestyle and backstroke. Wow. She puts her slim body and strength to good use. She left a the more experienced swimmers well behind. They gave out trophies and Jispa was pretty proud to win the first “trophies” of her life. She took them to School for show and tell. I missed the freestyle thanks to my treatment was well in time for her back stroke event. I wanted to refrain from shouting out encouragement while she swam. You swim, you compete. If you win great. It takes some amount of self restraint not to be over joyed at her victory and effort. Till yesterday I haven’t really got the chance to see her really swim. When we are together in the pool, she doesn’t like swimming properly. She is more focussed on the fun we are having. I was really taken aback by her speed in backstroke. She is pretty good. After the race my stance has been ‘did you enjoy it’. ya? ‘cool good race’. I told her that she knows how to swim better than me and from now on I can’t really teach her much. In fact, I would be happy to learn some stuff from her. That’s the best encouragement I could muster. I really don’t want her to swim and compete for me. I don’t want her to have stress of any expectations from me. Unlike other kids, I want her to play on her own and not look at papa or mom after playing in a competition. I don’t want her to look at us for approval or disapproval. She has to compete within, find strength within. We will be there to take care, push her training, everything… but I refuse to put pressure on victory. I cant stand parents pushing or screaming at their kids egging them on or constantly trying to coach them. A small chat after the event focussing on the mistakes, learning’s etc, should be enough. Whatever you have to do you must do before the event. Then just shut up and watch it unfold. Afterwards observe, learn, chat and move on.
I was telling her that I had never won anything in swimming ever and she has already overachieved, if I am the benchmark. Jasmine added another point. She never competed in her school sports day as you had to wear shorts and her family did not allow that. Jispa was wondering why. I told her plain and simple – that I think your nana and nani were plain silly.
on another note: - a pic taken at the kala ghoda...
Thursday, February 11, 2010
ayurvedic sleep
I have had this niggling lower back pain and it kind of comes and goes. That’s partly the reason I took up swimming as well. My family doc is an Ayurvedic doc, who I credit for giving me my knees back. Years of running on the road thanks to the NCC days and then tons of basketball on concrete floors had completely ruined it. Even now, I rather play on fields and grounds than tar roads. But at least they let me play and run. And I have been going to this doctor for many years. I think ever since fifth standard. I call him uncle and my daughter calls him dadu.
So thanks to this implicit trust I practically follow whatever regime he sets out for me. Ayurvedic stuff can get pretty weird. There is medicine before meals and after meals. The before meals is not like you have the medicine and sit down for a breakfast. You get up in the morning, drink a gulp of milk so that the medicine doesn’t really burn your insides will having it empty. Then you wait for some time. In my case I then wake up my daughter and then later heat the water a bit, mix the thing (after shaking the bottle well) and then gulp it down. You can’t then sit down for a meal immediately afterwards. You have to wait for atleast half an hour and then sit to eat. Sometimes you have look outside at the sky before having it. As in it cant be overcast, else the effect is less, sometimes when you have to mix with hot water means you have to let the dam thing boil for 5 minutes, then let it cool, before having it… etc etc… so when this time uncle told me to be ready for a seven day treatment for my back in the winter, I didn’t ask why. What was that line ‘yours is to do or die, yours is not to question why?’. My NCC training helped here for sure. Ok Uncle. He said but the hospital where I have to undergo the treatment is in Dharavi, infamously and allegedly the biggest slum in all of Asia. Ok. He said that hospital will do what he wants to as opposed to the high end Ayurvedic spas.
That’s why I have been at home in the first half all of this week and posting from home. Something I haven’t done so far. I like to stay away from the comp at home. Coming back to the place it quite ok. Its clean (relatively) and its almost at the periphery of the slum, so its not that bad. But I don’t know many friends who would get them treated there. The treatment involves a vigorous massage with two masseurs working together in pre set rhythm, quite unlike the north Indian akhada massage. And then you have to steam yourself for about 30 minutes. The steam chamber is some kind of a wooden casket (coffin perhaps) into which they send in specially cooked steam with some herbs from a pressure cooker, with a pipe going in from where the whistle normally is placed. Quite a contraption. Only your head comes out as you sleep on planks placed about three inches apart and the steam blowing from the bottom.
As I do this treatment early morning, it’s pretty nice and relaxing. So much so that I feeling like sleeping in the steam casket. Today was one such session. After the massage I get into the casket and he closes the top. There is always a sense of drama when he closes it as the space for the neck to protrude out has to match with where I am lying. A delicate twist of fate and I might history. Nooo…. Sorry for the overacting but he has to close it slowly as I adjust myself to fit right into the opening. As he closes the top I realize that it’s not steaming as usual. I tell him to fix it… and pop I am asleep. After some time I tell him it’s still not steaming. He figures does something while I am asleep. After a few minutes (instantly or a long time, I don’t know) I feel the warm steam as I am deep in my slumber. After I have had enough I ask to free me from the coffin as I emerge all groggy.
I see the time outside as I wipe myself… wow… I had slept for an hour. I never knew that planks of wood can be so comfortable to sleep in, while the steam in blowing. That was my most seeming uncomfortable comfortable bed/ casket/ coffin whatever, I have ever slept in.
So thanks to this implicit trust I practically follow whatever regime he sets out for me. Ayurvedic stuff can get pretty weird. There is medicine before meals and after meals. The before meals is not like you have the medicine and sit down for a breakfast. You get up in the morning, drink a gulp of milk so that the medicine doesn’t really burn your insides will having it empty. Then you wait for some time. In my case I then wake up my daughter and then later heat the water a bit, mix the thing (after shaking the bottle well) and then gulp it down. You can’t then sit down for a meal immediately afterwards. You have to wait for atleast half an hour and then sit to eat. Sometimes you have look outside at the sky before having it. As in it cant be overcast, else the effect is less, sometimes when you have to mix with hot water means you have to let the dam thing boil for 5 minutes, then let it cool, before having it… etc etc… so when this time uncle told me to be ready for a seven day treatment for my back in the winter, I didn’t ask why. What was that line ‘yours is to do or die, yours is not to question why?’. My NCC training helped here for sure. Ok Uncle. He said but the hospital where I have to undergo the treatment is in Dharavi, infamously and allegedly the biggest slum in all of Asia. Ok. He said that hospital will do what he wants to as opposed to the high end Ayurvedic spas.
That’s why I have been at home in the first half all of this week and posting from home. Something I haven’t done so far. I like to stay away from the comp at home. Coming back to the place it quite ok. Its clean (relatively) and its almost at the periphery of the slum, so its not that bad. But I don’t know many friends who would get them treated there. The treatment involves a vigorous massage with two masseurs working together in pre set rhythm, quite unlike the north Indian akhada massage. And then you have to steam yourself for about 30 minutes. The steam chamber is some kind of a wooden casket (coffin perhaps) into which they send in specially cooked steam with some herbs from a pressure cooker, with a pipe going in from where the whistle normally is placed. Quite a contraption. Only your head comes out as you sleep on planks placed about three inches apart and the steam blowing from the bottom.
As I do this treatment early morning, it’s pretty nice and relaxing. So much so that I feeling like sleeping in the steam casket. Today was one such session. After the massage I get into the casket and he closes the top. There is always a sense of drama when he closes it as the space for the neck to protrude out has to match with where I am lying. A delicate twist of fate and I might history. Nooo…. Sorry for the overacting but he has to close it slowly as I adjust myself to fit right into the opening. As he closes the top I realize that it’s not steaming as usual. I tell him to fix it… and pop I am asleep. After some time I tell him it’s still not steaming. He figures does something while I am asleep. After a few minutes (instantly or a long time, I don’t know) I feel the warm steam as I am deep in my slumber. After I have had enough I ask to free me from the coffin as I emerge all groggy.
I see the time outside as I wipe myself… wow… I had slept for an hour. I never knew that planks of wood can be so comfortable to sleep in, while the steam in blowing. That was my most seeming uncomfortable comfortable bed/ casket/ coffin whatever, I have ever slept in.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
you never know what to expect
Jispa wanted coupons that she can use at her school cafeteria. Normally 20 bucks should be enough as moist snacks would be within that amount. But then the last time around she went and bought a cup cake worth 12 bucks completely skewing the equation. So this time around Jasmine asked her if 25 bucks were enough? She was hesitant and we were wondering.
There is a fine line here as a parent. You want to give money as its really not that much but you also don’t want to give excess as you want a sense of value in the child. we can buy around 200 bucks of coupons at a time from the school. It comes in the form of a booklet. We surely don’t want to give the comeplet booklet to her to carry without monitoring it. Though some kids come with the entire lot. I am not sure if that is a good idea.
So since Jispa was a little apprehensive on the amount we gave her 35 bucks worth of coupons, which is ok. But we also gave her a caveat that she should use it with care and clearly 25 bucks is her budget for eating. One batawada costs around 6 bucks and a juice is max 15, so that’s enough for a snack. Also we told her that you will get the coupons only once a week. Here too she was not too happy. So we said that while you can carry the coupons the entire week in case of emergency, you are to use it only on a Friday. The rest of the days we will give you some snack from home to eat. We don’t want her eating too much junk as well.
This time Jasmine gave her 35 bucks worth of coupons for use yesterday due to some reason. In the evening, we realised that Jispa had none left. How did that happen dear? Well first she took a batatawada for 6 bucks, then a corn for 6 bucks. Fine… then she took a cup cake for 12. So that adds upto to 24, then a friend needed 2 bucks extra coupons so she gave it, and another needed 3 so she gave that as well. For the record - the 3 came back soon afterwards and she left it in her locker. And the last 6? Well, when she was eating batawada, her friend ‘pratze’ said that she loves batawada. So Jispa excused herself for a minute and ran and got her a batawada as a surprise.
How can we as parents find any fault in that? Bless that heart.
There is a fine line here as a parent. You want to give money as its really not that much but you also don’t want to give excess as you want a sense of value in the child. we can buy around 200 bucks of coupons at a time from the school. It comes in the form of a booklet. We surely don’t want to give the comeplet booklet to her to carry without monitoring it. Though some kids come with the entire lot. I am not sure if that is a good idea.
So since Jispa was a little apprehensive on the amount we gave her 35 bucks worth of coupons, which is ok. But we also gave her a caveat that she should use it with care and clearly 25 bucks is her budget for eating. One batawada costs around 6 bucks and a juice is max 15, so that’s enough for a snack. Also we told her that you will get the coupons only once a week. Here too she was not too happy. So we said that while you can carry the coupons the entire week in case of emergency, you are to use it only on a Friday. The rest of the days we will give you some snack from home to eat. We don’t want her eating too much junk as well.
This time Jasmine gave her 35 bucks worth of coupons for use yesterday due to some reason. In the evening, we realised that Jispa had none left. How did that happen dear? Well first she took a batatawada for 6 bucks, then a corn for 6 bucks. Fine… then she took a cup cake for 12. So that adds upto to 24, then a friend needed 2 bucks extra coupons so she gave it, and another needed 3 so she gave that as well. For the record - the 3 came back soon afterwards and she left it in her locker. And the last 6? Well, when she was eating batawada, her friend ‘pratze’ said that she loves batawada. So Jispa excused herself for a minute and ran and got her a batawada as a surprise.
How can we as parents find any fault in that? Bless that heart.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
her school, sighhhh.....
Being fit - nice. Being fast – great. Having Jispa’s physical education teacher telling her that her dad runs like a rocket – priceless. It seems that her friend who was next to her, then commented “even Jispa runs like a rocket”
I got a lot of like papa like daughter thing that day. I am pretty keen that she does her athletics and sports well. A good culture of fitness will go a long way in her life. Studies are something everybody focused on in any case. There are a lot of factors that will force to focus on that part of education, but there are few factors in India that motivate a child’s physical development. It’s changing, with clubs doing their bit, but it is a long way off yet.
While we were at her school for the sports day there was an Art exhibition done by the school, showcasing the work done by the students. Some that stuff was mind boggling. It was done in a variety of media and had multiple expressions. Some of the talent there is outstanding but that’s not what I am so impressed by. Talent many times in inborn. What got me floored was the stuff done by Jispa’s class. Jispa’s painting was hung along side others of her class. They all were similar looking. On that board was also a painting of Jamini Roy. The kids were taught the style of Jamini Roy. How the artist uses forms that need not look real, bright colors that need not match that of the animal in real life, how the eyes are bigger etc. the entire class tried to paint in that style and they came out so beautiful. In my school art class sucked. The teacher couldn’t teach two bits. Those with natural talents did well and the others just ambled along. I never figured the point of an art exam as well. I remember it as being irritating, with paints falling, colors running and an absolute mess. I don’t think Jamini or even Picasso was ever mentioned in the class. Just draw a scene – the scene would change – school, bus stop, fields, etc… those horrible triangles as mountains and the V shaped birds. The best part was the round figurines. Papa figurine, mama figurine and baby figurine. I think they were worse than stick figures.
I quizzed Jispa wheter the teacher drew any of her stuff. She said no, she drew the stuff and colored it herself. That was pretty impressive. I will update the blog on her painting later. That was pretty cool.
The other classes similarly had done work with Picasso, Van Gough etc as inspiration. I wanna go back to school, sob sob.
I got a lot of like papa like daughter thing that day. I am pretty keen that she does her athletics and sports well. A good culture of fitness will go a long way in her life. Studies are something everybody focused on in any case. There are a lot of factors that will force to focus on that part of education, but there are few factors in India that motivate a child’s physical development. It’s changing, with clubs doing their bit, but it is a long way off yet.
While we were at her school for the sports day there was an Art exhibition done by the school, showcasing the work done by the students. Some that stuff was mind boggling. It was done in a variety of media and had multiple expressions. Some of the talent there is outstanding but that’s not what I am so impressed by. Talent many times in inborn. What got me floored was the stuff done by Jispa’s class. Jispa’s painting was hung along side others of her class. They all were similar looking. On that board was also a painting of Jamini Roy. The kids were taught the style of Jamini Roy. How the artist uses forms that need not look real, bright colors that need not match that of the animal in real life, how the eyes are bigger etc. the entire class tried to paint in that style and they came out so beautiful. In my school art class sucked. The teacher couldn’t teach two bits. Those with natural talents did well and the others just ambled along. I never figured the point of an art exam as well. I remember it as being irritating, with paints falling, colors running and an absolute mess. I don’t think Jamini or even Picasso was ever mentioned in the class. Just draw a scene – the scene would change – school, bus stop, fields, etc… those horrible triangles as mountains and the V shaped birds. The best part was the round figurines. Papa figurine, mama figurine and baby figurine. I think they were worse than stick figures.
I quizzed Jispa wheter the teacher drew any of her stuff. She said no, she drew the stuff and colored it herself. That was pretty impressive. I will update the blog on her painting later. That was pretty cool.
The other classes similarly had done work with Picasso, Van Gough etc as inspiration. I wanna go back to school, sob sob.
Monday, February 08, 2010
run along
Jispa’s sports day was there on Saturday. There is always the parents race at the end. Last time I ran, I won but albeit by a smaller margin than what I might have been used to. I had realized that the key to this is the start. So this time, I watched closely. I tried to catch the whistle in the earlier races and figure what his rhythm was to start the race. How long does he take to whistle after he says ‘get set’. Looking at the earlier race I realized one key indicator. He needs to puff his cheeks to blow the whistle. Enough for me. He puffs up to blow. Half a second lead as I get up and push myself from the starting crouching position. Then the whistle, my first step across before the others have reacted and then a burst forward. The youtube videos on racing techniques helped as well, though you really can’t change your running technique too much at 35. That too by just watching a few videos. But playing them over and over again in your head helped a bit. The mind can push the body in ways unthinkable.
The split second lead followed by the burst ahead while the others are even starting, kills competition in the mind as they lose the race right there it self. Suddenly I found myself yards ahead of everyone with almost no competition so as to speak off. This is a 75 meter dash. The start is everything. At around the half way, I wonder why no one is around and I ease up a bit. Suddenly on the far right (I took far left to avoid inevitable race crashes) I see this black dressed guy catching up. I just accelerate enough to keep him in second place. He ran real fast as well. And he is older than me. And he is a celebrity. He is a movie actor with a rock solid physique. Tough guy. I loved his race as well. It was a pleasure to compete with him, no matter the result.
That made me a mini celeb as well. The number of people who came and congratulated me after the race was far more than normal. I have been winning the race since last three years. The celeb in question normally wins the race and there is usual excitement around his race and to see him run. But the fact that someone else won is so easily was something that didn’t go unnoticed. I enjoyed my celebrity status for a complete hour. It’s still not worn off.
The race is held with batches of parents in two standards. The kindergarten papa’s compete together, then the first and second combined, and then the third and fourth combined. The celeb’s kid is in the second standard while Jispa is the first. So next year we might not be able to head off and hence I might have to ensure I bask (internal gratification) in this year’s glory only.
As for Jispa – she won her race as well, with ease. Though I worry on her technique now. In her effort to get her long strides in, she jumps long. It’s almost like a series of long jumps. It breaks the rhythm of her run and slows her down. She is notoriously anal about listening these days and I don’t really want to push her, but I want her to get the rhythm right and that will get her speed up. I will have to work on it in my own way. Might get her to steadily jog with me and then slowly slowly up the beat. Her technique was right until last year, till her mind started working extra time. But anyways, she has a gift for being athletic. Hope she keeps it up, hope we don’t screw up.
Footnote: I think the morning swims also have paid off.
The split second lead followed by the burst ahead while the others are even starting, kills competition in the mind as they lose the race right there it self. Suddenly I found myself yards ahead of everyone with almost no competition so as to speak off. This is a 75 meter dash. The start is everything. At around the half way, I wonder why no one is around and I ease up a bit. Suddenly on the far right (I took far left to avoid inevitable race crashes) I see this black dressed guy catching up. I just accelerate enough to keep him in second place. He ran real fast as well. And he is older than me. And he is a celebrity. He is a movie actor with a rock solid physique. Tough guy. I loved his race as well. It was a pleasure to compete with him, no matter the result.
That made me a mini celeb as well. The number of people who came and congratulated me after the race was far more than normal. I have been winning the race since last three years. The celeb in question normally wins the race and there is usual excitement around his race and to see him run. But the fact that someone else won is so easily was something that didn’t go unnoticed. I enjoyed my celebrity status for a complete hour. It’s still not worn off.
The race is held with batches of parents in two standards. The kindergarten papa’s compete together, then the first and second combined, and then the third and fourth combined. The celeb’s kid is in the second standard while Jispa is the first. So next year we might not be able to head off and hence I might have to ensure I bask (internal gratification) in this year’s glory only.
As for Jispa – she won her race as well, with ease. Though I worry on her technique now. In her effort to get her long strides in, she jumps long. It’s almost like a series of long jumps. It breaks the rhythm of her run and slows her down. She is notoriously anal about listening these days and I don’t really want to push her, but I want her to get the rhythm right and that will get her speed up. I will have to work on it in my own way. Might get her to steadily jog with me and then slowly slowly up the beat. Her technique was right until last year, till her mind started working extra time. But anyways, she has a gift for being athletic. Hope she keeps it up, hope we don’t screw up.
Footnote: I think the morning swims also have paid off.
the truth shall set you free
I think I have written about this before. What has reading a wide variety of authors over the last few years taught me? If I were to distill it down to one thing, I guess it has taught me to believe that every opinion is equally valid and true. Truth is subjective. But this simple philosophy is hard to digest and I find that most others refuse to see it this way. For me acceptance of this as the single valid truth has helped me understand people’s statements, motivations and intent. Mere acknowledgement of another’s statement opens your mind to the varied possibilities and helps you see what you probably would have missed.
My frustration on this has been that while I see it plain and simple, are on two counts. First - I am unable to explain this to others. It is that simple, it isn’t that complex. All you have to do is use different lenses to see different things and sometimes you may not have the lens as the other one has and hence you are unable to see it in their light. Even if someone has stated something false. You know it, the other knows it as well, yet there is truth in it. Use the right lens and you will know what true in it. No this not a trick statement. But see, there is my frustration. I am unable to explain it beyond this.
The second frustration – I have been unable to keep this in my mind 100% of the time. I am trying but instinct (competitive?) gets better of me many times, but I will have to try harder. One of the best ways of changing yourself is to publicly proclaim and commit to it. Here this gets difficult as I unable to explain this to others and hence while I attempt to, there is less discourse and debate on this, thus making life even more complicated.
Forget it. I don’t expect you to understand this. Every man must have their own epiphanies. I might not understand yours and you might not understand mine, but hell, even if ours contradicts, this does not make the other false. There. I closed on a simpler summary. I can afford myself a smile.
My frustration on this has been that while I see it plain and simple, are on two counts. First - I am unable to explain this to others. It is that simple, it isn’t that complex. All you have to do is use different lenses to see different things and sometimes you may not have the lens as the other one has and hence you are unable to see it in their light. Even if someone has stated something false. You know it, the other knows it as well, yet there is truth in it. Use the right lens and you will know what true in it. No this not a trick statement. But see, there is my frustration. I am unable to explain it beyond this.
The second frustration – I have been unable to keep this in my mind 100% of the time. I am trying but instinct (competitive?) gets better of me many times, but I will have to try harder. One of the best ways of changing yourself is to publicly proclaim and commit to it. Here this gets difficult as I unable to explain this to others and hence while I attempt to, there is less discourse and debate on this, thus making life even more complicated.
Forget it. I don’t expect you to understand this. Every man must have their own epiphanies. I might not understand yours and you might not understand mine, but hell, even if ours contradicts, this does not make the other false. There. I closed on a simpler summary. I can afford myself a smile.
selfish basterd
A good friend got married yesterday and I far exceeded the brief on helping the marriage get on smoothly. I took charge of the catering, driving the fellow around with three ridiculous bouquets on my car and lastly arranging for a sit down dinner for the family after the reception was done. Why did I do all this. I gave myself many explanations during the day. None too plausible, even to me. Today morning I realized why I did this. Do unto other what you expect them to do unto you. Actually it’s more like – don’t do to others what happened to you, try to do to others what you want people to do.
I got married at 23. Young enough to be a nobody with little support, zero ability and very few contacts. Many times in life I got myself a raw deal. I would have loved to be in a situation where I could have built up my box of good wishes to tide me through. I couldn’t even muster up a car to take me to the marriage hall.
I have a memory that records these many little wishes / incidents in my life. Add one more philosophy of not letting others go through what you have been through – there, you get the point. If we simply saw and understood stuff that we wanted, understood what made us happy or sad and implemented this, wouldn’t all of us be happier. I don’t know. I don’t care. It makes me happy and I find it as a release. Doing it, kind of removes a weight off my shoulders. I think I use it a scar removal therapy or something like that. So while everyone might see it as altruistic, I see it more like completely selfish and internally motivated. Hence I am also at unease if someone compliments me on my behavior. It’s not for you. It is selfish, highly so and decidedly so. So don’t compliment me and say good things about me. These are my motivations, my therapy and my release. Stay out it and please let me be. Another complicated one. I am in a weird mood. Potentially life altering :)
I got married at 23. Young enough to be a nobody with little support, zero ability and very few contacts. Many times in life I got myself a raw deal. I would have loved to be in a situation where I could have built up my box of good wishes to tide me through. I couldn’t even muster up a car to take me to the marriage hall.
I have a memory that records these many little wishes / incidents in my life. Add one more philosophy of not letting others go through what you have been through – there, you get the point. If we simply saw and understood stuff that we wanted, understood what made us happy or sad and implemented this, wouldn’t all of us be happier. I don’t know. I don’t care. It makes me happy and I find it as a release. Doing it, kind of removes a weight off my shoulders. I think I use it a scar removal therapy or something like that. So while everyone might see it as altruistic, I see it more like completely selfish and internally motivated. Hence I am also at unease if someone compliments me on my behavior. It’s not for you. It is selfish, highly so and decidedly so. So don’t compliment me and say good things about me. These are my motivations, my therapy and my release. Stay out it and please let me be. Another complicated one. I am in a weird mood. Potentially life altering :)
Thursday, February 04, 2010
read this
I have started a new thing which seems to be doing decently ok. But when you are teaching you really don’t know. I started sending and provoking thoughts over the emails. Allowing people to send mails with their opinion to all. I thinks pretty cool and allows for general discussion with me getting into moderate only when necessary. This allows for the thoughts to sink in and then taking their answers I can push or correct or close the arguments. Its good fun. And I hope they end up understanding a little more.
Here also it’s obvious that those who are interested and willing think and respond more than the others and the rest are just silent spectators. But then I can only hope. It also lets me bring in interesting observations from my life and share it with much faster and easier. Just email blast the dam thing and 50 students are in the know.
There is only one problem though. I can understand some of their responses. No, it not their thought process, its their typing. Dey dam rit in shtrt cod. Try as I might its pretty tiring to decode every word and den mk sense of it all. capitals at the start of every sentence is long forgotten. It just goes on like a rant, with thoughts flowing anyhow and its feel lyk I am reading some long chats. Their names on the email id’s look like this - ^be@ut!fu~ ^s0u! bladerxrz. Now samle this – “And m nt sure wat neha's trying to say about the device bein wireless... cz its nt... i kinda c d wire connected to it....” wht wud dis mean? Cn u knw wht 2 do… ne1?
Huff puff generation gap.
Here also it’s obvious that those who are interested and willing think and respond more than the others and the rest are just silent spectators. But then I can only hope. It also lets me bring in interesting observations from my life and share it with much faster and easier. Just email blast the dam thing and 50 students are in the know.
There is only one problem though. I can understand some of their responses. No, it not their thought process, its their typing. Dey dam rit in shtrt cod. Try as I might its pretty tiring to decode every word and den mk sense of it all. capitals at the start of every sentence is long forgotten. It just goes on like a rant, with thoughts flowing anyhow and its feel lyk I am reading some long chats. Their names on the email id’s look like this - ^be@ut!fu~ ^s0u! bladerxrz. Now samle this – “And m nt sure wat neha's trying to say about the device bein wireless... cz its nt... i kinda c d wire connected to it....” wht wud dis mean? Cn u knw wht 2 do… ne1?
Huff puff generation gap.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Angel, stop that
Jispa was playing angel angel. Everywhere. Angel is the name of my brother’s dog. And thanks to her the whole class got into this, pretending to be a dog. This had the mothers wondering what on earth is going on.Jasmine after suffeing from numerous bouts of panting and crawling put an end to this by using her veto. No more angel angel. Jispa stopped completely.
Today morning as I was telling her that she can play angel angel, when mommy is not around. She said that its ok... She has changed her animal. She is now the sabre tooth tiger, a la Ice age. Grooowwwllll...
You can never win, can you.
look mom, I have become a critic
Tehelka – a magazine I admire – so much so that it’s the only magazine I bother to read. The rest seem so shallow. But last week I came across their cover story on the phantom reader. (link)
It starts with “Our survey finds that Indians read books not for pleasure but for self-advancement. Given our writers, can we blame them, asks GAURAV JAIN” (link)
What’s wrong with that? I see nothing wrong. It is not for us to question why someone is reading. I might even propose that most of us do not even know why are reading. I am purely happy to note that we are. Some where in his essay I got lost in the maze of his words. I am sure what he wrote was amazing, it’s only that I got a bit lost. I might not be the representative of the top of the pyramid, but I am surely not at the bottom. It took some immense concentration for me to catch a few of his words.
Sample this “But reading contemporary Indian writers in English leaves you with a feeling that there remain stubborn layers of butter paper between their prose and the actual life they’re trying to describe. It is really a problem of foggy realism. They remain too mannered and fey to excite their verbal life with an original voice, to drive language hard, to mint indigenous metaphors, and provide little catharsis or pleasure to the reader. Aiming for vividness, they stop short at vivaciousness. Worse, the weaker ones sink into preciousness, petulance, grogginess”
Sometimes I wonder if some of us sit on top of the elite pyramid and pass too many moralistic judgements. If the guy is reading, just let him be. In my classes I have always held the view that people must read… anything is ok. Find your genre and read. I typically don’t like fiction, but that doesn’t make me wonder why my wife wants reads Chetan Bhagat. She reads her magazines, does that mean she reads as a lesser mortal. Just read. It’s ok.
Read this para – again I think the writer is on a plane, a hot air balloon perhaps.
“there are consequences for a culture where writers keep vomiting out family and wedding sagas. TEHELKA’s English book readership survey found that what Indian readers seek most in books is a kind of newspaper – their top reasons for reading are self-education, improving their English and gaining knowledge and data. The Indian reader is, above all else, functional in his approach. For him, a book is just another lifestyle accessory — a mobile phone for the mind (emphasis mine) — and he likewise decides how it might be paisa vasool. The likes of Paulo Coelhos and Robin Sharmas provide him mental balm for a life of material tensions. There is no problem with reading for inspiration, aspiration or improving skills – it’s with having such a pedestrian threshold for exaltation and language. The cost of these simplistic books’ popularity is a thinning of imagination and public debate”
I am happy that peopel read. thats it. Nothing more nothing less.
But Tehelka being Tehelka will get other writers in and have a wide variety of views.
Turning the page I got some pearls of wisdom – here is from Amitava Kumar (link) –
“I HAVE little taste for those readers, or writers for that matter, who want to be pundits. When you meet a person like that you realise that he nurses a secret ambition to be described as someone who has read everything. This kind of reader will always try to sound knowledgeable, moral, balanced, and always, very reasonable. Such a reader will never parade his or her prejudices.
Can you imagine a mind like that? That mind would appear to me like a clean, well-scrubbed pot, very large in size, of course, but also quite empty of anything real. I’d rather sit down for hours with a dented spoon.
I’m not celebrating simple-mindedness or ignorance here. I’m talking about honesty. Of course, one runs a grave risk in calling for a degree of comfort with a lack of knowledge or expertise. Have you looked at the readers’ reviews — though review is exactly the wrong word here — posted on Amazon? You quickly realise from looking at them that the parading of prejudice is an ugly act. The display of any kind of stupidity usually is.”
And the best one - from Arun Mani (link) – “If there is one thing that is cause for some celebration it is Chetan Bhagat having topped the readership surveys …….. This outbreak of maturity is not to be sneezed at. Those who eventually tire of Bhagat will stay and look for narratives that allow them to ask more searching questions of the wisdom that they receive. If that happens, the day may yet be won for reading.”
I agree with both of them. Completely.
For the record as a marketing person I have some huge problems with the survey and the quantification etc etc (link here). The last para should give you a clue - METHODOLOGY: A survey conducted by Ipsos Indica for TEHELKA in nine cities (Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, Chennai, Chandigarh, Shillong, Kolkata, Thiruvananthapuram and Ahmedabad). Sample size: 1,152 people. The respondents were interviewed outside leading bookstores. Apart from this, in-depth discussions were conducted with readers, book reviewers and bookstore owners.
Did you get the clue? If not, forget it – it does not matter. The survey is only good enough to give you a smallish insight in the mind of a yuppie reader. Don’t look for deep searing insights into reading habits of India
Here is an interesting Q&A with Ram Advani (read it here) – “My job is to interact with them and a small bookseller can do that which is a big advantage. You come across a man who is so shabbily dressed you wonder what he is doing in the shop but the way he looks at a book, the way he browses tells me that the man is serious. If a man is waiting to meet his girlfriend he looks at a book differently and sometimes the most unlikely character will show an interest in a subject like gender studies say. These are the joys.”
And also the last word by R Sriram who quotes from Chris Anderson – “Many of our assumptions of popular taste are actually artefacts of poor supply and demand matching – a market response to inefficient distribution.”
Just for kicks I close from the last line from Gaurav's essay "Meanwhile, someone explain to our utilitarian compatriots that if they don’t learn to risk and empathise, how will they be sly?" - I did not understand line this at all.
It starts with “Our survey finds that Indians read books not for pleasure but for self-advancement. Given our writers, can we blame them, asks GAURAV JAIN” (link)
What’s wrong with that? I see nothing wrong. It is not for us to question why someone is reading. I might even propose that most of us do not even know why are reading. I am purely happy to note that we are. Some where in his essay I got lost in the maze of his words. I am sure what he wrote was amazing, it’s only that I got a bit lost. I might not be the representative of the top of the pyramid, but I am surely not at the bottom. It took some immense concentration for me to catch a few of his words.
Sample this “But reading contemporary Indian writers in English leaves you with a feeling that there remain stubborn layers of butter paper between their prose and the actual life they’re trying to describe. It is really a problem of foggy realism. They remain too mannered and fey to excite their verbal life with an original voice, to drive language hard, to mint indigenous metaphors, and provide little catharsis or pleasure to the reader. Aiming for vividness, they stop short at vivaciousness. Worse, the weaker ones sink into preciousness, petulance, grogginess”
Sometimes I wonder if some of us sit on top of the elite pyramid and pass too many moralistic judgements. If the guy is reading, just let him be. In my classes I have always held the view that people must read… anything is ok. Find your genre and read. I typically don’t like fiction, but that doesn’t make me wonder why my wife wants reads Chetan Bhagat. She reads her magazines, does that mean she reads as a lesser mortal. Just read. It’s ok.
Read this para – again I think the writer is on a plane, a hot air balloon perhaps.
“there are consequences for a culture where writers keep vomiting out family and wedding sagas. TEHELKA’s English book readership survey found that what Indian readers seek most in books is a kind of newspaper – their top reasons for reading are self-education, improving their English and gaining knowledge and data. The Indian reader is, above all else, functional in his approach. For him, a book is just another lifestyle accessory — a mobile phone for the mind (emphasis mine) — and he likewise decides how it might be paisa vasool. The likes of Paulo Coelhos and Robin Sharmas provide him mental balm for a life of material tensions. There is no problem with reading for inspiration, aspiration or improving skills – it’s with having such a pedestrian threshold for exaltation and language. The cost of these simplistic books’ popularity is a thinning of imagination and public debate”
I am happy that peopel read. thats it. Nothing more nothing less.
But Tehelka being Tehelka will get other writers in and have a wide variety of views.
Turning the page I got some pearls of wisdom – here is from Amitava Kumar (link) –
“I HAVE little taste for those readers, or writers for that matter, who want to be pundits. When you meet a person like that you realise that he nurses a secret ambition to be described as someone who has read everything. This kind of reader will always try to sound knowledgeable, moral, balanced, and always, very reasonable. Such a reader will never parade his or her prejudices.
Can you imagine a mind like that? That mind would appear to me like a clean, well-scrubbed pot, very large in size, of course, but also quite empty of anything real. I’d rather sit down for hours with a dented spoon.
I’m not celebrating simple-mindedness or ignorance here. I’m talking about honesty. Of course, one runs a grave risk in calling for a degree of comfort with a lack of knowledge or expertise. Have you looked at the readers’ reviews — though review is exactly the wrong word here — posted on Amazon? You quickly realise from looking at them that the parading of prejudice is an ugly act. The display of any kind of stupidity usually is.”
And the best one - from Arun Mani (link) – “If there is one thing that is cause for some celebration it is Chetan Bhagat having topped the readership surveys …….. This outbreak of maturity is not to be sneezed at. Those who eventually tire of Bhagat will stay and look for narratives that allow them to ask more searching questions of the wisdom that they receive. If that happens, the day may yet be won for reading.”
I agree with both of them. Completely.
For the record as a marketing person I have some huge problems with the survey and the quantification etc etc (link here). The last para should give you a clue - METHODOLOGY: A survey conducted by Ipsos Indica for TEHELKA in nine cities (Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, Chennai, Chandigarh, Shillong, Kolkata, Thiruvananthapuram and Ahmedabad). Sample size: 1,152 people. The respondents were interviewed outside leading bookstores. Apart from this, in-depth discussions were conducted with readers, book reviewers and bookstore owners.
Did you get the clue? If not, forget it – it does not matter. The survey is only good enough to give you a smallish insight in the mind of a yuppie reader. Don’t look for deep searing insights into reading habits of India
Here is an interesting Q&A with Ram Advani (read it here) – “My job is to interact with them and a small bookseller can do that which is a big advantage. You come across a man who is so shabbily dressed you wonder what he is doing in the shop but the way he looks at a book, the way he browses tells me that the man is serious. If a man is waiting to meet his girlfriend he looks at a book differently and sometimes the most unlikely character will show an interest in a subject like gender studies say. These are the joys.”
And also the last word by R Sriram who quotes from Chris Anderson – “Many of our assumptions of popular taste are actually artefacts of poor supply and demand matching – a market response to inefficient distribution.”
Just for kicks I close from the last line from Gaurav's essay "Meanwhile, someone explain to our utilitarian compatriots that if they don’t learn to risk and empathise, how will they be sly?" - I did not understand line this at all.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
riddle bog
While I was getting happily bored and was wondering what to write today in the blog, along came this ridiculous forward on the blackberry messenger.
Solve the case:- A man was found murdered on 26.1.2006 at noon in Bombay. His wife called the Police. They questioned everyone. Wife: Sir, I was sleeping when the murder took place. Cook: I was cooking; Gardener: I was picking vegetables; House maid: I went to the post office. Children: We went to play. Neighbour: We went to marriage. POLICE ARRESTED MURDERER IMMEDIATELY.... who is it? Rply IF u r brilliant but with reason...
My reply: I know what you are thinking but you are wrong. Well technically the maid can go to the post office and then find out that it was the 26th of Jan and hence the postmaster is at home with his family watching the republic day parade. By the time she gets back, the poor guy got killed. I would jail the gardener as there is no garden in a Mumbai house where you grow vegetables. An odd rose maybe, but growing vegetables in your garden is just not seen in Mumbai. And possibly the kids were in it as well as no kids go out to play, they either watch TV or play PS2. And surely no housewife in Mumbai with kids sleeps at noon. So the housewife was having an affair with the gardener and those kids were their illegitimate children who all conspired to kill the fellow. Only the cook and the maid were innocent in all this. They were having an affair with each other. And the cook came to know about the plot and sent the maid to the post office knowing that if she is out of the house for something then she would have an able alibi. Its a gujju household and the cook normally kills by serving fatty fried food which is perfectly legal albeit equally dangerous, hence everyone one knows that no cook will kill directly if an equally effective and legal option is available.
What say Watson?
Solve the case:- A man was found murdered on 26.1.2006 at noon in Bombay. His wife called the Police. They questioned everyone. Wife: Sir, I was sleeping when the murder took place. Cook: I was cooking; Gardener: I was picking vegetables; House maid: I went to the post office. Children: We went to play. Neighbour: We went to marriage. POLICE ARRESTED MURDERER IMMEDIATELY.... who is it? Rply IF u r brilliant but with reason...
My reply: I know what you are thinking but you are wrong. Well technically the maid can go to the post office and then find out that it was the 26th of Jan and hence the postmaster is at home with his family watching the republic day parade. By the time she gets back, the poor guy got killed. I would jail the gardener as there is no garden in a Mumbai house where you grow vegetables. An odd rose maybe, but growing vegetables in your garden is just not seen in Mumbai. And possibly the kids were in it as well as no kids go out to play, they either watch TV or play PS2. And surely no housewife in Mumbai with kids sleeps at noon. So the housewife was having an affair with the gardener and those kids were their illegitimate children who all conspired to kill the fellow. Only the cook and the maid were innocent in all this. They were having an affair with each other. And the cook came to know about the plot and sent the maid to the post office knowing that if she is out of the house for something then she would have an able alibi. Its a gujju household and the cook normally kills by serving fatty fried food which is perfectly legal albeit equally dangerous, hence everyone one knows that no cook will kill directly if an equally effective and legal option is available.
What say Watson?
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