It is so important to lose right. You might get more learnings out of losing than possibly out of winning. At least that has always been the case for me. And if the stakes aren’t that high, I dare say, it is fun losing.
As a kid we sued to play a lot of games. Cricket, badminton, volley ball, basketball etc. Cricket in the narrow lanes of Mumbai was a speciality. Cricket is a stupid sport in the sense, that a lot is required of an umpire. You can’t really play until you have an umpire. So we would divide ourselves into two teams and start the game. The batting team would need to nominate an umpire. This by design resulted in huge conflict of interest. It was a zero sum game for the umpire. His team wanted him to give decisions in their favour while the other team at the least requested for a neutral approach. In so many cases there will be split judgements involved. Things like caught behind and run outs were especially contentious. There was no way it would end fair. To add to the conflict of interest, it was in the umpire’s interest to get his won guys out as well, if he wanted batting. Then came the issues of no balls, catches which are taken close to ground, the scores and the number of balls left/ delivered in the over. The really contentious ones like leg before wicket, which is completely reliant on the umpires judgement were simply banned from street cricket. For the street bullies this mode of getting out was simply thrown out.
The decisions would come under greater scrutiny when an important batsman would be batting. The opposite team will bay for blood and appeal like crazy, and the umpire will have severe stress not to give out. While when you play domestic matches, matches that are played within your own team, the decisions tend to be fairer. But in case you have a match with some opposite team, the fight levels can climb. And if a ball or something like that is at stake, then fights last for really long and tempers flare.
The cricket rules are also so numerous that sometimes different interpretations seem equally logical. Street football is so much better. There are no real rules except goal posts, the goalie D and handball. Everything else is permitted and no one heard of anything called off side.
Since we are a cricket playing city, fights were de rigueur. And in tournaments they were intense. I was naturally competitive and I had an acute sense of fairness. I would not tolerate injustice, especially if it was done to us. So argument on scores, run out and the lot was something I was routinely involved in. but there were some kids who were known for arguments. They could never be given out unless all their stumps were shattered. Run outs did not exist for them. They were generally the trouble makers and they usually resulted in the game being abandoned. It was crazy. I was midpoint between them and the centre. In other words I was an ass.
My brother, as is with everything that is me, was sitting on the other opposite fence happily looking at the ensuing tamasha. More then once he pulled me aside from the group when I was arguing, ‘why are you fighting? Is there a trophy? Is this a major tournament? does you life depend on this?’. I don’t know when, but certainly not immediately, the penny dropped.
I don’t argue too much with any official. I really don’t care too much about wining matches. It’s the fun thing. I like to play with people who don’t argue too much. Otherwise its just spoils the whole point of the game. Even today when we adults come together and play anything, be it a board game or anything… I rather have fun trying to decipher the various permutations and combinations rather than try and win every game. Sure I like to win but its more fun playing the combinations. I really don’t understand adults trying their best to win at a board game. Trying and scheming and fighting. It’s good for them. It’s good for me as well. It makes the game fun to watch, but then at some point it irritates. Some of them are so childish. They just don’t get the point. Now they are adults so they cannot openly fight but you can see the fight inside of them. Some can’t even accept graciously. And when I win, they assume that I am playing tough. I am just playing fun. I am trying to understand the game. If I get an interesting play I don’t keep it to myself, I try and decipher it for the others. I like to discuss it. This would only help reinforce their belief that I am a real fighter. Oh god.
I used to be like that. I used to love to win. I have changed so much over the ensuing years. The aggression is still there, it’s just better channelled elsewhere.
I keep trying to explain to Jispa that winning is not everything. Yes, when we play we want to win, we try to win, but the aim is not to win. It is to play properly. Get your technique right. Get your teamwork going. Learn from every game. Winning is a by product of stuff that we do. On Jispa party on Saturday we had devised a treasure hunt. It sounds like a great idea but we got mixed up. I thought that the adults would play with the kids. I thought the adults would make the kids understand the game and solve the treasure clues together. We even built in the use of a compass and gave the clues directional bearings. It was fun. But the poor kids just ran around. I don’t think the adults knew how to handle a compass, let alone make the kids understand. So while the adults loved it, the kids probably got a bit tired and bored. And when I wanted the adults to play some games with the kids after the treasure hunt, the adults were too tired while the kids loved it.
I just love the chance to play with the kids. I don’t understand how you can let go of the chance to play with them. I am here, getting them all together devising the games and trying to get them to have fun. All you have to do is show up and show some enthusiasm. I don’t know. Adults like to talk. We get together and talk. Yappity yapp yapp. Use your body, worst case… use your brains. Yapitty yapp yapp… yuck.
Coming back to winning. Jispa was in a team that came in first. There was one clue that all the teams struggled on. We had to give the answer out. For some that clue came in second, for some it came in fifth and so on. At one point all of them were stuck on that clue. So we helped them with the answer. Some poor teams spent an hour before we gave the answer and some poor teams spent about 30 minutes before gave them the answer. As a leveller, I docked the 30 min team 15 minutes as a fairness measure. So as Jispa came in I said you penalty is 15 minutes. Some understood and some just did not. The desire to win supersedes all. Jispa refused to understand. She was almost getting upset. Later after the party I explained to her “kid, its your party. Number one – try not to win in your own party; number two – when a great sportsperson comes to write against your name. He writes not whether you won or lost but how you played your game. Play hard by al means. But please don’t play with winning as your only motivation. Laugh when you win and laugh a lot more when someone else wins. Help others. Learn from other at all points. Concentrate on the technique and game. Winning is not everything.” I also warned her that if I ever see her behaving in an unsportsmanlike manner I will get her off that sport. Respect the game.
Jasmine then remembered a video she saw on facebook. It was of Derek Redmond. Favoured to do well in the 1992 Olympics, while running the 400 meters he tore his hamstring. He fell, cried in pain but got up to hobble and complete the race. His dad also ran on the track to help him complete. Some videos on youtube talk about the relationship and the fact that his dad came in. I see no merit in that. if my daughter also were to fall on the track, my instinct would also be to help her. Nothing unusual about it. But when I saw the video tears dropped. The pain and the agony and yet to hold on to it to finish what you came to start. We showed that to Jispa. It matter not whether you win or lose, but how you played your game. He came to win for sure, but more importantly he came in to compete and for that he had to finish the race.
I like the way Steve Waugh never ever asked for a runner. He did not believe that if you are injured then you need a runner for you. I too hate the concept in cricket. I will bat and hit the ball all over while some one will run for me. Bull. Complete bull. I don’t ever remember asking for a runner ever. I don’t want to ask for one as well. Anil Kumble got hit on his mouth while playing in West Indies. He came on to bowl all strapped up. Sure he did. He is a champion bowler. That’s his job. But people miss that he also came to bat. He is not a batsman. That was not his job; there was no glory in that for him, nothing to embellish his record there.
Here is the Derek video.
See this one. Listen what he says himself. At first he thought he was shot or something. After a few seconds he realised he was in the Olympic semi finals, so he just had to get up and run.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Dominant love?
Devdutt wrote a good piece titled ‘Right to kill my child’. It correctly questions the demands we make on our children and more importantly exposes our true motivations. He wrote the article as “the newspapers are filled with reports of parents wanting to kill their children”.
The key point he makes is “Love is to allow children to grow up, be independent, take their decisions and be responsible for the consequences. Power is about control, dependence, domination, and the demand for obedience and subservience.”
It’s a very pertinent point that he makes. Over the last week I happened to be agony uncle for a few people. One lady wanted to marry someone her choice but not same religion and the other wanted to stay abroad and work but had to come back to get married on parental pressure. Makes me think of the stuff I too might have done under parental pressure.
But more importantly or selfishly, makes me think of the times I might have been motivated by power and not love. I try and let Jispa talk to me straight. Some times I think I let her talk too straight, and I might be actually spoiling her. Like my mom always thinks that I am teaching Jispa to argue. But I don’t see harm in having conversation. I do not want domination and subservience or any other unspellable word. I like the relationship to be healthy and equal.
The other day somebody was at home and Jispa walked away in some cranky voice. I imitated her. She came back and gave me a knock on my head. What on earth. That was hard. “but why are you imitating me? I don’t like it.” Ok. Point taken. “but you also hit me hard. That’s not fair. It’s not right. I am papa” “ok sorry” “ok sorry”. Kiss and make up. That I wonder how much liberty should I give hr. I don’t mind it as I realize that in the end I have the final upper control. If things go out of hand I can immediately scream and shout and get ii back. At that time also, it’s about respect.
I really try to ensure that at all points, it is never about dominance. It shouldn’t be about that, but parenting is something that you do without too much thinking. You hope you hone it over a period of time. And when you have only one child, thats all the chance you can get.
We keep telling Jispa how lucky she is. What a great school she has and stuff like that. Recently she has started telling us how lucky we are. We don’t have to go to school and we don’t have to wake up and stuff like that. Its just a general tit for tat. One dialogue was – you are lucky you don’t have to do math. Hey, do you not like math. “I do, but it’s the subtraction that’s boring. I like addition.”. “Hey, subtraction is addition – just reverse” “How”. ‘How do you minus 7 from 12. You take seven and the go like, eight, nine, ten, eleven, and twelve. You just added 5 to 7 to get 12.” “but I hate borrowing” “arey that’s simple. Hello uncle, please give me one. I have less. So if seven uncle gives one, how many are left?”
That was some fun in the morning. But the banter continued. She went like, you are so lucky mummy, you don’t get to…” Jasmine went back like “you are so lucky that you don’t have to cook and then someone makes a face, you don’t have to wash dishes, you don’t……” I let the final one in “Jispa you are so lucky to get papa and mama like us. We could never scold our parents the way you can” “I don’t scold you” “sure you do. The way sometimes you get angry at me I would have never done like that to my dad. Ask mom if she could ever talk to her dad the way you sometime scold me or get angry at me?” She then asked “you couldn’t scold your dad because he was always building?” My dad was a civil engineer, you see. “No, I just couldn’t scold dad as that was not the done thing to do. It was just different”. Awww. I love papa and mama… awwww…. Banter ended. Poor thing should have hit back saying that we were lucky to have someone like her. That would have also been another irrefutable one.
On a completely different note - This is how I taught jispa and her friend to handle a heavy bag while at the bus stop.
The key point he makes is “Love is to allow children to grow up, be independent, take their decisions and be responsible for the consequences. Power is about control, dependence, domination, and the demand for obedience and subservience.”
It’s a very pertinent point that he makes. Over the last week I happened to be agony uncle for a few people. One lady wanted to marry someone her choice but not same religion and the other wanted to stay abroad and work but had to come back to get married on parental pressure. Makes me think of the stuff I too might have done under parental pressure.
But more importantly or selfishly, makes me think of the times I might have been motivated by power and not love. I try and let Jispa talk to me straight. Some times I think I let her talk too straight, and I might be actually spoiling her. Like my mom always thinks that I am teaching Jispa to argue. But I don’t see harm in having conversation. I do not want domination and subservience or any other unspellable word. I like the relationship to be healthy and equal.
The other day somebody was at home and Jispa walked away in some cranky voice. I imitated her. She came back and gave me a knock on my head. What on earth. That was hard. “but why are you imitating me? I don’t like it.” Ok. Point taken. “but you also hit me hard. That’s not fair. It’s not right. I am papa” “ok sorry” “ok sorry”. Kiss and make up. That I wonder how much liberty should I give hr. I don’t mind it as I realize that in the end I have the final upper control. If things go out of hand I can immediately scream and shout and get ii back. At that time also, it’s about respect.
I really try to ensure that at all points, it is never about dominance. It shouldn’t be about that, but parenting is something that you do without too much thinking. You hope you hone it over a period of time. And when you have only one child, thats all the chance you can get.
We keep telling Jispa how lucky she is. What a great school she has and stuff like that. Recently she has started telling us how lucky we are. We don’t have to go to school and we don’t have to wake up and stuff like that. Its just a general tit for tat. One dialogue was – you are lucky you don’t have to do math. Hey, do you not like math. “I do, but it’s the subtraction that’s boring. I like addition.”. “Hey, subtraction is addition – just reverse” “How”. ‘How do you minus 7 from 12. You take seven and the go like, eight, nine, ten, eleven, and twelve. You just added 5 to 7 to get 12.” “but I hate borrowing” “arey that’s simple. Hello uncle, please give me one. I have less. So if seven uncle gives one, how many are left?”
That was some fun in the morning. But the banter continued. She went like, you are so lucky mummy, you don’t get to…” Jasmine went back like “you are so lucky that you don’t have to cook and then someone makes a face, you don’t have to wash dishes, you don’t……” I let the final one in “Jispa you are so lucky to get papa and mama like us. We could never scold our parents the way you can” “I don’t scold you” “sure you do. The way sometimes you get angry at me I would have never done like that to my dad. Ask mom if she could ever talk to her dad the way you sometime scold me or get angry at me?” She then asked “you couldn’t scold your dad because he was always building?” My dad was a civil engineer, you see. “No, I just couldn’t scold dad as that was not the done thing to do. It was just different”. Awww. I love papa and mama… awwww…. Banter ended. Poor thing should have hit back saying that we were lucky to have someone like her. That would have also been another irrefutable one.
On a completely different note - This is how I taught jispa and her friend to handle a heavy bag while at the bus stop.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
I want to move it move it
I have written before on how I always wanted to study physics. But I ended up with commerce and accountancy. I cannot read even one book on accountancy but I keep reading books on physics. Or any science book with simple English. It makes me jump with joy to see simple mechanisms work and the ingenuity of the manufacturers. I specially love mechanics. One of the first thing I remember dismantling was my mom’s powder case. You have to wind the thing from bottom and it would produce the most beautiful tune from inside. I opened it to get to the mechanism. It has no battery and the sound so beautiful. The simplicity of mechanism had me enthralled for hours. It was basically a rotating drum with pins on it. The drum is connected to a metal comb which gets picked at when a pin of the drum passes through it. I don’t know if this makes sense to you but this diagram should help. It is truly beautiful. I might have been in fourth standard at the time.
I also loved the little carpentry that I could do around the house along with dad. Primarily consisting of banging nails and screws in the house.
Oh the choices we make and where we end up instead. Not that I regret it. I guess I might have gone crazy after taking engineering as well. I might have ended up as a engineer MBA as opposed to a commerce MBA. No great difference. In fact I might have been worse off and would have been confused seeing balance sheets. For what I am doing, I am better off.
One of the other wonders was always how on earth does a sewing machine work? While you do it with one needle and a thread with the hand, in a machine you require two threads, one from top and the other from bottom. As a kid I remember pestering mom, as to why you require two threads. I don’t think mom had too much of a scientific answer to give me. Or too much of any answer to a scientific question. I always wondered. When I saw my wife with the machine I would sit and stare, all fascinated. How does the bottom thread get through the cloth on top? Is there a needle at the bottom also? Why do you require two? How does the thread pierce through and get through the bottom to come back on top? Dam it.
While I could easily break and destroy the old powder music box, I would dare not attempt to open the sewing machine. Not as a child and definitely not even after I bought it for my wife. No way. Jasmine too had no clue how this worked.
The mystery got resolved thanks to a link my wife sent me. Here is the magical mechanism. Explained. I can stare at this gif forever as well. My god. I love the mechanism. The sheer simplicity of it fills my heart with joy. Everything beautiful must be simple. I am really feeling so nice just looking at it.
On the link there is also the Constant Velocity Joint and the “Maltese Cross mechanism, which turns smooth circular motion into segmented second-hand motion for clocks”.
Constant-velocity joints (aka homokinetic or CV joints) allow a rotating shaft to transmit power through a variable angle, at constant rotational speed, without an appreciable increase in friction or play. They are mainly used in front wheel drive and all wheel drive cars. Rear wheel drive cars with independent rear suspension typically use CV joints at the ends of the rear axle halfshafts, and increasingly use them on the propshafts.
It seems they replaced the Universal Joints in some places. The universal joints were simple but could get notchy and needed regular maintenance. It so looks like something that belonged to my dad's premier padmini car.
Pretty cool nah? I remember unlike others I could spend hours at a science exhibition or be at ease in an industrial museum. Like normal museums, even industrial museums must have an audio guide that should explain the beautiful mechanism to lay people. If you have an interesting guide then kids would love going to see things move and engines start. “NOW what would happen if I move this lever?” crank crank sputter sputter.. “Voila the ball has turned onto the opposite side, clever nah!” clap clap clap. And now we proceed onto the cantilever double axle shaft… (don’t look it up – I made that name up from all the mechanical words that sprang to mind).
But just imagine the possibilities of museums. We spend on making them and not on explaining them.
Like this blogger who went to a maritime museum and shot this. I loved the photo she clicked. Only if she knew what it did or I knew what it did and why it is in a museum?
Monday, August 23, 2010
the selfish giant
This post was written on Saturday but posted later. Why is this important? Because this blog has a time value attached to it. Time is the fourth dimension, but is relative. What is all this shit? Well, I have been reading some stuff on quantum physics and I find it completely disconcerting. The journey as it seeks to find the theory of everything. This stuff does not make any sense. But it makes so much when you read it. It is so fascinating but at the same time so bloody mind boggling. Sometimes I wish I had taken physics major. That the stuff I was always good at and I naturally loved. Nowadays it makes for great fun to read this complex stuff and be entertained. It is only possible if you don’t want to remember it all and give an exam. Because otherwise it would be so insurmountable. I even read stuff about us living in mutliverse as opposed to a universe. Whoa!
But the point of the time value of this blog is important as I sit down today and reminiscence on the feeling that got built up over the last year as we hurtled towards yesterday. In the good old days I felt excited and I wanted yesterday to come everyday. I even counted the days to yesterday. Till I was in third standard yesterday was always in my school vacations. We used to live the gulf, where the school shut for the oppressive summers and I could not have my day in the sun in front of peers. Yesterday was an important point in my every day year. So when we first came to Mumbai I was so excited that I would get to celebrate yesterday with peers. I started counting the days I would take to get yesterday. Waiting and counting. If I am not mistaken I even counted up to 45 days. Oh that day. I wore a safari suit in the fourth standard. What was it blue or was it grey. But I was so proud. I must have never been so proud to distribute orange hard boiled confectionary. It used to cost 10 paise for one at retail price at around 6 paise per sweet at wholesale rate. Man I was so thrilled. The first time I had a chance to celebrate my birthday in school and having 60, not just 30 as per gulf school norms. Yeah yeah. It was day in the sun. No wonder I was so excited.
All these years I continued to be excited till something struck last year. It was my own version of the mid life crisis. I started hating birthdays. Not that the thought of growing older hurt. But au contraire I loved getting old. But I started hating getting birthday greetings from people. Why? I don’t know if people really care when they wish and I stopped liking any wishes and I started suspecting them of being mere formality. I also stopped wishing too many people on their birthdays as well in the hope that they would in turn stop greeting me as well. I even got rid of my birthday notification from the social networking sites.
Day before yesterday I sent a mail to HR. they have this practice of sending emails announcing everyone’s birthday. What a complete waste and pain. So I wrote them a mail asking them to please desist on my day. Just. Just spare me. As I get older I have gotten more anti social. In fact I merely got grumpier. Just like the old troll in fairytales. On Thursday being my grumpy old troll mood, I refused to listen to my team request for a luncheon on Friday. In fact once my meeting got cancelled for the morning I put in a request for the day off. I am not even coming to office. The second half we planned to run off to Igatpuri at my sisters bunglow with her family and my brother’s as well.
I make an effort not to remember my birthday. My dream one day is to forget it completely. That will be the day according to me. so I woke up in the morning not remembering its my birthday till I received an sms wishing me. as I came out of the shower my wife and kid sang the birthday song. I like that. I know people who really care, when they wish, it doe fell kind of good. My things with birthdays is the rest of the world not those who care.
I spent the rest of the morning helping my wife clean the house as we were to leave for three days. Roaming around in a pair of jeans, I was trying to get my pedagogy right for the lecture I was scheduled for next Sunday.
Suddenly the bell rang. As jasmine opened the door, I saw my good peon form office – Vinod with a cake in a bag. Oh god. They sent me cake from office. I looked at Vinod. Since I was topless I looked at him and aksed, ‘ are there others around? are they hiding?” he nodded and pointed in the direction. I ran in to wear a t shirt and then came out to discover them hiding near the stair case. SURPRISE!!! My team along with two others who are no longer a part of my team was present. Ok. I really love them. They all came in from office to catch me on my birthday. They had got a chocolate mousse cake which I proceeded to cut and then they took turns splashing it on my face.. Soon enough one spark resulted in a cake fight. All of us including my wife had cake n our face. All with brown melting mousse dripping down on the face.
It was pretty good fun.
Moral of the story – I was a grumpy old troll with a bad attitude problem. Sure enough you get shitty people and people who don’t care but at the same time you get good guys with a lot of love to share. In my effort to alienate those I do not care about or thopse who do not care for me I end up alienating those who do and those that matter. I almost threw the baby out with the bath water. I am reminded of the story of the selfish giant who did not let any one in his garden and winter permanently set in. It only got a bit of spring when one small kid who refused to get intimated by the giant and came and sat on one of the trees. The giant then saw light.
My team refused to get intimated by my ‘trollness’. They said screw you. And they came home and showed me what I might have missed.
Dates are irrelevant to the rational mind. They have no significance. What is the point of celebrating Independence Day. Work hard and be honest if you really care. Don’t sit and celebrate the day by watching old emotional movies on the telly. What is the point of it? Pure symbolism. What shit?
But at he same time, isn’t it a day to somehow remember that we struggled. So many fought so that they and more importantly those to come would be free.
My birthday has no real significance to me and to the rational mind it means naught. But we are all a bunch of people guided by irrationality. I liked it that the team came. I liked celebrating with them. It mattered to me that they felt welcome to come home and the fact that they bothered. It said something to me. it also proved my belief that I might be a troll at times but I am a likeable troll or at the least approachable. Having cake on my face was the ultimate gesture of acceptability.
In the physics book that I was reading I read about the Solvay conference held in Brussels devoted to Quantum Physics. 17 of the 23 delegates were or would become Nobel laureates. Marie Curie was even a double laureate. Einstein was one delegate. It was here Einstein declared in reference to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle that “God does not play dice”, and to which Niels Bohr replied “Albert, stop telling God what to do”
Wow. Imagine the group where one like Einstein can be told something like that in no uncertain terms. There is respect for the brain but there is also a healthy irreverence. Groups where people aren’t afraid to speak their mind are the groups that I would love to belong to. That is the group that I prefer. A respect but a certain irreverence. A case of opposites reconciling. And to think of it – I almost missed it thanks to my … my…. I don’t know what. Shit. I was lucky. I hope I don’t forget this lesson. In all likelyhood I am going to make this mistake again. It’s going to be difficult. The silver lining for me is that here I made the mistake but my team refused to let me suffer for it. At least I was considered open enough, whose plea for solitude was ignored.
As I grow older I will have many more of these pangs in opposite directions. The greatest fun will always be if in some magical way opposites reconcile.
But the point of the time value of this blog is important as I sit down today and reminiscence on the feeling that got built up over the last year as we hurtled towards yesterday. In the good old days I felt excited and I wanted yesterday to come everyday. I even counted the days to yesterday. Till I was in third standard yesterday was always in my school vacations. We used to live the gulf, where the school shut for the oppressive summers and I could not have my day in the sun in front of peers. Yesterday was an important point in my every day year. So when we first came to Mumbai I was so excited that I would get to celebrate yesterday with peers. I started counting the days I would take to get yesterday. Waiting and counting. If I am not mistaken I even counted up to 45 days. Oh that day. I wore a safari suit in the fourth standard. What was it blue or was it grey. But I was so proud. I must have never been so proud to distribute orange hard boiled confectionary. It used to cost 10 paise for one at retail price at around 6 paise per sweet at wholesale rate. Man I was so thrilled. The first time I had a chance to celebrate my birthday in school and having 60, not just 30 as per gulf school norms. Yeah yeah. It was day in the sun. No wonder I was so excited.
All these years I continued to be excited till something struck last year. It was my own version of the mid life crisis. I started hating birthdays. Not that the thought of growing older hurt. But au contraire I loved getting old. But I started hating getting birthday greetings from people. Why? I don’t know if people really care when they wish and I stopped liking any wishes and I started suspecting them of being mere formality. I also stopped wishing too many people on their birthdays as well in the hope that they would in turn stop greeting me as well. I even got rid of my birthday notification from the social networking sites.
Day before yesterday I sent a mail to HR. they have this practice of sending emails announcing everyone’s birthday. What a complete waste and pain. So I wrote them a mail asking them to please desist on my day. Just. Just spare me. As I get older I have gotten more anti social. In fact I merely got grumpier. Just like the old troll in fairytales. On Thursday being my grumpy old troll mood, I refused to listen to my team request for a luncheon on Friday. In fact once my meeting got cancelled for the morning I put in a request for the day off. I am not even coming to office. The second half we planned to run off to Igatpuri at my sisters bunglow with her family and my brother’s as well.
I make an effort not to remember my birthday. My dream one day is to forget it completely. That will be the day according to me. so I woke up in the morning not remembering its my birthday till I received an sms wishing me. as I came out of the shower my wife and kid sang the birthday song. I like that. I know people who really care, when they wish, it doe fell kind of good. My things with birthdays is the rest of the world not those who care.
I spent the rest of the morning helping my wife clean the house as we were to leave for three days. Roaming around in a pair of jeans, I was trying to get my pedagogy right for the lecture I was scheduled for next Sunday.
Suddenly the bell rang. As jasmine opened the door, I saw my good peon form office – Vinod with a cake in a bag. Oh god. They sent me cake from office. I looked at Vinod. Since I was topless I looked at him and aksed, ‘ are there others around? are they hiding?” he nodded and pointed in the direction. I ran in to wear a t shirt and then came out to discover them hiding near the stair case. SURPRISE!!! My team along with two others who are no longer a part of my team was present. Ok. I really love them. They all came in from office to catch me on my birthday. They had got a chocolate mousse cake which I proceeded to cut and then they took turns splashing it on my face.. Soon enough one spark resulted in a cake fight. All of us including my wife had cake n our face. All with brown melting mousse dripping down on the face.
It was pretty good fun.
Moral of the story – I was a grumpy old troll with a bad attitude problem. Sure enough you get shitty people and people who don’t care but at the same time you get good guys with a lot of love to share. In my effort to alienate those I do not care about or thopse who do not care for me I end up alienating those who do and those that matter. I almost threw the baby out with the bath water. I am reminded of the story of the selfish giant who did not let any one in his garden and winter permanently set in. It only got a bit of spring when one small kid who refused to get intimated by the giant and came and sat on one of the trees. The giant then saw light.
My team refused to get intimated by my ‘trollness’. They said screw you. And they came home and showed me what I might have missed.
Dates are irrelevant to the rational mind. They have no significance. What is the point of celebrating Independence Day. Work hard and be honest if you really care. Don’t sit and celebrate the day by watching old emotional movies on the telly. What is the point of it? Pure symbolism. What shit?
But at he same time, isn’t it a day to somehow remember that we struggled. So many fought so that they and more importantly those to come would be free.
My birthday has no real significance to me and to the rational mind it means naught. But we are all a bunch of people guided by irrationality. I liked it that the team came. I liked celebrating with them. It mattered to me that they felt welcome to come home and the fact that they bothered. It said something to me. it also proved my belief that I might be a troll at times but I am a likeable troll or at the least approachable. Having cake on my face was the ultimate gesture of acceptability.
In the physics book that I was reading I read about the Solvay conference held in Brussels devoted to Quantum Physics. 17 of the 23 delegates were or would become Nobel laureates. Marie Curie was even a double laureate. Einstein was one delegate. It was here Einstein declared in reference to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle that “God does not play dice”, and to which Niels Bohr replied “Albert, stop telling God what to do”
Wow. Imagine the group where one like Einstein can be told something like that in no uncertain terms. There is respect for the brain but there is also a healthy irreverence. Groups where people aren’t afraid to speak their mind are the groups that I would love to belong to. That is the group that I prefer. A respect but a certain irreverence. A case of opposites reconciling. And to think of it – I almost missed it thanks to my … my…. I don’t know what. Shit. I was lucky. I hope I don’t forget this lesson. In all likelyhood I am going to make this mistake again. It’s going to be difficult. The silver lining for me is that here I made the mistake but my team refused to let me suffer for it. At least I was considered open enough, whose plea for solitude was ignored.
As I grow older I will have many more of these pangs in opposite directions. The greatest fun will always be if in some magical way opposites reconcile.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
now I am there, now I am not
It’s tough being a dad. At least being an involved dad. One of my guiding principals in being a dad is to remembering what I went through as a kid and ensuring that the same shit does not hit my daughter while I attempt to replicate what I really like. Jispa so far has grown to be a sweet kid who understands issues and is able to not throw tantrums to get her way done. She is remarkably well behaved while shopping or for anything.
Her birthday is coming up and I don’t understand the parties where you end up spending near about a lakh rupees. That seems to be par for the course. I find it obnoxious. Why do you need a party organiser when you have me? What is my creativity and jasmine’s superb organising skills going to come of use? This year we want to have a treasure hunt. We have a large – really huge garden behind our house. I think it is sometimes touted as Mumbai’s largest public garden and it’s also decently maintained. The builder maintains it as he still wants to sell projects that are coming up. So the game and clues have all been dreamt of. Now to have a really fun party. The kids are also so bored of the standard party games played by the standard party organisers. Jispa is happy with these parties and does not insist on getting fancier parties as compared to her friends and neither do we have such ambitions.
Its amazing how our moods are linked into hers and having a close nuclear family one person’s mood impacts the others immensely. Yesterday Jispa was upset at some issue she had with her friends. There are times when you can control issues and then there are times when you can’t. It is up to you to take that call. And it is a difficult call to take.
As a dad I want to protect her where possible and also at the same time I want her to be ready to face life’s realities where possible. She needs to grow up and be happy at the same time. Can the two coexist? Some part of growing up is necessarily not happy. I have had some experiences as a kid, that were not too happy. In school, as I have earlier blogged about, we came in from Dubai to India when I was in fourth standard and it was pretty traumatic. But more than that I started noticing something at about the same time. There some group leaders emerging within the class. These were characters who would dictate what to do and be natural leaders of their groups. And eth groups had the second type of people. Kids who would follow the leader. So the leader decided the games to be played and the group followed and pandered to every whim and fancy of the leader. I remember seeing it upfront and early enough. And I also remember not fitting in either segment. I was no natural leader - in school at young ages – these were normally the really bratty extra shrewd ones. And I was definitely no mind less follower. The result in primary and to an extent secondary school is a bit of solitude. It’s not as poetic as it sounds. It means you typically float from group to group every break figuring some game to play. A little bit of a loner.
I have seen Jispa’s style and her friends. There are some natural born pains. The mean types, the over dressed types, the I know it all types, I am so pretty types, it’s my way or highway types. Jispa is the amenable type but not a mindless girlie types. She has a sharp mind that can see the pettiness in a game and get happily bored. Even more so when the game becomes too girly She is also not a natural bon bitch. No I don’t think I am seeing it with parenting eyes. I genuinely see some girls behave like an A grade bitch. The way they manipulate others or their parents. Jips is not a manipulator.
I don’t know how it will pan out for her. I sure knew how it panned out for me. I had very few friends and I really never did belong to a large group in school. In college somehow a group emerged, but I was never really really close to any one group and also hung around with different groups. I learnt in the end not to get too fussed. I learnt today not to be bothered too much with others plans and people. I was in the end happier alone. It’s the same thing with meetings as well. Everyone is involved in meetings and it really gets to my nerves. The bullshit quotient gets too high for my liking and I simply tune off.
I am sure Jispa will face this or many similar issues. Or even issues of another kind. Some I will know of and some I won’t have a clue. She might be too proud to tell me. or she might not want to tell me for whatever other reason… I might sweat too much. So many of these I would simply not be able to solve. And she grows older she will have to solve them her self. I can at best be a sounding board. I have to understand this. I have to think through this. It is difficult to see your child unhappy and say – its ok, she’ll grow up. There will be much heartbreak for her to handle. What is going to be my role? Yesterday with her friends she was upset; I stayed away from the cause. I limited my role to cheering her up. I told her that her happy me was having a fight with her sad me. She can’t let the sad me win for now. Let the happy me be there and show happiness. We take the sad me and trap in a pocket. In the evening when the sad me has had some time to think, remove her from your pocket and ask her what the issue actually was. She should then see if the sad me was really right in being sad and to have a heart to heart chat with her. Till then if you are sad or if you let things affect you, there will always be people happy that you have things affecting you. Let the happy me win for now. Sad me is not a bad thing, just give it some time to think.
I guess that should be the rule going forward. More and more so. I would cease to really know what the exact issue is or the problem is. That is something she would have to deal with herself. I can only give larger picture ‘gyan’. It’s not easy but its ok. That way I guess I can help where required and stay off on specifics. Real learning is nothing but application.
Everyone grows. The more I protect the later she grows. It is affine balance and it is disturbing in the short run. Even as I write this I am not totally at ease not knowing the exact nature of any problem. I don’t like saying that I don’t want to know. I want to know. I want to see. I want to be involved. But I also know I shouldn’t. I can only be there if required. Hopefully my blog will be around well afterwards.
Her birthday is coming up and I don’t understand the parties where you end up spending near about a lakh rupees. That seems to be par for the course. I find it obnoxious. Why do you need a party organiser when you have me? What is my creativity and jasmine’s superb organising skills going to come of use? This year we want to have a treasure hunt. We have a large – really huge garden behind our house. I think it is sometimes touted as Mumbai’s largest public garden and it’s also decently maintained. The builder maintains it as he still wants to sell projects that are coming up. So the game and clues have all been dreamt of. Now to have a really fun party. The kids are also so bored of the standard party games played by the standard party organisers. Jispa is happy with these parties and does not insist on getting fancier parties as compared to her friends and neither do we have such ambitions.
Its amazing how our moods are linked into hers and having a close nuclear family one person’s mood impacts the others immensely. Yesterday Jispa was upset at some issue she had with her friends. There are times when you can control issues and then there are times when you can’t. It is up to you to take that call. And it is a difficult call to take.
As a dad I want to protect her where possible and also at the same time I want her to be ready to face life’s realities where possible. She needs to grow up and be happy at the same time. Can the two coexist? Some part of growing up is necessarily not happy. I have had some experiences as a kid, that were not too happy. In school, as I have earlier blogged about, we came in from Dubai to India when I was in fourth standard and it was pretty traumatic. But more than that I started noticing something at about the same time. There some group leaders emerging within the class. These were characters who would dictate what to do and be natural leaders of their groups. And eth groups had the second type of people. Kids who would follow the leader. So the leader decided the games to be played and the group followed and pandered to every whim and fancy of the leader. I remember seeing it upfront and early enough. And I also remember not fitting in either segment. I was no natural leader - in school at young ages – these were normally the really bratty extra shrewd ones. And I was definitely no mind less follower. The result in primary and to an extent secondary school is a bit of solitude. It’s not as poetic as it sounds. It means you typically float from group to group every break figuring some game to play. A little bit of a loner.
I have seen Jispa’s style and her friends. There are some natural born pains. The mean types, the over dressed types, the I know it all types, I am so pretty types, it’s my way or highway types. Jispa is the amenable type but not a mindless girlie types. She has a sharp mind that can see the pettiness in a game and get happily bored. Even more so when the game becomes too girly She is also not a natural bon bitch. No I don’t think I am seeing it with parenting eyes. I genuinely see some girls behave like an A grade bitch. The way they manipulate others or their parents. Jips is not a manipulator.
I don’t know how it will pan out for her. I sure knew how it panned out for me. I had very few friends and I really never did belong to a large group in school. In college somehow a group emerged, but I was never really really close to any one group and also hung around with different groups. I learnt in the end not to get too fussed. I learnt today not to be bothered too much with others plans and people. I was in the end happier alone. It’s the same thing with meetings as well. Everyone is involved in meetings and it really gets to my nerves. The bullshit quotient gets too high for my liking and I simply tune off.
I am sure Jispa will face this or many similar issues. Or even issues of another kind. Some I will know of and some I won’t have a clue. She might be too proud to tell me. or she might not want to tell me for whatever other reason… I might sweat too much. So many of these I would simply not be able to solve. And she grows older she will have to solve them her self. I can at best be a sounding board. I have to understand this. I have to think through this. It is difficult to see your child unhappy and say – its ok, she’ll grow up. There will be much heartbreak for her to handle. What is going to be my role? Yesterday with her friends she was upset; I stayed away from the cause. I limited my role to cheering her up. I told her that her happy me was having a fight with her sad me. She can’t let the sad me win for now. Let the happy me be there and show happiness. We take the sad me and trap in a pocket. In the evening when the sad me has had some time to think, remove her from your pocket and ask her what the issue actually was. She should then see if the sad me was really right in being sad and to have a heart to heart chat with her. Till then if you are sad or if you let things affect you, there will always be people happy that you have things affecting you. Let the happy me win for now. Sad me is not a bad thing, just give it some time to think.
I guess that should be the rule going forward. More and more so. I would cease to really know what the exact issue is or the problem is. That is something she would have to deal with herself. I can only give larger picture ‘gyan’. It’s not easy but its ok. That way I guess I can help where required and stay off on specifics. Real learning is nothing but application.
Everyone grows. The more I protect the later she grows. It is affine balance and it is disturbing in the short run. Even as I write this I am not totally at ease not knowing the exact nature of any problem. I don’t like saying that I don’t want to know. I want to know. I want to see. I want to be involved. But I also know I shouldn’t. I can only be there if required. Hopefully my blog will be around well afterwards.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
its in the schedule
There are so many demands on daily life, it is important for a schedule to be in place. otherwise I guess its just impossible the demands of conflicting priorities. Once in place also the schedule makes for certain rigidity that my anti establishment tendencies find pretty irritating. Right now I am at 35 managing to find a balance between the two. But my daughter at 8 is another thing altogether.
She wants to do a lot and she clearly enjoys it tremendously. But it drives jasmine up the wall. Till now the pressure of school work was minimum but slowly as the pressure cranks up the walls seem to be bulging.
Jispa has her reviews happening. A lot of school work faces two kind of responses. Jasmine who wants it to be given due importance and me… who couldn’t really care less. I prefer sweating over the creative and fun stuff. The elocution competition, the sports day, the taekwondo kicks, creative writing etc. but math and Hindi are still there in the curriculum when I last checked and we still count those marks for promotion. So I guess that’s a given. So every time Jasmine will be stressing out on the math and Hindi and I will be like – let it be, let it be. And when it comes to the other stuff, I am in complete command with Jasmine only overseeing.
I also realise that jasmine is right. So it makes for an interesting balance. Otherwise both of us would have gone completely bonkers and taken Jispa along with.
So right now in the middle of all her activity we are struggling to find time for practice for her. How so we squeeze in time for her school practice as the reviews have started and how do we find time for her guitar practice, without which it’s pretty much impossible to learn the instrument.
I was trying to understand the schedule. I have learnt that it only works if it is a part of the schedule that is followed everyday. Jispa is also a dreamer. Someone who thinks of interesting things all the time. The imagination will always be in hyper mode. I get my best ideas in the shower or when I eating or doing something of a routine. It’s not a get over with it attitude but the brain starts functioning overtime and its gets lost in its thoughts. Jispa does that and bang…. There goes the schedule. The morning is a special pain. So I did the next bets thing. Disciplining my self to wake up on time. If I don’t wake up on time, I can’t wake her on time and then we are constantly rushing.
If the waking time is crunched and the shower hits the face fast enough rest of eth morning is much better. Jispa will get at least 30 minutes to practice everyday and I can use that time to also read. The key is to get all ready by 7 am. It happened today but I am not overtly bullish on it happening everyday. She got her practice time for a good 30 minutes. Here is a pic of her practising the guitar today morning.
Today while reading in the morning I came across what John Wheeler said – “Everything important, at the bottom, is essentially simple.” This was not a philosophy book but a physics book and this was in the chapter that was talking about quantum physics. But I couldn’t agree more. Most of the smartest people I met have said the same thing. If it is too complex it cannot be right. My best marketing teachers have always said that. Last week I saw a play on the life of mathematician Ramanujan. They also said something to the effect that – a mathematical equation has to be beautiful. Beauty lies in simplicity not complexity.
Most of all that we see or face – the answers lie in simple steps or terms. Can we have that one lens (Thank you Dharen for this example) through we which we can see everything and make sense of the complex games at play. Can we understand it so well that we can explain it to our mother (thank you prof Navalkar for this example). But essentially we only know it well if we can explain it well enough that a child could possible understand it.
I love it when Jispa asks me questions. It gives me great pleasure in explaining stuff to her. Yesterday she was talking about how stickers stick but don’t stick on the paper it comes in. interesting question. In trying to help her understand it I think I too cleared my mind on it. She then gets encouraged to ask more and more. What fun. I love this bit of parenting as well.
This too is only possible if I fit the schedule. Most of our father daughter interaction happens in the morning when I get to drop her to the bus stop. It get as high as the history of Indo Pak relations to something that is as sublime as sailing paper boats on the roadside streams near the bust stop. The latter is of particular interest to us and we hope for a decent stream everyday.
She wants to do a lot and she clearly enjoys it tremendously. But it drives jasmine up the wall. Till now the pressure of school work was minimum but slowly as the pressure cranks up the walls seem to be bulging.
Jispa has her reviews happening. A lot of school work faces two kind of responses. Jasmine who wants it to be given due importance and me… who couldn’t really care less. I prefer sweating over the creative and fun stuff. The elocution competition, the sports day, the taekwondo kicks, creative writing etc. but math and Hindi are still there in the curriculum when I last checked and we still count those marks for promotion. So I guess that’s a given. So every time Jasmine will be stressing out on the math and Hindi and I will be like – let it be, let it be. And when it comes to the other stuff, I am in complete command with Jasmine only overseeing.
I also realise that jasmine is right. So it makes for an interesting balance. Otherwise both of us would have gone completely bonkers and taken Jispa along with.
So right now in the middle of all her activity we are struggling to find time for practice for her. How so we squeeze in time for her school practice as the reviews have started and how do we find time for her guitar practice, without which it’s pretty much impossible to learn the instrument.
I was trying to understand the schedule. I have learnt that it only works if it is a part of the schedule that is followed everyday. Jispa is also a dreamer. Someone who thinks of interesting things all the time. The imagination will always be in hyper mode. I get my best ideas in the shower or when I eating or doing something of a routine. It’s not a get over with it attitude but the brain starts functioning overtime and its gets lost in its thoughts. Jispa does that and bang…. There goes the schedule. The morning is a special pain. So I did the next bets thing. Disciplining my self to wake up on time. If I don’t wake up on time, I can’t wake her on time and then we are constantly rushing.
If the waking time is crunched and the shower hits the face fast enough rest of eth morning is much better. Jispa will get at least 30 minutes to practice everyday and I can use that time to also read. The key is to get all ready by 7 am. It happened today but I am not overtly bullish on it happening everyday. She got her practice time for a good 30 minutes. Here is a pic of her practising the guitar today morning.
Today while reading in the morning I came across what John Wheeler said – “Everything important, at the bottom, is essentially simple.” This was not a philosophy book but a physics book and this was in the chapter that was talking about quantum physics. But I couldn’t agree more. Most of the smartest people I met have said the same thing. If it is too complex it cannot be right. My best marketing teachers have always said that. Last week I saw a play on the life of mathematician Ramanujan. They also said something to the effect that – a mathematical equation has to be beautiful. Beauty lies in simplicity not complexity.
Most of all that we see or face – the answers lie in simple steps or terms. Can we have that one lens (Thank you Dharen for this example) through we which we can see everything and make sense of the complex games at play. Can we understand it so well that we can explain it to our mother (thank you prof Navalkar for this example). But essentially we only know it well if we can explain it well enough that a child could possible understand it.
I love it when Jispa asks me questions. It gives me great pleasure in explaining stuff to her. Yesterday she was talking about how stickers stick but don’t stick on the paper it comes in. interesting question. In trying to help her understand it I think I too cleared my mind on it. She then gets encouraged to ask more and more. What fun. I love this bit of parenting as well.
This too is only possible if I fit the schedule. Most of our father daughter interaction happens in the morning when I get to drop her to the bus stop. It get as high as the history of Indo Pak relations to something that is as sublime as sailing paper boats on the roadside streams near the bust stop. The latter is of particular interest to us and we hope for a decent stream everyday.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Can I proudly say that I am .... humble?
Normally forwards on the email are really boring stuff. Either they tell you a joke you have heard or haven’t found funny, or they give you sentimental bull shit that you must forward to a billion or so people or else face bad luck. Very rarely does some one send you some insight that you have not known of or care for.
Yesterday I received one rare forward. This was in the form of an essay “How Will You Measure Your Life?” by Clayton M. Christensen, Harvard Business School. He wrote a lot of interesting stuff. A lot which I knew about or agreed to. But one thing he wrote struck me harder as it seemed to give a solution to something that has been vexing me.
I have met some seriously humble people and some seriously arrogant behaviour. Humility is a virtue that is taught in school in moral science class. It is a virtue to have. But it is taught or rather it is understood wrongly. Till now also I never really understood humility. I think my natural instinct is arrogant and self assuming. I have a mighty high view of my self. I have tried always in the past to some how keep this in check. Self deprecating behaviour was one strong way to do it, as I saw it. tel your self that you aren’t that good. That there are many better and you are just not able to see it. There so many higher goals and standards for you to achieve. That I thought tried keeping my arrogance instep.
But something was somehow still amiss. Something did not connect. Was I still arrogant but only slightly more balanced about it. Yes I am good but there are ways to get better. Would this help me treat other people better or would my arrogance finally play out. Would I unknowingly upset people by my huge self confidence and inability to see counter points of view? Suppose I get the point soon enough, do I insult people by telling them that I got it and they could carry on. Was hunching my shoulders and sitting in a submissive pose just an act that went against my grain and really helped no one. What is humility and how to achieve it? Honestly I can ask all this in hindsight. Till now I think self deprecating behaviour was helping go …. No where. While I genuinely manage to control my thoughts and made me achieve to higher standards by believing that everything can and must improve, I don’t think it did anything for my humility quotient (or lack of thereof).
The answer is in what the author writes
“humility was defined not by self-deprecating behavior or attitudes but by the esteem with which you regard others. Good behavior flows naturally from that kind of humility. For example, you would never steal from someone, because you respect that person too much. You’d never lie to someone, either.”
That is humility. It is not seen by how we treat ourselves; its essence is in how we regard others. Not treat others but genuinely REGARD others. We can treat other people nicely but then think we are such nice people that we are able to treat other people well. It would flow from our own high version of our self. But if we genuinely regard others well it would not occur to us to treat others better. We would naturally treat them well.
I see light. If I were to think through and analyse the people I have met, the humble ones are the ones who regard others. They are so beautiful that they genuinely love other people and they have no self concept when they interact with others. The genuine intent comes through so strongly that it is easy for people to love them and regard them in return. They don’t ask for it and don’t want it, but are always there. Prem and Rajesh were two such souls that have shown me such light.
I have always wondered – how I am seen as humble with some and arrogant with others. I am the same guy, why would this happen? Till now I have thought that those whom I work with closely have been able to see the real me and the others just need to dig deeper. I had made significant progress with my self deprecating attitude, but at some time it hit the wall. What is wrong?
The answer is elsewhere. Do I have genuine regard for others whom I don’t work closely with? The problem is not with others, it is with me. The day I realise that I have made a great step forward.
There. Today I took a significant step forward.
Now I will look at the email forwards with a little more ‘regard’
PS: Hey – a-ha moment…. I think I do better with my students as I have genuine regard for them. I love their abilities and try my best to work with them. That’s why I tend to work better wit them. Yes. It is not about me. I have always maintained that the students love to learn, it is only that we as teachers have failed to teach. I have maintained that if we respect them and ‘regard’ them well they will automatically love and respect you. Yes. Shit … the stuff is so dam true.
It has also worked where I have tried to tell myself with every subordinate – this one is good and not let me think that anyone is bad. That’s helps me work with them and improved my relationship with them. It has failed as well but the successes have been more than failures. Hmmm….
Can you see me now? I have a halo behind my head. It is a little light and is fast disappearing, but its there somewhere… look closely.
One more interesting thing he wrote: The lesson I learned from this is that it’s easier to hold to your principles 100% of the time than it is to hold to them 98% of the time. If you give in to “just this once,” based on a marginal cost analysis, as some of my former classmates have done, you’ll regret where you end up. You’ve got to define for yourself what you stand for and draw the line in a safe place.
Yesterday I received one rare forward. This was in the form of an essay “How Will You Measure Your Life?” by Clayton M. Christensen, Harvard Business School. He wrote a lot of interesting stuff. A lot which I knew about or agreed to. But one thing he wrote struck me harder as it seemed to give a solution to something that has been vexing me.
I have met some seriously humble people and some seriously arrogant behaviour. Humility is a virtue that is taught in school in moral science class. It is a virtue to have. But it is taught or rather it is understood wrongly. Till now also I never really understood humility. I think my natural instinct is arrogant and self assuming. I have a mighty high view of my self. I have tried always in the past to some how keep this in check. Self deprecating behaviour was one strong way to do it, as I saw it. tel your self that you aren’t that good. That there are many better and you are just not able to see it. There so many higher goals and standards for you to achieve. That I thought tried keeping my arrogance instep.
But something was somehow still amiss. Something did not connect. Was I still arrogant but only slightly more balanced about it. Yes I am good but there are ways to get better. Would this help me treat other people better or would my arrogance finally play out. Would I unknowingly upset people by my huge self confidence and inability to see counter points of view? Suppose I get the point soon enough, do I insult people by telling them that I got it and they could carry on. Was hunching my shoulders and sitting in a submissive pose just an act that went against my grain and really helped no one. What is humility and how to achieve it? Honestly I can ask all this in hindsight. Till now I think self deprecating behaviour was helping go …. No where. While I genuinely manage to control my thoughts and made me achieve to higher standards by believing that everything can and must improve, I don’t think it did anything for my humility quotient (or lack of thereof).
The answer is in what the author writes
“humility was defined not by self-deprecating behavior or attitudes but by the esteem with which you regard others. Good behavior flows naturally from that kind of humility. For example, you would never steal from someone, because you respect that person too much. You’d never lie to someone, either.”
That is humility. It is not seen by how we treat ourselves; its essence is in how we regard others. Not treat others but genuinely REGARD others. We can treat other people nicely but then think we are such nice people that we are able to treat other people well. It would flow from our own high version of our self. But if we genuinely regard others well it would not occur to us to treat others better. We would naturally treat them well.
I see light. If I were to think through and analyse the people I have met, the humble ones are the ones who regard others. They are so beautiful that they genuinely love other people and they have no self concept when they interact with others. The genuine intent comes through so strongly that it is easy for people to love them and regard them in return. They don’t ask for it and don’t want it, but are always there. Prem and Rajesh were two such souls that have shown me such light.
I have always wondered – how I am seen as humble with some and arrogant with others. I am the same guy, why would this happen? Till now I have thought that those whom I work with closely have been able to see the real me and the others just need to dig deeper. I had made significant progress with my self deprecating attitude, but at some time it hit the wall. What is wrong?
The answer is elsewhere. Do I have genuine regard for others whom I don’t work closely with? The problem is not with others, it is with me. The day I realise that I have made a great step forward.
There. Today I took a significant step forward.
Now I will look at the email forwards with a little more ‘regard’
PS: Hey – a-ha moment…. I think I do better with my students as I have genuine regard for them. I love their abilities and try my best to work with them. That’s why I tend to work better wit them. Yes. It is not about me. I have always maintained that the students love to learn, it is only that we as teachers have failed to teach. I have maintained that if we respect them and ‘regard’ them well they will automatically love and respect you. Yes. Shit … the stuff is so dam true.
It has also worked where I have tried to tell myself with every subordinate – this one is good and not let me think that anyone is bad. That’s helps me work with them and improved my relationship with them. It has failed as well but the successes have been more than failures. Hmmm….
Can you see me now? I have a halo behind my head. It is a little light and is fast disappearing, but its there somewhere… look closely.
One more interesting thing he wrote: The lesson I learned from this is that it’s easier to hold to your principles 100% of the time than it is to hold to them 98% of the time. If you give in to “just this once,” based on a marginal cost analysis, as some of my former classmates have done, you’ll regret where you end up. You’ve got to define for yourself what you stand for and draw the line in a safe place.
Monday, August 09, 2010
its just a game, is it?
I was reading one blog on my reader. It is called Ulterior Motives and is authored by Art Markman. In this particular post he talks about the effect of violent video games. (link) The long and short of it is “These results suggest that video games can actually create a curriculum for teaching aggressive and risky behaviours. Unfortunately, they do not provide a good outlet for anger and aggression. Instead, they reinforce anger and aggression and allow players to transfer that behaviour to the real world.”
One would assume that this is nothing new. We all knew this. Violent Video games promote violent behaviour. Ditto with movies. But slowly over a period of time we have let the violence increase in the content we consume. So Sholay which was extremely violent when it released 35 years ago would be pretty average by today’s standards. I don’t assume most would even think about the violence. Possibly we are now blind to it. It is a matter of every day routine.
While growing up us boys faced a huge shortage of steamy pics to ogle at. No internet to get your fix. Here the Mid Day mate which was a daily picture of a scantily clad woman in a mainstream afternoon daily was the best we could get. Any one who had the Mid Day would be obliged to share the third page for our voyeuristic pleasures. I don’t think it really matter today with a surfeit of it in various forms of digital media.
There is a joke doing the rounds on SMS – it talks about how romantic mushy movies spoil women expectations and then adds that porn does the same to men.
I would assume that media does impact human minds. The stuff we see does leave us with impressions that we carry forward. I would only assume that games would create greater impression than a movie. For one the time spent might be larger and two – you take on the role play that rewards excessive behaviour. Whatever the reason, I might argue that it is ill advised to leave too many unattended games at your kids door step.
The problem here is accentuated by the fact that parents might see these as merely games. My son is just playing video games. How bad is that?
One kid’s party we went to was celebrating his birthday. He might have been around 7 years old. A sharp kid with a keen eye. It seems he loves playing games. All sorts of games, board games, video games, outdoor games. He picks them fast and beats some of the elder players. His dad got him a PS2 for his birthday. Very cool. I don’t approve but I guess its ok.
There that’s him with his gift and you can see the PS2 to his right on the back.
While just flipping around his presents I chanced upon the games his dad bought along with. His enthusiastic dad just bought the device and asked the vendor to give the popular games. I am not sure if he specifed the age of eth recipient, but I am quite sure it wouldn’t have made a difference to the vendor. The top most on the pile was….
There. There were a few more like these ion the pile. Can you see the rating that is there on the CD cover. Would you give a movie with that rating to the child? nopes but a game. What wrong with just a game? I nudged his dad saying the game is meant for elders. His dad said, “arey my son is good at games. He plays the games meant for elder kids very well. He goes to other friend’s house and beats them at the games. He is good.” Err… what do I say? “This is not that kind of elder games. This is really elder games. The kind that has not so harmless content in it”. I did not know how to explain the stuff but Grand theft auto is not exactly a paragon of virtue role play. I don’t even think it has a grey side. It’s the cool other side – period.
I am not sure if the penny dropped but I dropped the topic and carried on. It was not his fault. He wasn’t too aware. He merely thought they were games. How easily is this misunderstood or glossed over.
One would assume that this is nothing new. We all knew this. Violent Video games promote violent behaviour. Ditto with movies. But slowly over a period of time we have let the violence increase in the content we consume. So Sholay which was extremely violent when it released 35 years ago would be pretty average by today’s standards. I don’t assume most would even think about the violence. Possibly we are now blind to it. It is a matter of every day routine.
While growing up us boys faced a huge shortage of steamy pics to ogle at. No internet to get your fix. Here the Mid Day mate which was a daily picture of a scantily clad woman in a mainstream afternoon daily was the best we could get. Any one who had the Mid Day would be obliged to share the third page for our voyeuristic pleasures. I don’t think it really matter today with a surfeit of it in various forms of digital media.
There is a joke doing the rounds on SMS – it talks about how romantic mushy movies spoil women expectations and then adds that porn does the same to men.
I would assume that media does impact human minds. The stuff we see does leave us with impressions that we carry forward. I would only assume that games would create greater impression than a movie. For one the time spent might be larger and two – you take on the role play that rewards excessive behaviour. Whatever the reason, I might argue that it is ill advised to leave too many unattended games at your kids door step.
The problem here is accentuated by the fact that parents might see these as merely games. My son is just playing video games. How bad is that?
One kid’s party we went to was celebrating his birthday. He might have been around 7 years old. A sharp kid with a keen eye. It seems he loves playing games. All sorts of games, board games, video games, outdoor games. He picks them fast and beats some of the elder players. His dad got him a PS2 for his birthday. Very cool. I don’t approve but I guess its ok.
There that’s him with his gift and you can see the PS2 to his right on the back.
While just flipping around his presents I chanced upon the games his dad bought along with. His enthusiastic dad just bought the device and asked the vendor to give the popular games. I am not sure if he specifed the age of eth recipient, but I am quite sure it wouldn’t have made a difference to the vendor. The top most on the pile was….
There. There were a few more like these ion the pile. Can you see the rating that is there on the CD cover. Would you give a movie with that rating to the child? nopes but a game. What wrong with just a game? I nudged his dad saying the game is meant for elders. His dad said, “arey my son is good at games. He plays the games meant for elder kids very well. He goes to other friend’s house and beats them at the games. He is good.” Err… what do I say? “This is not that kind of elder games. This is really elder games. The kind that has not so harmless content in it”. I did not know how to explain the stuff but Grand theft auto is not exactly a paragon of virtue role play. I don’t even think it has a grey side. It’s the cool other side – period.
I am not sure if the penny dropped but I dropped the topic and carried on. It was not his fault. He wasn’t too aware. He merely thought they were games. How easily is this misunderstood or glossed over.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
teewee
Yesterday we had some time to kill at a friend’s place. In fact a lot of time to kill. Our friend put me in front of a TV to try and make me feel comfortable. Since my TV viewing is pretty much zero thanks to the absence of the idiot box in our home, I assumed and I am sure she would have assumed as well that I might be happy to get what in scare supply in my routine life.
Sitting cozy with two remotes, one for the TV and one for the set top box (STB) I was set for a couple of hours of pure time pass. Hmmm. Lets see. The STB was there to make my life great. The programs neatly categorized. The schedule all there to select. You even know which movie is going on at the time. ya ya…. This is all old news. I know. It seems the lead company alone has put in over a million STB’s in the market. I have fiddled with this a few times in the past to know my way around. Though I keep pressing the wrong buttons from time to time and get to some vague place from which I attempt recovery. The common mistake being surfing channels from the TV remote and pressing the channel change instead of eth volume. There are also a plethora of complex errors that I make. These I will continue to make as these are highly random in nature and are uncomprehensible. In other words I have no idea how I made the errors and hence I have no idea how I will learn enough from them not to repeatthem. That’s the fun part.
Great – something interesting on the science channels. Ok. Same old stuff. Lets try the geographic channels, then the history channels. Oh bloody bore. Movies? Anything interesting on? Hmmm. The English ones? Nopes… pretty boring – cant make out types. Hindi ones? What shit? This one is South Indian dubbed into hindi one. Ok this another I remember – Shahenshah. A movie from my school days. Real crappy. My god.
Sports channels then. India just won the test – are the highlights on? Yah yah… I am in for luck. The schedule shows that the highlights are on. Flip to the channel. Errr… Indian derby? WTF. Who watches Indian derby? Where are the highlights? I am surely at the right channel. The schedule also confirms. Drat. Ok some other cricket happening. The T20 matches in Australia. That’s cool. Lets watch, it might be fun. Oh shit a disastrous run chase and a hopelessly one sided match, but have we, Kieron Pollard. The highly explosive west Indian is in the team. Now that’s fun. He smashes some unbelievable shots with one landing on the roof. This is getting better. Bam, he is caught in the deep. Match almost over. Anything else?
Change change change change change… flip flip flip flip…. This seems like some distant memory. Yes. I remember this. Evening time. a remote in hand, complete boredom, going the whole range of channels and getting nothing to see. The last time this happened to me was four years ago… at my mom’s house. Nothing’s changed. The only difference is that now I know exactly what the name of the program is before getting bored. Yes. Some things have changed I guess.
I pull the trigger and get out of the room to see the kids and my wife enjoying playing I spy in those amazing books. So much more fun. I should have pressed the dam red button much earlier.
For the last few weeks I have been thinking about the TV and the STB in the house. Is it really bad not to have it at home. Are we being luddites? Yesterday I found my answer. A resounding doubtless no. the shit is not worth having or listening to. Get out of the house, get a book, talk around. Anything anything except have a TV infront of you. Throw the bloody thing out of the window. See it crash, break into a billion pieces. Enjoy the spectacle.
That is a bit radical. But seriously get the cable off from the TV. I have been seriously thinking of getting a TV or a projector home. But never cable. When we have the time we could watch a movie, or catch some documentary or some decent serials. Basically remove the constantly on boredom to some specific entertainment. But it is a big step for now. We are content without it. It will come in some day. I am not going to be tyrannical about it. But for now it can’t. For one – we have no space for it :) . hopefully when we have more space, or more money … a theatre room would be awesome.
For some reason I am reminded of a Bruce Springsteen song. Its an old one. Can you guess which one I am referring to..
Here are the lyrics
57 CHANNELS (AND NOTHIN' ON)©
I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable TV
We settled in for the night my baby and me
We switched 'round and 'round 'til half-past dawn
There was fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Well now home entertainment was my baby's wish
So I hopped into town for a satellite dish
I tied it to the top of my Japanese car
I came home and I pointed it out into the stars
A message came back from the great beyond
There's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Well we might'a made some friends with some billionaires
We might'a got all nice and friendly if we'd made it upstairs
All I got was a note that said "Bye-bye John
Our love's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"
(Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on)
So I bought a .44 magnum, it was solid steel cast
And in the blessed name of Elvis well I just let it blast
'Til my TV lay in pieces there at my feet
And they busted me for disturbin' the almighty peace
Judge said "What you got in your defense son?"
"Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
I can see by your eyes friend you're just about gone
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and...
The boss got it right. But I guess throwing it out of the window would come a close second to the buying a .44 magnum and letting it blast. Actually it depends. The slow motion of the TV falling from height (at least ten floors recommended) might remain with you longer the sound and recoil of the .44 magnum. Haha. I can see by your eyes, friend that you’re just about gone…
Sitting cozy with two remotes, one for the TV and one for the set top box (STB) I was set for a couple of hours of pure time pass. Hmmm. Lets see. The STB was there to make my life great. The programs neatly categorized. The schedule all there to select. You even know which movie is going on at the time. ya ya…. This is all old news. I know. It seems the lead company alone has put in over a million STB’s in the market. I have fiddled with this a few times in the past to know my way around. Though I keep pressing the wrong buttons from time to time and get to some vague place from which I attempt recovery. The common mistake being surfing channels from the TV remote and pressing the channel change instead of eth volume. There are also a plethora of complex errors that I make. These I will continue to make as these are highly random in nature and are uncomprehensible. In other words I have no idea how I made the errors and hence I have no idea how I will learn enough from them not to repeatthem. That’s the fun part.
Great – something interesting on the science channels. Ok. Same old stuff. Lets try the geographic channels, then the history channels. Oh bloody bore. Movies? Anything interesting on? Hmmm. The English ones? Nopes… pretty boring – cant make out types. Hindi ones? What shit? This one is South Indian dubbed into hindi one. Ok this another I remember – Shahenshah. A movie from my school days. Real crappy. My god.
Sports channels then. India just won the test – are the highlights on? Yah yah… I am in for luck. The schedule shows that the highlights are on. Flip to the channel. Errr… Indian derby? WTF. Who watches Indian derby? Where are the highlights? I am surely at the right channel. The schedule also confirms. Drat. Ok some other cricket happening. The T20 matches in Australia. That’s cool. Lets watch, it might be fun. Oh shit a disastrous run chase and a hopelessly one sided match, but have we, Kieron Pollard. The highly explosive west Indian is in the team. Now that’s fun. He smashes some unbelievable shots with one landing on the roof. This is getting better. Bam, he is caught in the deep. Match almost over. Anything else?
Change change change change change… flip flip flip flip…. This seems like some distant memory. Yes. I remember this. Evening time. a remote in hand, complete boredom, going the whole range of channels and getting nothing to see. The last time this happened to me was four years ago… at my mom’s house. Nothing’s changed. The only difference is that now I know exactly what the name of the program is before getting bored. Yes. Some things have changed I guess.
I pull the trigger and get out of the room to see the kids and my wife enjoying playing I spy in those amazing books. So much more fun. I should have pressed the dam red button much earlier.
For the last few weeks I have been thinking about the TV and the STB in the house. Is it really bad not to have it at home. Are we being luddites? Yesterday I found my answer. A resounding doubtless no. the shit is not worth having or listening to. Get out of the house, get a book, talk around. Anything anything except have a TV infront of you. Throw the bloody thing out of the window. See it crash, break into a billion pieces. Enjoy the spectacle.
That is a bit radical. But seriously get the cable off from the TV. I have been seriously thinking of getting a TV or a projector home. But never cable. When we have the time we could watch a movie, or catch some documentary or some decent serials. Basically remove the constantly on boredom to some specific entertainment. But it is a big step for now. We are content without it. It will come in some day. I am not going to be tyrannical about it. But for now it can’t. For one – we have no space for it :) . hopefully when we have more space, or more money … a theatre room would be awesome.
For some reason I am reminded of a Bruce Springsteen song. Its an old one. Can you guess which one I am referring to..
Here are the lyrics
57 CHANNELS (AND NOTHIN' ON)©
I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable TV
We settled in for the night my baby and me
We switched 'round and 'round 'til half-past dawn
There was fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Well now home entertainment was my baby's wish
So I hopped into town for a satellite dish
I tied it to the top of my Japanese car
I came home and I pointed it out into the stars
A message came back from the great beyond
There's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Well we might'a made some friends with some billionaires
We might'a got all nice and friendly if we'd made it upstairs
All I got was a note that said "Bye-bye John
Our love's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"
(Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on)
So I bought a .44 magnum, it was solid steel cast
And in the blessed name of Elvis well I just let it blast
'Til my TV lay in pieces there at my feet
And they busted me for disturbin' the almighty peace
Judge said "What you got in your defense son?"
"Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
I can see by your eyes friend you're just about gone
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on
Fifty-seven channels and...
The boss got it right. But I guess throwing it out of the window would come a close second to the buying a .44 magnum and letting it blast. Actually it depends. The slow motion of the TV falling from height (at least ten floors recommended) might remain with you longer the sound and recoil of the .44 magnum. Haha. I can see by your eyes, friend that you’re just about gone…
Thursday, August 05, 2010
life... choice... sigh
Some body asked me today about the choices we make. The ones that we make in haste and hope things turn out well or should we actually take time to think through all the choices we have. Should life be process driven.
It’s funny when someone asks me thus. I am reminded of the book I have ‘if you meet Buddha on the road kill him’. That book was once recommended to me by a blog reader, on one of the comments he left. It was an interesting enough title. I began reading it and never did finish it. The reason I couldn’t finish it was that it was very good and I always thought I should be a better frame of mind while reading it. Basically it talks about not looking outside but inward. The Buddha is in all of us. Also the book talks about how you can never give advice but you must relate your experiences in similar circumstances and let the pilgrim get his own answers.
This has been a driving force in my life in many ways. Possibly that is the reason that I don’t really like listening to too many advice givers, they don’t know me. At best they can relate their experiences and their thoughts. Then it is up to me to act and me to carry the cross of my own actions or like Napoleon, crown yourself.
Many years ago when I was engaged to Jasmine, her uncle in America had asked if I wanted to go there and make my life. He would support me to the end. I almost jumped at the chance. My mom was not too enthused. I think the reasons would be more like you can’t take the favours of your in-laws. It’s against society norms and people won’t respect you. I did not bother about that logic. My dad told me one thing that struck me hard. He said, in your life you have taken all your decisions. All that you are today are thanks to you and your abilities. You decided your specialisation stream, your own college, your MBA, your job, your summer assignment your wife everything. He said that he had no hand in any decisions that I took. In many ways I was on my way to be my own self made man. At this juncture why would I want to then take on anyone’s obligation? Things might not be as rosy there and the opportunity might not be that exciting. I think he was warning me of the perils of running just on someone’s word leaving what I had in front of me – my self.
Somewhere the penny dropped. I realised that and I kept it that. Another piece of advice my brother’s friend once gave me ‘its better to do it and know for yourself than not to and regret not trying, many years later’. That too has stuck with me for long. This was said roughly 17 years ago.
The common thread I take from here is that you are the master of your own destiny and in the end if you manage that then you have no one to blame but yourself and narcissistically, no one to thank but yourself. Right now too I just went through a rough phase mentally as thanks to some circumstances I was forced to rethink what kind of behaviour and attitude I must have. I have more than enough share of senior resources telling me what I need to do. In order to combat my normal self arrogance that I know best , I have conditioned my self to think at the first instance that what someone is saying is right and keep that as an hypothesis before proving it wrong or right (in degrees). But finally, the decision is mine and mine alone.
I have many stupid decisions in my life and some really bloody smart ones. But all that is hindsight and subjective. The bad ones might have saved me and the good ones might have been the ones that have stopped me from achieving more. The point being you never know. All I know that my supposed intelligence keeps improving all the time. And the calls I take keep getting better at the logic behind them – mind you I said that the logic behind the call improves; there is no evidence of the call actually improving. Who knows what the best solution is? Sometimes you see the mistake and you say yes – you improve, sometimes you don’t see it. the dangerous ones are the ones you get right and the logic fits correctly. You give yourself a pat on the back and congratulate your logic. Then you use it again, and again and again… your greatest strength becomes your weakness. You use it once too often and the world comes crashing on you. You have been exposed as a one trick pony.
There … now should you change or should you not. That is the question that I am facing. How much should I change? Things that I got right have got me here and the one instance it was used against me. This is getting a little complicated.
Virender Shewag was out in the last test playing the cut shot. One journalist asked him if that was his weakness. That he got out a few times playing it. To which the brilliant uncluttered mind of the batsman answered that the journalist also failed to see the number of runs that he has scored from there. He said that that had been his most productive shot from his arsenal. Should he cut it out?
Hahah. This is so not easy to answer. I guess the answer lies in learning from experiences. You keep at it, trying to think through the choices you made and analyse them. Slowly you might get better at them… not at making choice but making the logic behind the choices.
So can I attempt to sum total the entire post in one line – hmmm…. Let me think…..I think I got it…
life is a box of chocolates. You never know what you gonna get….
Thank you Forest.
But tell me one thing – aren’t the chocolates now coming in colour coded wrappers?
It’s funny when someone asks me thus. I am reminded of the book I have ‘if you meet Buddha on the road kill him’. That book was once recommended to me by a blog reader, on one of the comments he left. It was an interesting enough title. I began reading it and never did finish it. The reason I couldn’t finish it was that it was very good and I always thought I should be a better frame of mind while reading it. Basically it talks about not looking outside but inward. The Buddha is in all of us. Also the book talks about how you can never give advice but you must relate your experiences in similar circumstances and let the pilgrim get his own answers.
This has been a driving force in my life in many ways. Possibly that is the reason that I don’t really like listening to too many advice givers, they don’t know me. At best they can relate their experiences and their thoughts. Then it is up to me to act and me to carry the cross of my own actions or like Napoleon, crown yourself.
Many years ago when I was engaged to Jasmine, her uncle in America had asked if I wanted to go there and make my life. He would support me to the end. I almost jumped at the chance. My mom was not too enthused. I think the reasons would be more like you can’t take the favours of your in-laws. It’s against society norms and people won’t respect you. I did not bother about that logic. My dad told me one thing that struck me hard. He said, in your life you have taken all your decisions. All that you are today are thanks to you and your abilities. You decided your specialisation stream, your own college, your MBA, your job, your summer assignment your wife everything. He said that he had no hand in any decisions that I took. In many ways I was on my way to be my own self made man. At this juncture why would I want to then take on anyone’s obligation? Things might not be as rosy there and the opportunity might not be that exciting. I think he was warning me of the perils of running just on someone’s word leaving what I had in front of me – my self.
Somewhere the penny dropped. I realised that and I kept it that. Another piece of advice my brother’s friend once gave me ‘its better to do it and know for yourself than not to and regret not trying, many years later’. That too has stuck with me for long. This was said roughly 17 years ago.
The common thread I take from here is that you are the master of your own destiny and in the end if you manage that then you have no one to blame but yourself and narcissistically, no one to thank but yourself. Right now too I just went through a rough phase mentally as thanks to some circumstances I was forced to rethink what kind of behaviour and attitude I must have. I have more than enough share of senior resources telling me what I need to do. In order to combat my normal self arrogance that I know best , I have conditioned my self to think at the first instance that what someone is saying is right and keep that as an hypothesis before proving it wrong or right (in degrees). But finally, the decision is mine and mine alone.
I have many stupid decisions in my life and some really bloody smart ones. But all that is hindsight and subjective. The bad ones might have saved me and the good ones might have been the ones that have stopped me from achieving more. The point being you never know. All I know that my supposed intelligence keeps improving all the time. And the calls I take keep getting better at the logic behind them – mind you I said that the logic behind the call improves; there is no evidence of the call actually improving. Who knows what the best solution is? Sometimes you see the mistake and you say yes – you improve, sometimes you don’t see it. the dangerous ones are the ones you get right and the logic fits correctly. You give yourself a pat on the back and congratulate your logic. Then you use it again, and again and again… your greatest strength becomes your weakness. You use it once too often and the world comes crashing on you. You have been exposed as a one trick pony.
There … now should you change or should you not. That is the question that I am facing. How much should I change? Things that I got right have got me here and the one instance it was used against me. This is getting a little complicated.
Virender Shewag was out in the last test playing the cut shot. One journalist asked him if that was his weakness. That he got out a few times playing it. To which the brilliant uncluttered mind of the batsman answered that the journalist also failed to see the number of runs that he has scored from there. He said that that had been his most productive shot from his arsenal. Should he cut it out?
Hahah. This is so not easy to answer. I guess the answer lies in learning from experiences. You keep at it, trying to think through the choices you made and analyse them. Slowly you might get better at them… not at making choice but making the logic behind the choices.
So can I attempt to sum total the entire post in one line – hmmm…. Let me think…..I think I got it…
life is a box of chocolates. You never know what you gonna get….
Thank you Forest.
But tell me one thing – aren’t the chocolates now coming in colour coded wrappers?
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
fonts
I have always believed that fonts are important in wherever you use them. They communicate a lot by themselves. They are extremely important; more so in their use in number plates. India is one place where they have still not standardised the number plates. You have all sorts of fonts in all sorts of languages being used. The road traffic guys came up with a norm that you must use only English and that you can’t have any other stickers or embellishments on the same. A lot of this is being flouted in any case with political patronage being shown to religious affiliation. Worst is the fonts being used. I hated the rounded font that came in with my i-ten. Really crappy.
My wife and I must have knocked the car around a few times and the number plate in front had cracked. Once we got the thing precariously handing by one screw after giving the car at a shop valet service. We are not too fussy about car looks. So just cellotaped the dam plate back in and carried on as usual.
This monsoon the rains washed away the cellotape and voila one day the number plate had vanished. Now to get a new plate. Finally. So go to the place and chosoe for a plate. He shows a few designs but my eye goes on a specific one. It’s the international standard kind of design. He says that this is a radio chip plate that will become compulsory in a years time. The government has just allowed for introduction right now before they clamp down on all the plates. Both of us did not really care for the story. We just thought it looked really nice. The numbers were clear and the plate somehow was just right. That’s the things with fonts. Sometimes they just seem .. right.
Now I have been roaming around with this number plate pretty proud. They cost 5 times as the simple plastic ones. Today Jispa saw the number plate and remarked “you know dad. This number plate looks good.” “ya? What about it?” “The number look clear and somehow the number plate by itself looks good. I like it”
Even an eight year old can see the difference that fonts can make. It is that perceptible.
Here are a few number plates that the Delhi traffic website has put up as wrong designs. These are still better than some of the others that are on the road. In between the fad was to put a silhouette of the maratha king shivaji on it. I don’t know how that meant to be a mark of respect. That the muddy part of your car that you normally don’t even want to touch. Some how the worst offenders are always the right winged political leaners.
My wife and I must have knocked the car around a few times and the number plate in front had cracked. Once we got the thing precariously handing by one screw after giving the car at a shop valet service. We are not too fussy about car looks. So just cellotaped the dam plate back in and carried on as usual.
This monsoon the rains washed away the cellotape and voila one day the number plate had vanished. Now to get a new plate. Finally. So go to the place and chosoe for a plate. He shows a few designs but my eye goes on a specific one. It’s the international standard kind of design. He says that this is a radio chip plate that will become compulsory in a years time. The government has just allowed for introduction right now before they clamp down on all the plates. Both of us did not really care for the story. We just thought it looked really nice. The numbers were clear and the plate somehow was just right. That’s the things with fonts. Sometimes they just seem .. right.
Now I have been roaming around with this number plate pretty proud. They cost 5 times as the simple plastic ones. Today Jispa saw the number plate and remarked “you know dad. This number plate looks good.” “ya? What about it?” “The number look clear and somehow the number plate by itself looks good. I like it”
Even an eight year old can see the difference that fonts can make. It is that perceptible.
Here are a few number plates that the Delhi traffic website has put up as wrong designs. These are still better than some of the others that are on the road. In between the fad was to put a silhouette of the maratha king shivaji on it. I don’t know how that meant to be a mark of respect. That the muddy part of your car that you normally don’t even want to touch. Some how the worst offenders are always the right winged political leaners.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
teach me teach you
Parenting is fun. There is a constant tussle where one tri to se through the games or the situation that the child is in. And you are up there sitting pretty and trying to be fair as well as fun as well inculcates discipline. So while you have the upper hand most of the time the greatest pride comes in when your kid can teach you stuff. No I don’t mean that they do their simple things and you end up deriving some great deep thought. Something such as – see the innocence and the unbridled trust that kids have. That is meant for the preachers to sell books after they sell their ferraries. I cant stand that crap. Sometimes though I do think that I can make a living doing that. Gyan or fart as it is commonly called is cheap. All you have to do is dig for some deeper meaning wrap it up in some dumbfounding logic and appeal to a person’s ‘dormant’ self actualised soul.
No, the fun is when you daughter who is eight can really teach you. This time around whoile having a conversation on swimming my daughter was telling me that the coach was stressing the importance of putting your one ear in water while resurfacing to breathe. I thought that was cool. I did not know that. I tried it the next morning to see my speed increase. I felt like a rocket. But I was so happy that my daughter was teaching me what to do. Especially in sports. She has already gone far ahead of me in swimming. She knows the four strokes and she is working on speed and stamina. Now I am dying to see her and compete with her in the pool. Let’s see now who wins. Me, all old and technique less will be a worthy competitor for her with right technique and possibly better stamina.
Same way I am also dying to play badminton with her. I always have had the dream that I will play sports with my daughter. Any sports. Even board games. They would give me immense satisfaction. Slowly she is reaching an age where I might be able to play with her a lot of things, besides nanu baby and motu baby. That will be fun. I look forward to it.
I look forward to conversations where we both contribute to each others learnings. In the near future (very near future) there is going to be one such opportunity. Jisps’s teacher told her that microwave food is bad for health. Ya sure, I have heard that a lot. There even might be truth in it. The other thing she said was that if you give microwave water to the plants then they will die. Ok. I wanted to smash that one but I was also not 100 % sure if that was the case.
I also wanted her to know that teachers / text books and others can be wrong. In this case I am sure her teacher must be led astray not by scientific argument but by an email that claims to be scientific. So now we have a golden opportunity to know the truth and allow for Jispa to question dogma. So I am hunting for a money plant. That’s the easiest plant to grow at home. Jispa and I decided that we will see it for ourselves. She was so excited about it yesterday but I couldn’t get a money plant at 9 pm.
So instead merely telling the teacher that she is right or wrong, we will prove it and merely state the facts of what we saw. That’s the way to do it. We will do it for ourselves and see the difference. We will take photos and then take these to the teacher for show and tell. This will not be an internet search but a proper experiment. Now where do I get two dam money plants?
No, the fun is when you daughter who is eight can really teach you. This time around whoile having a conversation on swimming my daughter was telling me that the coach was stressing the importance of putting your one ear in water while resurfacing to breathe. I thought that was cool. I did not know that. I tried it the next morning to see my speed increase. I felt like a rocket. But I was so happy that my daughter was teaching me what to do. Especially in sports. She has already gone far ahead of me in swimming. She knows the four strokes and she is working on speed and stamina. Now I am dying to see her and compete with her in the pool. Let’s see now who wins. Me, all old and technique less will be a worthy competitor for her with right technique and possibly better stamina.
Same way I am also dying to play badminton with her. I always have had the dream that I will play sports with my daughter. Any sports. Even board games. They would give me immense satisfaction. Slowly she is reaching an age where I might be able to play with her a lot of things, besides nanu baby and motu baby. That will be fun. I look forward to it.
I look forward to conversations where we both contribute to each others learnings. In the near future (very near future) there is going to be one such opportunity. Jisps’s teacher told her that microwave food is bad for health. Ya sure, I have heard that a lot. There even might be truth in it. The other thing she said was that if you give microwave water to the plants then they will die. Ok. I wanted to smash that one but I was also not 100 % sure if that was the case.
I also wanted her to know that teachers / text books and others can be wrong. In this case I am sure her teacher must be led astray not by scientific argument but by an email that claims to be scientific. So now we have a golden opportunity to know the truth and allow for Jispa to question dogma. So I am hunting for a money plant. That’s the easiest plant to grow at home. Jispa and I decided that we will see it for ourselves. She was so excited about it yesterday but I couldn’t get a money plant at 9 pm.
So instead merely telling the teacher that she is right or wrong, we will prove it and merely state the facts of what we saw. That’s the way to do it. We will do it for ourselves and see the difference. We will take photos and then take these to the teacher for show and tell. This will not be an internet search but a proper experiment. Now where do I get two dam money plants?
Friday, July 30, 2010
there is no such thing as a simple answer while you are parenting
Life is more predictable once Jispa’s school starts. Waking up on time, sleeping on time, yoga on time and swimming on time. The whole thing is getting the routine as an integral part of the biological clock. I don’t know whether the routine is good and I like it or I get bored by it. It cuts both ways. The vacations allow for a far more relaxed and impulsive behaviour. Here the action only starts on Friday night and is necessarily over by Sunday afternoon. Sunday is an early to bed night.
The last week we were at our friends place for a house warming party. We stayed up till 2 am playing the popular party game – mafia. Getting home by 3 and then into bed to wake by 10. That is the perfect way to end the vacation. As a result of that late night, the house was all asleep on Sunday night by 9.15 pm. I get very excited when I get to sleep this early. I was cranky all vacation thanks to the late nights.
Early nights have been a bit of a jinx for me. There will always be something or the other disturbing me. Invariably if everything else works, Jispa will come in at night on some pretext or the other. But luckily that Sunday we slept well and through the night. Monday morning was a breeze.
The week though that followed was a mix with Jispa behaving like any kid and taking time to get up. Five minutes please, last five minutes, ok ok one minute, last minute…. And so on. I have to every time physically life her and get her to the bathroom. If at this time she makes one cranky sound then she is done for. After all the cuddling and waking and the lifting, the last thing I want to hear is the cranky sound. She knows that. Invariably she lets one slip and she gets a sharp reprimand. It will last a few days and then the cycle begins all over again.
But as I have blogged about before, the great thing is the quality time I get while I drop her off. Time to talk, have fun, enjoy in the car till the school bus comes. Today she generally popped one question of India and Pakistan were once great enemies? Were? I asked her. India is still at loggerheads with Pakistan and China. She then wanted to know how come. I thought that was an innocuous enough question with a straight forward answer. I was so wrong.
Luckily Jispa is not the type to keep asking stupid questions one after the other. But her ability to understand, grasp and relate is so awesome that it puts pressure on you to think through and talk. And so I kept talking, and talking, till just about when the bus came in. I think the story took a full ten minutes. How Muslims and Hindus were in India, then the moghuls came in and then the jazia tax, conversion. The Moghuls helped establish a large ‘Indian’ kingdom which was till then divided into many small kingdoms, then the British came in, they wanted spices, then they stayed on to rule, then they had this divide and rule policy, the dominion states and then independence, the great partition, the Kashmir issue and how we forever remained enemies. And then how we interfered in their East Pakistan issue, Bangladesh, a few wars….
Blah blah blah. It was so tough. Especially since I am not a history student and I know that what I know is a stupid one sided version that was taught in our text books. I try and be objective about the whole affair.
Sure there were conversions, but also the Hindus did not treat the poor too well, the ghettos developed and it brought about even more divisive force. It was quite a task trying to explain history and be objective.
I also realised while talking that how we talk about how we helped “Free” Bangladesh. Since when did interfering in your neighbour’s house with force and imposing your solution count as a noble cause? But then you had millions of Bngladeshies who were worse off as East Pakistan with little development and lots of poverty. I would never know the truth. What really happened? History text books were so dam bloody one sided to start with.
I want Jispa to do her own research and form her own opinions. I want her to contest text books and see things in a larger context. Understand the two sides to a coin. On man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.
So the problem is - not knowing the whole truth, trying to balance what you know, impart a lesson, a story, make it interesting and simple for a kid and teach them to form their own thoughts. What a freaking difficult task. What ever happened to ‘daddy knows it all and you cant dispute it’ parenting?
The last week we were at our friends place for a house warming party. We stayed up till 2 am playing the popular party game – mafia. Getting home by 3 and then into bed to wake by 10. That is the perfect way to end the vacation. As a result of that late night, the house was all asleep on Sunday night by 9.15 pm. I get very excited when I get to sleep this early. I was cranky all vacation thanks to the late nights.
Early nights have been a bit of a jinx for me. There will always be something or the other disturbing me. Invariably if everything else works, Jispa will come in at night on some pretext or the other. But luckily that Sunday we slept well and through the night. Monday morning was a breeze.
The week though that followed was a mix with Jispa behaving like any kid and taking time to get up. Five minutes please, last five minutes, ok ok one minute, last minute…. And so on. I have to every time physically life her and get her to the bathroom. If at this time she makes one cranky sound then she is done for. After all the cuddling and waking and the lifting, the last thing I want to hear is the cranky sound. She knows that. Invariably she lets one slip and she gets a sharp reprimand. It will last a few days and then the cycle begins all over again.
But as I have blogged about before, the great thing is the quality time I get while I drop her off. Time to talk, have fun, enjoy in the car till the school bus comes. Today she generally popped one question of India and Pakistan were once great enemies? Were? I asked her. India is still at loggerheads with Pakistan and China. She then wanted to know how come. I thought that was an innocuous enough question with a straight forward answer. I was so wrong.
Luckily Jispa is not the type to keep asking stupid questions one after the other. But her ability to understand, grasp and relate is so awesome that it puts pressure on you to think through and talk. And so I kept talking, and talking, till just about when the bus came in. I think the story took a full ten minutes. How Muslims and Hindus were in India, then the moghuls came in and then the jazia tax, conversion. The Moghuls helped establish a large ‘Indian’ kingdom which was till then divided into many small kingdoms, then the British came in, they wanted spices, then they stayed on to rule, then they had this divide and rule policy, the dominion states and then independence, the great partition, the Kashmir issue and how we forever remained enemies. And then how we interfered in their East Pakistan issue, Bangladesh, a few wars….
Blah blah blah. It was so tough. Especially since I am not a history student and I know that what I know is a stupid one sided version that was taught in our text books. I try and be objective about the whole affair.
Sure there were conversions, but also the Hindus did not treat the poor too well, the ghettos developed and it brought about even more divisive force. It was quite a task trying to explain history and be objective.
I also realised while talking that how we talk about how we helped “Free” Bangladesh. Since when did interfering in your neighbour’s house with force and imposing your solution count as a noble cause? But then you had millions of Bngladeshies who were worse off as East Pakistan with little development and lots of poverty. I would never know the truth. What really happened? History text books were so dam bloody one sided to start with.
I want Jispa to do her own research and form her own opinions. I want her to contest text books and see things in a larger context. Understand the two sides to a coin. On man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.
So the problem is - not knowing the whole truth, trying to balance what you know, impart a lesson, a story, make it interesting and simple for a kid and teach them to form their own thoughts. What a freaking difficult task. What ever happened to ‘daddy knows it all and you cant dispute it’ parenting?
Monday, July 26, 2010
learn well
We have been struggling with Jispa’s classes. We believe in extra curriculars and the value of getting right guidance and opportunity early on but the sheer breadth of what she is doing is leaving us a little.. I don’t know a little worried, amused, sceptical, scared…
To list – she has a core activity in school. She learns taekwondo there twice a week. Then five days a week she goes to swim. Now thanks to the coaching she swims well and knows all the strokes. She is progressing well and swimming fast. I am happy. Swimming is something that would last her for life and a good swimming will help her keep fit. Thrice a week after the swimming class she goes for some badminton. That’s also a good thing. I guess.
We don’t know for sure if she can take all this physical exertion. It is tough and we are worried. But jasmine and I are quite clear; we are not pushing her to do all this. We keep asking her if she is enjoying all this. Doe she really want to do it? Is she getting tired at any point/ we don’t want to be parents who push the kid into all sorts of activities and punish the child. But Jispa is super eager and willing. She wants to do it and she enjoys it all.
We also realise that right now there is little school home work. Her pressure will start from the fourth or the fifth standard. Then she would have to give up some of her activities and concentrate on a just a few. Till then, Jasmine recons that she is free to have her fun. Also what helps is that this is all TV time that is being spent playing and training. She comes home to dinner and reading. Saturday Sunday is rest time and sometimes I drag her to the garden. She is active and loves that as well.
Recently she decided that she wanted to learn the guitar. Oh god. How and where. Jasmine figured that a friend had a sir coming home and was teaching the guitar to her kid. Jispa was quite eager to join. I have always wanted to learn music and one of my current thoughts was that both jasmine and I don’t know music. That is one thing that we would be absolutely unable to teach her. We have no clue.
As a kid once I decided I wanted to learn the guitar. My dad encouraged me and bought me a guitar. An expensive proposition in those days. It cost a bomb. I remember 500 bucks for a Givson guitar. I learnt it a bit but complete laziness in practice and no push and I started to flounder and completely missed that bus.
I have thought a lot about it since then. This was in the sixth standard. Why did I not learn? Was I just not made for it? Did I not enjoy it?
I think that learning anything requires a bit of pain and a lot of discipline. It did not come naturally to a sixth grader like me. I was a maverick in many ways. Could I have changed? i see so many households that music is an intrinsic part of their lives. They breathe music and it plays from every corner and every reason is a good reason to play or listen to music. For me music never held too much importance. It is nice and good but I could go on and live my life without music. I enjoy it but ... just that it isn’t that necessary as I see others live and breathe it. I was happy growing up to my brother and sister’s choice of music. I couldn’t care less. If it’s on – good, if its off good. I am not the type to ‘invest’ in a fantastic player.
Jispa seems to be enjoying her music. and I really did not want to say no to her for learning anything. Jasmine would shoulder a lot of the responsibility in taking her to the classes and ensuring she does pay attention. Jispa went for one class and came back eager for more. The time had come to buy her a guitar as there is no point going for classes once a week and not practising at home. A guitar for her would cost around three thousand. I had a chat with Jispa. I told her that it’s not the money. We can afford it and more. I don’t care about the money but if we are buying you a guitar you better practice it daily. I did not want any guilt feelings on her for spending money, but I sure don’t want her abandoning pursuits on a whim. That is something I refuse to let her do. So before sleeping every day, she has to practice a bit. I told her that I would insist on it and ensure mom insists as well. Sometimes we would scold her and make her do it, even against her wishes. She agreed and she got her brand new guitar.
I believe that kids are keen to learn new stuff but then tend to get bored by the long grind between knowing a bit and then experiencing the fun of then knowing a little more. This was the same thing in swimming and her other pursuits. You have to get through the second phase when the practice gets boring and you don’t get immediate results. Once you pass through this you tend to pick things and learn enough for what will stay for life. I guess that’s where the parent’s push comes in. Give the opportunity, push to ensure the boredom phase passes, and then back off. No pressure to perform. None from us. Pressure to learn well but don’t give great emphasis on performance.
My parents held me responsible for buying an expensive guitar and then letting go. That huge thing in the house kept reminding then that I quit. I won’t let that happen to Jispa. It came up in many conversations later. I guess I was at fault. But at least I know the mistake I made. At least I will let Jispa make new ones. I will for sure make new ones. No point forgetting old lessons.
Pushing and then backing off. Parenting is such a fine line that I never know where exactly to draw. actually its not a line its a zone kid of line. It merges slowly from one side to another. Makes sense? No?... Exactly.
To list – she has a core activity in school. She learns taekwondo there twice a week. Then five days a week she goes to swim. Now thanks to the coaching she swims well and knows all the strokes. She is progressing well and swimming fast. I am happy. Swimming is something that would last her for life and a good swimming will help her keep fit. Thrice a week after the swimming class she goes for some badminton. That’s also a good thing. I guess.
We don’t know for sure if she can take all this physical exertion. It is tough and we are worried. But jasmine and I are quite clear; we are not pushing her to do all this. We keep asking her if she is enjoying all this. Doe she really want to do it? Is she getting tired at any point/ we don’t want to be parents who push the kid into all sorts of activities and punish the child. But Jispa is super eager and willing. She wants to do it and she enjoys it all.
We also realise that right now there is little school home work. Her pressure will start from the fourth or the fifth standard. Then she would have to give up some of her activities and concentrate on a just a few. Till then, Jasmine recons that she is free to have her fun. Also what helps is that this is all TV time that is being spent playing and training. She comes home to dinner and reading. Saturday Sunday is rest time and sometimes I drag her to the garden. She is active and loves that as well.
Recently she decided that she wanted to learn the guitar. Oh god. How and where. Jasmine figured that a friend had a sir coming home and was teaching the guitar to her kid. Jispa was quite eager to join. I have always wanted to learn music and one of my current thoughts was that both jasmine and I don’t know music. That is one thing that we would be absolutely unable to teach her. We have no clue.
As a kid once I decided I wanted to learn the guitar. My dad encouraged me and bought me a guitar. An expensive proposition in those days. It cost a bomb. I remember 500 bucks for a Givson guitar. I learnt it a bit but complete laziness in practice and no push and I started to flounder and completely missed that bus.
I have thought a lot about it since then. This was in the sixth standard. Why did I not learn? Was I just not made for it? Did I not enjoy it?
I think that learning anything requires a bit of pain and a lot of discipline. It did not come naturally to a sixth grader like me. I was a maverick in many ways. Could I have changed? i see so many households that music is an intrinsic part of their lives. They breathe music and it plays from every corner and every reason is a good reason to play or listen to music. For me music never held too much importance. It is nice and good but I could go on and live my life without music. I enjoy it but ... just that it isn’t that necessary as I see others live and breathe it. I was happy growing up to my brother and sister’s choice of music. I couldn’t care less. If it’s on – good, if its off good. I am not the type to ‘invest’ in a fantastic player.
Jispa seems to be enjoying her music. and I really did not want to say no to her for learning anything. Jasmine would shoulder a lot of the responsibility in taking her to the classes and ensuring she does pay attention. Jispa went for one class and came back eager for more. The time had come to buy her a guitar as there is no point going for classes once a week and not practising at home. A guitar for her would cost around three thousand. I had a chat with Jispa. I told her that it’s not the money. We can afford it and more. I don’t care about the money but if we are buying you a guitar you better practice it daily. I did not want any guilt feelings on her for spending money, but I sure don’t want her abandoning pursuits on a whim. That is something I refuse to let her do. So before sleeping every day, she has to practice a bit. I told her that I would insist on it and ensure mom insists as well. Sometimes we would scold her and make her do it, even against her wishes. She agreed and she got her brand new guitar.
I believe that kids are keen to learn new stuff but then tend to get bored by the long grind between knowing a bit and then experiencing the fun of then knowing a little more. This was the same thing in swimming and her other pursuits. You have to get through the second phase when the practice gets boring and you don’t get immediate results. Once you pass through this you tend to pick things and learn enough for what will stay for life. I guess that’s where the parent’s push comes in. Give the opportunity, push to ensure the boredom phase passes, and then back off. No pressure to perform. None from us. Pressure to learn well but don’t give great emphasis on performance.
My parents held me responsible for buying an expensive guitar and then letting go. That huge thing in the house kept reminding then that I quit. I won’t let that happen to Jispa. It came up in many conversations later. I guess I was at fault. But at least I know the mistake I made. At least I will let Jispa make new ones. I will for sure make new ones. No point forgetting old lessons.
Pushing and then backing off. Parenting is such a fine line that I never know where exactly to draw. actually its not a line its a zone kid of line. It merges slowly from one side to another. Makes sense? No?... Exactly.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
one cause, two ideas
Reading is always cool. Its always fun to read an interesting book. But I completely love it when I get a series to read. When you like a particular topic and then you get two or three books one after another to read. My favourite example was when I read Wisdom of the Crowds, followed by The Search followed by The Google story. It seemed like a trilogy of sorts. They all contribute to a deeper understanding of the topic.
While a series in a particular topic is fun, I have had the greatest fun reading two books which are in opposition to each other. Their roots are so similar but the protagonist choose to take drastically different paths to reach what essentially be a single goal. A prophet of hate versus an apostle of peace. Forgive the clichés. But the two books I have had the greatest fortune of reading back to back are – Malcolm X and Invictus. One is the biography of Malcom X, the big black leader from US who spread hate against the ‘white man’ and the other is on how Nelson Mandela spread peace and reconciliation with the ‘white man’. Invictus was originally published as playing the Enemy. I think they changed the name once it got made into a movie ‘invictus’.
But the two books offer an interestingly stark opposite. Both the men faced discrimination thanks to the color of their skin. They both came back from their jail terms, completely changed. But I just loved how one preached hate and the other went out of his way to preach love. Their mission in many ways was the same… uplifting their people.
Malcolm X answer was to create greater differentiation. Change the religion, build higher walls and create greater cohesion. Though he seems to gave changed his world view after coming in from his trip to Mecca. But still there was still hate and anger in him. A rabble rousers with strong oratory skills. A debater who could twist and turn topics on its end. A bull dozer.
Contrast with Mandela who it seems had basic oratory skills. Whose greatest weapon was the charm offensive, who wanted to win hearts and reconcile with those who hated him. In the books he comes across as a shrewd but honest politician who smartly managed those around him to ensure they are enlisted for his greater cause.
Both books to my mind were a bit disappointing. As in they weren’t that bad but they had the potential to be absolutely great. But then on the other hand if they had used to much prose then they would risk being even more one sided than what they turned out to be. But still that is no excuse not to read them. I understood a lot about the segregation in both the countries, while it also helped me reinforce my stand on dialogue. Malcolm taught me what not to do and Mandela taught me what to.
As a kid I think I was fooled into thinking that those with the strongest and forceful argument said with the most emphasis is what is needed to succeed. All this would get enforced by the guys who win the debates and elocution competition. Complete emphasis on the style of debate rather than the substance. I have always felt that simple well thought of arguments are pretty much lost on the judge. The crowd and the judge fall for the Malcolm X of the speakers. These boys (like me) believe that just because they have superb oratory skills they can succeed in life. They use their power or talking and debate to get them out of shit all the time. Office are full of bosses that get swayed to powerful speeches and presentations. What is the substance of the same? How should one dig deeper and find a solution. How one should avoid rhetoric and focus on simple truths and principals that get you forward.
Over aperiod of time, I have come to slowly hate my argument skills. I find it irritating that I have to use empty arguments to make points. Simple concepts simply explained have no meaning for people. And I possibly am not patient enough. Sometimes I feel hat the means justify the end. Give them the oratory that they require and forget the small simple truths… as long as you know you are doing what’s right.
Similarly it is also difficult to sell some vendor internally if the vendor comes across a s timid sweet guy as oppose to the brash suit clad big show. Style is so dam important. There is no dearth of the flaky rascals who put so much emphasis on style and completely gloss over substance. They are obviously getting results and hence they continue to do what they are doing.
What to do. Stay at the grid… keep at it. and pray… books like this remind me that I must keep my guard. I must not let myself be misled by the flaky guy.. that’s easy. More importantly I must be aware of the simple sweet guy who possibly has more substance than anyone else. I have tried many of these in the past. They have invariably been good. They have given stellar results, but the bosses just do not seem to care. We will change the world for sure. Its take one soul at a time. One project at a time. We need to notice and support more Mandela’s and fewer Malcolms.
Clarification- I got nothing against Malcolm X. I think he seems to be a genuine but a bit confused guy. He was shot early before he could possibly understand himself. He was possibly as important to black America as another black leader. To my mind he was young blood led by someone. My emphasis is on their styles and the choice they took. To my mind both are heroes who tried to change the lives of their people. That is commendable enough. I just believe that one way is far superior to the other. I still believe in ‘gandhigiri’.
Also both are the truth, both had a reason, both had valid arguments. i dare say - a case of opposites reconciling. They did - I dont knwo how but in my mind they did.
While a series in a particular topic is fun, I have had the greatest fun reading two books which are in opposition to each other. Their roots are so similar but the protagonist choose to take drastically different paths to reach what essentially be a single goal. A prophet of hate versus an apostle of peace. Forgive the clichés. But the two books I have had the greatest fortune of reading back to back are – Malcolm X and Invictus. One is the biography of Malcom X, the big black leader from US who spread hate against the ‘white man’ and the other is on how Nelson Mandela spread peace and reconciliation with the ‘white man’. Invictus was originally published as playing the Enemy. I think they changed the name once it got made into a movie ‘invictus’.
But the two books offer an interestingly stark opposite. Both the men faced discrimination thanks to the color of their skin. They both came back from their jail terms, completely changed. But I just loved how one preached hate and the other went out of his way to preach love. Their mission in many ways was the same… uplifting their people.
Malcolm X answer was to create greater differentiation. Change the religion, build higher walls and create greater cohesion. Though he seems to gave changed his world view after coming in from his trip to Mecca. But still there was still hate and anger in him. A rabble rousers with strong oratory skills. A debater who could twist and turn topics on its end. A bull dozer.
Contrast with Mandela who it seems had basic oratory skills. Whose greatest weapon was the charm offensive, who wanted to win hearts and reconcile with those who hated him. In the books he comes across as a shrewd but honest politician who smartly managed those around him to ensure they are enlisted for his greater cause.
Both books to my mind were a bit disappointing. As in they weren’t that bad but they had the potential to be absolutely great. But then on the other hand if they had used to much prose then they would risk being even more one sided than what they turned out to be. But still that is no excuse not to read them. I understood a lot about the segregation in both the countries, while it also helped me reinforce my stand on dialogue. Malcolm taught me what not to do and Mandela taught me what to.
As a kid I think I was fooled into thinking that those with the strongest and forceful argument said with the most emphasis is what is needed to succeed. All this would get enforced by the guys who win the debates and elocution competition. Complete emphasis on the style of debate rather than the substance. I have always felt that simple well thought of arguments are pretty much lost on the judge. The crowd and the judge fall for the Malcolm X of the speakers. These boys (like me) believe that just because they have superb oratory skills they can succeed in life. They use their power or talking and debate to get them out of shit all the time. Office are full of bosses that get swayed to powerful speeches and presentations. What is the substance of the same? How should one dig deeper and find a solution. How one should avoid rhetoric and focus on simple truths and principals that get you forward.
Over aperiod of time, I have come to slowly hate my argument skills. I find it irritating that I have to use empty arguments to make points. Simple concepts simply explained have no meaning for people. And I possibly am not patient enough. Sometimes I feel hat the means justify the end. Give them the oratory that they require and forget the small simple truths… as long as you know you are doing what’s right.
Similarly it is also difficult to sell some vendor internally if the vendor comes across a s timid sweet guy as oppose to the brash suit clad big show. Style is so dam important. There is no dearth of the flaky rascals who put so much emphasis on style and completely gloss over substance. They are obviously getting results and hence they continue to do what they are doing.
What to do. Stay at the grid… keep at it. and pray… books like this remind me that I must keep my guard. I must not let myself be misled by the flaky guy.. that’s easy. More importantly I must be aware of the simple sweet guy who possibly has more substance than anyone else. I have tried many of these in the past. They have invariably been good. They have given stellar results, but the bosses just do not seem to care. We will change the world for sure. Its take one soul at a time. One project at a time. We need to notice and support more Mandela’s and fewer Malcolms.
Clarification- I got nothing against Malcolm X. I think he seems to be a genuine but a bit confused guy. He was shot early before he could possibly understand himself. He was possibly as important to black America as another black leader. To my mind he was young blood led by someone. My emphasis is on their styles and the choice they took. To my mind both are heroes who tried to change the lives of their people. That is commendable enough. I just believe that one way is far superior to the other. I still believe in ‘gandhigiri’.
Also both are the truth, both had a reason, both had valid arguments. i dare say - a case of opposites reconciling. They did - I dont knwo how but in my mind they did.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
dream a little dream
My method of teaching Jispa to combat nightmares is giving me nightmares. As I have earlier blogged, all I do is change the channel. Basically I can change my dreams at will. If the nightmare is getting to me I invent an interesting way to get off it. So when Jispa was first having nightmares I told her that you can simply change it.
So now she thinks about solving her nightmares. Yesterday night after a long time she came and woke me up in the middle of the night. “Dad” pat pat pat.. She had to get me to wake up. “Dad, I need to solve this bad dream”. Oh ok. It was a chase kind of sequence. A ha. I was lucky that’s the easy one. If someone is chasing you and you want to get away, all you have to do is think up some real easy thing – like a rope can appear from anywhere taking you out, or you can cross some river which they cant or something. It’s pretty simple. Some one can give you a magic potion that can turn them into something more benign. The chase ones are pretty cool. It all depends on the settings. Are you watching a sci-fi or an urban setting or a fantasy? There is always a lovely creative way out.
Jispa interestingly sees it or has interpreted it as ‘solving’ the bad dream. She looks for a solution to the dream. I am not sure if like me she can merely put the solution on the dream itself seamlessly. I think she has break it to solve it and bang its gone.
The tough ones for me are the abstract dreams, which give you the scare like nightmares. They … I don’t know… I think they kind of keep the heart rate up and tense your brain a bit. But all you dream is patterns, these repeating patterns create some kind of tension. It’s something I have had since I was a kid. Now I rarely dream them. I normally get them when I am unwell. So on some nights, probably after Chinese food dinners or something similar, when I get them, I tend to like them. I keep dreaming them. It’s like paying money to watch a horror film. More like a thriller movie. It keeps you on the edge. It’s kind of weird. These dreams I can’t will to happen but when they do I seize the moment. What I find funny is that as I write this blog I realise that I do all this in my sleep.
My wife finds all this pretty funny. She knows I am nuts in any case. This is one more proof. Both my sister and I can change dream channels. And my brother claims that he gets no dreams at all. What a weird family.
A ha… one dream I cannot change is being ill prepared for an exam. That one requires me to get up and remind my self that I need give those exams any more. I need to be semi awake and get my reassurance from my memory. Schooling has me permanently scarred. I don’t know how much else it gave me.
Yesterday I was speaking to a good friend. She was teaching her child to write while she was talking to me. The child was just a little under four. She was getting him to do home work. What shit? Home work for a 4 year old. that too on writing numbers. She was going nuts. I kept telling in the entire conversation to back off. She was like ‘the school is putting too much pressure. He needs to do this home work. It was to be submitted tomorrow. You don’t know. Tomorrow if he fails every one will ask me. And on and on.’ Poor thing. I know her. She is not like that as a person. It’s the school that made her so. It is the school which is putting the pressure on the mother to bring out the kali in her. At the end I left the argument with a simple advice. Do what you want to do and what you believe in. Please do not let the school do what you think you must not. You choose and try and keep the school out of your sphere of influence. That’s all. The penny sunk. She said yes. Wow. My day was made.
I try my best to think of my values, my thought process, and my beliefs. I try not to let the school, the peer and the others get in the way. Sure I am open to stimuli, but then that’s that… stimuli. It is easier said than done. You struggle all the time. You don’t know most of the time why you have acted. I try and keep centred when I am in trouble or in conflict while parenting. It is bloody difficult. But I know I must. I have to. I don’t want to give someone nightmares. No way.
So now she thinks about solving her nightmares. Yesterday night after a long time she came and woke me up in the middle of the night. “Dad” pat pat pat.. She had to get me to wake up. “Dad, I need to solve this bad dream”. Oh ok. It was a chase kind of sequence. A ha. I was lucky that’s the easy one. If someone is chasing you and you want to get away, all you have to do is think up some real easy thing – like a rope can appear from anywhere taking you out, or you can cross some river which they cant or something. It’s pretty simple. Some one can give you a magic potion that can turn them into something more benign. The chase ones are pretty cool. It all depends on the settings. Are you watching a sci-fi or an urban setting or a fantasy? There is always a lovely creative way out.
Jispa interestingly sees it or has interpreted it as ‘solving’ the bad dream. She looks for a solution to the dream. I am not sure if like me she can merely put the solution on the dream itself seamlessly. I think she has break it to solve it and bang its gone.
The tough ones for me are the abstract dreams, which give you the scare like nightmares. They … I don’t know… I think they kind of keep the heart rate up and tense your brain a bit. But all you dream is patterns, these repeating patterns create some kind of tension. It’s something I have had since I was a kid. Now I rarely dream them. I normally get them when I am unwell. So on some nights, probably after Chinese food dinners or something similar, when I get them, I tend to like them. I keep dreaming them. It’s like paying money to watch a horror film. More like a thriller movie. It keeps you on the edge. It’s kind of weird. These dreams I can’t will to happen but when they do I seize the moment. What I find funny is that as I write this blog I realise that I do all this in my sleep.
My wife finds all this pretty funny. She knows I am nuts in any case. This is one more proof. Both my sister and I can change dream channels. And my brother claims that he gets no dreams at all. What a weird family.
A ha… one dream I cannot change is being ill prepared for an exam. That one requires me to get up and remind my self that I need give those exams any more. I need to be semi awake and get my reassurance from my memory. Schooling has me permanently scarred. I don’t know how much else it gave me.
Yesterday I was speaking to a good friend. She was teaching her child to write while she was talking to me. The child was just a little under four. She was getting him to do home work. What shit? Home work for a 4 year old. that too on writing numbers. She was going nuts. I kept telling in the entire conversation to back off. She was like ‘the school is putting too much pressure. He needs to do this home work. It was to be submitted tomorrow. You don’t know. Tomorrow if he fails every one will ask me. And on and on.’ Poor thing. I know her. She is not like that as a person. It’s the school that made her so. It is the school which is putting the pressure on the mother to bring out the kali in her. At the end I left the argument with a simple advice. Do what you want to do and what you believe in. Please do not let the school do what you think you must not. You choose and try and keep the school out of your sphere of influence. That’s all. The penny sunk. She said yes. Wow. My day was made.
I try my best to think of my values, my thought process, and my beliefs. I try not to let the school, the peer and the others get in the way. Sure I am open to stimuli, but then that’s that… stimuli. It is easier said than done. You struggle all the time. You don’t know most of the time why you have acted. I try and keep centred when I am in trouble or in conflict while parenting. It is bloody difficult. But I know I must. I have to. I don’t want to give someone nightmares. No way.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
football
In some ways I hate Jispa’s vacation. It takes my morning schedule and throws it out of the window. Jasmine too believes she is on vacation further compounding matters. Hence thanks to that we don’t sleep early we wake up later and I barely get time for my morning yoga and swimming. I guess I have learnt not to fight it too much I just get on with it. I have decided it takes too much effort and will power on my side to break away from the family ritual and I stay on in bed and just about manage to amble in to office on time.
I am just dying for the school to start. Morning yoga and morning swim is just the right thing for me. I have been getting too soft and hopefully the coming Monday will see me back to the good old schedule.
To make matter worse the general uplift in work load means very little time for writing my blog. I like to come in a bit early and sit down and write before the office wakes up. So today I missed yoga and a swim but I managed to come in early just to write the blog. Somehow this blog has become an important creative release for me. I feel it gives meaning to some activity of mine. I don’t know. But its fun writing.
Talking about activity… no matter how much you exercise every sport is different and has its own nuances. On Saturday we had the intra office soccer tournament. It was a five a side affair with tiny grounds and small goal posts. Played in rain on grass, it makes for a wet, horribly soggy ground and a mud wrestle of a match. Its complete chaos. And after the tournament day you discover some muscles that you never knew you had. While walking the first time I felt that there was muscle a little over the shin and below the knee. Till now I thought it was all bone.
The reason I can feel this muscle on my right leg is because I am the defender. My job is to kick the ball right into the other half. The muddy ground makes passing impossible and the water soaked patches makes dribbling a farce. And in five a side there is no office rule. I learnt this lesson around five years ago. Just kick the ball over every ones head into the other side. Most teams make this mistake of dribbling and passing and slow short passes or solo runs by the star. The star player is simply supposed to hang around the opposite goal. Two defenders are enough to save almost any goal from the amateur sides. Especially when there is soo much muck floating around. Also with seven minutes a half, the referee is not going to blow the whistle often and on most fowls. You have to be blatantly dragging the guy down to really give away a foul. It is an ugly slug fight.
Some patches are so water logged that there is atleast a foot of water. We had one area near the goal post. There the forwards were fighting with the defender, the goalies joined in, no one really knows who is in which team, everybody is covered in brown. People are fighting and falling all over the ball. The goalie cant get a grip on the ball. At one point the defender had come sliding in, the goal had jumped over him, the attacker was down and eth ball… the ball was somewhere near the led of eth defender and under the stomach of the attacker. Then another defender comes in and tries to kick the ball which is under the stomach of the fallen attacker. All this in one foot of water, and the rain is still coming down hard. Finally the ref had enough and blew the whistle for dangerous play. Penalty. As a defender I was happy that the ball wasn’t kicked my way. I had tears in my eyes from all the laughing thank to the sight.
The penalty spot was in 4 inches of water. The attacker managed to put the ball there and he took a kick. What do you expect? The ball did not even reach the goal post.
That’s football for you. Good fun nah? Well it’s a male thing. All that physical exertion, hardly any skill, lots of mud and a general fight on hands.
I guess there is reason why we like cricket over football as a nation and I really don’t know what Girish says about Indian genetics and football :) (he does make sense) but all I know that I don’t see too many Indians falling over and rolling in mud trying to play this game. Like most writers without substantial proof I feel like saying ‘it’s too anti Brahminical to succeed in India’. But like most truths, I think the answer might be a curious mix and match of many more characteristics. Sometimes I believe it’s simply a case of lack of role models.
My brother used to play very good football. In fact he was given the haloed number ten jersey while he played at school. My mom told him that football will never sustain him as a career. While my sweet dad loved sports and tried to support him in his game, at some time he knew it was education that would hold him in his life not football. I don’t think our parents ever saw that it was possible to play football and make a career. My brother is only one. There were many such talented player who just about killed their talent and love with education. My guess is that only after Sachin really made it big and showed how its possible to play cricket and make money that so many parents supported their kid’s cricketing ambitions. Till about them most of the players who played for India generally belonged to the upper class.
Which makes me think. Do kids require role models or is it parents who require role models. A kid simply plays, it’s the environment that supports him or not, basis their own beliefs. Hmmm… I am thinking.
I am just dying for the school to start. Morning yoga and morning swim is just the right thing for me. I have been getting too soft and hopefully the coming Monday will see me back to the good old schedule.
To make matter worse the general uplift in work load means very little time for writing my blog. I like to come in a bit early and sit down and write before the office wakes up. So today I missed yoga and a swim but I managed to come in early just to write the blog. Somehow this blog has become an important creative release for me. I feel it gives meaning to some activity of mine. I don’t know. But its fun writing.
Talking about activity… no matter how much you exercise every sport is different and has its own nuances. On Saturday we had the intra office soccer tournament. It was a five a side affair with tiny grounds and small goal posts. Played in rain on grass, it makes for a wet, horribly soggy ground and a mud wrestle of a match. Its complete chaos. And after the tournament day you discover some muscles that you never knew you had. While walking the first time I felt that there was muscle a little over the shin and below the knee. Till now I thought it was all bone.
The reason I can feel this muscle on my right leg is because I am the defender. My job is to kick the ball right into the other half. The muddy ground makes passing impossible and the water soaked patches makes dribbling a farce. And in five a side there is no office rule. I learnt this lesson around five years ago. Just kick the ball over every ones head into the other side. Most teams make this mistake of dribbling and passing and slow short passes or solo runs by the star. The star player is simply supposed to hang around the opposite goal. Two defenders are enough to save almost any goal from the amateur sides. Especially when there is soo much muck floating around. Also with seven minutes a half, the referee is not going to blow the whistle often and on most fowls. You have to be blatantly dragging the guy down to really give away a foul. It is an ugly slug fight.
Some patches are so water logged that there is atleast a foot of water. We had one area near the goal post. There the forwards were fighting with the defender, the goalies joined in, no one really knows who is in which team, everybody is covered in brown. People are fighting and falling all over the ball. The goalie cant get a grip on the ball. At one point the defender had come sliding in, the goal had jumped over him, the attacker was down and eth ball… the ball was somewhere near the led of eth defender and under the stomach of the attacker. Then another defender comes in and tries to kick the ball which is under the stomach of the fallen attacker. All this in one foot of water, and the rain is still coming down hard. Finally the ref had enough and blew the whistle for dangerous play. Penalty. As a defender I was happy that the ball wasn’t kicked my way. I had tears in my eyes from all the laughing thank to the sight.
The penalty spot was in 4 inches of water. The attacker managed to put the ball there and he took a kick. What do you expect? The ball did not even reach the goal post.
That’s football for you. Good fun nah? Well it’s a male thing. All that physical exertion, hardly any skill, lots of mud and a general fight on hands.
I guess there is reason why we like cricket over football as a nation and I really don’t know what Girish says about Indian genetics and football :) (he does make sense) but all I know that I don’t see too many Indians falling over and rolling in mud trying to play this game. Like most writers without substantial proof I feel like saying ‘it’s too anti Brahminical to succeed in India’. But like most truths, I think the answer might be a curious mix and match of many more characteristics. Sometimes I believe it’s simply a case of lack of role models.
My brother used to play very good football. In fact he was given the haloed number ten jersey while he played at school. My mom told him that football will never sustain him as a career. While my sweet dad loved sports and tried to support him in his game, at some time he knew it was education that would hold him in his life not football. I don’t think our parents ever saw that it was possible to play football and make a career. My brother is only one. There were many such talented player who just about killed their talent and love with education. My guess is that only after Sachin really made it big and showed how its possible to play cricket and make money that so many parents supported their kid’s cricketing ambitions. Till about them most of the players who played for India generally belonged to the upper class.
Which makes me think. Do kids require role models or is it parents who require role models. A kid simply plays, it’s the environment that supports him or not, basis their own beliefs. Hmmm… I am thinking.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
when genius is bored
Today I was listening to one of the world’s greatest chess players, Anatoly Karpov (link). It was a nice interview. One thing he said found resonance in my thinking. He said he was bad at theory of chess openings. While it was a bad thing for chess player, he also says that not knowing the theory helped him fight back at apparently losing causes, resulting in a quite a few successes. The reason he did not learn them too well… ‘it was boring’. Not quite the answer you expect from a grandmaster, a champion that ruled for ten years.
Was the era different? Is it that in today’s environment you cannot effectively compete if you aren’t ruthless? Possibly he got beaten by Kasporav precisely because of that. May be, may be not. I am not a chess expert to explain that detail.
but I guess I might be a bit of hypocrite here. I like to enjoy my game and play what I like and enjoy and avoid eth boring stuff, but as a spectator I don’t quite like to see a team that does not necessarily put up the best.
It puts me at an awkward junction as a parent. Jispa is currently learning a few sports. Being thin and naturally athletic she tends to outperform her peers. Hopefully she might end up being good at what she does. But I don’t know how to push her. My philosophy has been not to push hard. Sure I will insist discipline on training, eating and competing but I really don’t want to push her. Enjoying what you do is most important. Both jasmine and I are on the same page here. We keep asking her, if she really wants to continue any sport. Only on hearing an emphatic yes do we continue paying the fees.
As a kid I wasn’t too athletic or gifted in many ways. My brother was the natural. My dad was ok with me doing what I want. So while I started a few things I was lazy and never managed to stick around for too much to any thing. Largely my fault. I regret not doing, not pushing then. If had pushed my parents I might have done better. If my parents pushed me, I might have done better.
As a parent I realise that. So we try and give maximum opportunities for Jispa. We want to ensure that the platform is there. Once she takes the call to do it, we ensure that we don’t let her slack off. If you do it you do it well. But at the same time, I don’t want her to get bored with what she does. It is difficult to motivate yourself for all the hard work involved but also at the same time you have to enjoy what you do.
Motivation at the end must come from within. Hence what’s right is to ensure as a parent, I press the right buttons. She doesn’t have to do it for me, but I have to make her aware if she wants to do it or not. The consequences of her having and not having desire must be laid out to her. So the whole aim must be to kindle that motivation, to ensure it’s internal, to have values of hard work and acceptance nay enjoyment of the pain it gives. If I guess we manage to get that in, we are done.
So where does that leave Karpov’s comment? Can only a genius say that and get away with it? It worked 30 years ago, now is a different ball game? If I want to be good at my job I can’t be bored by it, if I am bored at it then I need to get a different job. But a different job is not that easy hence do the job and don’t get bored by it. Find challenges inside of it, no matter how mundane. Are these answers or questions.
It is a delicate balance between the two.
But clearly Karpov enjoyed what he did enough to not do the part of it that he got bored by. It’s an interesting situation to be in. and its not that he was bad at it, he probably knew that he could afford to get bored by a section of it.
At the end of the post I am not sure what to make of it. But it does leave me with room for thought.
Was the era different? Is it that in today’s environment you cannot effectively compete if you aren’t ruthless? Possibly he got beaten by Kasporav precisely because of that. May be, may be not. I am not a chess expert to explain that detail.
but I guess I might be a bit of hypocrite here. I like to enjoy my game and play what I like and enjoy and avoid eth boring stuff, but as a spectator I don’t quite like to see a team that does not necessarily put up the best.
It puts me at an awkward junction as a parent. Jispa is currently learning a few sports. Being thin and naturally athletic she tends to outperform her peers. Hopefully she might end up being good at what she does. But I don’t know how to push her. My philosophy has been not to push hard. Sure I will insist discipline on training, eating and competing but I really don’t want to push her. Enjoying what you do is most important. Both jasmine and I are on the same page here. We keep asking her, if she really wants to continue any sport. Only on hearing an emphatic yes do we continue paying the fees.
As a kid I wasn’t too athletic or gifted in many ways. My brother was the natural. My dad was ok with me doing what I want. So while I started a few things I was lazy and never managed to stick around for too much to any thing. Largely my fault. I regret not doing, not pushing then. If had pushed my parents I might have done better. If my parents pushed me, I might have done better.
As a parent I realise that. So we try and give maximum opportunities for Jispa. We want to ensure that the platform is there. Once she takes the call to do it, we ensure that we don’t let her slack off. If you do it you do it well. But at the same time, I don’t want her to get bored with what she does. It is difficult to motivate yourself for all the hard work involved but also at the same time you have to enjoy what you do.
Motivation at the end must come from within. Hence what’s right is to ensure as a parent, I press the right buttons. She doesn’t have to do it for me, but I have to make her aware if she wants to do it or not. The consequences of her having and not having desire must be laid out to her. So the whole aim must be to kindle that motivation, to ensure it’s internal, to have values of hard work and acceptance nay enjoyment of the pain it gives. If I guess we manage to get that in, we are done.
So where does that leave Karpov’s comment? Can only a genius say that and get away with it? It worked 30 years ago, now is a different ball game? If I want to be good at my job I can’t be bored by it, if I am bored at it then I need to get a different job. But a different job is not that easy hence do the job and don’t get bored by it. Find challenges inside of it, no matter how mundane. Are these answers or questions.
It is a delicate balance between the two.
But clearly Karpov enjoyed what he did enough to not do the part of it that he got bored by. It’s an interesting situation to be in. and its not that he was bad at it, he probably knew that he could afford to get bored by a section of it.
At the end of the post I am not sure what to make of it. But it does leave me with room for thought.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
play on kid
Jispa had her elder cousin over at our place yesterday. They are now at an age where they can play with each other without the elder guy really irritating Jispa and Jispa is able to stand on her own. They tend to have their own brand of fun.
They both like a particular comic strip and they were playing a game inspired by it.
Here is one photo of them playing.
Did you get it? nopes? Possibly this one should help
How about this one?
This one?
Or this. Drat – missed them as well.
Come on… this one is a dead give away.
Now did you get the comic strip they are inspired from?
They are playing Calvin and Hobbes running off on a wagon …
now did you get the resemblance? its quite funny once you know.
They both like a particular comic strip and they were playing a game inspired by it.
Here is one photo of them playing.
Did you get it? nopes? Possibly this one should help How about this one? This one?Or this. Drat – missed them as well.Come on… this one is a dead give away.
Now did you get the comic strip they are inspired from?
They are playing Calvin and Hobbes running off on a wagon …
now did you get the resemblance? its quite funny once you know.Here they are after they bang the scooter into something or the other. It normally ends as a 'stunt'. Uncontrollable laughter follows.
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