clarity in a cafe :)

All you need to do is smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subterfuge

Check this. Poor Jispa has been bandaged on her left foot. But there isn’t anything wrong with her left foot. There isn’t a hurt, or even a scratch there. Then why is it there? Jasmine saw this in the morning and called Jispa and me ‘impossible’.

Well I am particularly proud of this one. Jispa had a little bit of fever yesterday night. That’s because she has a puss boil on her left butt. It’s painful and it’s ready to ooze. We started putting medicine on it. The ayurvedic one is a brown paste that seeks to suck out the puss. While the boil itself hurts, putting the brown paste makes it throb and hurt a bit more. The fever today morning was gone but the boil needed fresh dressing. So we dressed it up and got her ready for school. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go to school today. I was ok – sure. This is a good enough reason not to go. Jasmine wasn’t so benign about it. Of course she can go to school. Ya, it hurts but it’s not that bad.

So I was with Jispa later and she said – “you know it’s not because it hurts I don’t want to go. In school there is pushing and pulling and someone will touch the boil and it will hurt like hell.” – and I added “and you can’t really tell them that you have a boil on your bum. It’s too embarrassing.”. “ya” she replied “ and if you tell the buys then they do it all the more”. Hmm. That’s a genuine problem. You have whackos in school you get sadistic pleasures and you have a problem that you can’t really talk about, and you definitely are in pain and you will limp. So “Jispa, here’s one idea.  Let’s bandage another leg in a way it shows so you have a reason to limp and no one need know.” Her face lit up and she said “Yes, that will work”

So we just simply bandaged the other leg and sent her off. This way we address Jasmine’s concern for not bunking frivolously and Jispa concern of not being embarrassed or hurt.

In the end I don’t know if the ploy worked or if her friends really care or anything. But it did get her to school and we had a chuckle or two.

Subterfuge - the end matters more than the means.

 

listen - its bloody difficult thing to do!

It’s time again for the annual elocution ritual. Searching for a decent poem with enough emotions and then getting the teacher at school to choose it and then getting Jispa to learn it and then putting the emotions in it. This time also as usual she had to send a few for the teacher to choose from. Jasmine was quite bugged when the teacher dismissed our original choice as that was being done by someone else. This has happened for the second time in a row. Last year also there was enough to and fro about this. Which poem to do? Either it’s too common or someone was already doing it or something else.

This time around we finally agreed on Clarence by Shel Silverstien. Shel has been a lucky break for us. I remember clearly when I first bought his book. It was in a Crossword store in Powai when I chanced upon it. Actually a friend recommended it to me. She said it was a really cool book. I bought it, I liked it and then I went online and searched about him. I realized there were more Shel books on offer but there weren’t easily available in India. So I hunted down the office of Oxford book store in Kolkata. Then I caught a customer service executive who was a really sweet lady and she helped me trace these books down. I then got my Kolkata office to pick it up and have it couriered to me. The main reason I bought it was for Jispa’s elocution. Of course Jispa was too young at the time but I knew it would help. And it has been a huge help.

Internet is good but it’s difficult to get a poem you want from there. This book helps you go through the many poems he has written and they are all for a small child. I guess this is possibly the last year she would get to recite from here. Next year onwards her poems will have to be more … mature? I guess.

So this time I trained her as well. She is selected for the final round which I think is going to be held tomorrow. I have been busy with office and Jasmine called me last evening wondering where I was. She wanted me to get home and get her poetry right. When I reached home I realized that Jispa’s class teacher had corrected the recitation and she had changed it so much that it sounded completely different. Jasmine was pretty pissed. There was another mother who was equally pissed. She called Jasmine and wondered what to do. Forget it – was Jasmine’s advice. That’s been my rule as well. When your child gets caught between the teacher and the parent what do you do? I spoke to Jispa and she recited the way her teacher wanted her to. I said fine. I asked her which one she preferred. “I like your version. It has many emotions”. Hmm. “but you can’t do that in school nah? Your teacher will want her version”. She nodded. So I just advised her to listen to her teacher and told her to follow it in practice and if you really feel something is wrong or you want to change it then do it on the final stage. Follow your heart, I guess. Once you win or lose your teacher can’t do much, I thought to myself. I don’t what I am teaching her and if that’s a smart thing to do but hell, that’s what you need to do at times. Take your own call.

So let’s see what happens. Its better which Jispa. She manages this well. I guess she is used to many people trying to coach her all the time. I have always taught het o be balanced about it. Listen to them all and think what you must do best. In this case she has learnt that there is no bloody point in arguing with the teacher. But it’s a shame. What a loss for the teacher if you come down so high handed on your students. You teach them not to confront, not to ask why and not to reason. Only to listen.

This is very easy to preach but very difficult to implement. I don’t know, but I am sure that I have been high handed many times. With Jasmine, with Jispa and with my office colleagues. I would/ might dismiss them forthwith. I would have made up my mind that you are useless or that you know jack about it and I would find it a waste of time to listen to you. God help me when I think I know it all.

But I am trying. And I want to try harder. I don’t want to be the guy who dismisses arguments. This is bloody difficult. So many times you see the answer faster than anyone else. So many times you see and count three to four steps ahead, and in my speed to get work done I might not listen hard enough. Naysayers are important but difficult to listen to. Some of them are also at fault. They don’t speak up strongly enough. I have heard this before – the force of my personality pushes people to doubt what they themselves are thinking and feel brushed aside when I am making a point. But then I always have thought, it’s up to them to put their point across equally vociferously. Go ahead. Push me back. I am listening. But a quiet dissenter is also important to the system. He may be shy and quiet but it is in my interest to get him out, to get him to talk, to get him to dissent. I ask so many times in meetings that does anyone have a counter view. I keep asking that these days, in the hope that people open their mouths and talk freely. I guess I will have to do it more number of times and sit quiet more often. But that is freaking difficult to do. What to do when you see the meeting heading nowhere or people not seizing the opportunity that is there for all to see. It’s easy to sit and criticize the guy who opens his mouth but how difficult is it to stick your neck out and talk.

Oh dam. I have never understood this. I am trying to solve it, but it’s a forced solution. I don’t think my heart is in it. I prefer people who talk and speak and then we resolve it amicably and forget all disputes and work together. People carry their prejudices as well, but then that is another blog post.

For now - read this

Clarence lee from Tennessee

Loved the commercials he saw on TV.

He watched with wide believing eyes

And bought everything they advertised-

Cream to make his skin feel better,

Spray to make his hair look wetter,

Bleach to make his white things whiter,

Stylish jeans that fit much tighter.

Toothpaste for his cavities,

Powder for his doggie's fleas,

Purple mouthwash for his breath,

Deodorant to stop his sweat.

He bought each cereal they presented,

Bought each game that they invented.

Then one day he looked and saw

"A brand-new Maw, and better Paw!

New improved in every way-

Hurry order yours today!"

So, of course, our little Clarence

Sent off for two brand-new parents.

The new ones came in the morning mail,

The old ones were sold at a garage sale.

And now they all are doing fine:

His new folks treat him sweet and kind,

His old ones work at an old coal mine.

So if your Maw and Paw are mean

And make you eat your lima-beans

And make you wash and make you wait

And never let you stay up late

And scream and scold and preach and pout,

That simply means they're wearing out.

So send off for two brand new parents

And you'll be as happy as little Clarence.

 

office gardens

I guess I have a soft sweet side and like my forefathers I too would like to get back to the soil. Plant fruit bearing trees, live off the soil, grow crops, run a farm, ….screeech… bham, crash.. ok. Back to real life. The only bit of gardening I have ever done is watering my two bamboo shoots that I got as a gift.

There is a photo of my lovely office garden. Oh yes… it’s a garden with a fake freaking peacock and a giraffe. Pretty corny.

 

 

In Dubai we had a huge gallery. It connected all the rooms. We loved it. Dad used to do the gardening in there. We had plants and flowers, and like good Dubai citizens, we even grew cactus there. It seems we also had potted plants inside the house. Dad was asthmatic and once he had an attack someone suggested to keep the plants outside the house. I guess it helped. So we only had plants in the gallery and not in the house. I guess the fertilizer and the other stuff was good for him. I would like some life around my house as well. I keep asking Jasmine to have a few plants around the house. Sure she says. She would like them too. But Jasmine is the practical kind of person. She knows what it takes ot have plants. Her next one is always, who will take care of them. That’s one more thing to take care of. And then when we go out of town who will water them.

I like to invent things in my head and try to get practical inventions all figured out in my head to solve real life issues. I have dreamt of a water tap with real tiny holes that my neighbor has to simply connect to the tap once a day to water the plants. Of course my neighbor isn’t really around most of the time. ok…connect the pipe to the tap in my house and have only a trickle flowing all the time through the tiny holes watering the plants whole day? Whatever… but of course plants require much more than water. They need a bit of tender loving care, fertilizers, pruning, cutting, etc..

I was once gifted a bamboo shoot, about eight years ago. I ignored it thinking it doesn’t need too much water or care. Slowly it just died out. I never bothered again. Then this time I got two shoots in succession as some gift. So I decided this time to water them regularly. It is a part of my morning routine to water them. When I go on leave I give it to someone else to water. Now I feel pretty cool about them.

Over the last few weeks, I have been really busy, going directly for meetings, not coming into my office for a few days etc. I saw that the shoots were not taken care of. You can see the yellowing of the leaves. I then decided to cop out. When the guy in the office came into my cabin to give me my bottle of water I gave him the job of watering the plants every day. So there.. my tryst with gardening lasted a few months. It’s nice to have a garden and get someone to do the gardening.

Now I think the next thing I want is some lemon grass growing in the office. I have to figure a small enough pot than can stay on the window sill and yet grow grass. It would be pretty cool to have a visitor come over and offer some fresh lemon grass in their tea. That would be pretty cool. And of course, all I have to do is get someone to water it. I think they grow pretty fast and wild like that only. I will have to get someone to pot them. I don’t even know how to repot grass. There are things that urban life has ensured I don’t learn. Gardening and kite flying is something I wish I knew.

Hell – possibly some day…

Uplift from lower echelons

“What Jasmine, you are so middle class! You thought something happened with the watch just because the seconds hand was jumping every five seconds on my Victorinow watch.”

Victorinox is the most expensive watch I have with me. I am not such a watch guy and more so I hate spending too much money. I have three watches which I wear regularly. First one – Casio. Sports watch – analog plus digital. It’s a light steel one which is water resistant. It’s got an alarm and a stop watch and two time zones. I use this on Saturday and Sunday and especially while travelling. It’s really a nice rugged watch. This one cost me around three thousand bucks.

Here you see it -its really scratched and well worn. I have a special place for this one in my heart

The second one – it’s a Titan Xylus. This is a Chrono but I don’t know how to use it. It looks big and expensive and ‘Swiss’. The titan guys went out of their way to make it a Swiss watch. They even set up a plant or something like that in Swiss so that it could be correctly called a Swiss watch. There is a story to this watch. I normally take time with my expensive purchases. Do my research. Look at it and then come back and then see it again and think through. This has helped me well. Many times I have ended up not buying thanks to my inactivity and normally I don’t seem to have lost much. Of course when you have Jasmine on your side, this becomes a bit of a pain. She gets after your brains. She keeps saying – buy it. It’s ok. Buy it. It’s ok. This gets into me and I end up buying it. This time I was looking around, shopping for a watch since some time. I kept seeing many watches. I remember I wanted a sapphire glass crystal surface so that it is scratch free (that’s what I think it’s called). And then I wanted it to look big and good. But the prices were mind numbing. Any decent good looking watch would be in the 15 to 20 thousand range. It was then that I chanced upon this watch. It was their cheapest chrono and it was around 10 or 11 thousand bucks and with a scratch proof lens. And they were giving away a stupid Nokia phone worth 4 thousand free with it. Great the next day I decided to buy it. My mom heard of it and said she wanted to gift me something and this was the perfect gift. It was something I wanted and I would wear so please buy the watch as a gift from me. So Ankit and I went to buy this watch. We bought it and got the stupid phone free. We then immediately set off trying to search for a buyer for the cell phone. I didn’t bother on the street price or anything. I flatly gave a discount on it. We went from shop to shop till we got one shop with a guy who trusted us and wanted a cell phone. Deal done. The guys at his shop were wondering what kind of watch would I have bought to get a cell phone free. WTF!

And of course my favorite one – the Victorinox. There is something I like about it. The rugged simplicity and dark green dial.

One of my students was working at Victorinox and he was generally in touch. He told me there was a sale internally and the watches were at 30 to 50% off. It was the time when I was relatively richer. I hadn’t bought the second house and so I was awash with cash and reasonably high bonuses. Sure. Send me the pictures I told him. This one caught my eye as a simple one with a military kind of air about it. Original price 26,000, sale price – 16,000. Wow. That’s expensive, but my mind was set and I loved the look and blah blah…. I bought it. I still wonder how I paid so much for this watch. But I guess it has paid off in some way. Metal straps don’t wear off like leather and its water resistant – so I can swim with it and ITS REALLY SWISS! Ha ha. Like I bloody care. But you know – everybody seems to care what brand you wear.

The other day one of team member told me that me – as the head of marketing cannot wear a ‘Casio’. Oh shut up. What the F? You wear what is best for you. And what’s wrong with Casio? That shit also costs three grand. It’s not like I am wearing some cheap plastic Chinese brand. And this head of marketing drives a hatch back right? To which the retort always is – that’s ok because you have a sedan which your wife drives. Ooooo

So coming back to the Victorinox. A few weeks back somebody noticed that the watch was jumping every five seconds. It’s told the time just fine – the seconds hand jumped every five seconds and made up for the time. Dam. Iw as pretty stressed out. This expensive watch jumping every five seconds. What was wrong with it? I hunted for the warranty card and sent the peon to the showroom to get it fixed. He called back and put me on line with the technician. He told me – “sir, we need to change the battery”. “Why is that” I asked. “It’s jumping five seconds, not stopped.”. “yes sir. That’s the thing with Swiss watches. They jump five seconds to indicate to you that the battery is losing power.”. oh ok. “how much is the battery for? 300 bucks? Wow. Aren’t batteries available for like 60 to 100 bucks?” by this time I was sure the other guy thought I wasn’t fit enough to wear, let alone buy a Swiss watch. “sir. All Swiss watches have this one brand of batteries that they authorize”. Oh ok. Not wanting to let myself stoop further, I only inquired on how long they last and quickly agreed to change batteries and hung up. They last for around 18 months and above. Great.

So now Jasmine knows what Swiss watches do to indicate that the battery power is wearing off. How cheap is that. Thinking that watch is wrong when all it was, was a superior design that ensured you got an early warning before you ended up in the middle of the day with a dead watch. Real cheap of us.

cut the crap

Well… mom came into have lunch yesterday at home. This is the first time she has stepped into my house. Jispa and I were obviously thrilled. I showed mom around the house. And we lunch later. Well, it’s a start. Things go wrong all the time.

In the evening I asked Jispa if things went off well. She was also satisfied. She knows all the history and she reacts like a good level headed adult. I was happy with that. She remarked while going to sleep – “its odd that after six years of staying here, we had to show grand mom the house”. “ya Jispa. Shit happens. Buit what is more important is that you forgive and forget. You move on. Its not right to keep your anger inside. Move on. Shit happens.” And then just for kicks I said “you remember that day when you were angry with me. I had asked you to wear your shoes fast and you thought you couldn’t wear them faster. You were angry at me for a long time. Almost half way to the bus stop. See… you keep your anger so long”. Awwww….. We hugged and she then slept.

I never wanted to tell Jispa about any of the issues I faced with my mom. But mom opened the box and I was forced to clear the air and explain the whole truth. In the end, while I was forced to do it, I guess it was the right thing to have been done. Jispa seems old enough to understand the issue. She has reacted very well and understood it and not made any song and dance about it. She notices the small things. The other day when Jispa and I went to mom’s house and mom asked about Jasmine, Jispa too noticed it.  That’s good. We don’t know but the kids have a tendency to grow up and face issues. They surprise us in ways we think not possible. Alls well… for now at least. Cross fingers.

Just on another note – someone gave Jasmine scissors with five six blades on it. It’s like having six pairs of scissors fused with one handle. The use for this is to cut green leafy vegetables. It seemed logical enough. Why us eth knife when you have these multiple scissors. But that is the classic case of something which looks completely useful and logical but absolutely useless. You wash the green veggies and then use the scissors.. what happens is that the food gets all stuck between the blades and somehow the cutting isn’t smooth. It crushes half of the veggies before cutting them. Dam. So Jispa now uses the same for her craft. And what can she do with it… make a chef hat for one. So she made herself a hat and made us some fresh lime juice. Happy things.

open your mind - there is a fuit inside

The last weekend was spent at one of the best conferences I have ever attended. It was called designyatra and as the name suggests it was a design conference. They had speakers from all over the world explaining their work and their belief. Crazy creative stuff to innovations for rural India. Here is one image of a guy who decided to invent an electricity free fridge. He made it out of clay. Basically an earthen ware fridge where you put the water on the top and then thanks to the porosity quality of the clay the water seems around the entire fridge and then evaporating causing the fridge to cool down by at least (he claims) ten degrees. Not bad for storing food stuff/ fruits etc.

 

We had speakers who went on and on about fonts and types and explained the nuances of each. What a beautiful feeling. The guy explained how he designed the look for the Kate Moss logo which wis essentially just the name written in the right font. Then he explained how he designed the numbers on the back of the Puma jerseys for the African nations in the football World cup. Then we had characters who designed sanitary napkins at really low costs for women in rural India, creative head from Google, some more font guys, creative, designers  etc etc. It was a mind boggling array of speakers.

One wise HR head once told me – I don’t mind sending you guys for any training program. Just being away from office for a couple of days and meeting people of different companies would open your mind. And if the training is actually good then it is an added benefit. He is right. Hence I have never ever said no to a training program. I would love every training program that comes my way. Be it a conference or a classroom session. Go out and open your mind to possibilities. That is the key thing. You meet people you learn stuff, you interact with ideas and you possibly implement a few – who knows what works. It’s always nice to be exposed to various different things. You are only better from the experience.

One of the things I was exposed to this tie around at the conference was – Goan cuisine. Non-vegetarian Goan cuisine. I went there with four colleagues who were hard core non vegetarians. Every meal was like a dead aquarium on the table – Bombay duck, shrimp, prawns etc. add to that there was other sorts of meat on the table. It’s a good thing that over the years I have learnt not be queasy about this. In fact I get curious about it. I ask questions about the meat, how they eat, what are they eating – the tastes, differences etc. over a period of time I have gained enough knowledge about it. In fact a few friends many times wonder about the knowledge I have on the meats they eat. It’s a curious mind that opens it all. I don’t know why people get all touchy about the subject. A lot of my cousins (the older ones) would not want to eat in a non- veg restaurant and would die rather than step inside a KFC. I have been to KFC to eat veg stuff. It’s a little bit ugly for a vegetarian to see people biting into wings and legs but if you don’t go in you will never ever know.

So to compensate for my restricted palate I have developed a strong curiosity for all things vegetarian. I now on my travels always ask for the local veg special and try it out. Anything goes as long as its veg. this time around also I tried all sorts of veg stuff. Its helped me get introduced to new fruits as well. From my travels to Singapore I have been introduced to this lovely fruit – the dragon fruit. It’s an awesome fruit from the cactus family. Its mildly sweet and mostly bland, but really flashy and juicy. There is no real cutting required. You just peel the skin off easily and cut it if you wish or slice it into two with a knife and eat of the contents with a spoon. The seeds are tiny and scattered through the fruit and there is no spitting or removing the seeds before eating. I love the fruit.

We hardly got in India. Recently over the last couple of years we have been getting it at the super markets at reasonable prices. It’s currently at around 25 bucks a piece. Jispa also absolutely loves the fruit. Jasmine took it for her to eat after swimming. Many mothers had never ever seen the fruit, let alone taste it. They were pretty curious. One of them was asking Jasmine if this fruit any special properties, thinking that it was a special thing for Jispa’s diet. I did look it up later to realize that it is being touted as the next great big thing to eat, nutrition wise.

Here is Jispa reaching out for one piece. as you see i get great pleasure form cutting it into thin slices. its even better that way though you dont really need it like that. It is quite easily our favorite fruit. All from having just a little more curious mind than normal. Go out and open your mind – now.

daddy cool, birthday in pool

Jispa celebrated her tenth birthday on the 31^st of the month. Tenth birthday. It should be a big event. When Jispa was a year old, Jasmine and I took a call not to celebrate her birthday. She would be too young to really enjoy it. We see all the parents celebrating the first birthday with a big party. The kid is typically tired at the end of it all and what do you really expect a one year old to feel about it. Besides getting red check by being manhandled, there is nothing really for the child. So we just decided to give it the skip. After that we have had smallish parties for Jispa on her birthdays. A few core friends, sometimes a few more than that, but never done it on a large grand scale.

What’s a large grand scale? Well. The other parties that Jispa gets invited to are a good benchmark. Ever since she started going to school, she has been invited to big parties. Typically done at a function hall or an open garden. You call at least 50 odd kids, then the parents come with them, and then you have catering for a 100 guests, then you call in the party organizers who come in and decorate the place, and have various stalls, like face painters, tattoo (paint) artists, games etc. then you have a DJ for the music, a sound system, possibly an air castle, then a guy who will make the kids play various games, prizes and the last – return gifts. You could end up spending anywhere between 100,000 rupees to 300,000 rupees. That’s a pretty tidy sum for a birthday party.

Jasmine and I never did feel like doing that. What we told Jispa is that – you call in your core friends and we could take them for lunch or dinner, possibly play a few games etc … but we also made a pact with her. her tenth birthday party would be however she likes it to be. As big as she wants it to be. So a month back, we asked her what kind of party she liked. The thing is that after the initial couple of years of parties, the kids are now basically bored of any party. They go in, run around and then just hang around on their own. They don’t want to play games too much, they eat a bit, throw a little cake around and done. Jispa also gets bored at these parties. A classic case of over exposure or over stimulation. They are bored stiff and Jispa said she doesn’t want a party. Aww. Ok. But Jasmine and I were not happy. Jispa has been the sweetest kid ever. She never complained about not having a party, or about having a small party or calling only a selected friend circle. Two years back we took her friends and gang to a garden and made them play, last year they were at home…  but she never complained and she was always happy. So Jasmine and I really wanted her tenth birthday to be nice.

So how do we make it special?  Jispa clearly did want a big party so that was out of the question. We asked her if she would have a party at the gymkhana where she trains. Ok, but she wanted a pool party. Hanging around the pool with kids. Fine, but then I will get the kids and make them play games – is that ok? I insisted on making the kids play games. Jispa was game for that as well. So the plan was set, pool party with daddy as the games guy with lunch at the gymkhana. The majority of her invites were her pool buddies with a few school friends who could swim also joining the gang. Another close friend of Jispa’s who birthday was around, joined in to have a combined party thrown.

So last Saturday we invited them all and we had 24 odd kids in the pool splashing around. I take great pride in not requiring a games guy. Why the hell do you need a games guy. What am I there for?  I think only boring old lazy fellas need to hire a games organizer. I can do whatever he can do and have more fun. So what do you play in the pool. The coin game is start point. You throw a coin and retrieve it. That’s a start. So let’s start building on it. So Jasmine got coins of different denominations and we started playing. First put them into three teams then get two parent volunteers and start the game. First one is retrieving one coin that’s in, then a specific coin of the two denominations that are in, then three different coins, then a combination, thena  total, and then all… the volunteers kept throwing different coins at different intervals. Played in the shallow end, the result was one hour of complete entertainment.

They came out for cake cutting and lunch and the party ended with the kids having a blast. The mothers who were around acted like captains of the teams and they too had a blast. And the net cost – negligible. Less than the cost of sending invites to a fancy party. Possibly less than the cost of designing an invite to a fancy party. And this got even the over stimulated kids excited and roaring for more. And physically fun as well.

Uncle Jaimit never felt this good. At the end it was a high five for Jasmine and me. This is the typical partnership we work with. I dream up stuff and Jasmine helps bring structure and helps me execute. I control the game and Jasmine works quietly in the back end. Keeping all the other things ready and in control. It’s been like that since college days. And Jispa got a party she deserved. Awesome fun.

Here is the pic of me with the kids. I love this one. Just look at me. I am beaming. I was so happy that day and for a few days following.

 

They are all the same

Jispa’s school is supposed to be amongst the best in Mumbai. It has a good teacher to student ratio – 30 kids in a class. It supposedly has the best teaching staff, better paid, motivated and hand-picked. They have systems in place to make things run efficiently and it is definitely amongst the most sought after school in Mumbai. When I tell others that my child goes here – they invariably ask me… how did you get in? Well lucky day I guess. I answer that I should have bought a huge lottery ticket that day instead.

Well… it is a nice school. Decent, well run. The services work to a clock. The teachers are responsive and most of all, Jispa loves going to school. And I guess it’s better than the option I had. With 60 kids in a class… but the honeymoon is slowly getting over as Jispa grows up.

Now as she grows older the class work is getting tougher and the work that we as parents need to so is slowly increasing. On Wednesday we had a national holiday and I spent the better part of it teaching Jispa Hindi. I am not that great at it but simple take up should be good. We started with the opposites. I asked a few and she replied correctly. Then a few that she did not know and then… suddenly I asked her – do you know the meanings of the words you are giving answers to. “no” came the reply. NO? “what shit. You know the answers but you do not know the meaning? Didn’t your teacher teach you this?” “she just said all the meanings fast fast and made us write the words”. What non sense is that? That can be given as a typed give away. You don’t go to school to getting writing practice. She doesn’t even break the Hindi words to explain the origin of the word and its understanding. So I sent the next hour just explaining the meaning of the words to Jispa. If you know the meaning of the words then you know the opposites. You shouldn’t just learn by rote the opposites without understanding the meaning. SO I just kept asking her the English words and she had to give the Hindi translations.

She wasn’t too pleased to start with. But I am slightly better than Jasmine at this with Jispa. I keep throwing in nonsense and keep laughing at some silly ones. Also unlike mom I am not the expert who understands it all. Some words – I told her, I haven’t a clue what it meant. We would just wait till mom to come home. So I guess I am a more real tutor than others. In effect I am more like her. So I explain like her, I learn like her. And I keep egging on till it’s pushed inside the brain. Jispa realizes that and she realizes that it is a bit more fun as well as that I end up tricking her into studying more all the time. We did Hindi for around two hours before Jasmine came home and it was time for dinner.

But hell. No wonder kids go to tuitions. How do you know the meanings? And even in tuitions you are not taught meanings. After this I was talking to Jasmine. “wow. This all crap. It took me two hours to get this with Jispa and I am sure I will need further sessions with her. I think I will have no option now but to get her to sit with me and learn stuff on holidays.” Jispa has no time during the week. Suddenly for me fatherhood has a new meaning.  Till now it was just all the fun stuff, taking care and all that. I would teach stuff but not school subjects. Now I guess even Hindi is not too far from my responsibility. What shit man. I hate this stuff. But I guess someone has to do it and Jasmine’s got enough on her plate. I have to pull more weight,  and make Jispa study the boring stuff. At least I may be , just may be – ‘funner’.

so how does it happen?

Yesterday at home Jispa happily showed me her brand new geometry compass box. In Jispa’s school, the fees cover these basic things. I guess they do that so that all the kids have uniform tools. This helps eliminate kids who could possibly be tempted to get Ferrari geometry boxes (wouldn’t that be a cool product). While she showed me the same, I recollected that as a kid I rarely ever got a brand new geometry compass box. Being the third in line I would invariably get hand-me-downs. So I picked every piece from the box one by one. The divider, the compass, the protractor, the two angles and ofcourse the free pencil. The pencil has improved form my days. Now they give a pen-pencil. Yes the lovely Camlin compass box.

Then I saw her geometry book. I remember my first class in geometry very well. The same things were taught. A point, a segment, a line and a ray. The same bloody things. The definitions were also the same, the drawings were also the same. It brought back nice memories. A point – it is something that does not have any length breadth and height. It’s just that – a point. A line is nothing but a series of points. I was good at geometry always. I loved it and I just couldn’t understand how anyone would get anything wrong in geometry. Possibly because I was good at visuals so I enjoyed geometry. I remember getting all the sums right in my final tenth standard exam. They cut 2 marks for no bloody reason and I ended up at 73 out of 75. The theory was that if they give you full marks then they have to give you a medal or something, which the board reserved for students from Marathi medium schools. Well who cares. Add that to the 74 I scored on Algebra, I finished at 147 from 150 in Math at school.

In morning while dropping Jispa off to swimming class, I told her that I loved Geometry and I would always get great marks in that. She then decided to test my skills. “So tell me – which is longer – a ray or a line?”. Aha… “Nice one Jispa, both are same – they both go on till infinity”. Hehe. Nice try kid. Then something just struck me. “Jispa – a point has no length breadth or height, correct?” “Yes” she replied. “And a line is nothing but a series of points, like a thousand points together?” “Yes” she said again. So then I asked “how come that a point which is like zero length, multiplied a thousand times has a length when zero into thousand is zero. So if nothing is put together a thousand times, how do you get something?”. I felt her bulb light up in her head “Fascinating” she said. ‘Fascinating’… that’s a nice term to use, I thought. I got her thinking. The truth is that I thought of this conundrum for the first time myself. How come this shit works? I can understand that a point can be infinitesimally small. That can help denote a starting point for math. Hence it will be zero otherwise you would need to consider the size of the point as well when you calculate the distance between two points to get the length of the segment. All this I assume… I know nothing of this. But how can nothing add up to something? Jispa was right. It’s fascinating. So I asked her – “so you are going to ask your teacher about this?” “Nah, she will just reply that” “it’s too advanced” I interjected. “no, she will just say that you will learn it in higher class”. Ok same thing.

I love having these conversations with Jispa. I keep telling her. When you grow up, do something nice. Become a geologist and then I can come with you to different places. Or study History – then we can do to all the palaces together and you can teach me. Or do zoological studies and I can come to various forests with you. I love learning from anyone. My nephew is a whacko. He is a lizard and snake super freak. So every time I meet him, I ask him stuff about snakes or other creepy crawlies. He studies in Doon school and he comes down for his vacations. This time around on a friend’s BBM he learnt that there was a snake found along with the stuff that was being shifted. He caught a friend and went there to catch the snake. He was coolly telling us later that it was a rat snake and hence not poisonous. Ya sure. He did catch it. What a complete mad man. What I wonder is that the adults around let me do it. He would have shown some attitude there for the others to trust him. I don’t know if I would have let him do it I was around.

Whatever, it’s fun to learn from him and it’s fun to learn from Jispa. I guess its sweeter when someone younger is teaching stuff to you. I actively try and learn from them. Of course some stuff you don’t want to learn from them, your ego gets in the place. But for the most, I guess, I like to learn from them. There is something that the youth has that you can never ever replicate. Teaching has put in touch with them and I really do learn a lot from them.

daddy rules

Yesterday in the morning, we probably had a premonition or something. Jasmine told me to wake up Jispa. I told her to wake her up.  None of us wanted to wake her up. Waking Jispa is not an easy deal. She keeps asking for two minutes and makes a huge fuss while getting up. Of course when it’s the 5 am wake up call for swimming she knows better and is much more reasonable, but on normal school days, it’s a task. She knows she has enough time. But we parents have to wear an albatross.

Jispa has a punishing swimming schedule. She loves it but we are punished as parents. We push ourselves to the limit while parenting her. The burden is much more than physical. We have to ensure she is well fed, well rested and she is well prepared. Now the school has begun to crank up the studies. And no matter which school you go to, the teachers are always in a hurry to finish the portion and are possibly unable to give enough attention to each child. You always have to supplement the studying schedule at home. You need to revise, you need to learn and you have to redo as homework what you got wrong. So far I had been pretty sanguine about it all. But this year I realized the pressure and the need to do regular home work.

So the crucial 30 minutes we identified for revision is in the morning when there is no swimming. This si the time she should finish her breakfast at 7am and she can study till 7.30am, at which time we need to go. So that necessitates waking up on time. And that’s where the pressure builds up.

I used to take extra pride in waking Jispa with a smile, by singing, by talking and by whispering stuff in hers ears. Now that is impossible. Doing that will take away her crucial sleeping and studying time. So I can’t start early. I have to let her sleep as much as possible and then get her off the bed.

Yesterday Jasmine had her way and I had to wake Jispa. I tried to be nice, spoke well, tried to pull her off. She delays by asking for stretching time. Which I allowed and then I had to physically lift her, which is now a heavy thing to do. Then while holding her and talking to her, I was taking he rot the bath. She kept resisting and then she let off the dreaded ‘aaaeeen’. Nothing pisses me off more than the ‘aaaeeen’. It’s a scream of irritation. She signifies that she is irritated and possibly we are doing something wrong. Woah… that’s the ultimate wrong thing to do to me in the morning. Especially if I am all sweet and nice (but firm) while I am waking you up. She got a mid-sized whack on her back from me. “Stop the ‘aaaeeen’ Jispa. Just not done. I am talking to you. I am holding you, I am waking you and you can’t do this.” She cried – more for the rebuke rather than the hit. I told her stop crying. “you know why you got it and I did not hit that hard”. She went for bath and then came out refreshed and she had stopped crying. She told me “sorry dad”. “it’s ok kid. I am sorry too. Just please wake up properly. It’s just too much stress that can be avoided in the morning”.

This is just too stressful. It’s not easy being the parents of a sporting champion. Especially when you want her to be good in studies as well. We have to keep the pressure on studies. Keep revising. Keep working. Do your homework. Do your tables. Do your spellings. And that’s a job that only the parents can do at home. Schooling is just not enough.

Yesterday evening was one big realization for me on this. I am the worst Hindi teacher there is. Jispa corrects me with the correct pronunciations and the spellings. I have no freaking clue how to spell or what the meaning is of the words. I can only do some take up shit. Jispa’s job is to know the stuff and my job is to ask her what she knows. But yesterday we were doing occupations. She was struggling with a few. And engineer is called abhiyanta in hindi. She kept forgetting. So I explained this.. When you want to fix something you call an engineer and when you want to fix something- you have to fix it NOW. NOW in Hindi is Abhi hence abhiyanta is engineer. Yayyyy. She got it. Then I explained the simpler ones like Sona is gold hence goldsmith is sonar. Loha is iron and hence blacksmith is lohar. Gwala is cow herd. Cow is gai and gai ko sambhalne wala is Gwala. Reporter is one who writes letters hence patra and hence patrakar. I explained that chikitsak is one who checks you and hence a doctor. And so on and on.

Finally as a dad I felt I did my job on teaching as well. That too Hindi syllabus. Jispa remembered them very well. She was struggling with them. Similarly I explained the numbers. I was explaining that the numerals across the world were basically invented in India and then taken to the western world by the Arabic traders and then universally adopted. That’s why the sounds are similar – two in English or deux in French or dos in Spanish sounds like they do in Hindi. Same with three, teen, tres, tran etc. so now you know the English ones get the Hindi ones similarly. And once you get the counds you will get the numbers. Only one difference is the numbers ending in 9 such as 59 or 69 which is called 60 minus 1 or unsath or 70 minus 1 to give you unhattar.

I don’t think her Hindi teacher has that much time or possibly you need to be a non-hindi speaking hero to understand and learn it via other shortcuts. But hell who cares…. There is stress and sometimes bucket loads of it but if in the end “DADDY RULESSSSS” then that’s that. Daddy rules.

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On a side note from the earlier blog… a question that Krishna raised set me thinking. Why does Jispa still take water from home? Yes sure. She doesn’t really need only home water. She drinks water everywhere. In fact she is a swimmer. We even give her sugar cane juice off the road side stalls. So why does she need home water. Well she doesn’t need the water but she needs the water bottle. So she can drink at will and she doesn’t really need to hit the water station every now and then. So now we are sending her only the bottle. In case of longer days she will take two bottles, one plain and the other with the Glucon C powder in it for her to mix. Well – that gets rid of one and a half kilo! BIG.

champion inside

Inspiration passion motivation. And many more words that keep coming out from a lot of idiots at office. I feel stupid discussing these words. There are only thrown about while pretending to mean serious business.

The other day this lovely young lady in my team was having a discussion with me. We were discussing how to choose the designs for putting the opaque stickers on the cabins. She remarked “aren’t these designs too dull. They would restrict the light and make the cabins duller.” She was referring to some design someone liked. “ya sure. But it’s ok. I don’t care. Do it if they like it.” I have learnt to buy peace. Of course I say my point of view, but if it’s not worth fighting, I don’t bother. There are many battles to be won. You don’t exhaust your energy on a few. “but, your cabin will also get affected, wont it? Shouldn’t that bother you?” she urged. “luisten lady. First things first. Its not my cabin. I sit there and I work there. but its not my cabin. It belongs to the company and they can take it away whenever they want. You never ever fall in love with your cabin or work space or anything else.” Then I explained “once many years ago, in the year 2000, when I was around 25 years old, my office shifted to a new location and they gave me one of the new ‘manager’ cubicles that lined the sides of the room”. This is a typical design thing. The big manager cubicles line the outsides with the chicken stock getting cubicles in the middle. I have always felt that the design is fundamentally flaws. It should be the reverse. The ones doing monotonous work should get the best views and windows. But no one will possibly listen to me. “so, they gave this lovely cubicle and I liked it. And then suddenly another division of the firm, the core division with its sales guys wanted to move in and they downgraded me to another cubicle in the middle. I felt so bad that time. I think I almost cried. From then on, I never fell in love with my place. I try and stay focused on the work and work around the place. That’s why I sit out many times, I come out and everyone uses my cabin and they are free to roam around. You never fall in love with your seat. You never do that.”. “acha, she said. So is that incident what motivated you to reach this level”. “NO. Impossible. No insult can motivate me to perform or do work. That is gone long back. My motivation is inside of me. Myself. I don’t look for motivation outside. No one can motivate me. Not my boss, not my family, not my peers, no body. I decide what I have to do and how much to perform. My standards are internal to me. Why look outside? It’s all inside.”

This has been my belief for many years now. Look inside. No such bull such as positive reinforcement, positive thinking and goal setting. I have never done any of this and I don’t really believe in it. You do your best, stay in the moment and look inside of you why you want to do or not do something. When I work, I decide how good I want to do or what I want to perform. So far the standards are the ones I have chosen to keep or benchmark. Why should anyone tell me what I need to aim for? They might guide or I may be inspired. But the goals are mine and mine alone. They are for me to set, understand and follow. And what goals are we talking about? Whose knows what the future holds like? I have never been a great goal setter. I am talking about lofty goals. Sure I have small milestones, some inspiring benchmark to achieve but not really goals the way the rest seem to have or preach to have.  And for the first time I read something somewhere that resonated with I am saying. This guy in the video is talking about still power which is opposed to will power. He has written a book called still power. Listen to the video.

I haven’t yet read the book and its always dangerous to extrapolate from a single interview but the fact is that I hear this man in the this interview and I resonate with what he says. Look inside. Don’t sledge your opponents. It’s not needed. Feel good about yourself. I think most of the time my sledging has never helped us.at best it may have helped my team rally around. But over the years I have learned to respect my opponents. Be friendly its ok. You are here to play your sport. In cricket as well I keep telling my team, relax, and don’t bother about the opposition. Look at the ball and then you have the bat. That is all. The game is still played with the bat and ball. Put your mind to the game and read it well.

The last year I was in the zone multiple times while playing or leading. No need to give great pep talks, no need to tell people to focus on winning. Focus on playing the game well. If enough people play the game well, you will win. Winning is an outcome not the destination. The journey, the plain, the mental toughness, that is the destination. Love it and live with it.

I kept worrying that with Jispa I never ever let her push toward a medal. You swim, you improve your timing. You enjoy your sport. She wants to do well, because she wants to do well. You win – great. You don’t win – great. Did your practice and preparation be worth it all. Yes. That’s important. And the Zone. The zone is always inside of you. It’s not outside. Whenever I have played the best cricket is when I have been in a stillness as far as my mind is concerned. It is focused on what to do then. Freedom from fear in turn is the freedom to play. Not regretting the past nor anticipating the future.

For Jispa, the freedom to lose is exactly the freedom to win. So when she swims she swims for herself, for the sake of swimming, for swimming as fast she wants to swim. When you have a 50 mtr dash, you can’t think or not think anything. You just go and swim. You back yourself. Whenever I have run the parents race – what was I thinking. Nothing. Just the feel of running fast and running through the race. You are just enjoying the moment. The rhythm and the grace of it. That’s all. You can’t think positive or negative. Of course longer sports like cricket give you a lot of time to think. But when you are about to play, you come back and you stop your thoughts. You see the field and then focus on the ball. Time always almost stands still when you are in your zone. You don’t fight negative or positive thoughts. You merely enjoy the moment. That’s all. Focusing on yourself and in your role vis-à-vis the team.

Talking about negative thoughts – I just chanced upon this article.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/05/opinion/sunday/the-positive-power-of-negative-thinking.html?_r=1&ref=opinion

The power negative thinking it says. I like that. I like this paragraph a lot “The Stoics recommended “the premeditation of evils,” or deliberately visualizing the worst-case scenario. This tends to reduce anxiety about the future: when you soberly picture how badly things could go in reality, you usually conclude that you could cope. Besides, they noted, imagining that you might lose the relationships and possessions you currently enjoy increases your gratitude for having them now. Positive thinking, by contrast, always leans into the future, ignoring present pleasures.”  This stuff has worked for me innumerable times in the past. Whenever I have faced tremendous pressure or stress, my counter has been to know what’s the worst that could happen and how I would deal with it. Then the present doesn’t seem so bad after all. It’s right. That’s been my coping mechanism for the last decade or so. That’s helped me block out the issues, helped me block out the pain. In fact once your worst case scenario is acceptable then you don’t really mind the pain. In fact I would even so much as say – I end up enjoying the pain. Possibly in saying – take that dumbass, I am unaffected by you.

There is another para in the article that caught my attention “Even goal setting, the ubiquitous motivational technique of managers everywhere, isn’t an undisputed boon. Fixating too vigorously on goals can distort an organization’s overall mission in a desperate effort to meet some overly narrow target, and research by several business-school professors suggests that employees consumed with goals are likelier to cut ethical corners.”  This is also something I have argues for. Too much goal setting always, always gets employees to cut corners. To achieve only to please. To tick mark. Yes the work is done. These guys look for external goals, external targets and then simply tick mark saying that work has been done.

Surely goals are important but mindless pursuit of them and relentless follow up of goals that are generally given top down without participation lead to such a situation. In the video the author argues that goals are limiting. They don’t allow for freedom to work around. That is true. Goals are limited only by your imagination. A set of smaller victories sometimes helps a lot. Play every day, every ball. One at a time. The broad strategy fits in by itself if you take care of small victories. That’s why it always difficult to be bounded by a large inflexible goal.

Well anyways. That’s a lot of gyan for one post. But nice. It was good to stumble upon this video and the article. It suddenly reinforced what I seemed to have found and believed in – all these years.

what a burden

“Ok let’s go. No wait. Let me see… where is our weighing scale, Jasmine?. Yes got it. Come here Jispa. Ok… that’s roughly six kgs. And you still don’t have it all. Some stuff is still missing”

Whenever we came in from Dubai for a vacation in India, we would stay for almost two months at our Granny’s house. My Granny was rich. The family had two buildings that belonged to them and she stayed on the top floor of one. One entire floor was theirs. That was great fun. We were treated like royals. Especially because we came in from abroad so we would come with bags full of foreign merchandise not available in India in those days. Simple stuff like chocolates, t shirts, chewing gums etc. We were the toast of all our cousins. OK possibly it was not all due to the stuff we bought. I am sure some would be happy just to meet us. But it was nice to feel like royalty. And yes the biggest thing in India. Servants. In Dubai you may have been rich and drinking Pepsi but in India you don’t work. You get the servants to work for you.

This was in many ways a cultural shock for us kids. It was a mixed feeling. While servants are good fun when you are sleepy and you need someone to make the bed, it never felt good to give them work. I still don’t like giving them work or getting them to do stuff for us. So as a kid from Dubai I never understood how to treat them. Was the full time maid who was possibly just about 15years old my friend, my servant or what? She would play with us but she couldn’t really win, could she? Whatever – I remember it being very very confusing.

Then we moved in to India and I was in the fourth standard. Our Granny’s house was a stone throw away from the school. Mom was a bit worried about us walking to school all alone. Would we brothers from Dubai be able to cross the roads safely? So she came with us for a few days and then I later learnt she would send us alone but follow us from afar and check if we went right. Softies from Dubai can’t negotiate the Mumbai roads. And this was in 1984, when we didn’t even have enough cars. Afterwards she sent the maid along with us to school and to pick us up. The maid would come along and we never understood what her role was. I don’t think she understood it as well. She tried to ask us if she could carry our bags. NO WAYS. Not a chance we would allow her to do that. I was around 8 or 9 years old but I would have enough dignity to carry my own school bag.

I have never understood why someone needs to carry your bag for you. It just isn’t right. We had a few kids in school whose moms or uncles would carry their bags for them. But they were few and far in between. As I grew up and the economy progressed, Jasmine and I saw a lot of maids around us. Almost anyone with a child would have a full time maid and the way we saw it he maid’s essential role was to follow the child and carry its food and drink and other essentials. They would carry the bag, carry the tiffin, carry the sports kit, everything. Oh I so bloody hated looking at it. The menace was so widespread that party invite would sometime specify that ‘no maids allowed’

Among our friends Jispa was the only one without a full time help. So she was quite used to carrying her own stuff. Her friends when they would come with us would just walk away without picking up after them in a picnic or expected to be served. Argggg. Do your own stuff dudes.

Cut to present. These days when Jispa sometimes picks her school bag I see her struggle with the weight. The bags are really heavy. Jispa has her taekwondo in school so she carries an extra amount of water – glucon C or something. So there is around one and a half litre of water in her bag. Then she has a snack box. Then she carries her taekwondo uniform and then she carries her books. The bag is really heavy. At first I tried not carrying it for her as we left home. Then I realized that it was too much for a child. So just the other day I weighed the bag (it was a light day, with a few books coming home for review), and it weighed 6 kilos. On a light day. So that would got to 7 kilos at least or possibly 8.

Pit that against the 28 kilo frame that Jispa is and you get the idea. So I kind of feel sorry for her and I carry it till the car. But to ensure that life isn’t easy for her, I let her carry my tiffin or my sports bag or something. She gladly takes the exchange offer. But from the car to the bus– she is on her own.

Wait – the car till the bus? How is that a big thing? Well I did not think of it as a big thing as well. Till I saw one kid at the bus stop. He is possibly is the 6^th or 7^th grade. He comes with his mom AND his maid. His maid carries his bag while his mom marches him to the bus stop. For the record his maid is tinier (build) than him. And then when he comes to the bus stop in the car, he walks without any encumbrances till the bus and his mother or maid carry the bag for him till there. So there. Possibly I am being quick to judge. Possibly the poor boy has a condition not allowing him to carry weight. Possibly.

But the case still is a vivid example of what I see wrong. Yes the bags are getting stupidly heavy. I also don’t understand why Jasmine has to fill water and give Jispa to take to school. The school has a filter and when I was in school, we saw anyone who carried water from home as a wimp. But that still only solves around 15% of the problem. We give the bag too much weight. And then we give the child too much care. You definitely need to carry your own stuff. Jispa must carry her own stuff, but I guess it also must be adequate for her to carry.

I feel like noting the bag weight every day and then writing a letter to school. Just stating the facts. Just stating them. Let’s see what happens.