run jispa run

I just put this pic on facebook and I realised that I hadn’t recorded this interesting information on my blog. This was at the Mumbai marathon. I was running the dream run which is a measly 6 kms. I had run (if you can call it that) the 21 km stretch 5 years back. It took me three hours. At the half way point my left knew froze and refused to bend anymore. I dragged it past the finish line. I was not going to quit that one. Nopes. That was some experience.
But having bad knees and a bad back, the dream run was all that I was attempting. Jispa had seen a marathon and I got Jasmine to get Jispa to view and cheer at the marathon. Good fun. At roughly the half way mark I met them and Jispa was super keen to run along. So I got her to join me. She was running full blast and I had to get her to slow down. She does not know what it means to pace yourself or to jog. She has only learnt the full throttle. But she ran the rest of the three odd kms and I found myself in catching up mode. It was quite an experience. But I was quite proud that three kms was not a patch on her stamina. She was ready for more.
One of the things she told me was “what kind of race is this? You can run, you can walk, you can jog, anybody can join in, and you can even talk on the cell phone.” She was wondering what on earth was going on in this race. And to top it, in the dream run, there are no winners or losers.

A ha. Welcome to the marathon. The participation itself is the destination and the goal

blood off my hands

We had a blood donation drive in office today. I have always been a volunteer for blood donation. I see great merit in doing it. You do nothing much except show up, sleep on a chair and eat a few biscuits and there… good deed done. That too a high level one that involves saving lives. I might have now done this a minimum of a dozen times. I see no logic in not doing it. I remember my dad always ready for it and mom also volunteering. So I guess I grew up pretty much wanting to do it.
I got my first opportunity while I was only 15 odd years old. I was in the NCC air wing and we had to go for some republic day parade. While we were rehearsing, there was a tent put up by the naval hospital, I think it was INS Ashwini. So there they asked for volunteers for blood donation. I raised my hand amongst other like minds. Before I entered the tent I asked the guy in charge, ‘sir, but I am only 15”. In true armed forces style, he looked at me and said, “that’s ok, you look healthy”. There. Simple. I got put on a bed and the deed was done. The queer part was that they were paying us kids for it. I found that rather funny. Since mine was the boring blood group I got 20 bucks. One guy with a rare blood group got 40 bucks. I kept those crisp notes for quite some time. I guess I utilised them on some rainy day.
But then after that I have used every chance to donate blood. When there was a camp in college I got in and jumped the queue. I was in second or third year by then and amongst the biggies in college, so no one really objected. Soon after marriage I got Jasmine to get in the act as well. Her real fear at the start was the really huge looking needle. Now that she is over it, she is an enthusiastic donor as well.
The last time the camp was done in office I got a few more first time donors to get in the act.
Yesterday though was a day for a bit of introspection. I got an sms for liver donation. It seems the liver donation bit is like the blood donation bit and the liver regenerates in two weeks. I haven’t gotten into the details of the same but somehow its gonna take much more than an sms for me to get on to the operating table. After I am dead I don’t care two shit for what happens with my body. I hope not to have enough fat even to make soap but liver donation is yet not on my scheme of things while alive. Not for someone I don’t know at least. For your near and dear, surely one agrees to be put under the scalpel.
Coming back to blood donations. I am a little tired with the guys in office. People finding the excuse not to go down and donate. I wonder what really stops them? Most of them cite work as the reason for procrastination but water cooler talks take more time and yet are more frequent. For me it’s a wonder how we can’t have 100% compliance – that not including the ones on medication or other such ineligibilities.
Probably at some really higher behavioural psychological level, this test might give some clues – ‘Three experiments demonstrated that feeling wronged leads to a sense of entitlement and to selfish behaviour.’ Possibly office space is the wrong place for altruistic behaviour?

Gandhi paid me a visit as well

Ghandhigiri works. We have been after one office collegue to check the mailing addresses of a client list and send it back to us after verifications. This was pending for more than a week. Enough follow up and mails were sent to push this. Today I got involved and asked him to send it. This was at around 12. 15 pm. He promised me the data in 15 minutes. I told him I would catch him at 12.30 pm then. He said, sir, thoda time do, I will take some time. Ok then I will catch you at 12. 45pm. He asked for more time. I said, “Fine, I will see you at 1.15 pm”. Deal closed.
At 1.20pm I catch him. He says “sir I need some time, you eat your lunch, I will send the mail”. I said, “Now nothing doing. I will not have lunch till you give me the data”. Then I proceeded to collect my dabba from the door and put the thing on his desk and loudly proclaimed. “Till you give me the data, I will not eat my lunch”. I then walked away leaving the big red bag on his desk.. In ten minutes he called out to me and said “I have sent the mail, can you collect your dabba from here.”
Sure it was all friendly banter and I outranked him, plus I have a great relationship with him, but I firmly believe the dabba sitting in front of him helped speed up the process. And I really did not have to use any other coercive powers, or write to his boss, or threaten him or use my brownie points. A good fun gag with social pressure did the trick. Good fun and laughs for all as well.

love your face

A ha… I was right. People love to see themselves and of course respond to other people’s faces more than anything else. Thanks to this I was able to get away with moderately amateurish photography. As I earlier said, I clicked the pictures of the guys on my floor, up close and personal. I then printed them together and stuck them up on a conference wall. Result - instant buzz.
We had the floor coming over and watching the exhibition with people thanking me for the photos. Hehe. They kept coming back in groups and discussing the photos. Who is the best, who looks like what etc. Men women are equally vain or receptive to it. But it was a good distraction on a dull day. Does well for morale. The fun bit was people whipping out their camera phones and clicking pictures of the prints.
Here are some pictures of the exhibit. it was titled, whatelse? - "wonderful world beautiful people"

among all the commenst i heard so far the best one - why did you do this? whats the point of this? - some of us just couldnt understand why I did this of my own and without any motive. it was just unbelievable for them. Come to think of it - why would I do it?

What did the chicken tell the doctor?

“Dad?”, she asked while we were driving through some uneventful part of the journey in the morning. Its always fun to have a chat in the morning while I drop her off to her bus stop. You never really know what to expect… a song sometimes, a joke, an incident or a poem… and sometimes we get a moody silence. “yes” “dad, I will ask you a riddle?” “sure”. She and her school friends have gotten into this riddle thing with clever pun built in. a nudge had been provided in the right direction by their reading of the kiddie magazine called hoot. An example of the fare dished out is - what do you call a big mouse? – answer – enormouse. And more stuff there from where it came from. You have to hit the outstretched palm of the riddler to give up and get the answer. So most of the time you don’t win and more importantly you don’t know what to expect.
“Dad, what did the chicken say to the doctor?” errr… ehhhh… hmmm. ‘I give up. Tell me.” “No, you have to guess at least five times before you can give up” “huh”. Not fair… I don’t know shit of this but I know better than to argue. So I blurt out the only thing that comes to my mind “happy birthday?”, “no”, “happy anniversary?”, “no” “happy diwali”, “happy Christmas (sic)”, “happy new year”. “No, give up?” Ya sure… the five choices went off pretty fast eh? “Give up” I say and slap her outstretched hand. “The chicken tells the doctor – I think I have people pox”. Ha ha ha. “Nice one. You learnt it in the bus?” “No, I just thought of it”. “You sure” I thought she was kidding me for sure. “Ya, I was thinking about fever then I thought about chicken pox, then I thought about people pox, and then the riddle”. Hell that was pretty good. My daughter’s first real PJ riddle –

What did the chicken tell the doctor?
Doctor, I think I have people pox

I repeated it for sentimental value. Hehe.
I couldn’t help but get her to call Jasmine and get Jispa to throw the riddle at her, with five trys and et all.

breathe easy drive easy

Driving in Mumbai is a harrowing task and even the best of us I guess grow horns. It affects me in many ways that I thought impossible. Normally whenever I drive and I see some one trying to cross, especially the old and the ones with kids, I stop my car and signal them to cross. Sometimes I am rewarded with a smile. I even do that to a few women who seem to be lost right in the middle of the road. So that’s my good bit.
On the way home, there is some construction work happening for the monorail. This place has slums on the left and the construction has left very little space for the people to move. The footpath is obviously non existent. So we have tons of people on the road. Kids, women men everyone. I went honking honking getting them to move off the road. Then suddenly I realised what I was doing. I was honking to get a guy on crutches off my path. That’s unacceptable. While I stopped honking but the deed was done. It’s been difficult to control your irritation on these roads. It’s been difficult to relax while driving.
Today morning there was a school bus behind us, honking away to glory. A car is obviously faster than the bus and the reason I can’t drive faster is that there is a truck in front of me. I roll my window and request him not to honk via a hand signal. I overtake truck. He comes behind and then starts honking all over again. This is the limit. If he honks once more I will stop the car. HONK! Ok you asked for it. I stop the car in the middle of the road and the famous Doshi anger comes out in full volume. My baritone is used to good effect. Loud Jaimit voice can wake up neighbourhood – old jungle saying. I have seen this Zeus energy used by my dad and sometimes by my brother to good effect. My dad was a little hotter than it was right and I have tried my best to control my own streak. It’s far less but even one is one too many.
I also called the school later and lodged a complaint. You can’t drive like that and if you are a school bus you have no excuses. Absolutely none.
I guess the next time I will simply stop in front and alight and not utter a word. Silent satyagraha might be a better option.
That way Jispa’s school is pretty cool. I have never heard them honking. Even if you are late they simply call up and figure if you are coming and then they silently and patiently wait. The attendant also waits silently. He never gestures to any kid to run faster, au contraire he gestures to slow down. There is no rush. The kids climb in, he closes the door and the bus silently shifts into motion.
Taking a cue from that and an ad that says that driving in the 60 kmph band will help you save fuel, I drove nice and easy today. Patting my horns back inside my head, breathing easy, I realised that driving can be a form of yoga.

up close and personal

V-inu left his camera with me as it needs to be serviced for some minor issue. He also left his lenses. One of them is the favourite 50 mm f1.4 lens. Basically it’s a lens that gives some amazing depth of field. I got it to office to take some photos that we can put in the brochures. Some standard photos of telephones, laptops, handshakes, pens, globes etc... the standard clichés in all private banking brochures.
Its also a great lens for portraits. While I was fiddling with it in office I realised that I was taking some nifty photos of people up close. While some of the colleagues were enthusiastic, some others were really camera shy. After the enthusiastic ones got even more enthusiastic on seeing the results, the shy ones opened up. Then almost everyone was posing. Some will remain irritably shy. These are ones who seem to be so conscious of themselves and come up with the standard, I don’t look good in photos. I will somehow try to break them down today. But forgiven the odd one or two the others were so excited about their photos being taken. The results are quite nice and they love themselves. To see their smile is amazing. The glitter in their eyes when they see the screen is so heart warming. I think people are genetically tuned in to see their faces and other people faces. They love it. So I started shooting only close ups. The cheer that got spread was amazing. People clamouring to get their photos clicked. I so loved seeing them smile and laugh.
I am planning to click all these guys and then print them silently and one day in the morning, stick them all in the conference room on our floor. It would do wonders for their happiness that day. I am so sure.
So off I am clicking away. Will let you know what happens further.

cartoon hai

Yesterday before we went to see the zakir and shiv kumar sharma in a concert, we stopped by my mom’s house. That’s the big source of TV entertainment for my daughter. She gets in, gets comfy in front of the TV and can watch practically anything. But the big favourite with her is Tom and Jerry. She watch that anywhere for any length of time. That goes for me too. I too can watch that stuff forever.
The cartoons from my time as a kid are still being played and they are as relevant as ever. Probably the only thing looking dated is the rotary dial telephone. Rest all is so relevant. With some many things happening in such a short while it’s never a bore.
Yesterday she saw the title and straightaway told that this is a really funny one. She knows them by rote I guess. Once the cartoon started I realised that I knew the dam thing by rote as well. Now Tom is going to be hammered into the ground by the pole, now the ball will drop ahead of him, etc etc.
Schadenfreude is a universal ageless trait. But watching these cartoons with Jispa is even more fun. She goes on laughing and giggling while supplying her two bits. Its like watching it with a laughter track. Its gets really funny. The entire family ended up watching the dam thing and laughing like silly goofs.
Good thing before a classical music concert. In the second part of the concert, Shiv Kumar plays the light classical raga which left my wife and me thinking about the romance in the Yash Chopra films. A lot of those tunes reminded us of the songs that we have heard in those movies. Wonder why they went out of fashion? Listening to the santor made me picture the heroine in chiffon dancing in the cold and green valleys of Switzerland. Wah wah.. what romance.
Just for the heck of it, forgive me while I place these versus the song in the recent hit Wanted – your papa says you love me, your mama says you love me!
Whatever the music, I love the associations that they make in my head. An indian classical concert might trigger hindi movie emotions while the Zubin Mehta concert I went for triggered tom and jerry cartoons. Well that was the only place I hears them!

desktop's day in the sun

Wow…. Today my desk got some action. It was about time. A lot of guys came to my lap top to see it, ogle at it and go back feeling excited.
Normally my seat is at the edge of the office with hardly anyone coming in. the only thing that comes in regularly is sunlight. Baking my table and laptop. But I am not complaining. I kind of like the sun coming in. I see it as a cleanser?
So why did everyone come in today. Suddenly if figured that the sun coming right through the tinted glass outside onto my desktop, today reflected the solar eclipse. I never imagined that I will see my first solar eclipse with my seated on my humble chair in my humble office. Cool. My laptop is pleased as a punch. It is now feeling blessed or… is it cursed. That depends on its belief I guess. Where is it made in? Oh ok… it’s a Dell assembled in India. I guess then it’s a bit unenthused about it. Suppose I throw a few drops of water on it? Will it feel better? Well anyway. Here is the picture of the thing reflecting from the screen.

While we are on it, here is the hit little desktop thing that I bought from Jabalpur, near the marble rocks, for 50 bucks. Everyone loves it for its sheer simplicity. It is quite cute.

And this is what I wrote on the white board so that any one comes in asking questions gets a message. Now if the kids come in asking something I just look at the white board in front of me. They get the message and then rephrase the question as a statement. There. Now that’s better. Automatically you are forced to give a solution in the statement.

job blues

Today is a bloody irritating day. There is a simple task. We have to prepare for the annual report. There is a three line to do – meeting to finalise design route, date on which agency gives design, send to print. But no, we want to complicate the dam thing so we decide to break them down into chotu chotu components. Small small very small.. so the thing now runs into 44 rows on an excel sheet with roles and responsibilities assigned. I spent a gopod solid two hours figuring what all components will be there in all this. Graph design approach, Graphs with dummy data, graph with actual data, are actual entries in the dam thing. Wow. Talk about stupid stuff.
The trouble is because we don’t give simple responsibility and hold people accountable for work. But the flip today was on another thing. People don’t want to be accountable for work. I am tired of telling people not to keep me involved. This red line is right or should I remove it? what on earth. Do what you think is right, you bloody dim wit. Can I change some of the copy you have done? Minor correction..??? OFCOURSE . DO IT.
“Jaimit, I have one question.” “please don’t disturb me now, I am busy.. is it important?” “yes” “then tell it fast”. “I was speaking to x and telling him that we need to send this and then he told me that we can only send one option, but then we require two so I was telling that we need two, but he said that since we have one we need to confirm, so I was thinking which” “shut up and tell me fast. Have you learnt précis writing?” “Should we go with the red design or the plain design”. Oh god.. “is this important? Please go away”
I understand if your boss is a control freak. I understand if he hauls you over coals for taking decisions without his help, but I am driving everyone crazy telling them not to come to me. Come to me if you have screwed up. Come to me, if you don’t understand. Don’t come to me if you don’t have an opinion. Don’t come with a problem, please come with solution and spit it out fast. Bak bak bak…I have told them clearly… if want to rated as a manager then behave like one. If you want me to take your calls and your job is to just ask questions, then you will be rated as such. Here I am trying to build a team that thinks on its own and people just don’t want to take responsibility.
In continuation with today’s bad string of affairs, I had to make the design for eth quarterly announcement. Our CEO talks of equanimity and the need to be stable within the volatile economic environment. I decided to draw an image that best represents this. Taking inspiration from Jessica Hagy who does some outstanding illustrations on her site http://thisisindexed.com/, I tried my little feeble attempt. People did not get it. Its not that people have failed, I as a creative have failed. Of course it’s ok. I am not supposed to be the smart creative but I thought this was very cool and was proud of this, but I guess not.

pongal

Today morning as I was driving down Jispa to her bus stop we saw hordes of ladies all dressed up and trying to celebrate something. All of them looked south Indian and they were accompanied by the children. From a truck near by the men were unloading some sugarcane. I was wondering what is. Jispa was wondering as well. Suddenly I remembered … “Jispa today is the 14th. Right?” yes it sure was. Today is the 14th of Jan. Makarsankranti or Pongal as it is known in different parts of India. I recollected a chapter in my hindi 5th standard textbook on pongal. How today the women wake up in the morning and cook pongal.
There all of the women (from the slum on route) were together celebrating Pongal. All of them had put a few bricks and started a fire over which they were they were cooking pongal. I explained the same to Jispa. I asked her if she knew what pongal was. She didn’t know. So I looked at the watch and saw that we have some time. We in any case leave a bit early to feed biscuits to cute cute bingo (a stray dog). So I told her that today lets try and eat pongal. I knew that some of the south Indian restaurants in matunga would be serving some today morning. I rushed into one (Ramsahraya) and ordered pongal. As it came, I realised that I too did not really know what on earth was pongal. I knew it’s was some rice thing, but I was not sure if its sweet or salty, thick or liquidy… whatever. As it came it was a gob of a dish in the shape of the bowl that was probably used to measure the portion. As I ate I figured, this is not Jispa’s favourite dish. It’s a simple salty rice dish what we commonly call in our language ‘khichadi’. Jispa had a few purely out of excitement. She did not exactly relish it. after some time she tells me that it is just like dal rice. Ya… I tell her ‘its actually like khichadi’. Yaaaa…. Her final reaction with a slightly upturned face (Jasmine will not like this) – “this straightaway takes me to dinner.”

Makarsankranti is a lovely festival that oen needs to be in gujarat to really enjoy with the millions of kites in the skies and every one on the terrace. I had the fortune of being there on while I was placed these in Balsara, and the first occasion I had I took Jispa and Jasmine to my cousin’s place in Rajkot, around four years ago. It fell on a Sunday then. I guess going every six odd years to Gujarat to celebrate this will not be such a bad idea. Enough gap even for the cousins to feel pretty welcoming.

the case of the samosa and the tough university security

We have our office bang opposite the Mumbai university campus, we often go there for a bite. It has so many canteens. At the last count I counted were four. The whole place is like an oasis and campus is so serene. The trees completely cancel out the noise and it is a large sprawling place. The architecture and layout is completely awry. Suddenly modern newer structures stand alongside old depilated ones. One canteen is air-conditioned while another is a heated mess. It’s a nice walk especially when you are completely fed up of your office environs. I have been there a quite a few times, obstinately for the samosas but really for the place. Forests need neglect to survive.
Here I can hear the barbet and the crows and see some mynas fly. In the morning you can catch a few bulbuls fluttering around. But I am not sure if I did want a campus like this. The air is so lethargic that I am sure nothing would ever get done. The over all feeling is not of dynamism but that of babudom. Nothing planned but spurts and bouts of budgets being allotted.
Today morning I was in the mood for a deep fried calorific samosa. With some really unhealthy ugly chatni. Every canteen has its own chatni, some red, some white, some green. The colour is normally never an indicator of the spice component as well. That is jack in the box that springs on you. So we went to the university. They seemed to have some extra measure of checks on this time. No one was being allowed in without being questioned. All rickshaws and cars in were being stopped. All those entering the campus were being asked to show the I-cards. Oh god. Here goes my samosa I thought. But then there is hope. If the Obama’s party can be gate crashed then university should be a breeze. Just look important and walk across giving some answer. What answer, one would only be able to trust ones wit, when one is confronted with it. No amount of preparing would have helped you. As me and a colleague approach with trepidation, I removed my office I-card and put it in my pocket. As hit the gate we were stopped by the security. Oh shit. ‘Where do you want to go?’ Obviously we didn’t look like students. “To the canteen” my colleague answered. I was quiet. He seemed to be the stern guy and one disinterested guy and one spokesperson seemed to be a good strategy to deal with these characters. If anything went wrong I could be the good cop from the duo and save the day. The guard was still stern on getting the answer. “Why are you going to the canteen” he asked, almost bawled. What could we answer? What would be smart enough to get us through? Should be just turn around and run, or make a dash for it? Will he chase? A million answers and scenarios flashed through my mind. I could see my samosas flying away from me. “Why are you going to the canteen” My colleague retained his presence of mind (bless him) and answered without blinking “to eat, what else”. The guard looked at the right hand top corner of his eye for a second and then, with an upcurled lips (we were going to be so screwed), he nodded his ascent and waved us on.
That’s it. The samosas were yum.

wake up Jis

How can any one sleep through this? Put this on full volume and see….. especially if the stuff is playing next to your ears.



Jispa did not move a bit. She did not even bother to cover her ears or move away from the source. After five minutes Jasmine had had enough and wanted to shut this, so I had to wake Jispa my self. Some experiments last for a few minutes, some for a few days. Sometimes duds are strewn in the oath of the Hero’s journey, as he hurtles towards her destiny, with a step there, a step back and some meandering about.

This youtube is a pretty cool thing. It is quite useful thanks to the millions of people who are using it to say / teach something. Jispa’s sports day is fast approaching and she is the fastest girl in her class. Since I never did sprint for a living, I barely know its technique and science. So I try googling and picked up some videos on youtube. It was pretty interesting. One of the most important things that I knew were there put dint know how to use them, was the lean and the use of the foot (ball of the foot versus the heel) while running. Yup. Sure enough. I now am able to make minor corrections in her running. I will never know enough to be able to correct her technique too much but for a seven year old, this is good enough. There some basics, if you get them, right it should work for you.

One thing that works in all sports is head position. No matter which sport you play your head cant be falling off. It always needs to be still and stable, with minimum movement. Once the head moves the balance and coordination is lost. Except in cricket I don’t see too many coaches talking about the benefits of a still head but without fail most spots I see the champions play with a rock solid still head with minimal movement. Even while running I was telling Jispa, in your effort to run faster ensure you don’t move your head from side to side.

wakey wakey time

An nth tryst with Jispa waking up is in progress. Jispa wants to grow up and that means waking up on her own with an alarm. Good noble intentions. So she said that I should not wakr her up but merely put an alarm next to her and she would wake up on her own. Fair. I agree.
So day 1 I wake up on my alarm and press snooze. After which I put it net to her. In five minutes it rings…. Rings… rings… no effect. I put it closer to her... ring… no effect. I put it on her ears… ring … ring… no effect. Then I wake her up myself. I am ok with this, but the growing up by waking on her own is a thing she is having with mom, not me. So in the evening Jispa and mommy are having this conversation. Jispa tells me to hold the alarm near her ear. “but that’s exactly what I did”. “then papa, you should change the alarm. This is your alarm. If I hear that I think its you who has to wake up.” Ok. Lets see day 2.
Day 2 I wake up, shut the alarm and go to Jispa. I look at my playlist on the cell phone.. hmmm… a talk by the economist, nopes… aahhh… here. That should do. Bat out of hell by Meatloaf, the original 10 minute version. That should give her adequate time. It starts loud with heavy guitar and piano. Immediately Jispa wakes up and sits up. Then onto the bathroom she goes.
Very good.
Day 3 I wake up and do the same. This time the song required a full 2 minutes to wake her up. And then wait for her to sit up post which I hug my teddy for some time before sending her to bath. Mommy and Jispa have a conversation where I am called in as the prime witness. I testify and mommy says nopes. You have to get up on own completely. Jispa says ok. But I am not happy that means I have to leave the alarm and walk away from my morning teddy. Not fair. It’s the warmest teddy hug on a cold morning. So reach compromise. She wakes up and then walk to the chair where I will sit and wait for her, so it’s proved that she has woken up on her own without me after which she hugs me and I pack her to the bathroom.
Parenting… kya kya karna padtha hai.

headache

On Sunday I read some article by a critic on how lonely it is to be a critic. He thought 3 idiots was a flawed film. And he was castigated by all and sundry, especially since it was such a huge hit. Well interesting. Criticizing a hit film is always difficult. I have always been faced with the same issue and have been at odds with most others on this.
In any case my taste in movies is slightly off, than most others. I hated the movie ‘black’ which everyone raved about. Some guy even released an ad in the papers praising the movie. I thought it sucked and it gave me a headache. Yup movies and I have this headache thing quite often.
The recent one was ‘ajab prem ki gazab kahani’. I thought it was a complete ham. Result – big hit. I think Akshay is a complete ham. Another big hit. Except Hera Pheri I think most of Priyadarshan’s movies are a ham – a lot of them hits. I thought Guru was nice but the ending made me sleep. I also thought it was the greatest white wash in Hindi cinema history. People came out with a complete different view. I like rocket singh and dilli 6. Both bombed. So that’s a short history of my film appreciation skills.
So most of the time I come out and keep my mouth shut. How did you like the movie? ‘well, I don’t know, nice I guess’ or something like “in my opinion, it was nice though it might not be appealing to all” or “ tp” or some other such diplomatic stuff such as “nice acting”, ‘good locales”, ‘nice body” or even “deadly effects”. I don’t like lying so I try the ‘weaseling’.
For the record 3 idiots was a nice fun movie but it was a horribly flawed movie with too much preaching. I am nowhere near the gushing reviews. I am with the critic here.
And yes I almost forgot the movie ‘kaminey’. Liked by critics and audience alike. I was – I dunno, nice movie, interesting, but it gave me a headache.

self torture

I have taken to a new torture. While playing squash I had hurt my back and it seems to have never completely recovered. So to strengthen it I started swimming. The only window I could fit into my schedule was after dropping Jispa to the bus stop. I rush to the gymkhana at 8 for a quick 15 minute swim and then out, shower and hit office by 9. It was fine when I started this in around end November. These days with the temperature dipping I find myself the lone ranger in the pool at 8 in the morning. The water is nice and cold. I figure the best way is to dive right in and get your whole body wet as fast as possible and then furiously start the swimming. Then for some reason, (probably the breeze) after a lap or two, the water is warmer than the air outside.
For someone like me who has bath only with hot (really hot) water all through the year, even in summer, this is unreal. Earlier I never liked swimming as I hated cold water, but now I realise that the reason was that we hardly swam. It was just a place to laze around and do precious nothing. One lap and then relax for ten minutes. Now in the pool I like to get in, swim swim swim, and then get out. Unless of course it’s Goa!
Also what has helped was the really ridiculous looking swimming cap my wife got for me. When she first got it, I refused to wear it but then I slowly came around to appreciating it. This cap was shaped in a way that you cover your ears while you wear it, making you entire head water proof. With ears and head covered, the coldwater is much more bearable.
Since two days the swimming pool attendants are looking at me as if some real hard core nut has come to swim. Today she was wearing a sweater and her assistant had covered her ears with a 70‘s style muffler. If they thought that would psyche me out … they surely did a dam good job about it. But I put on my trusty ear covering cap and blanked out all the noise around me. Splash, swim, away we go.

bookish

Sometimes you get good books and sometimes you get bad books. Invariably the bad ones are slow to read and the good ones finish fast. One wants to pick up and read at all times and the reading time per pickup also improves. Sometimes there are a string of duds and sometimes the batting average just shoots up. I generally try and read one book at a time these days. In the good old days that I used to travel by train, I would have one for the train and the other for the night. So I always try and have one or two books ready to read after I have finished one. In fact the best pressure to read is when you are reading a good book and you have another promising read as a follow up. The second book pushes me to read the first one faster. I feel like a kid at Christmas Eve dying to tear open the wrapper early morning on his gifts. He can’t wait for the night to get over.
When you have a string of these lined up the reading rate gets pushed amazingly high. That’s why I keep the in line books at my bedside. They encourage me to read much more. Sometimes sacrificing a bit of sleep in the process.
Every time we travel in the train I used to see the James Hadley chase books at the book stores. I wondered what they would be like. At the time Johny Gaddar was released, it was said to have been inspired by the JH Chase series. The movie was fast with things happening constantly. From then on I wanted to read atleast one of these books. Having been a late starter in reading, the spy novels and other fictions completely passed me by. I never felt the use or the pleasure of reading fiction, especially spy fiction. So this time when we went to Jabalpur, I managed to pick up a James Hadley Chase novel at a railway book shop. Now I know why it’s a bog hit. Straight story line with fast pace and simple English. I was a bit disappointed with the s+ex in it. There isn’t any! It is limited to ‘he then had a ravishing night with her’. That’s it. The least I thought that these books could do was give two pages of description. I mean else could enliven dull train journeys for the multitude of passengers. But this is strictly James Bond stuff. Lovely women, handsome men, 30 minutes of foreplay and suggestion and 2 seconds of the real thing. Haha. The plot was bumkum and it plays out like a b grade thriller. It did take some patience for me to get through with it. I wanted to know what happens at the end. Answer – nothing really.
On books – when we got the raddi wala to come home and take the old newspapers, we also asked him if he takes old books. Will he pay per piece? He said nopes, he pays per kilo except …. if it is a mills and boon. That is something he will pay per piece. That still manages to sell. Rest is raddi. Ooh. My poor historians, philosophers and management consultants. You might be worth your weight in gold but your words don’t match up to the humble mills and boon. Which reminds me of my favourite saying – the markets can be wrong longer than you can remain solvent.

equanimity

My CEO writes a letter to all employees at the start of a New Year. He is a really sharp guy and he sees the situation much better than most others. But of course sometimes I like them and sometimes I don’t. This year was a letter I liked. We have had one roller coaster of a ride in the last few years. An orgy followed by a purge.

I will let his words talk now
“There are two important lessons we have learnt over the years. One, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Two, when things look good, they are not as good as they look. And when things look bad, they are not as bad as they look.
In 2006-2007, we all felt extremely exuberant. We dramatically increased manpower and costs as if there was no tomorrow. Things looked good. But they were not as good as they looked. The threat of the global financial crisis was lurking in the shadows.
From October 2008 to March 2009, things looked bad. In hindsight, they did not turn out as bad as they looked. Thanks to an extraordinary effort of intervention by big governments, the world managed to avert what seemed like a retread of the Great Depression.
The key is not to get carried away on the way up or on the way down. We probably sprinted too fast in 2006-07 and probably slammed the brakes too hard in 2008-09. The ideal path is building at a decent trot and growing steadily.
It is perhaps worth noting that you cross many milestones in a marathon and none in a sprint (unless you are Usain Bolt and the sprint is itself the milestone).
If I had to encapsulate our desired temperament in one word, that word would be equanimity.”

My big lesson on life has been that the first step towards change is to look at yourself and admit to yourself the mistakes you have made. Then only can you look to change and improve. Here the great man admits to his learnings from the ride.
Also I loved the last word take away. Equanimity: The state of being calm, stable and composed, especially under stress. The ‘especially under stress’ words actually belie the truth. One needs to be calm and stable against a seemingly irresistible force. These forces can be interpreted as positive or negative. A stable mind is required both ways. Basically it is the mind that does not get carried away.
Another incident comes to mind: Once my team was under severe stress and we went to our boss. The boss very wisely said that right now you look at it and it looks very large. Wait and watch as time passes by. This problem will over a period of time look very small and you will wonder what the fuss was all about.

grace

2010 is a good time to write some end of year bores. You get them in all papers and just about everywhere. I can’t read one more story on New Year resolutions. But since it’s also the end of a decade, a lot more newsprint gets devoted to rubbish sepia. But for me the year end would mean something special always. This date acts as a proof in my life that being brave and stupid is better than being scared and intelligent. Discretion is not the better part of valour. It was on this date 20 years ago, I first spoke to Jasmine; and the first words were something of a proposal.
After which I have always told would-be-Romeos and would-be-Juliets that if it is in your hearts, bring it to your lips. Better to speak out your heart and face rejection than to think of what could have been.
As a 14 year old my heart was pumping hard and my hormones clouded my brain and I still sometimes wonder what my dad would have done to me if Jasmine had complained instead of being sweet. Also now I wonder what would have happened if I had a tight slap in return? But life knows its destiny and it hurtles towards it. (wisdom of oogway). Just for the record she refused and it took another year and more of following to finally wriggle a yes. (Tenacity? but that is another story).
So I can look back on twenty years and wonder about the various phases we have had together. The first four and half years of being together but hiding from her parents. The next few of being together but slightly unsure about how our life will unfold in terms of career etc. The next few of setting it up. Then Jispa and then the least three years of staying and setting up our nuclear family.
Superficially we are very different but at so many levels we are the same. There seems to be no set formula or philosophy to make it work. I think all it needs is the will to make it work.
God has been good so far. We sometimes wonder when, with him, we will find ourselves afoul.

many idoits

I had seen 3 Idiots over the weekend. It’s quite a cute funny movie but quite frankly I cant quite agree with eth gush of compliments that its been receiving. I for one found it a bit too preachy. Surely the actors have done a great job but the script was not as great as I thought it would be. They even incorporated a huge bunch of internet jokes doing the rounds. But this is not a blog about movies. I leave that for the experts.
Watching 3 idiots one big growing up grouse came to my mind. Letters to family and remarks for the parents to sign off. This was the single biggest stress tool that the school used to get the child to be disciplined. I so freaking hated it. The shame associated with it was so large and the scare that one would have trying to anticipate the parents reaction. It is so freaking silly. Talking in class – bad remark, not in line – bad remark, did not do homework – bad remark, your partner broke the lab equipment – bad remark, eating in class – bad remark… and this one was my favourite.. I got a rap for being too enthusiastic in class. The teachers got some real pleasure in calling parents to class and in the principal’s office and making them cry and plead. It was a ego boosting ceremony. If the child smashed your ego, get the parents to set it right. Can’t you solve the freaking problem yourself? Aren’t you like paid and qualified to deal with children, without getting their parents involved.
My dad was once called into school. The reason was that I was arguing with the teacher. I was right (at least I thought so) and that the teacher was needlessly picking on me. This was in ninth standard. I had a higher sense of right and wrong versus some other students and I was a rebel to start with. Always inspired by Gandhi and other Amar Chitra Katha characters, I would not stand for something that I did not believe in, which I knew to be wrong. So I stood ground and entered into a verbal duel. The teacher did the next thing, call you father. I want to speak to him. This time I was not scared. I was right. I chatted with my dad. He heard me and did the best thing he should have. He explained to me while I might have been right it is improper to argue like that with the teacher. He came in and had a nice conversation with the teacher and closed the issue.
I don’t expect Jispa to be scared of me while doing some kidas in school and college. That cannot be her stick for discipline. Missing a homework assignment can’t be a reason for a scolding. Talking in class? Go ahead… arguing with authority – be smart about it. I would like her to do what she wants to. This is obviously not a blanket approval for her to do anything but it is an assertion that I am surely not scolding her for minor deemed transgressions. Especially when it comes to basic schooling and studies. Fiddling with substances – no that a serious issue. Holding hand with boyfriend? – come sit down, let me tell you what all I did.
These sound simplistic, especially when you have a relatively milder kid in the form of Jisa. She typically has no issue with authority (so far) and does not really test parenting. Who knows what happens when the tide changes. Sometimes parents would need to assert themselves more strongly. I only hope that I think through before I do that. I only hope I am aware of the environment when I take these calls. I hope I first see what was my fault in all this, what was the teachers fault and how we can first correct ourselves. I have seen enough of parents and teachers punishing children what I essentially see as their fault. Most of the time it’s a tripartite responsibility.
But of course, life in educational institutes seem to have moved on in some places and have retained their ‘culture’ in others. Her schooling has been a lot more evolved that what I had. And I hope her college had evolved as well. Even in my management college one of the profs wanted to scare us telling he will write letters to parents. To such characters, and those that will come in my daughter’s life, I have only one message for you – up yours.