Dam. I remember being very late on learning how to tie a shoe lace. My mom used to tie for me and then in case they ever untied I would get them tied by a friend. I don’t know how long it lasted but I think I was an ignoramus till the second standard or thereabout. Finally I got it. But life was never so simple. The dam laces I tied always became untied. Every time I would be bending over and tying laces. While at school with the black shoes or the white canvas shoes. While playing cricket with my sport shoes, while running or while walking. My laces would always come untied. I tried tying them differently or got someone else to tie them for me. Sometimes someone else’s hand would work and sometimes it wouldn’t. The laces were a perennial problem. They were a problem even on the formal shoes. Who ever heard of formal shoes untying?
Life was a complete bore. So in spite of like the formal laced shoes I bought a few of the non laced variety. In the middle I found it cool to roam around with shoes laces so lose that you needn’t tie them. Of course you can’t really run with them or jump with them but for normal urban lifestyle I figured tying laces were an unnecessary chore best left undone. You just keep them loose enough for them not to get to trip yourself and let them just stay there.
But underlying I knew there was a way to tie them in a way that they don’t untie that easily. Should I tie them tight, should I tie them loose, should I tie them in a double knot (which made them difficult to open), should I tie them the other way. What on earth must I do? I thought only I was jinxed. Possibly I ran in a certain way, possibly I walked in a certain way; possibly I was just a specially gifted child.
All my life’s frustration came to an end on seeing this most amazing three minute video. It changed my life. I knew there was a secret. It only did not reveal itself to me till now. I normally now don’t have too much time for a daily ted video on my RSS feed but this time around I just happen to glimpse it instead of pushing the mark all as read button and voila I see destiny, oops, the video in front of me. A three minute, that’s it, three minutes, a three minute video on tying your shoelaces right. A simple trick. It also solved an ancillary problem. I always thought the tied shoelaces, did not look right. They looked straight along the north south axis and not the lovely bow along the east west axis. This solved that as well. And to think I missed it. A simple trick I missed it. I put the right bow first, I put the left bow first, tight, loose everything, but I missed a simple trick. Arghh, dam.
But fret not. I am now enlightened. As Jispa was asking, what is the meaning of the book title ‘if you see Buddha on the road, kill him’. I told her it was about being enlightened internally. She knows that Buddha is not the name of a person; it is an idea, an enlightenment. I explained that the title talks about knowing what to do and what to think, and that these answers come from within. You might get a teacher but the final path and the decision is yours. It is your mind and your thoughts. You are responsible for them. The Buddha is in you.
But here I found it in a simple humble three minute Ted video. Have a look. Who knows what small thing might just be enough to change your life.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
i swear, i mean it?
“dad, what is the short form of Madhya Pradesh?”. Hmm. Jispa is not the one to ask simple questions. It has to be a trap, a bait, an innocuous looking bait in which her papa will gleefully fall. Having thought of a few possible curve balls, I said “MP”. “aaaaa” she replied. “you said a bad word”. “MP, a bad word? When did MP become a bad word” I asked. “it is she insisted”. Oooo . ok. “nopes Jispa. MP isn’t a bad word. MC is a bad word”. “oh, ok” she replied. Good that was the end of that. Or so I thought. “what is the full form of MC?”. “err, Jispa, I am not telling you bad words, ok? I am not teaching you what they are or what they mean?” well do you explain mother F*&^er to her? I might be a progressive dad, but I am not explaining that.
“but dad, if I don’t know, I might say it by mistake” she insists. “well if you say it by mistake, then we will correct you and babes, you silly goose, I am not discussing the meaning or the bad words with you. I will teach you when you are 12 years old”. “o man, that is far away, 4 more years?” she cried. “Jispa, are you seriously sad that you cant learn bad words?”. There I thought that was the end of that. Or so I thought.
“dad, you know middle finger is also a bad word?” “ya, kid, I know”. “you know, I means the ‘F’ word”. “hmm, I guess so, but not just quite, it’s a little different”. “does it mean the ‘S’ word”. “nopes, not really”. “then what it means?”. “Jispaaaaa, I am not discussing bad words till you are in the eight standard.”. “but dad, you just said you will discuss it when I am 12 years old.”. “Jispa, now tell me, are you seriously crying and complaining that you are not getting o discuss ‘bad words’?”. That finally stopped the conversation. Or so I think. For now atleast.
We were laughing and smiling all the time while having this conversation. I really do want her to have this conversation with me, but later. I could possibly explain what I know. It’s better that she knows what she could be mouthing.
Hey did I tell this story. I guess not. I stopped swearing. I was a sailor tongue. This was largely thanks to my days as a sales man. Pressure was invariably used as an excuse to give out bad words. I did not see man or woman around while mouthing them. My bosses too had contributed to this as I had a string of bosses equally foul mouthed. And this was common language in office. My office team in the past tried to stop me but to no avail. I was sailor tongue and screw you I was not changing.
Then one interesting thing happened. In this new office, I recruited this lovely young women (we will use initials to protect their privacy- SC). One came to me within a month of being recruited and casually asked. “aap itna gaali kyun dete ho?” – Why do you swear such? “err, screw you, do you have a problem with that?”. “no, no, go on, just that, sometimes you talk so high, history and science and everything, and then suddenly, you go $#@% %$#@ $%#$@.” “so you want me to stop”. “nopes, just wondering. It doest suit”. Ok now that got me thinking. I thought a bit and slowed down, but did not completely eliminate it.
Then I recruited another young lovely lady. (ST – for short). In a few days she comes to me and says, “my my such profanity”. “hey, you are from media, I thought you are ok with this”. “oh of course I am ok with it.” “then what’s your grouse I asked?”. “I don’t have a grouse, I just remarked as profanity does suit your profile?”. HUH!?!. “so you want me to change?” “nopes “ came the answer, “I am just fine, its just that it doesn’t suit your profile?” “what profile?”. “well , when you talk all these big things, and then you use profanity. It just doesn’t suit”
I called the first lovely in as well. Well I told them. Its amazing that they had the same thing to say to me. They were fine with it and they were quite clear that they did not want me to change if I did not want to. They just remarked that I must change only if I want to. That day they did what some previous collegues could not. They made me feel quite ashamed of myself. I felt something funny, something weird, something shallow. Ok. I remember the date. 23March. One month from now if I don’t utter any such swear words, you guys take me out for lunch or else I take you out. DEAL? Deal.
They were I guess, happy for me and happy to lose the bet for me. Thank you someone for giving me these lovely ladies with kick ass attitude. I won the bet and won the war! Now I have been foul free since and these words when uttered by anyone stick out like a sore thumb in the conversation. I hear them loud and feel funny about it. A few words here and there come in a guy to guy conversation. But they are few and far between and they are usually there to mean something. Earlier they were there as fillers between words serving no purpose other than to give out swear words. What reason were they there? But I cant believe that 12 years of habit was undone by them in an instant.
It shouldn’t have been so tough. I never swear in front of Jasmine and of course Jispa. Jasmine had expressed her displeasure to me while we were 15 years old. And I have never been able to really swear in front of her yet she knew what I was behind her back.
So now I am the same upfront and behind. And all it required is not for someone to tell me to stop, but to wonder why I started in the first place.
I am so grateful to these ladies. I thank them and I owe them big time. Simple words can mean so much. I love you all.
“but dad, if I don’t know, I might say it by mistake” she insists. “well if you say it by mistake, then we will correct you and babes, you silly goose, I am not discussing the meaning or the bad words with you. I will teach you when you are 12 years old”. “o man, that is far away, 4 more years?” she cried. “Jispa, are you seriously sad that you cant learn bad words?”. There I thought that was the end of that. Or so I thought.
“dad, you know middle finger is also a bad word?” “ya, kid, I know”. “you know, I means the ‘F’ word”. “hmm, I guess so, but not just quite, it’s a little different”. “does it mean the ‘S’ word”. “nopes, not really”. “then what it means?”. “Jispaaaaa, I am not discussing bad words till you are in the eight standard.”. “but dad, you just said you will discuss it when I am 12 years old.”. “Jispa, now tell me, are you seriously crying and complaining that you are not getting o discuss ‘bad words’?”. That finally stopped the conversation. Or so I think. For now atleast.
We were laughing and smiling all the time while having this conversation. I really do want her to have this conversation with me, but later. I could possibly explain what I know. It’s better that she knows what she could be mouthing.
Hey did I tell this story. I guess not. I stopped swearing. I was a sailor tongue. This was largely thanks to my days as a sales man. Pressure was invariably used as an excuse to give out bad words. I did not see man or woman around while mouthing them. My bosses too had contributed to this as I had a string of bosses equally foul mouthed. And this was common language in office. My office team in the past tried to stop me but to no avail. I was sailor tongue and screw you I was not changing.
Then one interesting thing happened. In this new office, I recruited this lovely young women (we will use initials to protect their privacy- SC). One came to me within a month of being recruited and casually asked. “aap itna gaali kyun dete ho?” – Why do you swear such? “err, screw you, do you have a problem with that?”. “no, no, go on, just that, sometimes you talk so high, history and science and everything, and then suddenly, you go $#@% %$#@ $%#$@.” “so you want me to stop”. “nopes, just wondering. It doest suit”. Ok now that got me thinking. I thought a bit and slowed down, but did not completely eliminate it.
Then I recruited another young lovely lady. (ST – for short). In a few days she comes to me and says, “my my such profanity”. “hey, you are from media, I thought you are ok with this”. “oh of course I am ok with it.” “then what’s your grouse I asked?”. “I don’t have a grouse, I just remarked as profanity does suit your profile?”. HUH!?!. “so you want me to change?” “nopes “ came the answer, “I am just fine, its just that it doesn’t suit your profile?” “what profile?”. “well , when you talk all these big things, and then you use profanity. It just doesn’t suit”
I called the first lovely in as well. Well I told them. Its amazing that they had the same thing to say to me. They were fine with it and they were quite clear that they did not want me to change if I did not want to. They just remarked that I must change only if I want to. That day they did what some previous collegues could not. They made me feel quite ashamed of myself. I felt something funny, something weird, something shallow. Ok. I remember the date. 23March. One month from now if I don’t utter any such swear words, you guys take me out for lunch or else I take you out. DEAL? Deal.
They were I guess, happy for me and happy to lose the bet for me. Thank you someone for giving me these lovely ladies with kick ass attitude. I won the bet and won the war! Now I have been foul free since and these words when uttered by anyone stick out like a sore thumb in the conversation. I hear them loud and feel funny about it. A few words here and there come in a guy to guy conversation. But they are few and far between and they are usually there to mean something. Earlier they were there as fillers between words serving no purpose other than to give out swear words. What reason were they there? But I cant believe that 12 years of habit was undone by them in an instant.
It shouldn’t have been so tough. I never swear in front of Jasmine and of course Jispa. Jasmine had expressed her displeasure to me while we were 15 years old. And I have never been able to really swear in front of her yet she knew what I was behind her back.
So now I am the same upfront and behind. And all it required is not for someone to tell me to stop, but to wonder why I started in the first place.
I am so grateful to these ladies. I thank them and I owe them big time. Simple words can mean so much. I love you all.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
the new deal
I remember the first time I got pocket money. I think I was in fourth standard and it was a grand two rupees a month. I was so excited. It came from the blue, when our parents announced that we would now be eligible for pocket money. All three of us got different sums, and I being the youngest got the least at 2 bucks. I remember clearly getting that money and I remember think and counting, how many months will it take me to reach 50 bucks if I save it all. My pocket money reached 50 bucks a month till I was in the tenth and in college it was a grand 100 bucks a month. Here when I first entered college, it was the first time I was in town, roaming round with my new found friends. We all decided to go to Croissants etc, a bake shop. There I saw for the first time a chocolate croissant. I so loved it. Then I also tasted a cheese garlic croissant, yummmm. The chocolate one I remembered cost 11 bucks. Again my mental math told me that I could eat only about 9 a month. That’s it dude and that would mean no movies or anything else. Slowly my pocket money rose to hit 500 bucks a month till I finished my management education. 500 bucks was wow. That was good enough to support a lifestyle. Of course it helped that Jasmine was the rich one with her extra money coming in from tuitions she took for some neighbourhood kids. So she spent on us and I could make my pocket money go some way.
So I started with what I thought was a massive sum and ended with what I thought was a fair sum. In the middle I felt I didn’t have enough. I did not resent this or resent my parents for this. I was cool with it. One just simply did not have enough. We weren’t poor. We were gulf returnees who had saved up a pile. We had a cool house in a sky scraper but I guess the values of thrift that our parents wanted to put in us was a great thing. So while I had what I thought was inadequate I don’t ever remember me thinking it was unfair or unjustified. I was pretty cool with the money. If you don’t have , then you don’t have. No cribbing here.
But I still don’t like the pocket money concept. I don’t like a teen ager having to plan and save his money. These are his days to enjoy and spend, saving will come eventually. Sure the money is not unlimited but, the monthly pocket money concept is something I am not so cool with. It breeds more unfulfilled desire, which may come out in spending sprees when one is older I guess. But whatever, when Jispa recently was asking about pocket money, I wasn’t too cool with the idea. My first answer was that, we are with you all the time. Why do you need any money in any case? And when you want take it from us. Just let me know you want the money and I will give you. I had friends in school who got money on demand, sometimes I thought that was too much, but as long as you need to ask, what’s the issue. The tap control is with me. Jispa was not convinced. She wanted money for herself that she would spend on her own. Ok so that’s a problem. How do I give her a pocket money? Once a week, once a month? So I generally was chatting with her. She wanted once a week some sum. 10 bucks a week. That’s too low I thought. No point giving money that she will have nothing to spend on really. She also wanted to save some from that and put in her piggy bank. So you need enough to spend and save. If you want to promote savings, you need to have enough to save. So I put this question up on facebook and the overwhelming answer was to give some pocket money. And obviously the younger ‘friends’ voted for it. One other friend who is also a mother suggested that we must give money for doing chores around the house. Ok. so you don’t really get the money free, but you have to earn it.
Doing chores to get money was another bugbear for me. It’s quite a western concept. Working around the house is a family duty. You don’t need to get money to be motivated to work for the family and I hated doing the work and money would always be inadequate for what I thought would be great work. Ha. Plus I much rather pay the house help to do the work than get my kid to work for the money. I rather they work out of love or even guilt but not money. But this earning to get money got me thinking.
At the dinner table we were having a conference and we were discussing what to do about this conundrum and what must Jispa do to earn her pocket money. Till we hit a brain wave. Great. You get ten rupees a day if you practise guitar for 30 minutes. That’s it? Jispa asked. Yup that’s it. every day in the morning practise your guitar and you are eligible for ten whole bucks. That means you can make a cool 50 bucks a week. Jispa was super happy; she does what she likes to and gets PAID for it? ya. Get paid for it. But like the ultimate evil parent we too had sinister design, that are not too readily apparent. We too killed a dozen birds with one stone. To get 30 minutes of guitar time in the morning she has to - 1. Wake up on time. In other words her fussing to wake up must dramatically reduce from 15 minutes to 3. -2. She has to get in to the bath instantly. -3. She must finish her bath and brush in exactly ten minutes. -4 she must get herself ready after bath, wear her clothes etc without dreaming away. -5. She must sit to have breakfast. -6. She must finish her breakfast on time. -7 she must get up and wash her hands and face and get ready to get her hair combed. -8. She must then pack her bags and keep them ready – 9. She must then sit to practise her guitar at 6.55am which gives her 30 minutes to then wind up at 7.25 am to then wear her shoes, socks and run with me out of the house.
Believe me, these are the toughest 10 rupees she would ever make. She has been trying since the last week and she hardly managed one odd day in the middle a couple of days of 15 minutes practise. Though it was not a part of the deal; in fact it was a stated exclusion, I still paid her 5 bucks for 15 minutes. Poor thing. Today she got a tenner for the whole 30 minutes and another ten for the two intermediate ones.
The thing with being a kid is that no matter what deal you end up striking with dad, dad always wins. Somehow the parent gets it right and is able to see the hidden side of every deal. Man! Poor Jispa, she too is up against some huge odds. Every deal she makes with us, she ends up on the losing side. But at least look at the brighter side of things, I remember getting an incentive to help clean the wheat and help in the Diwali home cleaning, mopping and wiping. Here all she needs to do is strum a guitar. That’s it. Well... almost.
So I started with what I thought was a massive sum and ended with what I thought was a fair sum. In the middle I felt I didn’t have enough. I did not resent this or resent my parents for this. I was cool with it. One just simply did not have enough. We weren’t poor. We were gulf returnees who had saved up a pile. We had a cool house in a sky scraper but I guess the values of thrift that our parents wanted to put in us was a great thing. So while I had what I thought was inadequate I don’t ever remember me thinking it was unfair or unjustified. I was pretty cool with the money. If you don’t have , then you don’t have. No cribbing here.
But I still don’t like the pocket money concept. I don’t like a teen ager having to plan and save his money. These are his days to enjoy and spend, saving will come eventually. Sure the money is not unlimited but, the monthly pocket money concept is something I am not so cool with. It breeds more unfulfilled desire, which may come out in spending sprees when one is older I guess. But whatever, when Jispa recently was asking about pocket money, I wasn’t too cool with the idea. My first answer was that, we are with you all the time. Why do you need any money in any case? And when you want take it from us. Just let me know you want the money and I will give you. I had friends in school who got money on demand, sometimes I thought that was too much, but as long as you need to ask, what’s the issue. The tap control is with me. Jispa was not convinced. She wanted money for herself that she would spend on her own. Ok so that’s a problem. How do I give her a pocket money? Once a week, once a month? So I generally was chatting with her. She wanted once a week some sum. 10 bucks a week. That’s too low I thought. No point giving money that she will have nothing to spend on really. She also wanted to save some from that and put in her piggy bank. So you need enough to spend and save. If you want to promote savings, you need to have enough to save. So I put this question up on facebook and the overwhelming answer was to give some pocket money. And obviously the younger ‘friends’ voted for it. One other friend who is also a mother suggested that we must give money for doing chores around the house. Ok. so you don’t really get the money free, but you have to earn it.
Doing chores to get money was another bugbear for me. It’s quite a western concept. Working around the house is a family duty. You don’t need to get money to be motivated to work for the family and I hated doing the work and money would always be inadequate for what I thought would be great work. Ha. Plus I much rather pay the house help to do the work than get my kid to work for the money. I rather they work out of love or even guilt but not money. But this earning to get money got me thinking.
At the dinner table we were having a conference and we were discussing what to do about this conundrum and what must Jispa do to earn her pocket money. Till we hit a brain wave. Great. You get ten rupees a day if you practise guitar for 30 minutes. That’s it? Jispa asked. Yup that’s it. every day in the morning practise your guitar and you are eligible for ten whole bucks. That means you can make a cool 50 bucks a week. Jispa was super happy; she does what she likes to and gets PAID for it? ya. Get paid for it. But like the ultimate evil parent we too had sinister design, that are not too readily apparent. We too killed a dozen birds with one stone. To get 30 minutes of guitar time in the morning she has to - 1. Wake up on time. In other words her fussing to wake up must dramatically reduce from 15 minutes to 3. -2. She has to get in to the bath instantly. -3. She must finish her bath and brush in exactly ten minutes. -4 she must get herself ready after bath, wear her clothes etc without dreaming away. -5. She must sit to have breakfast. -6. She must finish her breakfast on time. -7 she must get up and wash her hands and face and get ready to get her hair combed. -8. She must then pack her bags and keep them ready – 9. She must then sit to practise her guitar at 6.55am which gives her 30 minutes to then wind up at 7.25 am to then wear her shoes, socks and run with me out of the house.
Believe me, these are the toughest 10 rupees she would ever make. She has been trying since the last week and she hardly managed one odd day in the middle a couple of days of 15 minutes practise. Though it was not a part of the deal; in fact it was a stated exclusion, I still paid her 5 bucks for 15 minutes. Poor thing. Today she got a tenner for the whole 30 minutes and another ten for the two intermediate ones.
The thing with being a kid is that no matter what deal you end up striking with dad, dad always wins. Somehow the parent gets it right and is able to see the hidden side of every deal. Man! Poor Jispa, she too is up against some huge odds. Every deal she makes with us, she ends up on the losing side. But at least look at the brighter side of things, I remember getting an incentive to help clean the wheat and help in the Diwali home cleaning, mopping and wiping. Here all she needs to do is strum a guitar. That’s it. Well... almost.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
ROCK on
The amphitheatre was a roman themed one. It was steep, made of stones and full to capacity. There were flashes of brilliance while acting and directing earlier. The crowd was wild and it was funnily enough Jai Hind college. Funnily? Ya. While I have acted on stage for school plays I have never acted in college in a scale play. Largely because my mom wanted me home in time for lunch every day. Have lunch at home. That’s ok though. Possibly students get spoiled while they are at college. Especially when they sit till late and goof around doing nothing but taking part in college activities.
Forget that. So this lovely feeling is going through me. The function is an Oscar styled event with the announcement of the best actors. I feel the excitement and anticipation as they announce the nominees for the best actor. I am a part of it. By this time the nominees are for movies not plays and this is still Jai Hind college in a roman amphitheatre. So the nominees are announced and I hear my name as a part of it. I run in, wearing a denim, long sleeves t shirt and a linen jacket. This is out of my current wardrobe. So I run in to a huge crowd applause. They obviously loved my acting. I think to my self – hey I should be the crowd favorite and that gives me a head start and a realistic chance to win. The show goes on. The winner will be announced later. Right now only the nominees are getting announced. I am extremely excited. I am a bit nervous. It is a lot of pressure. I so want to win this one. But I am also at ease, I know you can’t win them all. But this is the ‘Best Actors’ award. I want to win this one.
So I wait. The lady next to me is eating some peanuts. She is also nominated in her category. I am sitting amongst the nominees. I think about my thank you speech. Whom do I thank for this? At first I am tempted to thank no one. Most of life, a lot of what I have achieved is alone. Well that’s not fair. There have been many who have helped me, nudged me along the way. But has there been a strong continuous force. Fortunately my narcissism lasts me exactly one fourteenth of a second and my wife (in college she was still my girlfriend) comes into view. There, I know whom to thank. And immediately after comes the second thought – my teachers.
In college and school while I was growing, I must have been a difficult head strong child with little manners, outspoken and a pain to a few teachers. Many teachers thought I was an ass, some were ambivalent and some pushed me on, had faith in me and loved me. Mrs Clare Alvaro in Don Bosco high school. She was the one who identified me as an actor and pushed for my case. She thought I was good and let me know that. I always wanted to be an actor. I was the drama man. I could always control my faces in front of the mirror and loved experimenting with my tone. In ninth standard, I finally entered the dramatics and I won the second best actor award. Second best – I knew I was better than the other guy. Mrs clare also told me that later. But then school politics are sometimes real, weird and sometimes, a function of children’s imagination. Then in college one lady, Mrs Dias, believed in me. Enough to make me the secretary of her society – the hobby centre.
In college is also when I came close to Jasmine. She financed me in many ways. My pocket money was a fraction of what she made as a tuition teacher. But more than any of that, she was the anchor of my life. I would dream up interesting stuff and she would manage to make it work. She would be the anchor, the budget keeper of the society and the back bone behind which I worked. She would make things happen that I can dream of, lead into. I was much the figure head, but here was the system that made it all happen. In college in the second year, I won one of the smaller awards for extracurricular. In the final year, Mrs Dias recommended and ensured I won the Principal’s special award for extra-curricular activities. It was on par (or just about lower) than the one for best student. Wow. In some ways it was finishing second best but I am not complaining and I had no desire to win anything. I wasn’t focusing on it at all. The teachers in class liked me as I had decent attendance, enough be off the black list and I was always a good guy as far class participation is concerned. Expect of course in accounts class. The attendance was thanks to Jasmine to kept me in check with a level head, else I might have bloated enough to reach the moon.
Home? Nopes. Absolutely no support from home. They did not even know what I got or cared for it. I also never bothered to talk to them about this stuff. I think like all middle class households, their attitude was – sure – but if you don’t study you are nothing dude. Your marks counts and not all these extras. Forget that.
So it was Jasmine and my teachers that I decided to thank. But from now on, what happens does not count. Jasmine and teachers is what I knew made my life. Right now also teachers who came into my life and taught me stuff that I know and apply are the ones who have made the difference beside Jasmine. As a trainee working in 20th Century Fox, I met Aditya Shastri who was my mentor and guide. My first brush with management teaching, marketing teaching. Then came Dharen Chaddha, and now it largely my ED who is C Jayaram who I use as my guiding force; and not to forget my cricket captain Arun
But coming back to Jasmine. She never guided me, never pushed me, never really asked too much of me. But she just acted like a rock, giving stability to my otherwise floating life. I might have easily floated away and frittered away my life. She anchored it in a way I cannot describe. Sure we have our fights and sure we have our disagreements. But they come from the fact that I am a dreamer, a floater and she is the ROCK.
What happened next did not bother as now I was in complete control of my dream. The excitement woke me and I was only thinking about winning. My eyes were closed but dream had moved from dream to active fantasy. I won but I thought it was a little empty. Tilll now I was in partial control of my dream, the winning – I was in full control. It wasn’t the magic of a dream anymore. I did not even bother about the speech. I stopped dreaming and I woke up. Its such a pity. This was a really exciting dream.
In post mortem, I realize I dreamt about my real ambition. To be an actor that can make people laugh. Don’t I play that part in office? I surely do that. And I dreamt about the two anchors in my life. Funnily Jispa did not make her presence in the dream. Possibly this was college days and she wasn’t even born. But I still wonder. She is an anchor and she contributes to me but I guess not in the same way as Jasmine and my teachers. It’s a different contribution.
I also remember thinking that I love Jasmine so much. Sometimes I tell Jasmine that I don’t think I can love anyone else ever. I was telling her that sometimes I think, suppose something happens and I were to lose her or something, and if I were to marry again. I might marry but I wont ever be able to love anyone in the same way. The Rock that she replies ‘never say never’. Hah!
I care for a lot of people. In office and outside. A lot of genuine care and loving. I end up being good friends and almost in love with people. But I can never ever be in ‘love’ again I feel. 21 odd years and it can’t be replaced. Possibly a different space in my heart, but not love. Not the way Jasmine and I feel and share.
It’s difficult to explain this. Difficult to understand this, but all know is that - I love my ROCK. I was lucky to have found my rock and latch on to it. It’s been an amazing story as far as I am concerned. And I am so happy that even in my dreams I know of it.
And the contribution of the various teachers who have come and gone, helping me along the way.
What would I have been, done or achieved without them? I would have merely floated … floated and frittered away.
What a special dream. I duuno if I will forget this or remember this, but it moved me enough to get up and write about it immediately. This is really fresh post.
Monday, May 09, 2011
whats a high cost?
I have had some obscenely bad luck with books of late. I don’t know if I have gotten more arrogant there is little to note of new writing coming through. So I have endured one bad book after another. Books with little to say but a lot of words by which to say it. It is really irritating to get one book that you want to finish off after another. Nothing gripping or interesting that keeps you awake or alive, waiting to turn the page. In the niddle I got one interesting one but it was too small. It was the book called ‘jaane bhi do yaaron’ which was based on the making of the movie by the same title. It was well written, well researched and as funny as the movie itself. But that book was too small and I finished it off in one Sunday. That too only in one sitting in the morning followed by an evening sitting. The problem with good books is that they get over pretty fast. Pretty sad nah. So I have been a little irritated with my books. Shopping seems to have lost some of the charm. I can’t even see books on the shelf that makes me want to buy them.
Jispa on the other hand for the first time had a gift for herself in mind. She went roaming with my sister and came back to tell us that “mom, dad, you know what, I know what I want for my birthday”. Her birthday is 4 months away. That is some long range planning. “so what is it?” we ask. “you know, I saw this lovely watch, it has stop watch and light and it has a compass and it only cost 700 rupees. It is dam cool and I like it. Can we buy it on my birthday?”. “Oh well. Jips, you haven’t really ever asked us anything in particular ever. So it’s not important to wait for your birthday. We can buy you that watch this week itself”. Poor thing. She saw her watch and decided that she liked it and even saw the price and figured that 700 is probably a cheap thing. In any case we don’t exactly buy her a whole lot of stuff, so these small things I was more than happy to give right away. Its like this other day when the mangoes were still not in season. But some places the first flush was coming in and Jispa was asking Jasmine, when they would be in season. Jasmine and I have been pretty broke these days with the loan instalments of the new house and we have been a little tight with the money thing. Jispa kept inquiring politely when the mangoes would be in season. She was dying to get her season’s first mango. I told Jasmine to go buy the mangoes. The rate 900 bucks a dozen. Wow. But I figure that Jispa is a good kid and she very rarely, if ever demands/ wishes/ covets something. In many ways she has the least amount of ‘stuff’ amongst all her peers. No game boy, no ipod / ipad, no cell, nothing besides books. So we decided to get her the mangoes.
At 900 bucks a dozen they were the most expensive we would have ever bought. A few weeks later they were to fall to 250 bucks. But hell I can go to sleep thinking that I gave my kid 900 bucks ka mangoes. Hehe. Stupid parenting issues that we face.
Coming back to books. There was one book that many years ago I started reading. It is called ‘ if you meet Buddha on the road, kill him’. I remember reading it years ago and finding it very very good. So good that I kept it back without finishing it, telling myself that I would one day read it, I would in effect one day be ready for it. I can’t believe how right the decision was. In the last few years, a lot f my job role requires me not to do as much work but to work with minds. I am required to counsel my team more than anything else. They probably know what they need to do, they need to reach their peaks in working and it’s largely my job to help them reach there. So the book, which is about a physiotherapist’s story on how he treats and talks to patients. Sometimes I believe that my core job is just listening and coaching. That’s all I am required to do. And the book gives some awesome advice on talking and listening. It’s fun and deep at the same time.
I have always felt that in the past I have been guilty of reading through a book without due respect to eth author and his story line. Why is which chapter arranged such. What is the name of the chapter. I think the name of the chapter also has something to say about the book and it helps in understanding of the book, but I have most of the time chosen to ignore it. This time around with this book, I have trying to understand why the chapters have been arranged so. The way it starts and builds a case, understanding that case before proceeding is an important part of reading a book. I feel that I normally tear away and rape the book. Start digging in immediately for tit bits of data and information that I can peel away, digest and use. Almost a hungry dog gnawing away at piece of thrown meat. There is nothing refined or sublime about my reading style. Just a rape.
I hope his book changes my style. I have learnt to read the back of the book, the prologue, the epilogue, the foreword, the comments, everything. But now I will start by reading the chapter list and keep in mind how the author is seeking to build his case while writing a book. A slow but gradual process that will perhaps help structure his thoughts in my mind.
Here is an interesting tit bit that I read and then reread and then finally captured it here. It is something that I have always maintained. Especially when younger one come to me for advise or issues or simple conversation. I tell everyone that people grow up. I grew up. Life slaps us all very hard and we use these opportunities to grow up. I think it’s given to us as a choice, it is forced down upon us as a growing up ritual. We don’t choose it but we make the choice. We lose every bit of ourselves as we grow up. a lot of it is our innocence. I always tell people ‘you will lose your innocence but hopefully, you will do so at a lesser cost’. In fact the more you resist loss of your innocence the more you will pay the price. It will be wrenched away from you, torn from your body and you will be left with a hardened heart. So many years gone by, and I wonder what became of me. Should I have become as hard as I have become? Could it not have been avoided? Nopes, I have only struggled to retain a core which I am at ease with. A simpler core than makes me happy, that may have been bereft of innocence but hopefully filled with care.
So I quote from the book “And remember, too, you can stay at home, safe in the familiar illusion of certainty. Do not set out without realising that; the way is not without danger. Everything good is costly, and the development of personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”
Jispa on the other hand for the first time had a gift for herself in mind. She went roaming with my sister and came back to tell us that “mom, dad, you know what, I know what I want for my birthday”. Her birthday is 4 months away. That is some long range planning. “so what is it?” we ask. “you know, I saw this lovely watch, it has stop watch and light and it has a compass and it only cost 700 rupees. It is dam cool and I like it. Can we buy it on my birthday?”. “Oh well. Jips, you haven’t really ever asked us anything in particular ever. So it’s not important to wait for your birthday. We can buy you that watch this week itself”. Poor thing. She saw her watch and decided that she liked it and even saw the price and figured that 700 is probably a cheap thing. In any case we don’t exactly buy her a whole lot of stuff, so these small things I was more than happy to give right away. Its like this other day when the mangoes were still not in season. But some places the first flush was coming in and Jispa was asking Jasmine, when they would be in season. Jasmine and I have been pretty broke these days with the loan instalments of the new house and we have been a little tight with the money thing. Jispa kept inquiring politely when the mangoes would be in season. She was dying to get her season’s first mango. I told Jasmine to go buy the mangoes. The rate 900 bucks a dozen. Wow. But I figure that Jispa is a good kid and she very rarely, if ever demands/ wishes/ covets something. In many ways she has the least amount of ‘stuff’ amongst all her peers. No game boy, no ipod / ipad, no cell, nothing besides books. So we decided to get her the mangoes.
At 900 bucks a dozen they were the most expensive we would have ever bought. A few weeks later they were to fall to 250 bucks. But hell I can go to sleep thinking that I gave my kid 900 bucks ka mangoes. Hehe. Stupid parenting issues that we face.
Coming back to books. There was one book that many years ago I started reading. It is called ‘ if you meet Buddha on the road, kill him’. I remember reading it years ago and finding it very very good. So good that I kept it back without finishing it, telling myself that I would one day read it, I would in effect one day be ready for it. I can’t believe how right the decision was. In the last few years, a lot f my job role requires me not to do as much work but to work with minds. I am required to counsel my team more than anything else. They probably know what they need to do, they need to reach their peaks in working and it’s largely my job to help them reach there. So the book, which is about a physiotherapist’s story on how he treats and talks to patients. Sometimes I believe that my core job is just listening and coaching. That’s all I am required to do. And the book gives some awesome advice on talking and listening. It’s fun and deep at the same time.
I have always felt that in the past I have been guilty of reading through a book without due respect to eth author and his story line. Why is which chapter arranged such. What is the name of the chapter. I think the name of the chapter also has something to say about the book and it helps in understanding of the book, but I have most of the time chosen to ignore it. This time around with this book, I have trying to understand why the chapters have been arranged so. The way it starts and builds a case, understanding that case before proceeding is an important part of reading a book. I feel that I normally tear away and rape the book. Start digging in immediately for tit bits of data and information that I can peel away, digest and use. Almost a hungry dog gnawing away at piece of thrown meat. There is nothing refined or sublime about my reading style. Just a rape.
I hope his book changes my style. I have learnt to read the back of the book, the prologue, the epilogue, the foreword, the comments, everything. But now I will start by reading the chapter list and keep in mind how the author is seeking to build his case while writing a book. A slow but gradual process that will perhaps help structure his thoughts in my mind.
Here is an interesting tit bit that I read and then reread and then finally captured it here. It is something that I have always maintained. Especially when younger one come to me for advise or issues or simple conversation. I tell everyone that people grow up. I grew up. Life slaps us all very hard and we use these opportunities to grow up. I think it’s given to us as a choice, it is forced down upon us as a growing up ritual. We don’t choose it but we make the choice. We lose every bit of ourselves as we grow up. a lot of it is our innocence. I always tell people ‘you will lose your innocence but hopefully, you will do so at a lesser cost’. In fact the more you resist loss of your innocence the more you will pay the price. It will be wrenched away from you, torn from your body and you will be left with a hardened heart. So many years gone by, and I wonder what became of me. Should I have become as hard as I have become? Could it not have been avoided? Nopes, I have only struggled to retain a core which I am at ease with. A simpler core than makes me happy, that may have been bereft of innocence but hopefully filled with care.
So I quote from the book “And remember, too, you can stay at home, safe in the familiar illusion of certainty. Do not set out without realising that; the way is not without danger. Everything good is costly, and the development of personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”
Friday, May 06, 2011
go doggy go
Epiphany: a sudden realisation of a meaning of a larger thing or something like that. I love that word and of course I love the feeling you get when you get an epiphany. Well actually sometimes you love it and sometimes when the meaning is not so what you want it to be, the epiphany will probably hurt. As one smart lady told me – an epiphany and a catharsis go hand in hand. Blah blah blah ...
A few days ago I suddenly got one. I could see far more clearly. I suddenly felt lighter. I was smiling throughout the evening. And while sleeping I slept peacefully. Sigh. There is great joy in sleeping without stress. Normally there is stress of work, relationships, money, what ever... something that keeps your mind ticking over. It’s never be that great and I am lucky enough for it but the small ticking also affects. I was so much at rest I thought nothing. I read and then I slept. I don’t even remember any dreams or anything. Sometimes when the mind ticks too much, I have a mid sleep break where I wake up and get into a half sleep zone. There thinking and dreaming merge and while the body is at rest the mind probably is at not. It does affect sleep.
Anyways, just before I slept I had a bb conversation with Dikshi. Who’s she. She is one the prettiest girls who ever worked on my team. Pretty in ever conventional term of the word. When I first interviewed her, I did not really notice she was pretty. But I did notice her eyes. Let me describe her – fair, young, long hair (golden brown), and hazel colour eyes. Funnily enough I only remember those lovely eyes. But she came as a whiff of fresh air. I was interviewing many people for the position of a trainee and I was completely irritated by it all. I had formulated simple questions. What is the formula to calculate the area of a circle? The radius or what is the Pythagoras theorem? And my fav – NaOH + HCl =? Why these questions for a trainee you might ask? Well what else to ask them? Their knowledge on their subjects was pretty much useless to me. How do I know if they retain anything they learn? And this is stuff that they would learn only about 5 years back. So I ask them stuff that is necessary to pass your tenth standard exams. If you know that then I guess you are a decent bloke that retains stuff in your head and not necessarily a guy who mugs stuff.
So Dikshi answered these questions well. She knew the answers, she also seemed pretty smart and she was on. That’s the story here though. The story is that after she joined in, her boss put in her papers and the person she was replacing was going away fast. Soon it would be only she and me managing the entire marketing for that division. A year back there were three experienced people managing the business along with me and now there would only one inexperienced person. The marketing for this was so process oriented with data coming in from various sources and the emphasis on accuracy was extremely high. The stress was crazy. I took Dikshi aside and told her – dude – it’s you and me versus the world. I had only her to rely upon. There were other businesses also that I had to take care of. And she was the one and only small girl, just out of college, into her first job and thrown into the deep end of the ocean...and she performed, admirably performed. I so respect her for that. A few months later when my transfer orders came she told me ‘jaimit sir, you told me, it’s you and me versus the world, now you only are leaving me and going?’. Man I felt so bad that day. Sorry Dikshi, but thank you at the same time. You are awesome.
Most of the time it doesn’t take heroics to be a hero. All you need is doggedness. She did a boring job but she did it with a focus that did not waver. She just hung on and got it done. So many young and not so young turks dot get this. To be a hero most of the time you don’t need extraordinary talents. Surely they help, but what you really need is single mindedness. Most of the times a single word, a single command, well executed can create enough magic for a life time.
Soon after I left, Dikhshi left the firm. She wanted to pursue her studies in fashion management. Poor thing, I respect her even more. She hung, I feel only for me. A fashion manager was doing a boring man’s job. Simple irritating execution of fact sheets. To my mind that is ashining example of what people can do with focus. Got in and did the job well, no matter how bad.
I had a friend in post grad college, Venugopal Acharya. He was a gold medallist in economics and then he did his MBA with me, but in finance. He was one guy I respected tremendously. He has been lost to the hare rama hare krishna movement. But I traced him and caught up with him, many years ago. He was telling me about some of the politics he faced at his firm, Times Guarantee. There as a management trainee he was victimised and then relegated to the stores and library section or something in the times of India building. He was not sad about it at all. He said he hung on and started organising the library. He classified the stuff, put them in order, and started keeping a process. Soon enough, things turned and he got noticed for doing a great job in a place that seemed like Kaalapani. That is also one story I always recount.
Simple focus and doggedness.
A few days ago I suddenly got one. I could see far more clearly. I suddenly felt lighter. I was smiling throughout the evening. And while sleeping I slept peacefully. Sigh. There is great joy in sleeping without stress. Normally there is stress of work, relationships, money, what ever... something that keeps your mind ticking over. It’s never be that great and I am lucky enough for it but the small ticking also affects. I was so much at rest I thought nothing. I read and then I slept. I don’t even remember any dreams or anything. Sometimes when the mind ticks too much, I have a mid sleep break where I wake up and get into a half sleep zone. There thinking and dreaming merge and while the body is at rest the mind probably is at not. It does affect sleep.
Anyways, just before I slept I had a bb conversation with Dikshi. Who’s she. She is one the prettiest girls who ever worked on my team. Pretty in ever conventional term of the word. When I first interviewed her, I did not really notice she was pretty. But I did notice her eyes. Let me describe her – fair, young, long hair (golden brown), and hazel colour eyes. Funnily enough I only remember those lovely eyes. But she came as a whiff of fresh air. I was interviewing many people for the position of a trainee and I was completely irritated by it all. I had formulated simple questions. What is the formula to calculate the area of a circle? The radius or what is the Pythagoras theorem? And my fav – NaOH + HCl =? Why these questions for a trainee you might ask? Well what else to ask them? Their knowledge on their subjects was pretty much useless to me. How do I know if they retain anything they learn? And this is stuff that they would learn only about 5 years back. So I ask them stuff that is necessary to pass your tenth standard exams. If you know that then I guess you are a decent bloke that retains stuff in your head and not necessarily a guy who mugs stuff.
So Dikshi answered these questions well. She knew the answers, she also seemed pretty smart and she was on. That’s the story here though. The story is that after she joined in, her boss put in her papers and the person she was replacing was going away fast. Soon it would be only she and me managing the entire marketing for that division. A year back there were three experienced people managing the business along with me and now there would only one inexperienced person. The marketing for this was so process oriented with data coming in from various sources and the emphasis on accuracy was extremely high. The stress was crazy. I took Dikshi aside and told her – dude – it’s you and me versus the world. I had only her to rely upon. There were other businesses also that I had to take care of. And she was the one and only small girl, just out of college, into her first job and thrown into the deep end of the ocean...and she performed, admirably performed. I so respect her for that. A few months later when my transfer orders came she told me ‘jaimit sir, you told me, it’s you and me versus the world, now you only are leaving me and going?’. Man I felt so bad that day. Sorry Dikshi, but thank you at the same time. You are awesome.
Most of the time it doesn’t take heroics to be a hero. All you need is doggedness. She did a boring job but she did it with a focus that did not waver. She just hung on and got it done. So many young and not so young turks dot get this. To be a hero most of the time you don’t need extraordinary talents. Surely they help, but what you really need is single mindedness. Most of the times a single word, a single command, well executed can create enough magic for a life time.
Soon after I left, Dikhshi left the firm. She wanted to pursue her studies in fashion management. Poor thing, I respect her even more. She hung, I feel only for me. A fashion manager was doing a boring man’s job. Simple irritating execution of fact sheets. To my mind that is ashining example of what people can do with focus. Got in and did the job well, no matter how bad.
I had a friend in post grad college, Venugopal Acharya. He was a gold medallist in economics and then he did his MBA with me, but in finance. He was one guy I respected tremendously. He has been lost to the hare rama hare krishna movement. But I traced him and caught up with him, many years ago. He was telling me about some of the politics he faced at his firm, Times Guarantee. There as a management trainee he was victimised and then relegated to the stores and library section or something in the times of India building. He was not sad about it at all. He said he hung on and started organising the library. He classified the stuff, put them in order, and started keeping a process. Soon enough, things turned and he got noticed for doing a great job in a place that seemed like Kaalapani. That is also one story I always recount.
Simple focus and doggedness.
Monday, May 02, 2011
in sickness and in health
Oh bloody hell. I got a bout of tonsillitis after how many years. When we first came to India while I was in the fourth standard, every monsoon would be typified by an attack. Straight 104 degrees fever with large enlarged tonsils. Nothing could be done about it. Sometimes an ice candy would do the trick sometimes (almost instantly) the gola would do it or sometimes something else. I was a weak boy and the culprit was tonsils. It was my bête-noir. I remember taking antibiotics after antibiotics. Pink tablets, multi colored capsules and what not. Many times it would just relapse. We actually contemplated just cutting the dam thing off. The incentive for me was when you get them operated the recuperation involves having tons of ice cream and other cold stuff. The healing process after the operation was quite an irony. But my Ayurvedic doc who was our neighbor would have none of it. He kept telling that tonsils are the guards of the mouth. They act like curtains and absorb the primary infection and not let it get inside. Wisdom prevailed and we never got them operated. But I paid a hell of a price for them.
I remained pretty much a thin weakling in childhood, right up to college days. My weight was stuck at 59 kilos. I remember seeing the weighing scale as some sort of a jinx. Whenever I touched 61 I would fall sick again and drop back to 58-59 and a 28 inch tummy. A thin boy of height around 5 feet 8 inches. I have been through chicken pox, jaundice, typhoid, food poisoning and when everything else fails – you have tonsils. Tonsils would attack in monsoon and in winter. I had to really watch what I eat. It came under control after a prolonged Homeopathic treatment after which they only resurfaced as a mild version which I used to take care of myself.
I was tired of my dad and the rest of the family calling me a weakling. I hated it when they made fun of it. I don’t remember my mom making fun of it but like a mommy reaction she was over protective. She wouldn’t give me a greater deal of independence and would stop me from doing a lot of things. She was always afraid I would fall ill. So I would get endless lectures on how I must take care of my health and how the answer to a lot of permissions was always NO. So the curbs on freedom along with the sarcasm was not too enjoyable as a kid. Especially when this alpha male had a deep burning desire to join the Armed forces. It hurt and it hurt bad. So while in college I used to hide my tonsil attack from family. (I wouldn’t risk another lecture or some more restrictions on freedom) … Luckily for me, the intensity was less thanks to the homeopathy. It would be kept in control with crocin, septilin tablets and gargles of turmeric and honey with warm water. I remember those times being lonely. It was me alone with my pet peeve.
Life has enough lessons to teach. You simply do what you like being done to you and don’t what you hate. Being a weak sickly child I faced the brunt of a sarcastic family. I don’t mean to harsh on them and I hold them no ill will. They did take care of me. My mom and dad did their best. But it’s being at the receiving end of a joke that I hate. I did not ask for this. I inherited your genes. I don’t try and fall ill. It happens. Shit happens. The least I can expect is some care or some sympathy. Sometimes I wonder these jokes we crack at our children might leave them permanently scarred. Now after many years of confidence building through performance and understanding I can take some shit being thrown at me. At those times, these just left me with self doubt if I could really make it in the big bad world.
So the flip side – I end being extra caring with people who are unwell. I of all people know that it’s not your fault. I have learnt to look at medicines and ask what they are for. I have learnt to research my issues on my own and get a better understanding of them. Understanding them is the first step towards accepting them and solving them. Some cant be solved but a lot can be done by simply accepting and moving on. It gives you mental stability. And a little caring shown in other people’s issue helps them solve their issues far better and faster. Hence I don’t make fun of any body’s medical issues. No matter how sleight. I try and research or look it up, understand the illness and then possibly prod people on. Its amazing how a simple understanding and a scientific temperament helps understand and deal with issues. Even you cant do that, just don’t screw with their minds. They did not ask for it and they don’t exactly like being there.
Sometimes I wonder what it might have been to be a healthy kid. Today I am at 69 kilos and reasonably fit. I out run everybody at the parents race and have been doing so ever since I took part. In school and college I was never the fastest one. I never got a medal in school for this. I have always maintained that I possibly deteriorated slower than the others, but I think I actually improved. Not falling sick so often I think I have given my body the opportunity to be what it does best. Be active and fast. With a naturally thin torso and somehow fitter than average legs, I think I would have done well in sports. But the tonsils never let me. Never.
So my bête-noir, nice seeing you again. We meet after a long hiatus. I thought I had dispatched you to kryptonite. But it seems you have made it back. As we sit face to face, you have won part one of the battle. I remember you always attacking while I swam. But I am going to continue swimming. I cant lose to you. I know you will relapse as well, but I will take care. Warm water with turmeric held me in the past and they will hold so in the future.
This time the attack is ferocious. After many years I have had to resort to allopathic medicine. I hate it. The cocktail of pills can’t be true. Two sets of antibiotics with another few vitamins… arrg. I hate them. I had to discontinue my ayurvedic as it got too long for an attack this ferocious. Yesterday I got medicine injected intravenously. That gave me instant relief but I so hate it. I know that antibiotic cocktails kill my body but the pressure to get well and restart life has been too much this time around for me. Sometimes I wonder how we live with this pressure.
I want to dedicate my life to a life without pressure. Will I be able to push people to achieve without using the tools of pressure? Will people who work with me be able to perform with pressure? You just have to take on your team people who are willing to perform without the burden of pressure. Those who naturally take it on and don’t feel it from top. It comes in from within… but hold… this is another blog post. Right now weren’t we on earth versus kryptonite.
Yes. So the villain is back. My cocktail infusion has got me up and hopefully walking for now. I lost two kgs in the process. Matter not my friend. I resent you not. You taught me how to live with others. You taught me empathy in sorrow. You taught me life. I am possibly a better human being thanks to you. Possibly like most villains you are not a villain after all. You are me. We can’t live without each other. The presence of one defines the other. Yes. What would I be without you dear boy. What would I be? Possibly an ass who finds pleasure or sarcasm in misery. No. the price of health is way too much. I would take tonsils any day. BRING THEM ON!
I remained pretty much a thin weakling in childhood, right up to college days. My weight was stuck at 59 kilos. I remember seeing the weighing scale as some sort of a jinx. Whenever I touched 61 I would fall sick again and drop back to 58-59 and a 28 inch tummy. A thin boy of height around 5 feet 8 inches. I have been through chicken pox, jaundice, typhoid, food poisoning and when everything else fails – you have tonsils. Tonsils would attack in monsoon and in winter. I had to really watch what I eat. It came under control after a prolonged Homeopathic treatment after which they only resurfaced as a mild version which I used to take care of myself.
I was tired of my dad and the rest of the family calling me a weakling. I hated it when they made fun of it. I don’t remember my mom making fun of it but like a mommy reaction she was over protective. She wouldn’t give me a greater deal of independence and would stop me from doing a lot of things. She was always afraid I would fall ill. So I would get endless lectures on how I must take care of my health and how the answer to a lot of permissions was always NO. So the curbs on freedom along with the sarcasm was not too enjoyable as a kid. Especially when this alpha male had a deep burning desire to join the Armed forces. It hurt and it hurt bad. So while in college I used to hide my tonsil attack from family. (I wouldn’t risk another lecture or some more restrictions on freedom) … Luckily for me, the intensity was less thanks to the homeopathy. It would be kept in control with crocin, septilin tablets and gargles of turmeric and honey with warm water. I remember those times being lonely. It was me alone with my pet peeve.
Life has enough lessons to teach. You simply do what you like being done to you and don’t what you hate. Being a weak sickly child I faced the brunt of a sarcastic family. I don’t mean to harsh on them and I hold them no ill will. They did take care of me. My mom and dad did their best. But it’s being at the receiving end of a joke that I hate. I did not ask for this. I inherited your genes. I don’t try and fall ill. It happens. Shit happens. The least I can expect is some care or some sympathy. Sometimes I wonder these jokes we crack at our children might leave them permanently scarred. Now after many years of confidence building through performance and understanding I can take some shit being thrown at me. At those times, these just left me with self doubt if I could really make it in the big bad world.
So the flip side – I end being extra caring with people who are unwell. I of all people know that it’s not your fault. I have learnt to look at medicines and ask what they are for. I have learnt to research my issues on my own and get a better understanding of them. Understanding them is the first step towards accepting them and solving them. Some cant be solved but a lot can be done by simply accepting and moving on. It gives you mental stability. And a little caring shown in other people’s issue helps them solve their issues far better and faster. Hence I don’t make fun of any body’s medical issues. No matter how sleight. I try and research or look it up, understand the illness and then possibly prod people on. Its amazing how a simple understanding and a scientific temperament helps understand and deal with issues. Even you cant do that, just don’t screw with their minds. They did not ask for it and they don’t exactly like being there.
Sometimes I wonder what it might have been to be a healthy kid. Today I am at 69 kilos and reasonably fit. I out run everybody at the parents race and have been doing so ever since I took part. In school and college I was never the fastest one. I never got a medal in school for this. I have always maintained that I possibly deteriorated slower than the others, but I think I actually improved. Not falling sick so often I think I have given my body the opportunity to be what it does best. Be active and fast. With a naturally thin torso and somehow fitter than average legs, I think I would have done well in sports. But the tonsils never let me. Never.
So my bête-noir, nice seeing you again. We meet after a long hiatus. I thought I had dispatched you to kryptonite. But it seems you have made it back. As we sit face to face, you have won part one of the battle. I remember you always attacking while I swam. But I am going to continue swimming. I cant lose to you. I know you will relapse as well, but I will take care. Warm water with turmeric held me in the past and they will hold so in the future.
This time the attack is ferocious. After many years I have had to resort to allopathic medicine. I hate it. The cocktail of pills can’t be true. Two sets of antibiotics with another few vitamins… arrg. I hate them. I had to discontinue my ayurvedic as it got too long for an attack this ferocious. Yesterday I got medicine injected intravenously. That gave me instant relief but I so hate it. I know that antibiotic cocktails kill my body but the pressure to get well and restart life has been too much this time around for me. Sometimes I wonder how we live with this pressure.
I want to dedicate my life to a life without pressure. Will I be able to push people to achieve without using the tools of pressure? Will people who work with me be able to perform with pressure? You just have to take on your team people who are willing to perform without the burden of pressure. Those who naturally take it on and don’t feel it from top. It comes in from within… but hold… this is another blog post. Right now weren’t we on earth versus kryptonite.
Yes. So the villain is back. My cocktail infusion has got me up and hopefully walking for now. I lost two kgs in the process. Matter not my friend. I resent you not. You taught me how to live with others. You taught me empathy in sorrow. You taught me life. I am possibly a better human being thanks to you. Possibly like most villains you are not a villain after all. You are me. We can’t live without each other. The presence of one defines the other. Yes. What would I be without you dear boy. What would I be? Possibly an ass who finds pleasure or sarcasm in misery. No. the price of health is way too much. I would take tonsils any day. BRING THEM ON!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
slice of life
This was at our hotel in Kaziranga, Assam. Here, this sect of Hindus pray to Vishnu/ Krishna but don’t have an idol. Their simple temples in the houses just have the ceremonial text from which they pray. It sounds like a nice bhajan. Very sweet nice and simple. This man comes in the evening and sings a lovely song.
Privileges come in many forms. Here the cabin guys (read me) gets a ‘whiter’ plate to have lunch than the rest. How brahaminical is our thought process? Segregation must be a genetic thing.
And this one – Jispa asked to be do something funny with the sauce this time around. Do you think I take her too seriously?
This is exactly why I like to teach in graduate colleges. One false step and you will also be similarly screwed.
Privileges come in many forms. Here the cabin guys (read me) gets a ‘whiter’ plate to have lunch than the rest. How brahaminical is our thought process? Segregation must be a genetic thing.
And this one – Jispa asked to be do something funny with the sauce this time around. Do you think I take her too seriously?
This is exactly why I like to teach in graduate colleges. One false step and you will also be similarly screwed.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
confused love !
I was reading something about Aamir Khan on one blog and he was quoted as “I was researching Taare Zameen Par and this doctor told me something interesting about what parents should know about what children want. A) They need security. They have to feel secure all the time. B) Trust. You have to trust them and trust them honestly. If your child says he has not done something, then trust him. C) Dignity. You have to treat your child like a human being. D) Love. But without the other three, love is meaningless. When I heard this, the first thing that came to my mind is, ‘I need these four things, too. Not just children. I need to feel secure, I need to be trusted, I don’t like it when you insult me and I need a lot of love.’
Well believe it or not - He was talking about his love – hate relationship with journalists and how after hearing this he started his ‘love’ relationship with the media. I don’t know, possibly for a star this epiphany for the media makes perfect sense while it sounds pretentious to someone not in the media limelight like us normal folks.
So we can use this as an epiphany for those things that matter to us. Yes. He is right or rather the doctor who told him this stuff is right. In the end I too want to feel secure, trusted, live with dignity and love. And ya, the first three are easy and the fourth is notoriously difficult to understand and define.
We have been boxed in too much by this word love. I first fell in love when I was 15. Actually I think it was 13. I liked this chick in the classes I went to. I remember her name – Purvi, Purvi Gada. I think she was in this school called DPY at Matunga. I thought I was in love then as well. I was as deeply and madly in love with her as a 13 year old with outsized hormones would be. Only move out of it and call in infatuation. It’s funny how at the time your world revolves around something only to move on to another world. Till I met Jasmine... and then my world revolved around her, till we got Jispa. And now our world jointly revolves around Jispa.
So what on earth is love in any case? When I teach, a lot of youngsters claim to be in love or claim not to be in love with the person they are dating. It’s a bit confusing. That’s why over a period of time I have come to question the word and our notions of what it means. The question I have always had... can love expand to fit in more people? I thought not, till Jispa was born. My love expanded to fit in my entire family. Every year I take in 60 more kids I love and want to be with. In every class there will a few more kids that I will genuinely feel a lot more for. Every year the ‘heart’ expands to fill in more.
I don’t know if I am making too much sense. I not questioning the existence of love. I am merely questioning our definitions of it. What is it that we feel about it? Why are we so selfish about it? Why is it even ours? Can we conquer love like we attempt to conquer hate or sorrow? Why is love a pure feeling?
I can’t believe I am saying all this. I have always believed in spreading ‘love’ around. In office if you spread enough of it, the atmosphere must get better. Now I believe in that as well. So I am actually putting both sides of the coin and saying both are right? This is so dam confusing.
Ok – can I say – love makes us feel good but don’t go seeking it. You can find it everywhere if you do not box it, do not guard it, and do not hold it. Can you simply keep giving it all around and not expect any back. Can you feel love in the moment and forget about wanting it all for yourself. Can you breathe and say – I don’t love something or someone – but rather it’s a by product of what you or I may feel as a result of what we do. Then can we expand it enough to fill everything and everyone.
Possibly love is the reason for hate in this world. Possibly love is the reason for territorial wars, the notion of mine and yours. Suppose we just acted in good faith and acted upon the three things that Aamir says his doctor told him – just give people Security, Trust and Dignity. That’s all. Love becomes the by product. You don’t seek to love or to be loved in return. You behave. Everything comes from your behaviour.
But saala – what happens whenyou treat everyone with the same and you dont get it back. Then what happens to you. What happens when you are hurt by someone who does not reciprocate? Well. So dam difficult.
I guess that’s why I am having issues with the word love. You love something – you want it to love you back. We give anthropomorphic properties to inanimate objects. We start with teddy bears and dolls when are young and move on to cars, bikes and gadgets when we are older. We give them names, we feel for them as if they have feelings.
So in effect what I am saying is – we love them instead of behaving with them. Can rise above this petty thing called ‘love’ and let our actions speak for us rather than emotions? Then it matters not, if they love us in return. It matters not if they don’t bother about us, our feelings. Can we merely treat others with Trust Dignity and Security and hope for magic to happen. Not love – Magic. Something not ephemeral but lasting. Something.
Well believe it or not - He was talking about his love – hate relationship with journalists and how after hearing this he started his ‘love’ relationship with the media. I don’t know, possibly for a star this epiphany for the media makes perfect sense while it sounds pretentious to someone not in the media limelight like us normal folks.
So we can use this as an epiphany for those things that matter to us. Yes. He is right or rather the doctor who told him this stuff is right. In the end I too want to feel secure, trusted, live with dignity and love. And ya, the first three are easy and the fourth is notoriously difficult to understand and define.
We have been boxed in too much by this word love. I first fell in love when I was 15. Actually I think it was 13. I liked this chick in the classes I went to. I remember her name – Purvi, Purvi Gada. I think she was in this school called DPY at Matunga. I thought I was in love then as well. I was as deeply and madly in love with her as a 13 year old with outsized hormones would be. Only move out of it and call in infatuation. It’s funny how at the time your world revolves around something only to move on to another world. Till I met Jasmine... and then my world revolved around her, till we got Jispa. And now our world jointly revolves around Jispa.
So what on earth is love in any case? When I teach, a lot of youngsters claim to be in love or claim not to be in love with the person they are dating. It’s a bit confusing. That’s why over a period of time I have come to question the word and our notions of what it means. The question I have always had... can love expand to fit in more people? I thought not, till Jispa was born. My love expanded to fit in my entire family. Every year I take in 60 more kids I love and want to be with. In every class there will a few more kids that I will genuinely feel a lot more for. Every year the ‘heart’ expands to fill in more.
I don’t know if I am making too much sense. I not questioning the existence of love. I am merely questioning our definitions of it. What is it that we feel about it? Why are we so selfish about it? Why is it even ours? Can we conquer love like we attempt to conquer hate or sorrow? Why is love a pure feeling?
I can’t believe I am saying all this. I have always believed in spreading ‘love’ around. In office if you spread enough of it, the atmosphere must get better. Now I believe in that as well. So I am actually putting both sides of the coin and saying both are right? This is so dam confusing.
Ok – can I say – love makes us feel good but don’t go seeking it. You can find it everywhere if you do not box it, do not guard it, and do not hold it. Can you simply keep giving it all around and not expect any back. Can you feel love in the moment and forget about wanting it all for yourself. Can you breathe and say – I don’t love something or someone – but rather it’s a by product of what you or I may feel as a result of what we do. Then can we expand it enough to fill everything and everyone.
Possibly love is the reason for hate in this world. Possibly love is the reason for territorial wars, the notion of mine and yours. Suppose we just acted in good faith and acted upon the three things that Aamir says his doctor told him – just give people Security, Trust and Dignity. That’s all. Love becomes the by product. You don’t seek to love or to be loved in return. You behave. Everything comes from your behaviour.
But saala – what happens whenyou treat everyone with the same and you dont get it back. Then what happens to you. What happens when you are hurt by someone who does not reciprocate? Well. So dam difficult.
I guess that’s why I am having issues with the word love. You love something – you want it to love you back. We give anthropomorphic properties to inanimate objects. We start with teddy bears and dolls when are young and move on to cars, bikes and gadgets when we are older. We give them names, we feel for them as if they have feelings.
So in effect what I am saying is – we love them instead of behaving with them. Can rise above this petty thing called ‘love’ and let our actions speak for us rather than emotions? Then it matters not, if they love us in return. It matters not if they don’t bother about us, our feelings. Can we merely treat others with Trust Dignity and Security and hope for magic to happen. Not love – Magic. Something not ephemeral but lasting. Something.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
A long story of a short weekend.
A brief history of Mughal history was preceded a few days back by Charles Darwin theory of natural selection. All these are explained in the car to Jispa while we are driving from one place to another. A car provides the perfect set up for these talks. There is nothing much to distract and nothing much to do but talk. Jispa provides all the fodder by asking all the really wild questions which typically leads one to another and on and on till I can keep explaining. Typically I think the destination comes before we can exhaust ourselves of explanations and questions. The love flows both ways, her love of asking is matched by my love of explaining. I think of it as a challenge and want o explain all that I know in a manner that she understands. But this doesn’t work with all kids as I found to my chagrin yesterday.
Yesterday was Jispa’s swim meet. Jispa swims well and takes part in the inter club competitions. While within the club and school she competes well, the inter club competition is fierce and she stands no chance. But Jasmine is firm that we must give our best and I get dragged into this, mumbling and grumbling about wasting a Saturday or Sunday. I almost relieved when she gets selected to compete only in a few categories and misses a berth in the relay. The relay is at the end and it means that we wait till the very end. Yes the relays are interesting but in Jispa’s category the relays have been largely one sided with a few clubs dominating. Whatever. So I got along enough material to read while waiting for her contests. One of them this time around was the GEO. In it was a lovely picture of a manatee who was surrounded by a school of fish eating the algae and the parasites off its back. I caught the first friend of Jispa I saw and I explained this amazing symbiosis to her. She seemed interested for a fleeting moment, asked a question, said huhhuh… and vanished. Poof. There goes my ‘I am a good teacher’ theory. So it takes two to tango. The receptor in this case is possibly more important than the transmitter. Ya. It takes time to get the attention and interest. It’s easy with Jispa, she is probably tuned into learning more and more at all times.
So yesterday we attempted to understand Mughal history with a bit of perspective. A perspective that wasn’t so one sided as the Mughals came in with their dogmas and converted the masses to one religion. It couldn’t have been so one sided as I thought history taught me. I wonder how we managed to get the history so biased that young kids grow up thinking of this big bad Muslim rulers coming and conquering and persecuting the poor Hindus. They don’t get the whole picture. My whole picture is also of the Hindu fold jamming their own believers through the highly segregated caste system. My sense, my guess is that that had equal to do with conversion as did the incentives (the jazia tax.) Did I get that tax name write? That tax shit was always taught very well to us in the history books. Also I tried to explain to her my concept that we weren’t really one India as the text books make us all to be. We were a bunch of a gazillion small states at war with each other, as different from each other. Probably I got it wrong but as I grew up I thought that the concept of India as one total entity was as old as time it self. There was always one great nation. Whenever any outsider fought us, he fought us one big India, Prthviraj or Puru were Great “india” kings who valiantly fought for independence from ‘foreign powers’. Hell even Tipu Sultan was a ‘freedom fighter’. Basically the theory is – if there is a Hindu Muslim war then the evil guy is normally a Muslim and if there is a British involved, then villain is the British. On another note I sometimes wonder if the Japanese had smashed through the British forces in the east, through Subhash Chandra Bose’s help, I doubt if they would have been benevolent rulers or even for that matter spoken about our freedom. But then that is one history that I want to read someday.
But we leave that argument till the day I get to read a little more of that chapter of history. The both sides of that chapter. Till then let’s talk a bit about the ridiculously bad movies we saw – teen they bhai. Really really bad one. Amongst the worst I have seen. With just about a couple of guffaws. Sad shit. Especially when they take some real fine talent and go about and waste it. The times of India gives it 2 and half stars. I wonder where the two came from. The only thing good about the movie was that we saw it at Regal theatre which meant that all three of us saw that movie at the price of a one multiplex ticket. Then it hurts far less. Also before the movie we ate some pav bhaji at the Shakari Bhandar restaurant before we saw the movie. And yes, it was the first time I ate – idli chilly fry. Wow. That is taking a south indian dish and dousing it with chinese sauces. It’s a wild dish and definitely worth trying. It messes with your mind with its blast of tastes in one spoonful. Mumbai street innovation at its shinning example.
To counter that post the really sad movie we sent to the ultimate opposite. The Souk restaurant at the Taj. Whoah! Before you think I hit the lottery… before the recession I worked ina wealth management outfit. Part of the job was travelling and when wealth managers aka private bankers travel they stay only at the Taj. So I managed to stay enough to get myself some Taj points. A grand total of four thousand five hundred points which I redeemed against vouchers which were expiring this month. So Jasmine and I decided to treat ourselves as a celebration of her birthday this Saturday. My belief is that when its free try out the wildest tuff you have ever eaten. We don’t particularly like Chinese food (except now the idli chilly dry), Punjabi and continental cease to excite and so we have the Mediterranean food. Turkish, Egpytain, Lebanese,you name it. We never did really experiment with it much except the falafel and hummus and pita bread. So we book ourselves a table and reach there. The location, at the top of the new Taj wing offers a lovely view of the gateway and was as exotic as it have got. So get there and look at all the Greek (greek=methaphor) on the menu and in full ishtyle, I simple hand it over to the attendant to order for us. A ha. Some lovely salad, falafels and something else. The we had some soup and then we had no space left for the main course. In the middle they gave us some free absolutely amazing mocktail of khus (poppy seeds). The one thing I figure with the Taj is the amazing ability to simply put just a little flavor in their food. It must linger not over power. We gujjus with take any flavor, mix it with any flavor and take the strongest flavor and make it even stronger. So our khus will taste strongly of khus, our food falafels will have strong Garlic and so on. No I realize how we butcher our food and how when I hit the kitchen I murder my own preparations. I always believed that it must be strong but I think now I realize how wrong I was. The desert we ordered was some divine chocolate bistilla. Ooohhh…. After our fill the Taj being Taj… suddenly sprang upon us a cake. Happy birthday to you…lallalalal…. I had mentioned at the time of booking that it’s my wife’s birthday and to hence please give us nice window facing seats. Ahhh… I could get used to the Taj. Till of course I see the bill. Four grand. Four thousand rupees for three starters, two soups and one desert. Whoops. Earth calling Mars, earth calling mars. The stuff is always tasty when you pay through free vouchers! No mistaking the fact that they are hard earned vouchers. Free but hard earned. I travelled a lot, missed my family, worked my butt, suffered lonely nights in the hotel room, fell sick all alone, watched boring TV, everything… and the consolation was this lovely night with my family. Well I still got five hundred bucks left to spend. Possibly take my family to the coffee shop and blow it then on coffee and biscotti. Nice evening. The consolation prize was pretty cool. What say jasmine? We were so enamored by it that we even thought, ‘THOUGHT’… only thought of doing it again at full price. I can only think of the various stuff I can buy for 4 grand. Two denims, or a pair of sunglasses, or two or four pairs of footwear, a bit of my EMI perhaps. Anything, but eat it! Aaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. Middle class will always remain middle class. Once you get the joy of ‘cheap’ the luxury of ‘price’ ceases to excite you and I hope it remains like that for long. There you are – the long story of my short week end.
Hey one more thing – we saw the movie Rango today. Anything with Johnny Depp has to be weird. Well it started out slow but ended pretty fast and exciting. I liked the movie. An animation movie with Client Eastwood in a special appearance. It was cool. And yes I almost forgot; I got into my favorite fight with the security at the theatre. Jispa was having an apple. They wanted her to eat it before they let her in. SCREW YOU. I just told them, we are going in and we barged in, ‘stop me if you can’. Tum jo karna hai kar lo. You can’t stop my daughter from eating an apple. You have no power to stop me, touch me or do anything. So Jispa had her apple and ate it too. Well… to bend to wrong rules is a crime in itself. Jai ho Gandhi. The security is a bluff, they have no powers to arrest you or confiscate anything as innocent as an apple. I hate them and it’s high time we show them for what they are.. a bunch of bullies who have been given instructions by some corporate. Why can’t they allow a kid, eating an apple to walk in. they rather the kid have a cola inside, instead. Sure. Take that! You powerless bully… I refuse. I call your bluff.
BTW - the real picture of the lovely desert at the SOUK called the chocolate b'stilla
Yesterday was Jispa’s swim meet. Jispa swims well and takes part in the inter club competitions. While within the club and school she competes well, the inter club competition is fierce and she stands no chance. But Jasmine is firm that we must give our best and I get dragged into this, mumbling and grumbling about wasting a Saturday or Sunday. I almost relieved when she gets selected to compete only in a few categories and misses a berth in the relay. The relay is at the end and it means that we wait till the very end. Yes the relays are interesting but in Jispa’s category the relays have been largely one sided with a few clubs dominating. Whatever. So I got along enough material to read while waiting for her contests. One of them this time around was the GEO. In it was a lovely picture of a manatee who was surrounded by a school of fish eating the algae and the parasites off its back. I caught the first friend of Jispa I saw and I explained this amazing symbiosis to her. She seemed interested for a fleeting moment, asked a question, said huhhuh… and vanished. Poof. There goes my ‘I am a good teacher’ theory. So it takes two to tango. The receptor in this case is possibly more important than the transmitter. Ya. It takes time to get the attention and interest. It’s easy with Jispa, she is probably tuned into learning more and more at all times.
So yesterday we attempted to understand Mughal history with a bit of perspective. A perspective that wasn’t so one sided as the Mughals came in with their dogmas and converted the masses to one religion. It couldn’t have been so one sided as I thought history taught me. I wonder how we managed to get the history so biased that young kids grow up thinking of this big bad Muslim rulers coming and conquering and persecuting the poor Hindus. They don’t get the whole picture. My whole picture is also of the Hindu fold jamming their own believers through the highly segregated caste system. My sense, my guess is that that had equal to do with conversion as did the incentives (the jazia tax.) Did I get that tax name write? That tax shit was always taught very well to us in the history books. Also I tried to explain to her my concept that we weren’t really one India as the text books make us all to be. We were a bunch of a gazillion small states at war with each other, as different from each other. Probably I got it wrong but as I grew up I thought that the concept of India as one total entity was as old as time it self. There was always one great nation. Whenever any outsider fought us, he fought us one big India, Prthviraj or Puru were Great “india” kings who valiantly fought for independence from ‘foreign powers’. Hell even Tipu Sultan was a ‘freedom fighter’. Basically the theory is – if there is a Hindu Muslim war then the evil guy is normally a Muslim and if there is a British involved, then villain is the British. On another note I sometimes wonder if the Japanese had smashed through the British forces in the east, through Subhash Chandra Bose’s help, I doubt if they would have been benevolent rulers or even for that matter spoken about our freedom. But then that is one history that I want to read someday.
But we leave that argument till the day I get to read a little more of that chapter of history. The both sides of that chapter. Till then let’s talk a bit about the ridiculously bad movies we saw – teen they bhai. Really really bad one. Amongst the worst I have seen. With just about a couple of guffaws. Sad shit. Especially when they take some real fine talent and go about and waste it. The times of India gives it 2 and half stars. I wonder where the two came from. The only thing good about the movie was that we saw it at Regal theatre which meant that all three of us saw that movie at the price of a one multiplex ticket. Then it hurts far less. Also before the movie we ate some pav bhaji at the Shakari Bhandar restaurant before we saw the movie. And yes, it was the first time I ate – idli chilly fry. Wow. That is taking a south indian dish and dousing it with chinese sauces. It’s a wild dish and definitely worth trying. It messes with your mind with its blast of tastes in one spoonful. Mumbai street innovation at its shinning example.
To counter that post the really sad movie we sent to the ultimate opposite. The Souk restaurant at the Taj. Whoah! Before you think I hit the lottery… before the recession I worked ina wealth management outfit. Part of the job was travelling and when wealth managers aka private bankers travel they stay only at the Taj. So I managed to stay enough to get myself some Taj points. A grand total of four thousand five hundred points which I redeemed against vouchers which were expiring this month. So Jasmine and I decided to treat ourselves as a celebration of her birthday this Saturday. My belief is that when its free try out the wildest tuff you have ever eaten. We don’t particularly like Chinese food (except now the idli chilly dry), Punjabi and continental cease to excite and so we have the Mediterranean food. Turkish, Egpytain, Lebanese,you name it. We never did really experiment with it much except the falafel and hummus and pita bread. So we book ourselves a table and reach there. The location, at the top of the new Taj wing offers a lovely view of the gateway and was as exotic as it have got. So get there and look at all the Greek (greek=methaphor) on the menu and in full ishtyle, I simple hand it over to the attendant to order for us. A ha. Some lovely salad, falafels and something else. The we had some soup and then we had no space left for the main course. In the middle they gave us some free absolutely amazing mocktail of khus (poppy seeds). The one thing I figure with the Taj is the amazing ability to simply put just a little flavor in their food. It must linger not over power. We gujjus with take any flavor, mix it with any flavor and take the strongest flavor and make it even stronger. So our khus will taste strongly of khus, our food falafels will have strong Garlic and so on. No I realize how we butcher our food and how when I hit the kitchen I murder my own preparations. I always believed that it must be strong but I think now I realize how wrong I was. The desert we ordered was some divine chocolate bistilla. Ooohhh…. After our fill the Taj being Taj… suddenly sprang upon us a cake. Happy birthday to you…lallalalal…. I had mentioned at the time of booking that it’s my wife’s birthday and to hence please give us nice window facing seats. Ahhh… I could get used to the Taj. Till of course I see the bill. Four grand. Four thousand rupees for three starters, two soups and one desert. Whoops. Earth calling Mars, earth calling mars. The stuff is always tasty when you pay through free vouchers! No mistaking the fact that they are hard earned vouchers. Free but hard earned. I travelled a lot, missed my family, worked my butt, suffered lonely nights in the hotel room, fell sick all alone, watched boring TV, everything… and the consolation was this lovely night with my family. Well I still got five hundred bucks left to spend. Possibly take my family to the coffee shop and blow it then on coffee and biscotti. Nice evening. The consolation prize was pretty cool. What say jasmine? We were so enamored by it that we even thought, ‘THOUGHT’… only thought of doing it again at full price. I can only think of the various stuff I can buy for 4 grand. Two denims, or a pair of sunglasses, or two or four pairs of footwear, a bit of my EMI perhaps. Anything, but eat it! Aaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. Middle class will always remain middle class. Once you get the joy of ‘cheap’ the luxury of ‘price’ ceases to excite you and I hope it remains like that for long. There you are – the long story of my short week end.
Hey one more thing – we saw the movie Rango today. Anything with Johnny Depp has to be weird. Well it started out slow but ended pretty fast and exciting. I liked the movie. An animation movie with Client Eastwood in a special appearance. It was cool. And yes I almost forgot; I got into my favorite fight with the security at the theatre. Jispa was having an apple. They wanted her to eat it before they let her in. SCREW YOU. I just told them, we are going in and we barged in, ‘stop me if you can’. Tum jo karna hai kar lo. You can’t stop my daughter from eating an apple. You have no power to stop me, touch me or do anything. So Jispa had her apple and ate it too. Well… to bend to wrong rules is a crime in itself. Jai ho Gandhi. The security is a bluff, they have no powers to arrest you or confiscate anything as innocent as an apple. I hate them and it’s high time we show them for what they are.. a bunch of bullies who have been given instructions by some corporate. Why can’t they allow a kid, eating an apple to walk in. they rather the kid have a cola inside, instead. Sure. Take that! You powerless bully… I refuse. I call your bluff.
BTW - the real picture of the lovely desert at the SOUK called the chocolate b'stilla
are you smarter than a third grader?
Can you beat an eight year old in English grammar? Let’s see you get them right. This test is only on collective nouns. What are collective nouns you ask? Tisk tisk. Let me give you a few examples and you get the rest – a fleet of ships, a class of children, a swarm of bees, and a flock of birds. There easy, isn’t it? Now let’s see you max this test from Jispa’s English grammar third grade book.
1. A ______ of puppies
2. An ______ of islands
3. A ______ of quails - bonus point question!
4. A ______ of musicians
5. A ______ of flowers
6. A ______ of eggs
7. A ______ of cats – bonus point question!
8. A ______ of trucks
9. A ______ of eagles –bonus point question!
10. A ______ of toads - bonus point question!
11. A ______ of kittens
12. A ______ of leopards- bonus point question!
13. A ______ of kangaroos
14. A ______ of crows - bonus point question!
15. A ______ of foxes - bonus point question!
16. A ______ of bears
17. A ______ of jelly fish –bonus point question!
18. A ______ of horses
19. A ______ of monkeys
20. A ______ of actors
21. A ______ of rabbits – SUPER bonus point question!
22. A ______ of nightingales - bonus point question!
23. A ______ of judges
24. A ______ of wolves
Go on rate your self. One mark for every right answer. Two marks for the bonus question and three marks for the SUPER bonus question.
The answers are:-
1. A litter of puppies
2. An archipelago of islands
3. A bevy of quails
4. A band of musicians
5. A bouquet of flowers
6. A clutch of eggs
7. A clowder of cats
8. A convoy of trucks
9. A convocation of eagles
10. A knot of toads
11. A kindle of kittens
12. A leap of leopards
13. A mob of kangaroos
14. A murder of crows
15. A skulk of foxes
16. A sloth of bears
17. A smack of jelly fish
18. A team of horses
19. A troop of monkeys
20. A troup/ company of actors
21. A warren of rabbits
22. A watch of nightingales
23. A panel of judges
24. A pack of wolves.
A score of less than 25 – go back to school, you dim wit lame loser. Between 25 and 30 – pay more attention in class knucklehead. More than 30 and less than 35 – you are fit to be a third grader. Full 35 – Great, now you are fit to take up Jispa’s basic home work. it doesnt pay much and the timings arent too great but the joy of receptive student - its worth all the trouble :)
1. A ______ of puppies
2. An ______ of islands
3. A ______ of quails - bonus point question!
4. A ______ of musicians
5. A ______ of flowers
6. A ______ of eggs
7. A ______ of cats – bonus point question!
8. A ______ of trucks
9. A ______ of eagles –bonus point question!
10. A ______ of toads - bonus point question!
11. A ______ of kittens
12. A ______ of leopards- bonus point question!
13. A ______ of kangaroos
14. A ______ of crows - bonus point question!
15. A ______ of foxes - bonus point question!
16. A ______ of bears
17. A ______ of jelly fish –bonus point question!
18. A ______ of horses
19. A ______ of monkeys
20. A ______ of actors
21. A ______ of rabbits – SUPER bonus point question!
22. A ______ of nightingales - bonus point question!
23. A ______ of judges
24. A ______ of wolves
Go on rate your self. One mark for every right answer. Two marks for the bonus question and three marks for the SUPER bonus question.
The answers are:-
1. A litter of puppies
2. An archipelago of islands
3. A bevy of quails
4. A band of musicians
5. A bouquet of flowers
6. A clutch of eggs
7. A clowder of cats
8. A convoy of trucks
9. A convocation of eagles
10. A knot of toads
11. A kindle of kittens
12. A leap of leopards
13. A mob of kangaroos
14. A murder of crows
15. A skulk of foxes
16. A sloth of bears
17. A smack of jelly fish
18. A team of horses
19. A troop of monkeys
20. A troup/ company of actors
21. A warren of rabbits
22. A watch of nightingales
23. A panel of judges
24. A pack of wolves.
A score of less than 25 – go back to school, you dim wit lame loser. Between 25 and 30 – pay more attention in class knucklehead. More than 30 and less than 35 – you are fit to be a third grader. Full 35 – Great, now you are fit to take up Jispa’s basic home work. it doesnt pay much and the timings arent too great but the joy of receptive student - its worth all the trouble :)
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Go ahead.. EXPLODE
Going with Jispa to the bus stop every day is just enough bonding time. Anymore and Jasmine will probably throw me out of the house. What problem does she have with my bonding? Well nothing really, it’s the problem she envisages Jispa having with my bonding. I get extra pleasure out of talking with Jispa and pushing her imagination. And Jispa likes to use and apply these concepts.
Like this time around we are high on Einstein. I was explaining to her how time moves slower in a moving vehicle. Well kind of explaining to her. To the best that I understand. She was getting all wired and confused but getting the point as well. Its fun teaching concepts that challenge her brain. The other recent favorite is that it is possible to see the past. All you have to do is move faster than light. But you can’t theoretically move faster than light but if you could, then you would be able to see the past. I explained this to her and she was quite awestruck by the fact. We even discussed this a few days later. That is the ultimate test. If she remembers it and she talks about it then I know the penny has dropped. Full on time pass. She has to take some facts to school on a periodic basis. What’s the point in taking lame facts? All kids read encyclopedias and watch the geographic channels so facts that astound them have to be smart and different. This time Jispa was asking me about taking a fact to school. I was fresh from a book about flight and I explained to her that the aero planes could only be invented after the invention of the petrol powered engines. Otherwise the other engines were too heavy to put on planes. Now that’s a fact that even her teacher wouldn’t have known. That’s a fact that does come as a factoid in a channel or a children’s magazine. It’s an unknown kind of factoid. I keep trying to dazzle her. It’s fun when you teach that run of the mill stuff is just that – run of the mill stuff. It’s not something she took and read from a cut out or something. She spoke it from her mind because she understood the concept. I am dying for her to take the see the past concept to school. This is what I call teaching a kid. Putting advanced concepts in a simple to understand way.
Throw open your mind. Absorb stuff from all around. Keep thinking, keep tinkering. Jispa and I have the ultimate fun when one question leads to another and another and then we wonder how we got where we got. Whoops. I love it when it really challenges me to explain what I know in a manner that an eight year old can understand. That is the true test of knowing. Like my professor used to say – what is marketing? How do you know you know marketing? Can you explain what it is to your mother? Can explain the marketing of the oil she is buying to your mother. Then it is marketing. Yes Professor Navalkar. I remember his golden words. What is the point of all the reading I might have done? I must be able to explain it to the kids in a language that they understand and in a language that they appreciate, learn and remember. The penny must drop and remain there.
The best compliment I thought I ever received when Jasmine today told me that Jispa was telling her “mom, how I remember stuff from long time ago. I remember when I was two or three years old and daddy was teaching me about day and night. He took me to the bathroom with a globe and a torch and in the darkness showed me night and day. I still remember it”. Wow that is cool. I barely remember it. It was around 5 to 6 years ago. Like all proud papas; I took that as a compliment to my teaching skills rather than her memory skills. Haha. In parenting you get a lot of brickbats, you have to learn to take a few positives and gloat on them when they come. I tell, that is a sure way of staying sane.
(the reason
Kids are the most fun. You have to explain to them, use similies, metaphors and really challenge yourself. And you know what, explaining this to others helps you learn it better. You understand it in a way that even you retain it. The surest way to learn something is to teach it to others. They challenge you, ask you and expect you to know it all. So you keep thinking, take some time out, think through, sometimes together and figure it out. That is the best way to learn. You keep drilling concepts into your mind as you drill them into other minds. In office too as I teach / talk about the various concepts, I get to learn them as well. I love it when my team challenges me on the concepts, pushes me, asks ridiculous, innocuous looking but highly dangerous questions that challenge my understanding of them. That pushes me to think much more. Yes teaching is a great thing.
Like one office kid asked me what I think is the thing that I want to do the most. Years of corporate disillusionment has taught me only to remove all notion of ambition. I have no great desire to be the CEO or something. Screw you establishment. But I think of something that I hold dear to my heart. Something that has possibly defined me and helped mould me. Teaching. I want to constantly teach. I want to be in a position where I can learn constantly, where I have to push myself to understand better and then teach people to understand better. I want to see minds open. I want to constantly open mine. The greatest gift of teaching to me is the simple act of a student opening his mind. My greatest pleasure does not come from the guys who come in first in class. It comes from the guy who come into class with a closed mind, least interested in studying and generally believing that this is all shit. When I see him contribute, when I she her raising her hand, challenging me and then when I say, right, good thought, great observation, and then them believing in what is being taught. That is the greatest gift that I can get. An opening of a window in their mind.
After knowing a bit I know only one thing, that I know too little. The joy in knowing more is unimaginable. The joy in teaching that there is a vast unexplored world out there is crazy. One of the reasons why we named Jispa after a slightly inaccessible mountain village is just that. Her name must conjure in her head a sense of exploration. Something that she must seek out. Something that she could aspire to conquer, reach and feel. Something that is high, away and pure. Go on Jispa. Go on… explore. EXPOLDE.
PS: the reason Jasmine worries about all this is because Jispa likes showing her mind off and she worrys that she will show off to her teacher in school and we don’t know how they all react to oversmart students. Yup. We are scarred by our own experiences. But I purposely push her and want to show her that a teacher, any teacher, never knows all. She is only explaining what she knows and that does not make me/her/ she/ him the ultimate know all. Go ahead.. . burst a few myths along the way. Go ahead. EXPLODE
Like this time around we are high on Einstein. I was explaining to her how time moves slower in a moving vehicle. Well kind of explaining to her. To the best that I understand. She was getting all wired and confused but getting the point as well. Its fun teaching concepts that challenge her brain. The other recent favorite is that it is possible to see the past. All you have to do is move faster than light. But you can’t theoretically move faster than light but if you could, then you would be able to see the past. I explained this to her and she was quite awestruck by the fact. We even discussed this a few days later. That is the ultimate test. If she remembers it and she talks about it then I know the penny has dropped. Full on time pass. She has to take some facts to school on a periodic basis. What’s the point in taking lame facts? All kids read encyclopedias and watch the geographic channels so facts that astound them have to be smart and different. This time Jispa was asking me about taking a fact to school. I was fresh from a book about flight and I explained to her that the aero planes could only be invented after the invention of the petrol powered engines. Otherwise the other engines were too heavy to put on planes. Now that’s a fact that even her teacher wouldn’t have known. That’s a fact that does come as a factoid in a channel or a children’s magazine. It’s an unknown kind of factoid. I keep trying to dazzle her. It’s fun when you teach that run of the mill stuff is just that – run of the mill stuff. It’s not something she took and read from a cut out or something. She spoke it from her mind because she understood the concept. I am dying for her to take the see the past concept to school. This is what I call teaching a kid. Putting advanced concepts in a simple to understand way.
Throw open your mind. Absorb stuff from all around. Keep thinking, keep tinkering. Jispa and I have the ultimate fun when one question leads to another and another and then we wonder how we got where we got. Whoops. I love it when it really challenges me to explain what I know in a manner that an eight year old can understand. That is the true test of knowing. Like my professor used to say – what is marketing? How do you know you know marketing? Can you explain what it is to your mother? Can explain the marketing of the oil she is buying to your mother. Then it is marketing. Yes Professor Navalkar. I remember his golden words. What is the point of all the reading I might have done? I must be able to explain it to the kids in a language that they understand and in a language that they appreciate, learn and remember. The penny must drop and remain there.
The best compliment I thought I ever received when Jasmine today told me that Jispa was telling her “mom, how I remember stuff from long time ago. I remember when I was two or three years old and daddy was teaching me about day and night. He took me to the bathroom with a globe and a torch and in the darkness showed me night and day. I still remember it”. Wow that is cool. I barely remember it. It was around 5 to 6 years ago. Like all proud papas; I took that as a compliment to my teaching skills rather than her memory skills. Haha. In parenting you get a lot of brickbats, you have to learn to take a few positives and gloat on them when they come. I tell, that is a sure way of staying sane.
(the reason
Kids are the most fun. You have to explain to them, use similies, metaphors and really challenge yourself. And you know what, explaining this to others helps you learn it better. You understand it in a way that even you retain it. The surest way to learn something is to teach it to others. They challenge you, ask you and expect you to know it all. So you keep thinking, take some time out, think through, sometimes together and figure it out. That is the best way to learn. You keep drilling concepts into your mind as you drill them into other minds. In office too as I teach / talk about the various concepts, I get to learn them as well. I love it when my team challenges me on the concepts, pushes me, asks ridiculous, innocuous looking but highly dangerous questions that challenge my understanding of them. That pushes me to think much more. Yes teaching is a great thing.
Like one office kid asked me what I think is the thing that I want to do the most. Years of corporate disillusionment has taught me only to remove all notion of ambition. I have no great desire to be the CEO or something. Screw you establishment. But I think of something that I hold dear to my heart. Something that has possibly defined me and helped mould me. Teaching. I want to constantly teach. I want to be in a position where I can learn constantly, where I have to push myself to understand better and then teach people to understand better. I want to see minds open. I want to constantly open mine. The greatest gift of teaching to me is the simple act of a student opening his mind. My greatest pleasure does not come from the guys who come in first in class. It comes from the guy who come into class with a closed mind, least interested in studying and generally believing that this is all shit. When I see him contribute, when I she her raising her hand, challenging me and then when I say, right, good thought, great observation, and then them believing in what is being taught. That is the greatest gift that I can get. An opening of a window in their mind.
After knowing a bit I know only one thing, that I know too little. The joy in knowing more is unimaginable. The joy in teaching that there is a vast unexplored world out there is crazy. One of the reasons why we named Jispa after a slightly inaccessible mountain village is just that. Her name must conjure in her head a sense of exploration. Something that she must seek out. Something that she could aspire to conquer, reach and feel. Something that is high, away and pure. Go on Jispa. Go on… explore. EXPOLDE.
PS: the reason Jasmine worries about all this is because Jispa likes showing her mind off and she worrys that she will show off to her teacher in school and we don’t know how they all react to oversmart students. Yup. We are scarred by our own experiences. But I purposely push her and want to show her that a teacher, any teacher, never knows all. She is only explaining what she knows and that does not make me/her/ she/ him the ultimate know all. Go ahead.. . burst a few myths along the way. Go ahead. EXPLODE
Monday, April 11, 2011
another random post
I have hated 3D movies and the really ikky caramel popcorn finger print goggles that they give out. So this time too I resisted going for the movie. But the plan was made with my sister’s family and so we went. The goggles were as ikky as ever, but I took them to the wash room and gave them a bath! These were different high tech goggles. I think they do some syncro with the screen and give you a better clear resolution. And wow, no headaches. If these are the ones that are the norm then 3D wont be a bad technology after all. But I feel like the old guy who still somehow would have preferred the good old 2D with bright colors and superb resolution.
Talking about getting old. I am super serious thinking about stopping playing cricket. Yesterday I struggled with the bat. I was completely pathetic. I think the team lost a bit of momentum with me batting and possibly I was the one responsible for losing the match. I can’t believe that I will last any more cricket seasons. How long can I be in the team thanks to seniority? I only belong as a captain holding the team together. But the pressure of bad performance has just meant that I take my fielding even more seriously. So I kept diving and almost pulled off a stunning catch. Key word here- almost. I guess I will have to go to the matches this season and drop myself if I get a good 11 players. I can only justify my presence on close-in fielding. I might be old and my batting sucks but the joy on jumping around on the field is great. It comes with a side effect. I have scrapes on both my knees and left elbow. My pointer finger has a blue line running through it. Years ago I wouldn’t have been able to even get a finger on that ball but yesterday I somehow managed to dive and stop it from running to the boundary. That is my greatest motivation to play. But also right now, my back is sore, my calves are sore, mythigh is sore and neck is sore. I hope it’s the running I did while batting rather than the diving that causing it. Cause if it’s the diving that causing it, I have no more cricket to play :). There comes a time when you have to listen to your body when it tells you something. My body always was creaking and it was telling me lots of things. Now it’s shouting and I am pulling on. Pulling on purely on mental strength, which is right now telling me to listen to the body. Listen.
35. Wow. It’s been a rapid downhill after this age. What a funny life. Till you are 35 I did not have enough money to enjoy what I could have and after 35, you have the money and possibly some time but not the biological support to enjoy what you really want to. But hell there will be other stuff that I wanted to do and which does not require a powerful structure but merely an able one. Like this time when we were in kaziranga. We went for a trek inside the woods, in the buffer zone and we really had fun. I was so happy that I now understand the body enough to understand a bit of nutrition and my body could take some of the rigors of trekking and climbing hills. I wasn’t so tired and I could walk and trek without being out of breath. Possibly these are the goals I need to keep. Smaller achievable goals.
Today I write this post from the gymkhana where I see my daughter taking squash coaching. I am so happy that we are able to give these joys. The fun of physical labor and game. Its worth every moment and penny spent. Now all I want to do is to reach a point where she and I will compete. She is improving fast and I am losing fast. The equilibrium will not take too long. In swimming it has already reached. I am waiting till it reaches in trekking, walking, running, playing etc. the other big one I am waiting for is board games. When she will compete skillfully and we can play strategy games on an even scale. I think that’s three to four years away. I am waiting eagerly. I only hope that she will have the time and the inclination along with the ability. Otherwise….. sigh…
On the movie – Rio. It’s a nice movie with a very fast paced story line with forgettable songs and interesting characters. Sometimes I think the Animated movies are so strongly racist. With always the hero having ethnic black or latino side kicks playing to the archetype. If Enid Blyton was ticked for having black golliwogs, why are these features being spared the lashing. Sure these characters add to the drama and color and become memorable but they so much reinforce our stereotypes. Sitting many miles away in India, I would be completely ingrained with the same typecast that an American would have. In fact over a period of time my typecast will be strong and when I possibly interact with these guys, I would clouded by the typecasts that we see in the movies.
You know I think that why we Indian males seem to treat foreign women with a bit of disrespect. Our belief of the white female is loose, ready to sleep with you only by having one action scene together and some close eye contact. I think our junta believes that white female to be fast sexy, turned on by strong muscular bodies and given to smooching with multiple men. So all the stares they get in India must be thanks to the Hollywood movies. And to add fuel to fire, I think most the men at the lowest strata must be exposed only to B and C grade action thrillers or the porno movies which are the ultimate guidebook for objectifying of women. It’s a wonder how some foreigners manage India and love it and get their way around without bothering about the attention. As a man I have always been inside the ring when I see other men being open about their true feelings. I too have sometimes been guilty of staring a second too long when a pretty thing crosses my path. But I promise you it has been only one second too many. Whereas I have seen good men turn crude in the company of other men when discussing women on the road. I feel lucky to have a semblance of decorum. I think I wrote of this earlier. With digital cameras with powerful zooms, will all turn to peeping toms.
Coming back to Hollywood being the culprit… these men, I tell you behave differently towards Indian women whom they treat with a little more, just a little more respect. This is simplifying things too much blaming the media for our dirty minds, but I think given that we are culturally more respectful towards guests, its wonder how we treat our female guests with such disrespect. It must have some root here.
You what other stuff I see. The foreigner is getting back a small part of his own dose. He would come into India and be trigger happy shooting Indian men and women in all their finery. Some of them would not even bother asking for permission and some would pose with them. Now increasingly I see the Indians, rural Indians, looking at the tourist and clicking photographs on their cell phones with them. They go up to these tourists and request for photos with them. I have seen this is north, south, west and east India. The more rural the setting, the greater is the possibility of seeing this. The women and the men together view these white tourists as an object of interest. So the prey has turned on the predator. I love it when this happens. The cell phone with its camera has democratized curiosity. He haw!
Talking about getting old. I am super serious thinking about stopping playing cricket. Yesterday I struggled with the bat. I was completely pathetic. I think the team lost a bit of momentum with me batting and possibly I was the one responsible for losing the match. I can’t believe that I will last any more cricket seasons. How long can I be in the team thanks to seniority? I only belong as a captain holding the team together. But the pressure of bad performance has just meant that I take my fielding even more seriously. So I kept diving and almost pulled off a stunning catch. Key word here- almost. I guess I will have to go to the matches this season and drop myself if I get a good 11 players. I can only justify my presence on close-in fielding. I might be old and my batting sucks but the joy on jumping around on the field is great. It comes with a side effect. I have scrapes on both my knees and left elbow. My pointer finger has a blue line running through it. Years ago I wouldn’t have been able to even get a finger on that ball but yesterday I somehow managed to dive and stop it from running to the boundary. That is my greatest motivation to play. But also right now, my back is sore, my calves are sore, mythigh is sore and neck is sore. I hope it’s the running I did while batting rather than the diving that causing it. Cause if it’s the diving that causing it, I have no more cricket to play :). There comes a time when you have to listen to your body when it tells you something. My body always was creaking and it was telling me lots of things. Now it’s shouting and I am pulling on. Pulling on purely on mental strength, which is right now telling me to listen to the body. Listen.
35. Wow. It’s been a rapid downhill after this age. What a funny life. Till you are 35 I did not have enough money to enjoy what I could have and after 35, you have the money and possibly some time but not the biological support to enjoy what you really want to. But hell there will be other stuff that I wanted to do and which does not require a powerful structure but merely an able one. Like this time when we were in kaziranga. We went for a trek inside the woods, in the buffer zone and we really had fun. I was so happy that I now understand the body enough to understand a bit of nutrition and my body could take some of the rigors of trekking and climbing hills. I wasn’t so tired and I could walk and trek without being out of breath. Possibly these are the goals I need to keep. Smaller achievable goals.
Today I write this post from the gymkhana where I see my daughter taking squash coaching. I am so happy that we are able to give these joys. The fun of physical labor and game. Its worth every moment and penny spent. Now all I want to do is to reach a point where she and I will compete. She is improving fast and I am losing fast. The equilibrium will not take too long. In swimming it has already reached. I am waiting till it reaches in trekking, walking, running, playing etc. the other big one I am waiting for is board games. When she will compete skillfully and we can play strategy games on an even scale. I think that’s three to four years away. I am waiting eagerly. I only hope that she will have the time and the inclination along with the ability. Otherwise….. sigh…
On the movie – Rio. It’s a nice movie with a very fast paced story line with forgettable songs and interesting characters. Sometimes I think the Animated movies are so strongly racist. With always the hero having ethnic black or latino side kicks playing to the archetype. If Enid Blyton was ticked for having black golliwogs, why are these features being spared the lashing. Sure these characters add to the drama and color and become memorable but they so much reinforce our stereotypes. Sitting many miles away in India, I would be completely ingrained with the same typecast that an American would have. In fact over a period of time my typecast will be strong and when I possibly interact with these guys, I would clouded by the typecasts that we see in the movies.
You know I think that why we Indian males seem to treat foreign women with a bit of disrespect. Our belief of the white female is loose, ready to sleep with you only by having one action scene together and some close eye contact. I think our junta believes that white female to be fast sexy, turned on by strong muscular bodies and given to smooching with multiple men. So all the stares they get in India must be thanks to the Hollywood movies. And to add fuel to fire, I think most the men at the lowest strata must be exposed only to B and C grade action thrillers or the porno movies which are the ultimate guidebook for objectifying of women. It’s a wonder how some foreigners manage India and love it and get their way around without bothering about the attention. As a man I have always been inside the ring when I see other men being open about their true feelings. I too have sometimes been guilty of staring a second too long when a pretty thing crosses my path. But I promise you it has been only one second too many. Whereas I have seen good men turn crude in the company of other men when discussing women on the road. I feel lucky to have a semblance of decorum. I think I wrote of this earlier. With digital cameras with powerful zooms, will all turn to peeping toms.
Coming back to Hollywood being the culprit… these men, I tell you behave differently towards Indian women whom they treat with a little more, just a little more respect. This is simplifying things too much blaming the media for our dirty minds, but I think given that we are culturally more respectful towards guests, its wonder how we treat our female guests with such disrespect. It must have some root here.
You what other stuff I see. The foreigner is getting back a small part of his own dose. He would come into India and be trigger happy shooting Indian men and women in all their finery. Some of them would not even bother asking for permission and some would pose with them. Now increasingly I see the Indians, rural Indians, looking at the tourist and clicking photographs on their cell phones with them. They go up to these tourists and request for photos with them. I have seen this is north, south, west and east India. The more rural the setting, the greater is the possibility of seeing this. The women and the men together view these white tourists as an object of interest. So the prey has turned on the predator. I love it when this happens. The cell phone with its camera has democratized curiosity. He haw!
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
hang there... i got it.. i got it...
If you did not read the earlier blog, i guess this blog will not be much of a read either... but well.. here goes. It’s funny that when I am down and searching for answers everything seems to leap in front of me and throw me lessons. While searching for something else I found the wisdom of Oogway from Kung Fu Panda and while on my reader feeds, I found the lessons from Greece, thanks to Devdutt. A crisis is a dam good opportunity to waste and similarly so is a mental mess up. Here are the two pieces of wisdom I just came across and gave me some light. I see answers to the dilemma from my earlier post. This is the one from Devdutt – “In Greek metaphysics, there are two principles. One is called the Thanatos principle and the other is called the Eros principle. Thanatos means the death-principle while Eros means the life-principle. We are governed by death-principle or the life-principle. When we believe that the next flyover is going to make life only worse (by destroying heritage buildings, by destroying mangrove forests, by destroying familiar slums) then we are stricken by Thanatos. We believing that doom is near. However, when we believe that the next flyover is going to make life better then we are under the influence of Eros. We believe that life is getting better. Who speaks the truth? Is it Eros or is it Thanatos? Thanatos is the grim reaper. He kills and destroys every day. So if we look at him, we are convinced that the world is coming to an end. Eros is the cherubic archer, striking people with love, desire and inspiration. He is constantly turning us one, giving us hope. If we look at him, life is always getting better. Thanatos is looking at life as half empty while Eros is looking at life half full. Thanatos always frowns. Eros always grins. Are we frowners or smilers? Greeks believed there was only one life. And so life was seen as either Tragedy or Comedy. Thanatos sponsored Tragedy, Eros sponsored Comedy. Tragedy was about looking at the flyovers and feeling helpless that we have no say in the matter. Comedy is looking at the flyovers and realizing with delight how foolish man is to believe this will really change anything. Thanatos makes us the victim. Eros makes us the hero. Since Indians believed in rebirth, they modified the Greek ideas a bit. Indian thought says two things. Firstly, Thanatos and Eros are points of view and not reality. Every human being will look at the same situation differently. Secondly, all things are temporary and so we will move cyclically from Thanatos to Eros, from being victim to hero, and then back again. It will happen again and again and there is no stopping it. Scams will come and go, corrupt politicians will come and go, idealists will come and go, and life will move on. Thus Thanatos and Eros are delusions, maya, delusions we cannot live without.” And here is the stuff from Oogway Oogway: My friend, the panda will never fulfill his destiny, nor you yours until you let go of the illusion of control. Shifu: Illusion? Oogway: Yes. [points at peach tree] Oogway: Look at this tree, Shifu: I cannot make it blossom when it suits me nor make it bear fruit before its time. Shifu: But there are things we *can* control: I can control when the fruit will fall, I can control where to plant the seed: that is no illusion, Master! Oogway: Ah, yes. But no matter what you do, that seed will grow to be a peach tree. You may wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach. Shifu: But a peach cannot defeat Tai Lung! Oogway: Maybe it can, if you are willing to guide, to nurture it, to believe in it. Shifu: But how? How? I need your help, master. Oogway: No, you just need to believe. Promise me, Shifu, promise me you will believe. I BELIEVE!
dont read this. i wrote it but i too did not read it afterwards. i dont i ever will.
Sometimes I get too tired. Mentally and that affects me physically. In fact I have been trying to understand my true purpose. What is it that I am supposed to do here? Am I supposed to do what the company wants me to or do what I think the company desperately needs? The thing with this is that I know that I can do much more than what the company wants or expects me to do. Performing to expectations is difficult because the expectations are so dam low. So how does one motivate oneself to come to office and deliver on low expectations? I am sure I don’t want to deliver on these low expectations. I have to do better. My benchmarks are something I create on my own. Now this brings me to the interesting conundrum. How do I get up in the morning and push my self. What is my reason to live? What is it that makes me get up everyday, face all the pressure and push myself?
I thought I found a new ‘ikigai’. People. My people. I was always in love with my team. In fact many years ago I struck upon a mental formula. No matter how irritating the person or no matter how much the person and I are not likely to get along, always say to yourself – no, I must make this work. That is the only way to work. Sometimes great luck comes your way and you are blessed with a great team and sometimes you are not. And I can’t even take credit for great teams because I have in the past handpicked outstanding people and complete misfits. So I have no statistical evidence to prove my superior people picking skills. I might believe to have it but the truth is that I don’t know. Possibly what I can say is that the people that I tend to pick in the team are slightly better than average and definitely more aggressive than most. I tend to abhor meek employees at interviews.
So now I come in to office trying to mould this team, trying to create careers and mindsets for this team. Trying to push this team into doing better. That is something that drives me. The problem with the approach I have is that it seems to be arrogant. Who on earth am I to play God with this team. Why should I be the deliverance? What makes me qualified to do so? Is it in their interest that I do so? And do they even want it or ask for it?
To which I think possibly not. Possibly they don’t want it. Possibly they don’t ask for it. Possibly they even hate me for it. They probably don’t believe in it and possibly think of my attitude as condescending or overbearing. So while it works with some it completely becomes a cropper with others. I understand this and I don’t even have a great issue with this. What I do recognise is that I must not let this show up as arrogance. Come I have come to teach you. Sometimes I am sure I would be guilty of throwing this arrogance around, but I also realise that I must change. It must begin with deep introspection. The bigger thing is not the pain associated with dealing with criticism. That is still ok to handle. I have been made a villain many a times in the past and probably rightly so. The biggest challenge is the energy that something like this takes up, or should I suck up.
When you talk to someone and try and bring about change it not possible at this moment for me to take a disconnected stand. I am outside and helping you. How must I be away from it all and yet feel deeply. Every time I try and help someone move along, push them and urge them, I end up losing a bit of me. As if I have left a bit of me in every person in my team. That is where the trouble starts. Now by leaving a bit of me everywhere I am in effect tying my emotions to them. I am open to them. I am vulnerable to them and their growths, feelings, disappointments and such. How much emotion can I have?
That causes more stress than anything else. How do I love without attachment? How do I care with bothering about being cared in return? How do I speak the truth without worry that my words could be misconstrued? These are tough questions that I have no answers to. Jaininsm is interesting in a way that it says that at the highest level, the monk must not be bothered about teaching. He must live his life as he seems right and must not even have the desire to preach. He merely lives and his life serves as an example to those around, inspiring by mere presence and not by intending to inspire. Hmmm.
Wow. Can that be possible? Can one love so much so as to conquer love itself? Can one have so much faith in oneself? What about mere mortals like us? Can we achieve bits of this? Possibly yes. Can I simply state an axiom from time to time and let people drive their own meaning. Should I talk less when I teach? Should I leave people to find their own meaning in words that I found deep meaning in?
Its possible, isn’t it? When I teach Jispa science of mathematics I have a desire to be precise in my teaching and in her learning, but when we talk about other stuff, about behaviour or attitude; I let her get it herself. I talk much less and let a lot of things hang. Possibly I do that because she is still to young. But possibly there is a lesson in there somewhere. Must I merely state and leave things to interpretation. The biggest lessons one learns when understands the meaning of words oneself, through ones own discovery.
My gurus have been teaching much after I left their shadows. I have learnt by their absence much more than by their presence. In fact slowly slowly their truth has dawned upon me. By experience and by the wisdom that their words come back to haunt. They ring hard in my ears.
My yoga has suffered by my thoughts. I end up clearing my mind through the time I spend doing yoga. But that is not the ideal yoga. Yoga is being able to keep it all at bay. My yoga is my active period. Its when I can see clearly and think straight. But I know that the mind free of thought is most clear. I promise to try and not think. I should be clean of thought and of office and of life.
I think I have this desire to be understood and understand. Possibly I am asking too much. interestingly, right now I am reading the book The Moral Animal. This tries to explain our behaviour using Darwin’s natural selection. Hopefully I would be better placed to understand myself. Hopefully I might get a better explanation of what I desire, think and act. Why we do such things. Why we humans are so queer. Hopefully that would bring me to some senses. Hopefully it would put my mind at ease.
This blog has been quite strongly introspective. And I have been noxiously short of mental energy right now. The day is starting and a lot is left to be done. Hopefully I would be able to channel my energy right. Hope fully I would be able to make some difference to my life starting today.
How many times I have used ‘hopefully’ and ‘possibly’ on this blog? I know I use that often. And the reason I do so is because I don’t know the truth. And the density of these words reflect my mental state. But you know what – one of the traits of mine that I truly thank god for having – resilience. I know whatever I get I will be back. No matter how bad it looks, I will bounce. BOUNCE BOUNCE. That is good. Yes. The ability of a crazy ball to bounce back. To use the spin every time to spin like crazy and in opposite directions. The more you spin it the crazier it moves around. I love that analogy. I am a crazy ball. I will be back.
I started this blog with a slight hunch in my shoulders and a certain loss of energy and I am ending it with some verve in my breath. The crazy ball is back. Wow. Let’s see what I do today? Thank you blog. It great to write this stuff. I don’t even care who reads it. I don’t most would. It’s too long and too emotional. I don’t think Jispa might also read it too much. I don’t anybody but I would get any lessons from it. But the fact that I am writing is helping me clear my own thoughts, my own actions.
Let’s see if I can run through my new found enlightenment without running afoul of too many people.
I thought I found a new ‘ikigai’. People. My people. I was always in love with my team. In fact many years ago I struck upon a mental formula. No matter how irritating the person or no matter how much the person and I are not likely to get along, always say to yourself – no, I must make this work. That is the only way to work. Sometimes great luck comes your way and you are blessed with a great team and sometimes you are not. And I can’t even take credit for great teams because I have in the past handpicked outstanding people and complete misfits. So I have no statistical evidence to prove my superior people picking skills. I might believe to have it but the truth is that I don’t know. Possibly what I can say is that the people that I tend to pick in the team are slightly better than average and definitely more aggressive than most. I tend to abhor meek employees at interviews.
So now I come in to office trying to mould this team, trying to create careers and mindsets for this team. Trying to push this team into doing better. That is something that drives me. The problem with the approach I have is that it seems to be arrogant. Who on earth am I to play God with this team. Why should I be the deliverance? What makes me qualified to do so? Is it in their interest that I do so? And do they even want it or ask for it?
To which I think possibly not. Possibly they don’t want it. Possibly they don’t ask for it. Possibly they even hate me for it. They probably don’t believe in it and possibly think of my attitude as condescending or overbearing. So while it works with some it completely becomes a cropper with others. I understand this and I don’t even have a great issue with this. What I do recognise is that I must not let this show up as arrogance. Come I have come to teach you. Sometimes I am sure I would be guilty of throwing this arrogance around, but I also realise that I must change. It must begin with deep introspection. The bigger thing is not the pain associated with dealing with criticism. That is still ok to handle. I have been made a villain many a times in the past and probably rightly so. The biggest challenge is the energy that something like this takes up, or should I suck up.
When you talk to someone and try and bring about change it not possible at this moment for me to take a disconnected stand. I am outside and helping you. How must I be away from it all and yet feel deeply. Every time I try and help someone move along, push them and urge them, I end up losing a bit of me. As if I have left a bit of me in every person in my team. That is where the trouble starts. Now by leaving a bit of me everywhere I am in effect tying my emotions to them. I am open to them. I am vulnerable to them and their growths, feelings, disappointments and such. How much emotion can I have?
That causes more stress than anything else. How do I love without attachment? How do I care with bothering about being cared in return? How do I speak the truth without worry that my words could be misconstrued? These are tough questions that I have no answers to. Jaininsm is interesting in a way that it says that at the highest level, the monk must not be bothered about teaching. He must live his life as he seems right and must not even have the desire to preach. He merely lives and his life serves as an example to those around, inspiring by mere presence and not by intending to inspire. Hmmm.
Wow. Can that be possible? Can one love so much so as to conquer love itself? Can one have so much faith in oneself? What about mere mortals like us? Can we achieve bits of this? Possibly yes. Can I simply state an axiom from time to time and let people drive their own meaning. Should I talk less when I teach? Should I leave people to find their own meaning in words that I found deep meaning in?
Its possible, isn’t it? When I teach Jispa science of mathematics I have a desire to be precise in my teaching and in her learning, but when we talk about other stuff, about behaviour or attitude; I let her get it herself. I talk much less and let a lot of things hang. Possibly I do that because she is still to young. But possibly there is a lesson in there somewhere. Must I merely state and leave things to interpretation. The biggest lessons one learns when understands the meaning of words oneself, through ones own discovery.
My gurus have been teaching much after I left their shadows. I have learnt by their absence much more than by their presence. In fact slowly slowly their truth has dawned upon me. By experience and by the wisdom that their words come back to haunt. They ring hard in my ears.
My yoga has suffered by my thoughts. I end up clearing my mind through the time I spend doing yoga. But that is not the ideal yoga. Yoga is being able to keep it all at bay. My yoga is my active period. Its when I can see clearly and think straight. But I know that the mind free of thought is most clear. I promise to try and not think. I should be clean of thought and of office and of life.
I think I have this desire to be understood and understand. Possibly I am asking too much. interestingly, right now I am reading the book The Moral Animal. This tries to explain our behaviour using Darwin’s natural selection. Hopefully I would be better placed to understand myself. Hopefully I might get a better explanation of what I desire, think and act. Why we do such things. Why we humans are so queer. Hopefully that would bring me to some senses. Hopefully it would put my mind at ease.
This blog has been quite strongly introspective. And I have been noxiously short of mental energy right now. The day is starting and a lot is left to be done. Hopefully I would be able to channel my energy right. Hope fully I would be able to make some difference to my life starting today.
How many times I have used ‘hopefully’ and ‘possibly’ on this blog? I know I use that often. And the reason I do so is because I don’t know the truth. And the density of these words reflect my mental state. But you know what – one of the traits of mine that I truly thank god for having – resilience. I know whatever I get I will be back. No matter how bad it looks, I will bounce. BOUNCE BOUNCE. That is good. Yes. The ability of a crazy ball to bounce back. To use the spin every time to spin like crazy and in opposite directions. The more you spin it the crazier it moves around. I love that analogy. I am a crazy ball. I will be back.
I started this blog with a slight hunch in my shoulders and a certain loss of energy and I am ending it with some verve in my breath. The crazy ball is back. Wow. Let’s see what I do today? Thank you blog. It great to write this stuff. I don’t even care who reads it. I don’t most would. It’s too long and too emotional. I don’t think Jispa might also read it too much. I don’t anybody but I would get any lessons from it. But the fact that I am writing is helping me clear my own thoughts, my own actions.
Let’s see if I can run through my new found enlightenment without running afoul of too many people.
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
winning matters?
It’s a difficult thing to sit inside a secluded cabin and work. I think there are more distractions inside a cabin than outside. So today I decided to finish a lot of my pending work. Not that it would not have been possible inside. But a change in settings helps the mental make up. the cabin is good for meetings but is practically useless to get any work done. Too many distractions. And the worst part of it all is that I don’t get the mental frame to write my blog. BAH!
To continue from last time’s entry, Jispa and her swim team got called into the head of department’s office on Friday. They were given the news that they needed to turn in their silver and they would get a GOLD instead. Some back room discussions seem to have prevailed. Interesting. Well talk about having your cake and eating it too. She got the lesson for by winning silver yet she got her Gold! There also everyone in her team was congratulating her for the amazing performance. Aint a proud dad?
To top the weekend was the amazing world cup match played on Saturday. I always felt that India would never ever again lift the world cup and definitely not in my lifetime. I remember the t20 world cup and I was in London at the time. I had this meeting scheduled when India was playing its bolwing their last ten overs. I was in my London office and we were trying to watch the match streaming on a website. Obviously the bandwidth got choked as India was close to winning. I told my head of ops at the time. Boss, I don’t think India will ever win a world cup in my lifetime. I was too small when we won in ’83. And I don’t remember it at all. I wasn’t going to miss this one. I told him lets go to the pub across and watch it dude. He did not require too much egging on. Pronto I witnesses history and I thought that image will remain with me for the rest of my life. Till... Saturday. Oh god! We won the world cup. WE WON THE WORLDCUP. We were screaming and dancing and jumping in joy. We went to eth streets to see Mumbai celebrate on the streets. Everyone was friends with each other. People ‘hi fiving’ each other. I just wanted to be a part of the celebrations.
So I stood on the circle, near the edge with the Indian flag and just screamed at all the guys who passed by on their bikes and cars. They screamed back and I raised my hand. They instinctively reacted and slapped my hand on their way. A small gesture brought me closer to the whole of Mumbai. Actually whole of India. It’s funny how we all on the street were suddenly feeling like one. Its a great feeling. A victory such as thus can somehow unite everybody.
Hmm... It seems like an interesting lesson in management. It is so important to be united and what better way to feel united than to celebrate victories. I think my matter of fact approach to life probably costs me dear. I am happy to quietly celebrate and walk around but I think it’s important that we celebrate together. One can’t be a lone twerp all the time. I think there are two things that get a team together – one is a common adversity typically in the form of an enemy and the other a victory. While we all close ranks on a adversity its becomes critical to close ranks and feel the victory.
Simple lesson learnt. Not that it was not there in my mind but sometimes an incident helps in imbibing it. It becomes a story, a vivid example that connects. Hopefully this will keep the example in my mind and help in me being a slightly more happier person. Hopefully.
we went on the streets with Jispa in tow. hopefully she will remember the big party when India won!
To continue from last time’s entry, Jispa and her swim team got called into the head of department’s office on Friday. They were given the news that they needed to turn in their silver and they would get a GOLD instead. Some back room discussions seem to have prevailed. Interesting. Well talk about having your cake and eating it too. She got the lesson for by winning silver yet she got her Gold! There also everyone in her team was congratulating her for the amazing performance. Aint a proud dad?
To top the weekend was the amazing world cup match played on Saturday. I always felt that India would never ever again lift the world cup and definitely not in my lifetime. I remember the t20 world cup and I was in London at the time. I had this meeting scheduled when India was playing its bolwing their last ten overs. I was in my London office and we were trying to watch the match streaming on a website. Obviously the bandwidth got choked as India was close to winning. I told my head of ops at the time. Boss, I don’t think India will ever win a world cup in my lifetime. I was too small when we won in ’83. And I don’t remember it at all. I wasn’t going to miss this one. I told him lets go to the pub across and watch it dude. He did not require too much egging on. Pronto I witnesses history and I thought that image will remain with me for the rest of my life. Till... Saturday. Oh god! We won the world cup. WE WON THE WORLDCUP. We were screaming and dancing and jumping in joy. We went to eth streets to see Mumbai celebrate on the streets. Everyone was friends with each other. People ‘hi fiving’ each other. I just wanted to be a part of the celebrations.
So I stood on the circle, near the edge with the Indian flag and just screamed at all the guys who passed by on their bikes and cars. They screamed back and I raised my hand. They instinctively reacted and slapped my hand on their way. A small gesture brought me closer to the whole of Mumbai. Actually whole of India. It’s funny how we all on the street were suddenly feeling like one. Its a great feeling. A victory such as thus can somehow unite everybody.
Hmm... It seems like an interesting lesson in management. It is so important to be united and what better way to feel united than to celebrate victories. I think my matter of fact approach to life probably costs me dear. I am happy to quietly celebrate and walk around but I think it’s important that we celebrate together. One can’t be a lone twerp all the time. I think there are two things that get a team together – one is a common adversity typically in the form of an enemy and the other a victory. While we all close ranks on a adversity its becomes critical to close ranks and feel the victory.
Simple lesson learnt. Not that it was not there in my mind but sometimes an incident helps in imbibing it. It becomes a story, a vivid example that connects. Hopefully this will keep the example in my mind and help in me being a slightly more happier person. Hopefully.
we went on the streets with Jispa in tow. hopefully she will remember the big party when India won!
Friday, April 01, 2011
how you played your game...
Yesterdays was Jispa’s swim meet at her school. Since she could take part in only three events she chose to skip the butterfly and opt for the breast stroke in addition to freestyle and back stroke. This year she is in the third standard and she is at a disadvantage as the thirds compete with the fourths to take the medals. To add pressure some of the kids in the fourth standard are inter school gold medallists. So this year we aren’t really expecting much to happen for her in terms of medals.
The format here is all time trials. Which in effect means that everybody gets one swim and the best timings are taken to decide the medal table. In her free style time trail she swam pretty neat and fast to win her trial but she managed a credible finish overall but missed the podium. In the backstroke there was no competition and she managed to crack the gold. And on her breast stroke – she is absolutely pathetic and came in last. Somehow she has managed to do well in back stroke but completely bounce out of the breaststroke. Today she and I were joking on how really bad her breast stroke works. It’s nice to see her admit and laugh on her own rubbish strokes.
The swim meets are normally very boring and I take almost no interest in them. The races are nothing exciting and I too have had a policy of being dead pan in seeing them. No show of emotions. Also competing in a school which has only two divisions and 30 kids in it is not a real test of speed. So its largely a non event. But last year I saw something I thought was amiss. Jispa swam well but seemed to run out of steam. She inexplicably slowed down half way through her races. Something was wrong. Yes. Her nutrition. She had some idlis which is nothing but steamed fermented rice flour cakes. That can’t be the food of a sports person. I have been trying to toy with nutrition and me with my limited readings and my empirical tests on the cricket field. Something was surely wrong with her food. So this time, in the morning I ensured she had a diet that seemed to work for me. A healthy dose of breakfast cereal. So it’s basically wheat flakes, corn flakes, shredded wheat, a few chocos and strawberries with a little milk. Jispa doesn’t digest milk too well and so next time Jasmine and me will experiment with soy milk and figure if that works for her. then we packed her snack box with a paneer, sandwiches, cheese, nuts, a healthy ladoo that has wheat, chocolates and bananas. So she would have a good mix of high release and slow release sugars. I know I am not a nutritionist but at least she got a better meal than most of her other friends. More suited to physical exertion. This what has worked for me and I suspected it worked for her.
So my contribution was that nutrition and I kept telling only one thing – I don’t care if you win or lose but reach out, cup your hands and listen to your biceps. That’s all I want you to do. That’s all.
The swim meets are boring till you get to the final act. The relay. Jispa’s exploits ensured she was the anchor of her tiger house relay team with kids from each standard taking part. As the race progressed the tiger house was in the second place with the third and fourth place being far behind. It was pretty ok till the penultimate person jumping in. The relay is one place where I find my emotions going haywire. You end up cheering like crazy and you never know who the hell will some through next. The last swimmer for the first place team jumped in and I started counting the seconds before Jispa would get a chance to jump in. 1,2,3,4... I remember counting till ten. Jispa had a ten second disadvantage. Oh shit no chance. Later in the video that Jasmine shot, it was more like 6 seconds, but I guess time was flying at a different pace at the meet.
I asked Jispa what was going on through her mind when she was about to swim. She said that all she was thinking was that ‘reach out, cup your hands and listen to your biceps and catch up with the other girl. That was all on my mind. I told myself that, I must catch up’. She finally got her tag to jump in. she also said that she thought she had a great dive. Her coach had taught her to dive with her head looking down and behind, as far behind as she could see. She followed it and she thought she did well.
So a 6 to 8 second lead is almost half the length of the pool. Fat chance. Suddenly as Jispa began furiously swimming, the lead was getting short. It’s hardly a 20 – 25 second dash. Oh god, Jispa is actually catching up. She still has steam in her strokes. Her legs are kicking furiously. Somewhere near the three fourths, she had caught up. Somehow the lead swimmer seemed to have lost some kick in her swim. Jispa was just too fast. The last few meters and both are neck to neck. I am screaming, the whole meet is screaming, Jasmine is screaming, Go, GO,GO,GO,GO... yes... and the final touch. AAAAAAA. I jump in joy. It was a photo finish. Too close to call, but almost everyone at the meet was sure. Jispa had done it for the Tiger house. They finished first according to everyone there. When the judge’s decision came in..... the judges use stop watches for every lane and everyone presses their stop watch individually. So in these photo finishes, one judge who clicks a micro second late can account for second place. The verdict came in and Jispa’s team was awarded the second place. I wasn’t going to fight with the judges. There were a few protests but the decision was final.
Today morning I got to chat up with Jispa. So Jispa, you swam like crazy yesterday. Yup. “so Jispa, everyone told you you swam well” “yaa. Everyone was telling me that. When I came out of the pool I was surrounded by everyone. Everyone was telling me well done. In the bus also everyone was congratulating me” “yes Jispa, but did you win or lose?” “huh” “did you win or did you lose? Did you get Gold or Silver?” “Silver” she replied. “do you remember the athletes prayer?” “what prayer?”. “when a great scorer come to write against your name..” she completed it with a smile “he writes not whether you won or lost, but how you played your game”. She had the smile of a champion who just realised the meaning in poetry. She understood. She came second. But no one cared about that. All people cared about was, how she fought. How she swam. How she refused to quit even if was well and truly behind. She was surrounded. All around were congratulating her, not because she won, but on how she played her game.
The actual little quote by Gartland Rice goes thus:-
"For when the One Great Scorer comes
To write against your name,
He marks - not that you won or lost -
But how you played the Game."
(from the poem "Alumnus Football")
No matter how many stories I can tell her, no matter how much I can preach, the experience will teach her the value of certain words, certain phrases, certain mottos. To lose Gold was to win the ultimate knowledge. She wouldn’t have realised the importance of these lines if she had won gold. It struck her the moment she completed the prayer. Her smile and radiant smile said it all. Its how you play the game. Jasmine and I were the proudest parents on that day. It’s a good thing I was wearing glares. I was crying, I was choking, I couldn’t talk. A come from behind fight back. An attitude that doesn’t die. If anything we could have taught her, was this. It’s how you play your game. I am still all emotional when I type this. What a game.
there she is, extreme right with the faded red swimsuit and blue cap. I will treasure this podium finish forever.
The format here is all time trials. Which in effect means that everybody gets one swim and the best timings are taken to decide the medal table. In her free style time trail she swam pretty neat and fast to win her trial but she managed a credible finish overall but missed the podium. In the backstroke there was no competition and she managed to crack the gold. And on her breast stroke – she is absolutely pathetic and came in last. Somehow she has managed to do well in back stroke but completely bounce out of the breaststroke. Today she and I were joking on how really bad her breast stroke works. It’s nice to see her admit and laugh on her own rubbish strokes.
The swim meets are normally very boring and I take almost no interest in them. The races are nothing exciting and I too have had a policy of being dead pan in seeing them. No show of emotions. Also competing in a school which has only two divisions and 30 kids in it is not a real test of speed. So its largely a non event. But last year I saw something I thought was amiss. Jispa swam well but seemed to run out of steam. She inexplicably slowed down half way through her races. Something was wrong. Yes. Her nutrition. She had some idlis which is nothing but steamed fermented rice flour cakes. That can’t be the food of a sports person. I have been trying to toy with nutrition and me with my limited readings and my empirical tests on the cricket field. Something was surely wrong with her food. So this time, in the morning I ensured she had a diet that seemed to work for me. A healthy dose of breakfast cereal. So it’s basically wheat flakes, corn flakes, shredded wheat, a few chocos and strawberries with a little milk. Jispa doesn’t digest milk too well and so next time Jasmine and me will experiment with soy milk and figure if that works for her. then we packed her snack box with a paneer, sandwiches, cheese, nuts, a healthy ladoo that has wheat, chocolates and bananas. So she would have a good mix of high release and slow release sugars. I know I am not a nutritionist but at least she got a better meal than most of her other friends. More suited to physical exertion. This what has worked for me and I suspected it worked for her.
So my contribution was that nutrition and I kept telling only one thing – I don’t care if you win or lose but reach out, cup your hands and listen to your biceps. That’s all I want you to do. That’s all.
The swim meets are boring till you get to the final act. The relay. Jispa’s exploits ensured she was the anchor of her tiger house relay team with kids from each standard taking part. As the race progressed the tiger house was in the second place with the third and fourth place being far behind. It was pretty ok till the penultimate person jumping in. The relay is one place where I find my emotions going haywire. You end up cheering like crazy and you never know who the hell will some through next. The last swimmer for the first place team jumped in and I started counting the seconds before Jispa would get a chance to jump in. 1,2,3,4... I remember counting till ten. Jispa had a ten second disadvantage. Oh shit no chance. Later in the video that Jasmine shot, it was more like 6 seconds, but I guess time was flying at a different pace at the meet.
I asked Jispa what was going on through her mind when she was about to swim. She said that all she was thinking was that ‘reach out, cup your hands and listen to your biceps and catch up with the other girl. That was all on my mind. I told myself that, I must catch up’. She finally got her tag to jump in. she also said that she thought she had a great dive. Her coach had taught her to dive with her head looking down and behind, as far behind as she could see. She followed it and she thought she did well.
So a 6 to 8 second lead is almost half the length of the pool. Fat chance. Suddenly as Jispa began furiously swimming, the lead was getting short. It’s hardly a 20 – 25 second dash. Oh god, Jispa is actually catching up. She still has steam in her strokes. Her legs are kicking furiously. Somewhere near the three fourths, she had caught up. Somehow the lead swimmer seemed to have lost some kick in her swim. Jispa was just too fast. The last few meters and both are neck to neck. I am screaming, the whole meet is screaming, Jasmine is screaming, Go, GO,GO,GO,GO... yes... and the final touch. AAAAAAA. I jump in joy. It was a photo finish. Too close to call, but almost everyone at the meet was sure. Jispa had done it for the Tiger house. They finished first according to everyone there. When the judge’s decision came in..... the judges use stop watches for every lane and everyone presses their stop watch individually. So in these photo finishes, one judge who clicks a micro second late can account for second place. The verdict came in and Jispa’s team was awarded the second place. I wasn’t going to fight with the judges. There were a few protests but the decision was final.
Today morning I got to chat up with Jispa. So Jispa, you swam like crazy yesterday. Yup. “so Jispa, everyone told you you swam well” “yaa. Everyone was telling me that. When I came out of the pool I was surrounded by everyone. Everyone was telling me well done. In the bus also everyone was congratulating me” “yes Jispa, but did you win or lose?” “huh” “did you win or did you lose? Did you get Gold or Silver?” “Silver” she replied. “do you remember the athletes prayer?” “what prayer?”. “when a great scorer come to write against your name..” she completed it with a smile “he writes not whether you won or lost, but how you played your game”. She had the smile of a champion who just realised the meaning in poetry. She understood. She came second. But no one cared about that. All people cared about was, how she fought. How she swam. How she refused to quit even if was well and truly behind. She was surrounded. All around were congratulating her, not because she won, but on how she played her game.
The actual little quote by Gartland Rice goes thus:-
"For when the One Great Scorer comes
To write against your name,
He marks - not that you won or lost -
But how you played the Game."
(from the poem "Alumnus Football")
No matter how many stories I can tell her, no matter how much I can preach, the experience will teach her the value of certain words, certain phrases, certain mottos. To lose Gold was to win the ultimate knowledge. She wouldn’t have realised the importance of these lines if she had won gold. It struck her the moment she completed the prayer. Her smile and radiant smile said it all. Its how you play the game. Jasmine and I were the proudest parents on that day. It’s a good thing I was wearing glares. I was crying, I was choking, I couldn’t talk. A come from behind fight back. An attitude that doesn’t die. If anything we could have taught her, was this. It’s how you play your game. I am still all emotional when I type this. What a game.
there she is, extreme right with the faded red swimsuit and blue cap. I will treasure this podium finish forever.
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