Maximum City - here we come!

We are off to Mumbai (in case you did not get it from the title). I am currently reading the book, Maximum City - Bombay Lost and Found, and hence the reference. Quite inane, is it not?

We are unlikely to have internet connectivity in Bombay (can you believe that!!!), and hence quite possible that all will be quiet on the Blogging front, even if I have an ardent desire to publish something. Also, in between the culinary excesses and social gatherings, my propensity to write will be severely diminished anyway. So please bear with me. 

In the interlude however, I would urge you to keep visiting my blog, and read some of my earlier and much neglected articles. Which one you ask? Well since all of them are my babies, I really cannot tell you which are my favorites, though you might have some that you might want to reacquaint yourself with.

I have been working on a few blogs which are still in draft form, and not yet ready for publication. I hope to publish them in the New Year. And as always Bombay provides fantastic fodder for new articles, which I hope will take me through a bit of the next year as well.

So till then Merry Christmas and a very Happy 2012. 

The Good Samaritan

Recently, a friend told us about his experience as he was flying out of Mumbai International Airport. He was approached by a blue-collar worker, for help in filling out his immigration form. Being unable to read or write, this man was at the mercy of someone who would be kind enough to help. Having accepted to do this, my friend soon realised that a small queue had formed behind the man he was helping. There were many men in a similar situation, all probably headed to the same Country to earn a living. The point my friend was making from this story, was not that he was caring enough to help out a number of people, but the fact that not a one amongst those he helped, had the courtesy to thank him. NOT ONE! They just took their passports and their immigration forms silently, and walked away!

Then a couple of weeks ago during the Eid holidays here in the UAE, our group of friends decided to drive down to Kalba for the day. It was a beautiful drive, what with the weather having improved and the rugged scenery. Anyway on reaching Kalba, and having some time to spare before lunch, we decided to drive further to a particular waterfront. Now the access to this spot is through some rough terrain with quite a few sand patches where your vehicle can get stuck. Of course we were very careful as we threaded our way, making sure that we did not get stuck. A friend, who has an SUV, led the way so as to ensure that there were no mishaps.

Anyway a fair way inside we came across a small car that was badly stuck in a sand patch. Being a sizeable group we stopped to help, and then spent the better part of an hour collectively trying to either tow or push the vehicle out. Even before we had arrived, an Emarati man in a small Toyota had already 'almost' thrashed his own car trying to pull it out, and despite that continued to hover around to assist, after we had left.

There were two couples in the car, and again like the incident above, other than the driver of that vehicle, none of the other passengers had anything to convey in terms of gratitude. Not a smile in recognition of our efforts, no words of encouragement, nor any attempt to assist. In fact, the two women stood apart from this entire brouhaha, and behaved as if it was our obligation to stop and help. I can only hope that they had reserved all of their gratitude for the Emarati man. They have obviously never heard the words:

"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice." - Meister Eckhart



Is it something about Indians and our culture (or rather the lack of it), or is it a trait within a particular strata of society? These are not stray incidents and many are the times that I have also experienced this peculiar lack of 'expressed' gratitude for small gestures of generosity.

We pride ourselves on our long history and culture. Civilization in some form or the other has been around in India for over 10 millennia, but we have probably lost a lot more than our heritage and wealth, if our country cannot instill the values of gratitude, politeness and courtesy into its citizens.

We seem to brush such issues aside and blame poverty for everything. But is that really correct? Our focus is so much on technical education, that our schools have lost the ability to inculcate ethics, values and social etiquette. What is the point of having fifty thousand engineers qualifying every year, if they cannot talk or dress properly? Social skills are non-existent, along with hygiene and presentation. These have to be imbibed at a young age for them to grow deep roots.

“Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone.” -G.B. Stern

How about leaving your Footprints on my Beach?

Going through my blog, I realise that I have dawdled on a variety of topics ranging from children and education, to corporate life and traffic snarls. I have interspersed these, with updates about what has been happening in my life.


I remember writing my first blog, as a way to vent my frustrations (pathetic as seen in current light) about the management of a major corporation. I truly believed that I could do a better job and hence wanted to express myself through this forum. At the time the blog was not intended to be public, and I had kept my identity to myself, so that even if someone were to chance on it, they would not know who the author was.


It was only after I had written a few articles and shown them to my wife that we jointly decided that "I should come out of the closet" so to speak. It took a lot of courage to actually circulate them, because in the very act of asking someone to read them, was the implicit arrogance that they were worth reading. I still struggle with this, and though on the one hand I would love to see my site's "footfall" increase, somehow on the other I am loath to publicize my dithering’s.


Your stuff starts out being just for you……. but then it goes out. Once you know what the story is and get it right - as right as you can, anyway - it belongs to anyone who wants to read it. Or criticize it.
- Stephen King


This site allows me to track page-views, to see what has been viewed and how often. To my surprise the articles that relate to my personal experiences have had the highest number of "hits". I guess people who know me, relate to them more than to the other perspectives that I have published.


I do think however, that some of my ignored op-eds were more interesting than my personal experiences. It takes some effort to come up with an issue to write about, and then articulate an argument around it. Obviously it gets easier if it is something that you feel strongly about, and funnily enough because you feel strongly, you would love to hear others agree or disagree with your view.


So I come to this conundrum as to, whether to bare-all in this forum which might interest people more, or to continue voicing my opinion. Should I adopt the Big Brother format for my blogs where-in I write about the trivia in my life, or should I try and adopt a more intellectual pose? My blog viewing history tells me that the former would be more successful, as most of you care not one fig about my views - and rightly so!

Over the last few months I have condensed each blog, tried desperately to hit a more humorous vein, and inserted pictures and cartoons to alleviate the tedium of text.


To conclude, even though I know how many times a blog has been viewed, I have no idea of the demographic, and hence it gets difficult to get the balance as regards relevance. In some cases I can guess who the reader is, and in very few I get comments. I really appreciate your comments, because whether you agree with my view or not, it means that you have taken the time and effort to read through, and there is no greater compliment than that.

So on my part I will try to make my blogs as readable, brief and enjoyable as I can, to make sure that you visit more often. On your part please do leave your comments (footprints) as and when you can, but better still - please keep reading.

First Date

Last week I went on the first date with my daughter Lea. We had spoken about it often, but never really managed to get down to it. The plan had always been, to go for a movie followed by dinner. Because my son and I share our taste in high octane Hollywood fare, we have had enough opportunities to connect. With Lea however it has been more difficult. Her tastes in entertainment, be it music or movies, really does stretch my patience. Barbie and Aquamarine are really not my "type", in movies, nor are Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift in music! Anyway, we took advantage of the fact that my wife had an official function that evening, to plan and execute our date. Any worries that my son would feel left out were dispelled by his reaction, as he is most happy when he is sitting in front of his laptop or left to his music.

There really were no suitable movies running, and since we have been the sort of parents who have curtailed our children’s intake of sugar and high fat food, the general idea was to take her out to indulge in whatever she wanted to eat. The initial conditions were that she would only buy what she would eat that evening, nothing to be taken back home. When I asked what she had in mind, she was torn between candy, milkshakes, junk food, or Slurpee’s. The choices for her were quite literally staggering, as under normal circumstances she would be gifted with a frown, if she ever asked for any of the above.

As mentioned before, I have done this with my son before, but taking my daughter out for dinner, was a completely new experience! With my son we have deep conversations and sometimes even deeper silences. As with all men, we are as comfortable not saying anything, as we are discussing issues. But with my daughter, it was incessant chatter, all the way from our front door and back. She was excited and it showed! It showed in her staccato monologue, and in her half skip-half run walk as she kept pace with me. By her own admission she loves to talk and cannot stop even if she tries. She started before we left the house, and managed to continue sharing her day, her views on clothes, friends and food all through the evening. I did get in a few words edgewise, but other than that it was her all the way.

Candy is her favorite so was not surprised that the first stop was at Candylicious. She spent some time selecting what she wanted, and to my surprise the basket at the end of it was extremely light. I queried her on it and her response was that she did not want to be greedy. Next stop was Millions of Milkshakes, where we both treated ourselves to a small shake (hers being the Miley Cyrus shake, of course), which sat in my stomach like a ton of bricks. Of course she had kept her "real" wish for last. She wanted to stop in at Hamleys, to see if something caught her eye. Her excitement was infectious as she ran around the aisles looking for that "something". I, of course, knew that we would not leave Hamleys without "something", which proved to be correct.

She had dressed up for the occasion, and unfortunately the walking had resulted in her getting a shoe-bite. We agreed that the last half hour or so, when she went barefoot with her shoes in her hand, would be our secret to be kept from Mom (she generally frowns on such behavior). That also gave me the chance to carry her on my back all the way to the car in the Mall parking, an act that I sense will soon be difficult to achieve.

As we walked out of the Mall after a couple of hours, I truly was content and at peace with the world. I believed that I had spent an entire evening with the most beautiful girl in the world, and to top it off had made her extremely happy.

As an old saying goes - A daughter is a gift of love.

Spend baby spend

I quite often get an idea for my blog through conversations, and this one is the result of one such chat with a friend, post an intensive exercise session, when the topic of spending habits came up. We have common friends, who we both believe, spend more than they should, and what’s worse is that (in our opinion) most of it is for show. To keep up with the Jones's rather than through a genuine desire for a particular product or service. Without getting judgmental, this is not an uncommon trait. A vast swathe of people, derive their self-esteem through their material possessions.

We all complain that this is a material world, but let us be honest, the world does judge us by our spend. Whether we like it or not, our worth is measured by the objects that we own and that surround us. We have all been seduced into this way of thinking by slick marketing and product hype in the media. Children who have mobiles are obviously better off than children who don't. Children with smart phones are better off than children with normal cell phones, and so on. We want better schools for our kids, better cars for ourselves, bigger houses etc., etc.!

One area that spend has exploded in, in the last couple of decades is on children. Whether it is education, toys or food, the focus has shifted firmly to one level above ones means. The Marketers have hit on the right nerve, by targeting the emotional angle that kids entail and milked it to its maximum. Even sensible middle class people, who probably deny themselves the small luxuries of life, cannot resist the siren call of indulgence when it comes to their children. The best clothes, latest accessories and an inability to refuse their child any wish, characterises the 21st century family.

As an example I see so many people now ferrying their infants in fancy perambulators, which cost as much as a small car. They come with built in suspension systems, brakes (brakes seriously!!!), adjustable heights, tires the size of an SUV and of course tire pumps. I really wonder whether they think that the baby notices the difference. These are used for a couple of years, after which they are either stored or given away. On the other hand, we were probably carried around on our parent’s hips, and our children were trundled around in the most basic prams available in the market. I remember we travelled half way around the world with one where the front wheels would not swivel, and we got good exercise as a result, and my daughter was none the worse for wear.

The other example is evident on any trip to the Mall, as you see today's children attired in the latest hot brands and accessories. Styled hair, make up, branded designer clothing, expensive shoes and the latest gadgets, all at their folk's expense. I really wonder whether their parents have ever had a conversation with them on the value of money, being independent and having discipline. But even more is my inability to understand how anyone can enjoy flagrantly spending other people’s money. Where is their sense of self pride and self-worth, or is it that they see this as an obligation that their parents have to fulfill?

The American model of life and excessive spend has now become so endemic that I doubt that people are even aware of the trap that they have sprung on themselves. Easy credit, low interest rates, and peer pressure have resulted in almost all of us having huge loans over our heads. Whether it is for cars or houses, education or household appliances, we borrow money to fund our desires and the Banks are laughing all the way to the .... uhmm Bank?

"Today, there are three kinds of people: the haves, the have-not's, and the have-not-paid-for-what-they-have's." - Earl Wilson

Money has become such a symbol of status, that living within ones means, and saying that one cannot afford something is almost heresy. People of limited means who actually endeavor to live within those means, often find themselves on the fringes of society. Secretly envied (probably), but publicly disdained.

Additionally, affordability is a very difficult concept for many people to understand, especially when the advertisements have got you by your emotional balls. For most people, potential future earning (however uncertain) is a guidepost for affordability. Revenue streams, unpredictability of expenses, inflation, future cash flows etc. are not concepts that most people want to wrap their heads around. And I say fantastic! More power to them!

As America’s spending power wanes, the new powers in the East, like China and India will take on the mantle. I cannot speak for the Chinese, but India is following so closely in America’s footsteps that soon it will be stepping on its toes. Branded clothes, fancy restaurants, shopping holidays, expensive cars all jostle for the Indian Diasporas attention. The culture of consumerism is spreading all over, and with it will come the next great economic boom, as the purveyors of fine objects will suck in this money to feed their factories and their shareholders.

And frankly, as many feed this engine of economic growth, others who prefer to sit on the sidelines and invest in the corporations and companies that manufacture those products, will gain from the valuations. For people who save, the next big investment break is just around the corner, as todays spoilt Teens enter the marketplace with their insatiable greed for "stuff". If this generation can live so extravagantly on their parent’s money, I can only imagine their profligacy as they start earning for themselves.

Now if only we could identify the next big fad or hit product, we could be sitting pretty and raking it in!

Savers like spenders, worriers like avoiders and planners marry dreamers.

~ Olivia Mellan

Billions and Billions

So the world's population hit seven billion today, with a baby being born every two seconds. We have tripled our population in the last century due to advancements in healthcare and medicine. People are living longer, but has the quality of their lives improved? A vast swathe of people live in poverty and malnutrition, while in other parts of the world food is disposed of, destroyed, or thrown away, to balance market forces. On one hand you see pictures of children dying of starvation in Africa and on the other, one needs to just walk into any restaurant to see the prolific waste of food on any table.

The divide between the rich and the poor is increasing and beyond a point will create a civil revolution. Not too sure, but I do remember reading that the top 1% of humanity control almost 80% of the world's resources, or thereabouts.

There are two views on this population explosion, a pessimistic and an optimistic one, and to be honest I do not know which one I endorse. The pessimistic one says that population will continue to grow until the demographics create an imbalance in the order of things; to the extent that society and the entire world will be negatively affected. Water tables are receding, pollution is spreading, and critical species are becoming extinct due to man's intrusion, all of which are creating a negative spiral. A modern day version of the Malthusian Theory, almost!

The optimistic one talks about the growth slowing down as literacy spreads and growth rates slow down naturally. If history is any guide, we have managed to producs the resources necessary to feed the growing population and maybe we will continue to do so. As education spreads, people will have smaller families, which by itself should see a balance in growth over the next fifty years. Europe and North America are already seeing negative population growth rates.

I hope for the second scenario, but am scared of the first.

We all know or can deduce, that as basic necessities like fresh water, clean air, and decent food get more difficult to obtain the current fabric of society and world order will be torn. But what are we individually doing about it? How can we influence these vast forces, and more importantly should we even bother to try? Should not the more educated, the more informed, have a bigger responsibility to tackle these issues?

Should we just bury our heads in the sand and hope that someone, somewhere, will save the day? Should we just wait for the tide to sweep us away?

Or should we manage our lives responsibly, consume the resources that are needed rather than wanted, eliminate waste where possible, and endeavor to leave a better world for our children.

We all worry about the population explosion, but we don’t worry about it at the right time – Art Hoppe

Farewell Steve Jobs

I feel compelled to write something on the passing away of Steve Jobs, a genius and a visionary. I am sure that reams and reams will be written about him by people who are much more erudite, and infinitely more knowledgeable. I can only try and write from a common man's perspective of how his life and his work touched me and my family.

From the moment that we got our first iPod to now, where almost every member of my family owns an Apple device, we are forever indebted to him for making technology not only so accessible but also so integral through its simplicity. His user interfaces are such that it makes even a child look like an IT prodigy. Just a few weeks ago I wrote in my blog that since I started reading on the iPad, I have given up reading physical books. I do not know when last I actually played a CD to listen to music - it is the iPhone or the iPod that has completely taken over.

I wish I could say that my wife never leaves home without her iPhone, but that would be lying - she never leaves a room without it in her hand!

I was made aware of his death by her, and ironically she read about it on a device that he created - the iPhone. On hearing the news I felt as if I had been punched in my stomach - it was almost as if someone I knew intimately had died. I did not want to accept it, and kept telling myself that it must be a rumour. The sense of loss, on getting to know that the news was real, was overwhelming. It is a loss not just for myself, but for the whole world. I had not realised how much, over the last few years, I have eagerly anticipated Apple's product launches and how much they meant. 

To me, this heralded the untimely demise of an icon, and someone, I just knew, who still had so much to offer humanity. I can only imagine what wonders he would have brought out, if he had been given more years. It was not just the technology, but his marketing genius, and his obsessive pursuit for perfection in all of his creations that defined him and the Company he built. From Computers to Music and Entertainment his magic touch turned everything to gold. 

I saw the tributes that have been loaded on You Tube, and especially poignant was the one by CNN, which put up a montage of Apple's product launches - from the Macintosh to the iPad 2 and iCloud. What struck me was the physical transformation in Mr. Jobs over the years. Towards the end he was a physical shadow of himself, and I guess the end was inevitable.

In this day, when all you read about are financial meltdowns, natural disasters, violence and death, he brought a ray of sunshine and beauty, and made this world a better and more connected place.

Last night I watched his commencement speech at Stanford College in 2005 again, where he spoke about facing death, and listening to him just a few days after his passing away, made me wonder whether he did live the last few years of his life as he had preached.

And so passes a Colossus of Modern Industry, gone but not to be soon forgotten. God Speed Steve Jobs!      

Bob's your uncle

I don't know about you, but I really really get amazed when someone addresses me as Uncle. Just to clarify, I do not get upset, just amazed. For example at the gym, there is a young lad who normally strikes up a conversation with me. We talk about fitness and different types of exercise, give each other a high five or low five or whatever the current bonding ritual is, and then he ends the interaction by calling me Uncle.

I mean, I do not think of myself as an Uncle!! Do you?  

I know that I am getting on in years, and to be honest have no issue or umbrage with that concept. I do not try and mask my years, or lie about my age. I believe in ageing as gracefully as nature intended, and the benefits of being male are that there are no expectations about hair density or colour, and skin tone. Males in all sizes are eminently acceptable, whereas if a woman is not 36-24-36 one could justifiably ask for a refund. As an aside, it really is good to be a male - is it not? We can eat what we want, grow oversize, get bald, have hair coming out of our noses or ears, and we are au naturelle'. For a woman life just is tougher. Quite often even the extravagant spend on cosmetics and other “enhancements” do not do enough. Basically nature intended for males to age (or mature) better.

Strange enough I feel exactly the same as I have felt since my memories began. I ‘am’ balding perceptibly at the top of my head, but my hair growth elsewhere on my scalp is good enough to cover up for it. I know teenagers who have lost more hair then I have. The only physical aspect that I may get a bit sensitive about is my waist, which seems to have a mind of its own.

I was never a physically proficient boy, so my fitness and skill levels have probably improved since my teens, and mentally I am sure I am a match for my adolescent days. As mentioned in one of my earlier blogs, I never was one for late nights, so obviously do not feel the onset of age when I am having a late night out. I feel the way I have always felt. It is not as if, when I am subjected to loud synthesized computer generated Rave music in a nightclub, I tell myself that I am getting too old for this. (By the way remind me to write about my recent night-club outing!). I have always felt this way about loud synthesized computer generated Rave music! As a kid I would have had a headache, just as I do now.

Granted, that in the mornings I do mince my steps a bit till I have worked out the stiffness, but that I blame more on the temperature of the room, which my wife keeps at sub-zero. It is definitely not my joints that are stiffer, just the environment that is not suitable. I still walk as fast as I used to, and am sure that I can run further than I used to waddle, as a heftier teenager. Getting down on the floor and getting off it, is a bit of a struggle, just as touching my toes while stretching is, but let us not get petty here.

So when exactly did I become an Uncle? At what age do we transition from being called by our first name to an honorific? Can one call you an Uncle and treat you as a friend? Are we not supposed to treat "Uncles" with respect? If yes, how can you joke with me, spout profanity in my company, play competitive sport with me, and then end it all by calling me Uncle?

If I am your frigging Uncle, then stand at attention when you talk to me, and stop giving me high fives. Show me some respect! Or better still just call me by my name!

The Company Men

Last weekend we saw "The Company Men", a movie on modern day corporate life set during the 2008 and 2009 recession.

It is a beautifully filmed and narrated story set during that time, and the impact of job loss on the lives of the characters. The film touches very briefly on management greed and the unremitting pressure of financial performance from share-holders and the "market", but in the most it keeps to its core of focusing on the lives of its protagonists. It illustrates the collapse of inherent mental models and the change in each person as they go through experiences that are probably getting universal. The “job for life” ethos that our parent’s generation lived through is coming to an end in most parts of the world, as even Government jobs are no longer sacrosanct. The confusion and perplexity that besets the characters as they try and make sense of events out of their control, and their efforts to rationalize them as they unfold, is engrossing.

We saw the film as a family, and we loved it. Its unhurried pace and its unfolding storyline had us enthralled, and what was even better was that it kept to its promise of authenticity. There were no dramatic turnarounds and no miraculous escapes – just life as it unravels for most people. We could identify with a plethora of characters, just as we could with the various emotions, since they were the most human of reactions. From anger to non-acceptance to shame, and then to the eventual recognition of the need to survive.

The film also touched upon some key sentiments at a subliminal level. How our jobs, not only provide a means to a living, but have evolved to providing significance to our existence itself. The very act of getting dressed every morning and driving to work provides a purpose, bereft of which, it strips one off their individuality. We are what we do. What would we be, if we did not go to work every day?

The movie illuminated the importance that we give to material possessions that surround us, and our unwillingness to let them go. Our house, our car, the school’s our children go to, club memberships, all provide a snapshot to the world of where we stand on the material index. It is deemed unfathomable to relinquish these, having achieved a particular level, but at what cost? As much as anything else, these paradigms define us and shape our lives through the unconscious decisions that we make. They express to the world how we view ourselves.

The movie also showed the role of family, and the impact of the family’s support or the lack of it, on the different characters. Probably more than anything else, this aspect of one’s life defines eventual success or failure as different reactions lead to divergent decisions. The need to keep up appearances, denial, and ego add pressure to an already extreme situation, whereas acceptance and pragmatism overcome most hurdles.

To sum it up, an eminently watchable movie, and definitely one that will provide fodder for conversation with friends.

The Haze of Time

In my previous blog I had written that I hardly ever pick up a physical book nowadays. Last week I decided to go through my bookcase to clear books that I thought I would never read again. As I was sorting a shelf, I noticed an old school textbook. It was a thin dust-covered book, tucked away amidst other tomes, and since it was a volume of short essays I thought it could provide some bedside reading. Anyway, that night I picked it up to read and lo and behold, the first thing I noticed were my handwritten notes, jotted down when I was probably younger than my son.

My generation, which precedes the digital age by quite a margin, have a few photographs, but no video or voice recordings, to remind oneself of how we looked and sounded when young. In short we have little to no digital memories! My parents did not maintain scrapbooks full of our dithering’s, drawings and squibbles, and due to the severe limitations of living space, no toys, clothes or other memorabilia were kept either. So to chance upon any personal belonging from that era was quite strange. Reading my scribbles from over three decades ago, started me thinking about the conditions and state of mind under which I would have written the same. It transported me back to my school and my classroom, and the trials and tribulations that at that age filled up my world.

My last years in school were a time of studying and examinations, unrelieved by play or relaxation. I do not have particularly good memories of those years, not because of any abuse or punishment. It was just that they were an endless parade of days filled with meaningless tests and exams. All I remember is trudging from school to tuitions and back again. Days spent cramming senseless facts and statistics that helped me not a bit, later in my chosen field. Those years were spent studying endlessly, with days and weeks of play, sunshine and happiness irretrievably lost due to the facile pressures of student life. Thankfully there was no pressure from my parents at all, and I can only imagine the hell those years would have been for classmates whose parents were "involved" with their studies and school.

I remembered chomping at the bit to leave the strictures of school life, but also overwhelmed by the thought of getting out into the wider unfettered College world. From the time that I could remember, my life had been a road that stretched straight ahead, with no forks or crossroads. Every year was a progression into the next school year, with each class unfolding either new subjects or greater depth in the same ones. The only thing that changed from year to year was my decreasing ability to cope with the different fields of study.

I remembered the trauma of my Board examinations, followed by the practical’s for Biology and Chemistry. And after that ......... nothing. The time between the Board examinations and the Final results draws a complete blank. I cannot remember anything. I was probably in mental stasis, with the contradictory emotions of excitement and fear, making it akin to floating away from the womb, the umbilical cord cut, never to know again the warmth of the familiar.

Every time we gain a new foothold on the steps of life, we concurrently lose something else. Whether it is our innocence, our paradigms, our friends or our comfort zones, life extracts its price.

I retraced the journey that I had embarked on since those school days, as an under-confident geeky slip of a boy, with neither the brains nor the brawn to take on the world. Any initial hint of bravura was crushed by the fiasco of my tenth grade results, the outcome of which was my inability to get admissions into any city college. At the time, the shame was almost unbearable, but my parents took it as stoically as they did all else. Not once did I feel their support falter, or hear them express even the hint of disappointment. All I recall are days spent in snaking queues for college admissions, with a growing sense of desperation as door after door was slammed shut in our faces.

In retrospect it was probably the best thing that happened. I tasted failure very early in life. I learnt the direct co-relationship between work and results, and that actions counted for more than words. Even more importantly I learned that failure was just an experience, and what mattered eventually was our reaction to it. Spending the next two years of my life in a community charitable school taught me to be humble, to learn to adapt to situations that one does not control, and the virtue of patience. All values that I frittered away during the next three years, in one of the most prestigious (in those days) college in Bombay. The freedom of college life, coupled with the absence of study or supervisory pressure made me complacent and lazy. From those years I learned that lessons not well learned are soon forgotten, and that freedom without responsibility is a one way street to failure.

Chancing upon my text book made me reflect on my journey since those days. In that cursive text from years gone by, I recognized the undeniable lineage of my current scribble. And just as the foundation for my handwriting was laid in those nascent days of my life, so was the character of the person I was meant to become.

The child truly is the father of the man.

P.S. Yup that is me in the photograph, and the glasses were the cheapest and toughest that my Dad could find in Bombay. They lasted through half my school years, and well into college!

The Art of Reading

I have been reading ever since I can remember. As a kid I used to devour magazines, periodicals, newspapers and books, of all genres. Westerns, thrillers, horror, romance, poetry, classics all had equal standing for me. If I had nothing to read, I would pick up a technical journal, just so that my eyes could experience the comforting sense of running over printed words. It mattered not that I understood very little, or that I was not absorbing every single word. Sometimes it was not even what was printed, but the binding, or the cover, or the smell of a book that could keep me enraptured.

I could read standing, sleeping, or sitting; at home, in the bus, train, plane or car. I could read in pin-drop silence, or in a cacophony of sound, and I never let the absence of proper lighting set me back. What little strength my hands developed is, I am sure, due to having held up heavy books to read while lying prone on the bed. The heavier and thicker the book, the more eager was my desire to peruse it. I distinctly remember many nights of going to bed with a book under my pillow, and a smile on my face.

Reading could keep me up, or put me to sleep. It educated me, but also made me realise my own ignorance. Many times it made me feel proud of my insight, or humbled me with my lack of understanding. It would lift me to dizzying heights of wonder, or make my toes curl up with revulsion at the thoughts and words of a character. It expanded my vocabulary, and ruined my eyes.

Some of the great authors were my best friends for days at a time, espousing their theories or philosophies or enrapturing me with their tales. Their stories got me familiar with cities and places that my feet would never tread on. Books gave me something to look forward to, when I had nothing else. Loneliness was an affliction that I never suffered from, as a good book was company extraordinaire! Whether I was travelling alone or had some idle time, my books were always there.

Hence if someone were to tell me, even a year ago, that there would come a time, when picking up a book would be a chore, I would have laughed. I do not believe that anyone who knows me well could even harbor such a thought. But today that statement holds true. Today I do not feel like lifting a book, or a magazine. I have literally hundreds of books to be read in my bookcase, but have not managed to be seduced by even one. Even the ones that did beckon, (gasp) I could not complete. Some are lying on my bedside table, their covers appealing to my sense of guilt, their authors pleading for their work to be lifted, with book-marks peeking out cheekily to remind me of an unfinished volume.

I can only blame Mr. Steve Jobs and his Ipad for this conundrum that I am in. Ever since I got it, I have been slowly but surely weaned away from the physical act of picking up books or magazines. The allure of their electronic cousins has ensnared me. The associated pleasure of browsing in bookstores has also fallen prey, as the world of books is now literally at my fingertips. Now my entire library is with me, and I can curl up on my lazy-boy and decide which of the various books that I am reading concurrently, I want to get into.

I have embraced the 21st Century. I have gone digital!

Past Perfect

A couple of weeks ago, while mall-crawling, my wife with an exclaimation of surprise pulled out a branded tee shirt from the display rack. She wanted to take a proper look at it in the light to confirm what she thought she had seen. This tee had gaping holes all over, and looked as if it had been stored in a closet full of moths. Aghast, we looked around to confirm whether this was a damaged piece, and saw that there were many more on sale. We of course have seen torn and shredded jeans, slippers and tops being sold at astronomical prices, but this one took the cake! Who would buy that and why? That got me thinking......  

.... that the current generation of youngsters suffers from a huge inferiority complex. It is masked behind an attitude of belligerence and over-confidence. At a superficial level they seem to be completely at ease with what life has in store for them. This bravura is however only skin-deep, and it becomes evident as one strips away the superficiality, to look at the actions behind them. I cannot blame them, for most of them have been brought up in relative luxury, and have never had to strive or fight for themselves. Sharing, be it toys, clothes, books or food is an alien concept, and hand-me-downs would be downright repugnant. Their parents, having taken the hard road to adulthood have sheltered their children, in the vain hope that that makes them better parents.

 

Wherever you grew up in the 1950's to the 1980's; be it Asia, US or Europe, it is probable that you grew up in a rule-based, value-driven environment. Your parents, more likely than not, inculcated and ingrained values for money, hard work, respect for elders and an attitude of temperance and patience, into you. Even if your friends and colleagues came from significantly disparate economic backgrounds, these values hard-coded into each child, meant that differences hardly ever manifested on the playground. That of course did not mean that all children growing up were the same - but the exceptions proved the rule.

By and large, your parents let you fight your own battles, be it in the playground or the school. In fact, the rule of the playground was quite similar to the law of the jungle, and quite often I was at the brunt end of that piece of unwritten edict. In school it was sometimes as bad, because in addition to school yard bullies you had teachers who never held back their display of displeasure by the threat of legislation, counseling or job loss. Even though not completely justifiable, it did ensure that discipline and attendance were exemplary, as was the behavior of the students. It was generally accepted wisdom that every child was different and hence could not rank first, and that inequalities in talents and aptitude were a given, and quite natural. A youth’s lackluster performance was not immediately blamed on teachers, coaches, some syndrome or the universe in general. Somehow a vast majority of this generation did not land up with emotional stress or suffer from mental disturbance. They turned out fine - even the dyslexics!

That same generation then turned its back on their parent’s values, and adopted a new set of child rearing rules. Indulgence, tolerance and leniency are now the guiding principles of parenting. Forget corporal punishment, even chastising and censoring are taboo. The child’s psyche is too fragile, and an unwarranted word at a tender age could leave enduring scars. In a strange perversion of simulated childbirth, children were to be cocooned from the realities surrounding them, until they are thrust out into the world as fully formed adults.

But these same parents regale their children with stories about the hardships they endured, and the abstinence that was common growing up. They depicted their own parents either as taskmasters or completely detached, and their childhood as a rough and tumble whirl of hard, character-forming experiences. They take pride in the values inculcated in them, and wax lyrical on how strong that made them.

They rear their children like bonsai plants, and expect them to grow into mighty oaks!

What do you think that does to the teen? What do you think is the impact on their self-esteem? They of course want to prove how tough they are. Surrounded by indulgence, this manifests in fashion, music and other pursuits. For example:-

• While we aspired for fine clothes and attire; they want to wear faded, ripped, stressed and torn clothes to look like hobos.

• When we listened to music that lifted our spirit; they listen to tortured lyrics from a delusional drug-induced mind or rap (need I say more?)

• We watched movies about heroic people fighting all odds to succeed; they watch about the futility of breaking out

• We played in the sun and the rain, climbed trees, and ran over cracked sidewalks; they play GTA, running and shooting people in the virtual world

• We accidentally scratched and bruised ourselves, and sometimes broke bones cycling and roller skating; they invite injury through extreme sports

• We revered people who could speak eloquently; they idolize the descent of language to its lowest common denominator.

So what comes next? And are we fostering a deep rooted psychosis that attracts them to the less than perfect, and to the dangerous? Maybe factory-minted dented Ferraris and shattered screen TV’s, might become the outré items of the future.

What do you think?

Do Schools kill Creativity?

If any of you have been reading my blogs over the years, you will know that education is, and has been, a pretty emotive topic for me. More so because very often I have found myself to be on the fringes of generally held opinions. As an outlier, I have touched on it in various blogs trying to be as objective as I can be, considering that I have two children in the system. 

I think all of us are touched by education, either through our own experiences or our children's on-going tribulations. Almost every second person that I meet talks about it, and views can be as polarised as any item of discussion can ever be. For people in the Eastern hemisphere this is a highly charged issue, and as their children reach a stage where admissions for Universities are imminent, their voices become more shrill and anxious. Admissions into good colleges are extremely difficult, and to get a combination of a good college within the vicinity, even more challenging.

When I was in Bombay last month I read in the Times of India, of a college in Delhi which had announced their required percentage cut-off for admissions, at a 100%. A 100% !!!!! That is ridiculous by any standard, and even the Education Minister of India made a comment on it. During that trip every person I met, spoke about schooling, tuitions and education. It has permeated Indian society like no other issue has, and is definitely, by orders of magnitude, more of an issue than when we were growing up. 

In the West it is slightly less of a concern, as the curriculums seem to be more flexible and the overall supply of good colleges meets the demand (I guess). Their entire system seems to be graded, and starts ratcheting up steeply in the more advanced classes. Their belief is that a six year old in not half a twelve year old, and the system reflects that philosophy somewhat.   

However, in all of this brouhaha of education no one seems to question the foundations of that system. Nobody asks whether it is capable of preparing our children for a world that they will enter in the next few years, into an environment that even the brightest minds cannot predict or envisage. 

Anyway enough of me - the purpose of this blog was to get you to view the attached talk by Sir Ken Robinson on YouTube. He questions "Do Schools kill Creativity?", and though it is for a duration of twenty minutes, the delivery, humour and insight makes it seem just too short.

I would strongly recommend this to all parents. If you have already seen this, see it again!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG9CE55wbtY

Holiday travails

Either the world is going mad or I have become too soft. Everywhere I turn, the fad amongst people planning a break is to go on adventure holidays. These involve travelling to hard-to-reach destinations, living in camps and indulging in other assorted outdoorsy activities. Just recently I was chatting with a few friends in Bombay, talking about prospective vacations and trips, and most of them were planning to go into the jungles to see tigers, or trek through Nepal, or drive (if you can call fighting a car over potholed bullock cart tracks that) to Leh and Ladakh. Now these may sound exotic, but most of these places are in the most infra-structure challenged regions of the sub-continent. One cannot reach these places by air. You need to use multiple modes of travel, quite often including horses, camels and carts to get there. The views and scenery, once you reach your destination can be quite good, that is if your body and brain can appreciate it through the pummeling and jarring that they have endured. 

A few of my friends are soon embarking on a motorcycle trip to Northern India, on low technology Royal Enfield bikes. They will traverse the worst roads (if one can call them that) imaginable, over harsh terrain, in terrible weather, on a contraption that should have been abolished a century ago. The machine is uncomfortable on the best of roads; to actually pay good money to ride it for a week in those conditions is the height of masochism. For the pleasure of doing this, they will pay top dollar, risk physical injury, probably suffer from dysentery, live in scruffy hotels and come back with photographs of mountainous scenery that could have been taken from any European town.

Most of these places will not have electricity, or cut it off once it gets dark - basically when you need it most! (Seems quite a convenient way to save costs and charge your customers for it.) Food would also be extremely basic, and very often served when there is no chance that you would feel hungry. Pre-dawn breakfast and post-dark dinner without lights, are not conducive to eating well. Basically the concept is that you pay five star rates to enjoy negative star amenities, and you get bragging rights for the rest of your life as part of the package.

I have had endured hardship and “roughing it out” as a kid. Being brought up in a lower middle class family in a developing country, provided me with enough perspective and first-hand experience about the harder aspects of life, to seek those any longer. We travelled to nearby hill stations on shoe string budgets, with three meals a day as optional. We used to grace establishments, where to call the conditions coarse would be an understatement, but we accepted them as we accepted a lot of other inconveniences. And this was when one travelled as a family - I would not even like to comment on our trips with friends. We had not seen better, and to be away from the madding crowd for a few days, even if it was to an undeveloped part of an under-developed country, was a luxury beyond compare. The quality of the air itself was worth the hardships, coming as we did from the smog-ridden polluted mega-city. To get brief glimpses of vistas with no signs of humans loitering, littering or defecating was priceless.

Now I favor staying in modern hotels, to colonial era buildings that provide you with an experience of life in the Eighteenth Century. I am definitely not at ease with tents, using leaves to wipe oneself, and the absence of electricity and running water. I also prefer to travel to places that are easily accessible to middle aged and slightly fussy tourists. Smooth roads and air-conditioned cars are a necessity, and direct air travel is the more preferred modes of conveyance. I seek comfort, over experience and being one with nature. If there is a good view, it has to come with Twenty First Century amenities. If there are animals to be seen, I would prefer to see them from within air-conditioned comfort, with a tall glass of a refreshing drink in my hand, and canapé’s within easy reach. If that is not possible, then watching National Geographic on a wide screen television will suffice. The only hardship I would ‘choose’ to endure now is a rain shower - in the comfort of a hotel bathroom!

As a wit put it – The road less travelled, is less travelled for a reason.

Broken Idols

Strange how modern idols are as much villains as they seem heroic! We seem to be living in a society that reveres drug addictions and criminals, and we cannot get enough news about their scandals and escapades. There is now a direct correlation to a star being arrested for some misdemeanor or the other, and his / her next song / movie / concert becoming a runaway hit. I am sure that in most cases such incidents are stage managed just for that effect. But what message is being sent to the youth? What is (and who bears) the social cost of such marketing gimmickry?

The entire entertainment scene is riddled with modern day celebrities who live continuously on the edge of acceptability. From Mel Gibson to Lindsay Lohan, our children get inundated with unacceptable stereo-types and for parents trying to use role models to drive home messages of perseverance, talent and character, this world has suddenly become dry. Tiger Woods and Wayne Rooney are hardly the role models that one could use to motivate their kids. Even the rags to riches stories of sports stars and actors, frequently sound hollow as the hero self-implodes with a descent into hedonism, as soon as he gets his new found wealth. Actors and TV stars seem to bask in negative publicity, and there are many who add nothing to the arts, but acquire notoriety and wealth based on some depraved actions. Short termism and quick profit, are the order of the day as people bask on a day’s fame to rake in money that others would take a lifetime to earn.

Who is to blame then, when young kids turn to drinking and smoking and drugs and bad behavior to emulate their idols? An exaggerated focus on clothes and hair styles, living on unearned money and taking the easy way out is all that they seek. To say that one is "Bad" is now good, and "Cool" is defined by a set of behaviors that just a few years ago would have forced the parents to send the child to a correctional institute. It is not uncommon to see children being encouraged to have a small drink or smoke a cigarette in the presence of their parents, from an early age. They may call it supervised conduct, but you might as well give the teen a loaded gun to shoot themselves with.

Whether or not you have children yourself, you are a parent to the next generation. If we can only stop thinking of children as individual property and think of them as the next generation, then we can realize we all have a role to play - Charlotte Davis Kasl.

What did happen to the wholesome values that we grew up with? Speaking and treating others (especially seniors and elders) with respect? Taking responsibility for our actions, and along with that, our future? How did we lose sight of those values, and start rewarding depraved behavior? Who changed the censorship system that used to ensure foul language was kept off the airwaves and guarded the content that was flashed on the silver screen? Was it MY generation that is responsible? Did we forget the fact that just because we could, did not mean that we should have changed the fabric of our society?

Humans are not perfect and were not made to be, but idols and heroes carry an additional responsibility. They carry the hopes and aspirations of an entire generation and their parents, who look up-to and try to emulate them, as leaders and guides. Their words and actions reverberate in fragile minds which are easily influenced and torn asunder. The machinations of the press combined with the barrage of endorsements for these fallen heroes, subconsciously reinforces the link between degenerate comportment and overblown reward. The result is a mass replication of conduct unbecoming, by a vast populace that has neither the talent nor the connections to reach their aspirations. This disenfranchised group spreads the disease of frustration, further corrupting the environment that they influence. It is strange how a few years ago, what I would have preached as freedom of words and action, now I view as an affront to my senses.

Success without honor is an unseasoned dish; it will satisfy your hunger, but it won't taste good - Joe Paterno

Time - Friend or Foe?

Over the last few years I have started to get a bit worried about stopping work and retiring. Now do not get me wrong, it is not that I am a power junky, or my work gives me an identity which I will lose once I stop working. It is also not because I would not know how to fill up my day and enjoy the remaining years. As anyone who knows me will testify, I have interests outside of work that can keep me going for several lifetimes. But let me explain what I mean.

Time is flexible and relative, and don't I know it. Somehow, in my experience, the busiest people are the ones who sit at home. They seem to have no time for anything, be it reading, or answering emails or replying to SMS's. It seems to me almost as if the laziest people are the ones who work all day, and still have time when they finish, to pursue other hobbies, sports or interests. I have a theory that - the harder someone works, the less busy they get! Seems counter intuitive but it is true if people's behaviors are any gauge. All the working people I know seem to find the time to do everything that is required to keep life ticking along, for themselves as well as for others.

On the other hand, 'some' non-working or retired people, cannot seem to find the time in their busy schedules for anything other than their daily routine. They have neither the time to learn new skills nor to develop different talents. As time passes the distance between them and the world outside becomes insurmountable. My father would be a case in point. I never heard my father ever say that he was too busy for anything, till the day he retired. For the last twenty odd years since that event, he has been at breakneck speed - doing what though, I do not know. His day is full and he is now too busy to read books, or listen to music (which he claims he loves). Between waiting for the cleaning lady to come in the morning and his trips to the Bank and Bazaar, there is no time for anything else. Time has suddenly become such a precious commodity that the only thing that competes with its absence is money. My sister is another shining example. She is at home all day. Of course she gives tuitions for a few hours every day, but her time is equally occupied and is a uber-luxury that she just does not have.

My personal experience during my hiatus a couple of years ago was a first-hand peek into the relativity of time. Coming out of an extremely hectic and stressful assignment (to say the least) I was used to living my days hard and fast. The first few weeks at home, the pace continued. I was calling and corresponding and arranging meetings, on top of living my life the way I was used to. As the weeks passed however, I started to feel like time was becoming gooier, almost sticky, as each activity seemed to eat up a bit more time than it did the previous day. I felt almost like the hours in my days were somehow reducing. Instead of having twenty four hours in a day somehow fate had decided that I would have to make do with only fifteen. It started from the time I got up to the time I went to sleep again – every task be it making a cup of tea, to taking a shower, to having lunch, seemed to gobble up more of my time.

The PC took more time to crank up, the building elevators got slower, the kettle took more time to boil – and before I knew it the morning or the day was gone. Don’t get me wrong – I was still going through my life at the same pace, feeling as rushed and breathless every moment of the day, it was just that everything else seemed to have slowed down or could not keep pace with me. By the end of the three months, I would have to schedule and diarize a trip to the supermarket, as my day just could not fit it in. There just was no time to maneuver or juggle errands. And because of that everything started to become a chore – answering phone calls, responding to emails, running to the grocery, all became Herculean tasks requiring huge sacrifice on my part.

During that period if I was required to go to the school for a PTA meeting, for example, or some other errand; it became a huge issue for me. And to top my troubles off, my family refused to understand how hard pressed I was for time. They would give me grief, on how I was constantly complaining about being busy and the lack of time, despite the fact that I was at home all day. They would repeatedly point out how I was not helping out at all. My wife, for example, just refused to understand that the PTA meeting was clashing with my afternoon nap, and that if I did not take that nap, I would lose all my mental strength for the day, which of course I needed to better enjoy the dinner I had planned with friends that evening. (She of course completely lost it, when I suggested to her that it would be better for her to go to the PTA, as she was at work and already out of the house.) My life and days became a sequence of such hard choices, where in gain on one hand came only at my loss.

At the end of that sojourn, when I was actually offered a permanent post with my current employers, I was worried that I might not have the time to do justice to the job and also keep healthy. With (seemingly) fifteen hours in the day, of which a minimum nine would be required at work, that did not leave me with much for family, enjoyment and sleep. Thankfully fate or destiny whatever you call it somehow redressed my daily balance of hours as soon as I started my new assignment. Time started to keep pace with me again, and instead of working against me became a friend. In fact we managed to patch up the relationship so well that soon I felt as if I had thirty hours in a day, to fit in and enjoy whatever I wanted to.

So now I hope you understand my concern with my prospects post retirement. I have only a more hectic schedule, full of things to do (but very little achieved) to look forward to, once I decide to put my feet up. Time, I think is a fickle friend and I know will turn its back on me in a flash. Thankfully I still have a few years, to try and forge a strong relationship with it, so that it does not abandon me when I need it most.

Time is a great teacher; unfortunately it kills all its pupils - Hector Louis Berlioz

Exercise... the poor person's Plastic Surgery

In the last few months we heard news of at least two people, we know quite well, who have had surgery related to coronary issues. Both of them were gym regulars and very much into health and fitness, though in completely different age groups. This re-opened the perennial debate that I have with my wife, who will use these as examples of why exercising to her is no guarantee of good health. In her experience, most of the fitness obsessed people that she has come across are the more whiny ones - always complaining of aches and pains, constantly groaning and wingeing or raising some issue or the other (myself included). If it is not soreness, it is stomach bloating, and if not that, a general lack of energy. She also believes that such people are more prone to illnesses and other related issues. I guess she subscribes to Henry Ford’s view that – “Exercise is bunk. If you are healthy you do not need it: if you are sick you should not take it.”

 

I on the other hand just cannot wean myself away from my masochistic work outs, even though the regularity of my sessions has diminished considerably due to time and other pressures. My idea of a nice session is dripping with sweat from head to toe, puffing and panting, and feeling a nice soreness emanating into my muscles. If my heart is not pounding at its absolute maximum, and my breath coming out in gasps I feel as if I have just been fooling around. I see people who meander in to the gym, and 45 minutes later stroll out with not a drop of sweat or strain to show for it, and to me that is an utter waste of time. Indians (excuse the generalization here) in particular hate to push themselves physically. I have been a member of an Indian Sports Club now for years. The gymnasium there is as good as any I have ever been to, the machines, the space to move around etc. are all excellent, just as the entire club facilities are actually superb. But apart from a couple of 40-something enthusiasts, the remaining regulars barely break a sweat. I guess something IS better than nothing, but what leaves me perplexed is why not give it all you have got?

Why do most people not workout, even though they know it is good for them?

I guess they need some motivation....

Why do smokers continue to persist in smoking, knowing fully well it is bad for them? Fundamental questions with really no easy answers! We all have this amazing gift to build mental models (beliefs) which suit our situation and preferences, and leave all dissenting information aside. It is called selective perception, and is a common human trait. I have this tendency to put all sorts of junk into my mouth, knowing fully well that it is bad for me. I guess I justify the same by saying that I will work it out the next day!

People, who know me, know that exercising is very close to my heart. I have been a gym-rat now for over 20 years, interspersed with other sports like squash and running in between. Physical wear and tear and niggling injuries have forced me, over these years to stop some of these activities, as well as tone down the intensity of my routines. Many times over these years I have asked myself as to why I do what I do, and I have failed to find an adequate response. I could understand this dedication if my overall fitness (by whatever standard) was improving steadily, or that I was into competitive sports, or even if I felt great at the end of it all. But on the contrary, I am almost always either stiff or sore, recovering from some injury or complaining about some ligament stress. I cannot remember a decent period of pain-free time in the last 10 years or so.

I seem to have given myself a Hobson's choice of either this type of painful existence or to stop training altogether. Problem is that after periods of prolonged breaks from working out, my stress levels manifest in horrible ways. Headaches, irritability and impatience become the alternative. As these symptoms become noticeable, my loving wife changes her mind and starts realizing the benefits of my working out to her.

 

“Exercise is done against one’s wishes and maintained only because the alternative is worse” – George Sheehan