Goodbye 2012

 So another year comes to an end.

 

Today is my last working day of the year and tomorrow is supposedly the day the entire World comes to an end. Well if it does, this blog will not matter ...

 

Anyway the day after tomorrow we leave for Bombay for a short trip to spend Christmas and New Year with family. After a lot of debate about going, while we were planning this holiday a few months ago - we are now really looking forward to the trip and the break. We all need the mental distance and perspective that any holiday provides.

 

This year has been a tough one - fraught with uncertainty, instability and a certain sense of dismay. Having over the years learned to bear what life throws at us with positivity and bravura, with a smile on our face even if the mind is in turmoil - also creates a tension of sorts. I am glad that our children are also learning the same qualities from their mother, an ability to shrug off the arrows that life inevitably aims at us. Both of them have endured upheaval and a certain amount of emotional haranguement with poise - lessons that will serve them well as their life's chapters play out.

 

It is strange when I think about it - as to how much uncertainty one can learn to live with. Twenty years ago this place made one used to thinking in two and three year horizons - today a month seems enough. I guess right now, in Syria a sense of peace for a day would seem like eternity ... it is just different perspectives.

 

But this was also a good year. Good health for our loved ones, a fantastic holiday in summer, children continuing to do well in school.

 

Some things that I learned this year:

·         My children are more resilient than I think

·         My wife is stronger than I know

·         Enjoy the todays, rather than fret about the tomorrows

·         Despite our best efforts, we can still take some people for granted

·         Keeping quiet and letting sleeping dogs lie, is not a long term option

·         I am not too old to learn new tricks or to change my approach

 

We will come back in the New Year fortified with the love and support of our family to start anew. A fresh chapter and new beginnings!

 

A Merry Christmas and a Prosperous 2013 to all who read this.

  

Where has all the body hair gone?

There has been a recent phenomenon, and I wonder whether you have even noticed it? Men have lost their body hair!

 

To me, it is almost as if I blinked, and the world of men changed radically. When 'did' all the men in the world become hairless? It is as if suddenly all over the world, evolution took a giant step in the midst of one generation, and men lost their hair. This seems to me more apparent in the twenty-something’s. Go to the beach and from afar one cannot make out between the sexes anymore. Glossy smooth skin is on display everywhere, completely devoid of hair.

 

If you see men in adverts, music videos or movies, they are all hairless. Their torso, legs, back, armpits and (I am sure other unmentionables) are all devoid of follicles. Strangely enough the same applies in India, home to the hairiest people on Earth. Walking the streets of Bombay one sees enough evidence all-around, of men with hairy arms and legs, dense moustaches and scraggy beards. But adverts and movies seem to ignore this lot. Movie stars prance around bare-chested and without hair. Hairless male models preen in front of the camera, again sending the message that to be hairless is cool ...

 

Gone are the days when macho men walked the earth - with their shirt open to the waist and tufts of chest hair proudly on display. Large whiskers, beards, and Elvis-style sideburns all have disappeared. Actually the modern macho man is completely bald! My son, who like most boys his age, does get influenced a lot by trends and 'lists' thinks that bald men look tough. I politely ask him how long he thinks any of them could last in the sun, or the cold, without a hat?

 

As a man, this is an important question. I still seem to have the same amount of hair all over (actually an increase on my eyebrows and ears) with the only exception being a dramatic decrease on my head. I cannot help wondering whether my family tree has missed a big evolutionary leap. I never considered myself as particularly hairy, but on the beach I often feel like an Austin Powers type throwback!  

 

A couple of days ago I had an “aha” moment. We were watching the original 'Die Hard' movie – you know the one with Bruce Willis. There are a few scenes where he is running around in the building without a shirt, and his chest hair was pretty evident. There was no embarrassment, no hunching of the shoulders to cover his chest and hide his chest-hair with his hands. (I wonder how long he would have lasted with the bad guys if he did that.) He was proudly displaying it – proclaiming to the whole world that here is a man, and that a man and body hair is a package deal. I will have to see the sequels to check whether the later versions will show him as more ‘evolved’.

 

Anyway coming back to hairless bodies I can think of only two reasons for this. It is either evolution or grooming. Evolution (even on steroids) cannot work this fast and hence it has got to be grooming. I struggle to think that men would be spending time grooming themselves to remove body hair all over to become smooth and silky. This is metrosexualism stretched to its limits, with the clear winners being the Philips and Braun Men Care Divisions.

 

I know that today’s youth put a lot of emphasis on looks – and use of lotions, gels, face washes and creams among the teens is growing, but this is a step too far. Growing up, we had a word for guys who indulged their looks a bit too much, and these boys would not have lasted long on the playground. We used to call them – PANSIES!

Music can really take us back - can't it?

I generally drive with my radio preset to a particular channel and as is quite the norm there is more talk and less music. The songs played are of the new(er) artists, and hence it is not often that I get to hear any of my childhood favorites. Well anyway, recently as I was driving back home from work the RJ played a song that immediately struck a chord. It was a peppy number that we used to dance to when we were in our Tweens.

 

That song transported me back to my days in Junior college (or High School if you are American), and the friends, the parties and of course the incidents that defined that age for me. Music has a tremendous ability to take us back in time. And as with all such memories, they come to me in flashes. I cannot speak for you, but for me these flashbacks are not a contiguous story line, but snapshots of incidents which were either hilarious at the time, or simply embarrassing! These memories stand independent of precedent and conclusion, like a picture in an album, devoid of context.

 

This particular song transported me back to the age of impromptu dance parties that we used to have. There were no air conditioners, and the ceiling fans would try desperately to dissipate the heat generated by a gaggle of teenagers, swinging and rocking to music. It took me back to a particular party immediately after our High School final exams. All of us were elated at the conclusion of an obviously traumatic school examination, and that got manifest in our zest on the dance floor. Our exuberance obviously got us all carried away – as we sang (lustily and out of tune) and danced in as ungainly a manner as is humanly possible.

 

We were sweating profusely in cramped quarters, being very careful to avoid contact with any furniture. I distinctly recall this friend (even by our inferior standards not the most graceful) going particularly wild on a song, his knees and elbows splaying in all directions. And I recollect him - in the heat of the moment, in the buzz of excitement and exhilaration - running his forefinger across his forehead to wipe away the sweat dripping on to his glasses, and then neatly flicking it onto a girl dancing next to him. The party came to a grinding halt as the stunned girl screamed, hyperventilated and almost passed out from shock. I remember all us boys doubling over with laughter, holding our stomachs and rolling on the floor, and a short while later, the girls in a show of solidarity, staging a walk out from the party. The party was a flop, but we guys would break out with laughter for years afterwards just talking about it.

 

Thinking about parties got me to reflect on how we all looked at that gawky age. I was a nerdy boy at best, not exceptionally bright and with two left feet. In my teens I was as clumsy as they came, and was fortunate to have a few friends who were even worse. Due to a sudden growth spurt, their bodies had not yet adapted to their height and reach, whereas my clumsiness was all me. It had nothing to do with sudden growth, as I grew gradually till it just sort of petered off. Like bulls in a china shop, we trod obliviously through life, thankfully bereft of the knowledge of our limitations.

 

The economic pressures of a lower middle class existence in those days meant that my wardrobe was severely limited. I remember the trend of bell-bottom trousers that took Bombay by storm, and how stylish some of the kids wearing those, looked. I so desperately wanted a pair, but perceptive of our financial situation knew that there was no point in asking my parents for them. Eventually when it was apparent that my only pair of full length trousers, which had been altered a number of times (at the waist and bottom), were struggling to cover my girth and the top of my ankles, my mother acquiesced to new ones. As I was still captivated by flared trousers, I insisted and the tailor grudgingly, and with a lot of head shaking, agreed to stich one for me. I had been so fixated on getting flared trousers, I had not realised that the fashion had quite moved on.

 

You should have seen my joy as I wore them over the next few days. The pant-material was dark (but cheap), and changed colors in the light. I can now only imagine the sorry sight - flared bell-bottoms worn with the standard issue Bata flip flops. Gauche, tasteless and completely out of fashion! Unfortunately, none of my friends had the nerve or the desire to disillusion me, and allowed me to traipse around like this. Anyway a week later we were browsing (like only penniless boys can) on the streets of Colaba, when we bumped into a gaggle of girls from our colony. Now these were not the tom-boys that we hung out with occasionally. These were the more upmarket, more snobbish lot, with an eye on fashion and trends. One of them took a look at my bell bottoms (shimmering in the light and fluttering in the breeze), and exclaimed loudly that they were the most ghastly trousers she had ever seen. Being quite a fashion doyen, she 'correctly' pointed out that flares had been out of fashion for a few years now, and why on earth did I get a psychedelic colour? All the other girls in the group started laughing and as my friends joined in, I wanted the earth to open and swallow me then and there. I was so deeply embarrassed that I could not wait to get home, and out of those pants.

 

That was the last time I wore those trousers (they were eventually recycled into even ghastlier shorts.)

 

As easily as I was transported to pleasant memories, I got back to present reality with a thud. Memories and nostalgia can bring a smile on your face, but as often as not, can also make your toes curl up with the embarrassment one has gone through.

Oh what a night!

A few weeks ago we had visitors from Mumbai and we decided to go to a nightclub. We hear of Dubai having a buzzing nightlife but having hardly experienced it, we thought we would go see what it was all about. There has been quite a buzz about the Cavalli Club and so my wife booked us on to their 'guest list' for that night. Unfortunately we landed up a bit later than the cut-off time for people on the guest list, and were politely but firmly refused entrance.

 
As we were all spruced-up and raring to go, we decided to try our luck at a few other places. Being a week-end night, the whole area was alive with expensive cars, elegant men and fancier women. We got similar refusals from a few other "in" clubs that we sought entrance into. As we were walking from one to the other, the thought prevalent on my mind was that, I did not really feel too bad about these rejections. I could see that we were not the exceptions, as almost everyone who was trying their luck on a busy weekend night, were similarly being refused admission. Without exception all clubs had hostesses “manning’ the entrance, and just to see them was worth the trudge.  
 

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we eventually got admission into a club. This used to be a very happening place a few years ago - but competition and the fickle nature of the 'clubbing set' had obviously taken it past its glory days. Once inside it was like any other night club - dark, smoky, flashing strobe lights and pulsing music. There was a crowd on the dance floor and a larger crowd standing around it. As there was no place to sit, we had no option but to get straight on to the floor. I sort of recognized the song (which is a BIG deal), and hence was quite enthused, until I realised that almost all the music the DJ was playing was sort of familiar. Sort of - because they were old popular numbers on steroids. You know what I am talking about - right? Like most popular music nowadays, the songs were plagiarized from older ABBA and Boney M versions, with a Rapper featured in the chorus, and synthesized drumbeats to accelerate the pace. I think it is called a remix! Basically old wine, in an uglier new bottle!
 

After a few minutes the beat started getting quite monotonous. Quite likely that it was the same DJ who had remixed all the songs. We were all mechanically moving around - not dancing, as that is what you do when your brain and your body are enjoying and in sync with the music. I could see that I was not alone. There was no one on the entire floor, who I could see was going wild, but then I realised that most of the crowd here had not come to enjoy the music and to dance. Most had come for a completely different purpose. And the others had a drink in their hand and were swaying around without any enthusiasm or vigor. Like people who had come there to boast to their friends the next dreary working day about the fabulous night they had. 
 

Anyway there is only so much of this type of computer generated music that one can take on a clear mind - one needs a barrel of alcohol and a tenth of one’s normal wits, to enjoy this crap. Since I was the nominated driver I had no choice on the beverage front, so I had most of my wits around me. With loud music there is no chance of a conversation either, so curiosity got the better of me and I started to look around to observe what was happening.

 
In the last ten years or so, we must have come to these places maybe as many times. I realised that unfortunately all the nightclubs were now just pick up joints. It seemed almost as if there is no place for couples to go to and have a good time.


There was one large group of single women, who were obviously not the "how much" variety. All the others (I think) fell into the professional category. So apart from that group of ladies and ours, the whole place was jammed with women and men with only one objective. There were single men circling like vultures, bottle in one hand and cigarette in another. From time to time they would venture on to the floor, trying to see if there were any victims available. Since we had a mixed group, most of these men would gravitate towards the group of single ladies, either dancing outside and behind, or once in a while thrusting through into their circle and making a fool of themselves in the center. Obviously they were completely ignored. I do not know what is worse - the fact that a man could actually think that he could 'hit' on a woman by doing this, or that this behavior has probably been reinforced by previous success.


Anyway after a while we decided to rest our feet and went to stand next to a waist high partition, separating the floor from a seating area. The seating area was reserved only. We were leaning against the parapet when one of my friends drew my attention to what was happening behind me in the reserved area. I turned around and my jaw dropped. There was a girl pole dancing around a pillar, for the benefit of two guys seated on a sofa. She was dancing with abandon, like the way one would in the privacy of their house. It was a virtuoso performance and I was so fascinated that I did not realise I was gawking like a yokel, until my wife literally snapped my head back. So I take back my above comment – there 'was' one person in the room actually dancing. That performance was the highlight of the night as far as I was concerned.
 

Loud music without heart, room filled with cigarette smoke, and a shady crowd (70:30 was the male to female ratio) do not make for a fantastic night. I know I am seeing the darker side of the night life in this city, as all my friends commented the next day when we were recounting the experience. But I could not help and notice it. If you were to walk the streets of Mumbai you will notice the filth - it is so in your face. You can choose to ignore it, but that does not make it go away.


Anyway I left the Club feeling sad and dejected. Dejected by the thought that there probably no decent clubs (disco's) like the ones we used to go to. I wonder where the youth and the teenagers go to now? And sad for the men whose frustrations compel them to do this every weekend, and for the women whose economic circumstances forces them to endure such men.

Stop all the Clocks - W. H. Auden

I recently saw the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral" again, after a very long time. In the Funeral the below poem is recited, and I loved it so much that I thought I would publish it on my blog. It just makes it so easy to come back and read it again in future, as far as I am concerned. (By the way, I have taken the liberty to change the gender from He to She - that way I relate to it better...)

Hope you enjoy it too.


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

How I know that men do not like nurturing babies!

My FM station has been a mother lode of new ideas for my posts recently.

 

A few weeks ago one of the RJ’s had been suffering from lack of sleep. It had been going on for a few days and she asked listeners whether they suffered from the same, and if so, what their causes were? Partying, computers, TV, YouTube, gaming, immediately sprang to my mind, as the chief culprits for modern day sleep deprivation. But what amazed me was that most callers and sms messages, cited babies and small children as the main cause. I did not see that coming, but still accepted it for what it was. However as I continued listening, what astonished me was that the calls (and messages) were predominantly from men.

 

Seriously!

 

Men were calling in and complaining about midnight walks with crying infants, and night time feeds!! How crazy is it that the most common reason for men not getting a good night’s rest was children? What happened to drinking and partying with friends? Darts, bowling, football matches on telly, I would have understood.  But babies?

 

It is simply amazing how expectations from men on child rearing have been ratcheting up over the years. Pictures of handsome men pushing strollers or carrying an infant in a papoose are so prolific that we take them for granted. There are others with attractive Dads reading bedtime stories or getting up early to make a breakfast for their equally good looking triplets.

 

Talk about subliminal conditioning.

 

That got me to thinking about how much ground (and liberties) we men have given up in the last few decades. Women have been subverting the media to their own agenda, and men have been blissfully skipping along. This trend has been building for a long time now and no one has caught on. Now I fear it’s too late. It is the classic case of starting by asking for an inch and then sequestering a yard.

 

Just think how great it was for men a couple of generations ago. There were no expectations to stay up at night, feed the child or entertain an infant. In fact, no man worth his salt would be caught changing nappies or feeding a bawling infant. Even if one felt an unaccountable urge to do so, one would have to swear the household to secrecy and hope that your friends never found out. Today the situation is the reverse.

 

To admit to feeling embarrassed about publicly feeding an infant (your spouse’s expressed and bottled milk) could be grounds for separation on irreconcilable differences. Nowadays, for a man to confess that child nurturing is not something that he deeply and spiritually enjoys, would result in expensive joint therapy sessions. Before the man even finishes the sentence, he would find himself lying on a psychiatrist’s couch, with his distressed wife weeping inconsolably over the sympathetic shoulder of a Dr. Freud.

 

I want to ask what the joy is, in this?

 

I am a father of two and honestly never enjoyed changing nappies, cleaning puke, and having my child burp phlegm on to my shirt. I cannot bring myself to think that anyone (even women) enjoy this. It is a job that needs to be done - that is it. The only conceivable reason why a man would pretend to like this is to try and score with other women, whose estrogen levels soar when they see a nurturing male.

 

So if it keeps going this way, where will this trend end? A few years from now maybe men will be expected to get pregnant, give childbirth and suckle the young, through genetic manipulation. Technologically, I am sure that this is imminent. But I find it difficult to reconcile the image of a bald, heavily muscled and tattooed man - breast feeding!

 

To the women
 

So to all young women - let me 'plead' on behalf of the coming generations of men. Trust me when I say that I have nothing to gain by this. My children have passed that stage, though I do shudder at the prospect my son faces. I beseech you in the name of whatever it is you deem holy - do not take away even this last bastion of manhood from us.


I know what you are going to say. That women had it bad for generations, life was unequal to the sexes, and that the load and responsibilities should be shared. But we did not ask you to join the workforce, we did not say - go get a career. "You" wanted it! You now wear trousers, smoke cigarettes, curse like sailors, and drink along with men. You have the ability to work and earn alongside men, have careers, join the army, and become pilots. You wanted it - so you got it! After haranguing entire societies for decades you won these choices. You got what you wanted and then what did you do? You turned around and said that since you are too busy doing what you wanted, men have to chip in and do what they do not want.

 

In this spirit of openness, let me tell you something else. Something most men (especially with infants in the house) do not like admitting to, as it can upset his wife and make his day a guilt ridden living hell. Men do not like to handle babies and infants. I am not saying that we do not like to play with them when they are laughing and gurgling, just that we prefer to pass them on as soon as their faces crunch into an imminent bawl. Being peed on, or drooled over is neither cute nor endearing, and being puked on by an over-fed baby is definitely a no-no. Let me also assure you, that there is absolutely no bonding happening at two a.m. in the morning, between a bleary-eyed man changing a soiled smelly nappy and an infant. The thoughts going through a man's head, after he has been holding a bottle to an infant’s lips for half an hour followed by another fifteen minutes of frantic pacing to burp the baby, cannot be printed.

 

I know what you are thinking. You do not believe me - do you?

 

Then explain why over the last few decades (in every Country) without exception; where the expectations from husbands to be nurturing fathers has been going up, the population growth rates have been plummeting - and in countries where traditional parenting roles are followed, they remain at healthy constants? Hah!

Culture vulture

Culture is a funny thing, and in all cases (I am sure) means different things to different people.

 

Take for example my early years in Dubai. One of the common refrains I heard was that it was a good place to live in, but lacked culture. Even though I never argued against it, to this day I do not really know what that statement meant. Dubai had (still does actually) great sports facilities, restaurants, movie theaters, music groups, etc. but obviously that was not enough. I think it was something to do with old buildings and art galleries, but can't be sure as I quite like modern skyscrapers. It was not as if there were no arty events in Dubai in those days. I remember going for a Russian Ballet with my wife - a Black Tie affair with the crème-de-la-crème of Dubai society. We had managed to procure passes from someone, who must have been under the notion that I might be vaguely interested. My Mother In Law used to like this sort of thing, though my Father In Law would generally deride ballet. He preferred not to go to shows where men danced around wearing tights and (in his words) what looked like stuffed ‘samosas’ in their crotch. All I remember of that show, were these dancers in white leggings prancing around on stage, and the food and music lulling me to sleep at the back of the hall. Give me a Hollywood Blockbuster any day!

 

Then let us take Accents. Since Hollywood is the main global cultural force, an American accent is deemed mainstream, an English one is perceived as interesting, and French or a Spanish accent as exotic. English spoken with an Indian accent however is universally thought of as funny, despite the fact that as a Nation, Indians would be the biggest bloc of English speakers in the World. So as an Indian kid, unless your aspirations are to become a bit actor in a Hollywood B movie, you will lose your accent before you have lost your diapers. Indian parents will be the first to encourage their children to speak with a 'Phoren' accent, and actually inflate with pride when their offspring stumbles around in their own mother tongue. The fact that this brogue is a mix of four jumbled accents is lost on them.

 

Music has had the most tectonic of shifts as far as culture goes. Growing up, a concert generally meant a classical music recital. The hoi polio of Bombay would descend into the auditorium, speaking in the Queen’s English with a few Parsi dowagers even resorting to French. It was definitely not for the masses. Today on MTV all you see are bikini clad girls and bare chested heavily-muscled guys gyrating away seductively. It seems in America, women singers perform either next to the ocean or in inner city alleys, and that it is mandatory to don beachwear everywhere. Behind them a bunch of (presumably) their friends would be doing choreographed hip-hop, with inverted pee-caps and dark glasses. And to think that we used to laugh at Bollywood dance numbers! This kind of dance form and of course the concept of cheerleading during games, has caught the World's imagination. The Indian Premier League brought it into vogue and it has touched new nadirs with the ongoing Cricket T20 World Cup in Sri Lanka. We have been exposed to cheerleaders that can pour misery on any man's happiness. Now why would a nation that has centuries of music and dance history, go down this route?

 

Look at the sari - as elegant and versatile an outfit as any can get. My mother used to wear it to work every day. Worn one way it is a modest garment that is often used to portray the mother or sister in Indian cinema, and worn another portrays a vamp to titillate the masses. But somehow the cropped blouse and short slitted skirt (with obligatory high heels) won the favor of Indian women. One hardly sees a sari being worn nowadays. I am not complaining, just making a point.

 

Coming to food - who decided that Japanese food was high cuisine? I see people (including my wife) relishing raw fish wrapped in boiled rice and seaweed. Seaweed!! These are the same people who will baulk at eating veggies, but will savor seaweed. How is seaweed not a vegetable? Maybe it is the salt or the fortune that one pays for sushi that fools them. Indian food got the short end of the stick. I am sure they would be piling into ‘aloo gobi’ if it was served by a grim faced overdressed waiter, and cost an arm and a leg!

 

And why is it that we think nothing about imitating the urbane set, imitating the Chinese eating with chopsticks, but will shudder to eat Indian food with our hands?

 

Talking about chopsticks makes me think of the time when as teenagers we had gone to a Chinese restaurant for dinner, after a volleyball match. We were all hungry lads with huge appetites, with little sympathies for the slow or the fastidious. A friend who had just returned from the UK, felt the urge to show how much class he had picked up while there, and asked for chopsticks to eat with. I think I would be stating the obvious to say that fingers are more effective to eat with, than chopsticks. He was faced with a stark choice; either to continue picking at his food with chopsticks and go hungry or, drop them and get full value for the meal that he would contribute towards. Neither his quandary nor his chopsticks lasted long!

 

To date I refuse to use chopsticks in a Chinese restaurant, but would gladly wade into a South Indian Thali with my fingers.

 

And by the way which moron in the Developed World decided that toilet rolls are a better way to clean oneself with, than water? Ok let us not go there!

 

I imagine a hell like this: Italian punctuality, German humor and English wine - Peter Ustinov.

Is Sharing good? Apparently not!

Sometimes I cannot help but contrast the way my generation grew up with the way our children are growing up. I know it is not fair to them or to us – but I cannot help it. When we do get to talking about this the reactions I get from my children, range from bemusement to irritation. I do not blame them as it can be quite annoying when someone starts saying - "When I was your age.......".

And there are so many facets that lend themselves to comparison - from the friends we had, to technology, schools we attended, to the games we played. But recently I was thinking more about individual space and privacy. I grew up in a small apartment shared with (in addition to my parents) a sibling, grandparents, and a procession of Aunts, who seemed to prefer living with us as opposed to being alone. My parents always made them feel welcome and housed them for years. Obviously that meant that space in the house was always at a premium. This kind of situation, was (and still is) not uncommon back home, and one just got used to adjusting and compromising to accommodate one another.  

 

 

This morning on the Radio the topic of the day, was about children sharing rooms. A lady had sent an SMS about her little boy and girl sharing a room, and how she was repeatedly being told by friends and colleagues that that was not correct. There was a lot of feedback from listeners, all in the same vein of course. The general view was that a brother and sister should not be sharing a room, as it tended to impact their confidence and development later. (Probably the reason for my own lack in both areas!).

 

Many listeners added that as children grow older they need and should get, privacy and each should hence be housed in separate rooms. Two twelve year olds called in to say that they used to share rooms and they hated it. Yeah - right!! That makes it inviolable does it not? These calls by two kids, made one of the DJ's, who had been sitting on the fence so far, change her view on this issue.

 

All through this I was thinking - What bollocks!!

 

What cloud cuckoo land do these people live in? Are they even aware of the fact that a vast majority of the World’s population does not even have a roof over their head? That in most of the developing world, entire families (not just siblings) share living space? I am sure that children in refugee camps across the world will be clucking away in sympathy for these poor kids who had to share a room till they turned ten.

 

As mentioned earlier, this subject had been on my mind lately. We have been having house guests over the last few months, which has meant that sleeping arrangements for both my children have been in a state of flux. They have their own rooms, but at these times one or the other (in turn) is evicted to make room for our guests. Let me reassure you that I have no sympathy for them at all. I actually think it is great, as it makes my children (for a while at least) appreciate the space and not take it for granted.

 

My wife and I both had to share a room growing up. Even today the door to our room is open, be it day or night, as my wife always worries about not hearing one of them call out if they need something. Many times I have questioned our decision to give individual rooms to our children, when we moved into this house. According to me, all we have done is opened the door to a mindset of entitlement and selfishness. An outlook where something shared is equivalent to something lost. I think that compromise and adjustment learned early, create a lifelong habit of tolerance, inclusiveness and sharing, qualities the world and especially this generation is sorely in need of.

 

When we lived in a smaller house, our children used to run to greet us when we walked in at the end of the day. Today we face closed bedroom doors, and have to knock to let them know we are home. In the evenings there used to be more interaction in the living room, as the children did not have their own room to run to, the second the conversation veered to a topic that did not interest them. With the result that they now learn less about our lives, about each other and the physical world they exist in.

 

When they shared a room:-

There were more arguments, but there was also more communication, more adjusting and a higher involvement in each other’s lives.

They had less space but more discipline, as it taught them to be neat and organized with their stuff.

There was more fighting, but also more patience with each other.

There was more annoyance 'with' each other, but also more learning 'from' each other.

Their shared room was clutter free, as each kept a check on the other. Without that counter-balance, their rooms are now littered with clothes, shoes, books, crayons and other paraphernalia.

 

Having been brought up in a household without doors I have an issue with closed doors at home. A shared room will hardly ever have doors habitually shut. Every time I see my childrens closed bedroom door, my first instinct is to walk away. When I do feel compelled to enter, I knock and then feel worse because I think I am intruding - and I hate that! How can it be right that a parent feels like an interloper, entering their child’s room?

There is just too much rhetoric being spouted about childrens fundamental need for privacy. Why do they need privacy? If they are not doing anything improper there is no need for privacy, and if they 'ARE' indulging in something bad, then they definitely should not get it. (Yeah like - my son is smoking pot in his room, and hence needs to keep his door shut!)

  

As George Carlin said "We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences and less time".

 

 

We have been inured into thinking that every child needs their space. I know couples who have either moved into a bigger house or turned their existing one upside down, to accommodate an infant in a separate room. Why? An infant needs a cot and not much more! Why should a games room or a study be converted into a bedroom for the second child? Let them share. 



We succumb to peer pressure, or blindly follow the blathering’s of psychologists and new age child specialists. In our desire to "Keep up with the Jones'", we have blindsided ourselves to the negatives. We have stopped counting the joy of shared experiences, to instead focus on counting the times that privacy 'may' be invaded.

 

Anyway, I look forward to having more house guests. And if each of your kids have a room for themselves, then good for you. But do not think, even for a minute that, that is the only ‘right’ way to raise kids.

Life, As I Like It

Ok - this is one blog, actually the only one so far, where I will give out some unsolicited advice. Let me caution you, that to a large extent this targets the male gender and definitely does not apply to kids. It is not the most profound advice, nor is it unique. Actually it is quite obvious, and works like a dream if you are (like me) an inherently lazy person, and can be applied in multiple spheres of our lives – the personal, as well as the professional. So here it comes!

If you do 'not' want to do something repeatedly - do it badly.

 

Following the above will free you up from 'chores' and allow you to concentrate on the truly meaningful (to yourself of course) pursuits. The trick here is to accomplish this with minimum repercussions on your attitude or your relationships. It takes brains and leadership (I only threw leadership in, as that word gets everybody excited).

 

So let me give you a few examples:-

 

If asked to cook something - mix ingredients in a fashion that leaves the residue completely unpalatable. If you (like me) are not too fussed about what you put in your mouth, you can even pretend to like your own concoction.

 

Let us say you do not like doing the dishes. A few incidents with the family crockery, will ensure that you will never be seen standing in front of the sink again. A few burnt clothes while ironing, dark clothes mixed up with light ones in the wash – you get my drift!

 

At work, if your boss has a deadline for a presentation, give him fifty percent of what he asked for at the eleventh hour. His obvious stress, and failure to make an impression with his own bosses, will ensure that such demands are never made on you again. Make sure that he 'perceives' you to be working flat out and on overtime for him, or else you risk being fired.

 

This strategy also works in the negative. For example if you want to be in Group or Family photographs, just ensure that whenever asked to 'take' a photo, the subjects somehow have their heads cut off, or are a fuzzy blur. A few special occasions ruined will ensure that you and the camera are permanently divorced. Another tactic that works (only for over forty year olds), is to squint and peer at the buttons of the camera in an unfocused manner, in front of a large and impatient group. Someone, out of sheer frustration, is bound to volunteer on your behalf, with no aspersions on your lack of effort.

 

You can mix and match the different spheres in your life as well. If your wife has diarized an unpleasant errand for you to accompany her on (e.g. going to the baby shop to pick up a gift, or going to the fish market), an unexpected evening meeting called by your Boss, or an urgent presentation for the Board, will safely navigate you out of that requirement.

 

This advice is only for people who do not want to admit to being selfish and lazy, but at the same time practice it! It takes a lot of self-confidence, an absence of guilt, and a very thick skin to be able to deflect society’s arrows. However, if you are the sort of person who takes pride in everything you do, or have an exaggerated desire to make yourself useful in every situation, this advice is definitely not for you.

 

I must confess that I am not a very good practitioner, but that is not due to the lack of trying. I have been at it for years and have seen the difference between an amateur like myself and a professional. I tend to make it obvious that I do not want to do that work, and hence I go about deliberately cocking it up. Hence if someone else lands up taking my load, it will be reluctantly and angrily. Also the mark of an amateur is the residual feeling of guilt. The professionals, on the other hand, will make people feel for them by pretending helplessness or feigning ignorance. They can even make others thank them for doing what they wanted them to do. Some can make you feel bad to even THINK that they should be doing something. Those guys are the Grandmasters!

 

My governing principle in life is to try and keep a huge distance between myself, and tiresome repetitive tasks. House cleaning, chauffeuring kids, gardening, home repair, cooking, etc. are errands that I want to have only a glancing acquaintanceship with. These are thankless tasks to be repeated as soon as they are done, and all I have ever got for my efforts in the past are criticism and disdain. Following my advice leaves me free to do the things I want to do, and am good at - like watching TV, or reading books.

 

Of course if you manage to combine the above (like I have) with marrying someone who likes to keep busy, is house-proud and a control freak - then you are truly in a sloths paradise.

Our Children (Our Saviours?)

There are two themes that I have frequently heard being discussed in a variety of forums. Both these subjects are such that almost everyone has a view, if not a strong opinion. However, what ‘I’ find unique about these themes is that instead of polarizing people and generating heated debate, the vast majority of individuals tend to agree with each other.

Theme One

Theme one, at a Macro level is about our collective future be it as a race, or the world or even the economy. Most people tend to hold a more pessimistic view - would you not agree? Whether it is modern technology leading us astray or life in general, the consensus is that it is getting worse day by day. Natural resources like oil, food and water are running out, crime and violence are on the rise and geo-political tensions could lead to a global confabulation. People have lost their moral compass. The divide between the haves and the have-nots is the widest it has ever been. So, whether it is in the physical realm, or on the spiritual side the consensus is that mankind is on a slippery slope and gathering steam downwards. The Devil is in our backyard and reaping a golden harvest. On this issue let us be honest- the Bears rule the roost!

If you do not want to take my word for it, just ask around – conduct your own poll!

I have already covered this in some of my previous blogs, and hence will not elaborate further. Else this particular blog will not only get repetitive, but long as well.

Theme Two

Theme two at a more Micro level is the almost universal adulation of the next generation. Here, almost everyone I know is an optimist. Whether they are commending the virtues of their own kids or talking in general about this digital cohort, there is almost total unanimity in their refrain about children being smarter, quicker and better. You know what I mean - right? On this issue there is absolute agreement that the coming generation is nothing short of astonishing. Whether it is the adoption of new technologies, abundance of talent, or the development of their mind, body and soul - they have it all.

Ask any parent, and their faces will positively light-up as they extoll with pride the various skills and abilities of their children. They will not hesitate to tell you that their children are light years ahead than they were, at a similar age or stage of development.

Or better still - ask a grand-parent. Just listen to two grandmothers compare notes on their respective grandchildren! When they took the first step, spoke the first word, or their absolute mastery of the TV and the iPad. These two generations are separated by a huge digital divide. One finds virtual reality as anathema to their existence, whereas the other assumes it to be a natural extension of their environment. Seeing a child who has no fear of an iPhone or a Laptop (nor the compunction to destroy them, if allowed) is awe inspiring to them. The fact that a two year old can unerringly press the correct (large red) button on a remote to start the TV, is to them incontrovertible proof of a higher intelligence.

Myself, having just squeezed into the Baby boomer (and obviously dimmer) generation, find that I struggle to reconcile these two. To me they seem to be self-contradictory or mutually exclusive - but let me explain why.

The Conundrum

So, on the one hand there is a collective “feeling” that the future is dark and nasty and distinctly dystopian.

And on the other, an absolute conviction that our children (our collective future) are not only more brilliant, but also more gifted and talented. Whether it is in the humanities or the sciences, the social or the physical, they are more confident, vocal and passionate, and definitely more responsible than their parents. With the benefit of better and wider-spread education our progeny are more attuned to the environment and our responsibilities as a species.

 

Five and seven year olds will prepare homework assignments, and present compelling evidence, on the deteriorating environment and our generations failure to live up to our collective responsibilities. Teens will lecture about ethics and social governance, about unbridled greed and our ignorance about the impact of our decadent habits on this planet.    

Hence putting the two together, could not one then deduce that this next generation will not only live upto these challenges and nullify our concerns, but exceed all expectations and in doing so make the world a better place?

Since we are indeed lucky to have so many prodigies, geniuses and wunderkinds in our midst, would it not then follow-on that the problems will be solved?

 

Will not their combined capabilities and talents ensure the development and discovery of new ways to tackle all the problems that humanity faces?

If we consider that a generation of laggards and hippies put a man on the moon, gave the world the Green Revolution, Personal Computers, the Internet, and the iPhone among many many others (a lot of them while dropping out of college), I can only conjecture as to what the next more obviously gifted and infinitely more educated generation will get to this party.

There is where I am confused, because I see a huge disconnect between these Macro and Micro views. But, if someone can connect the dots and let me know what I am missing, I would be most grateful.