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.

Our Liberation (A Poem by Tushar Shroff)

A good friend gave me a suggestion, to invite guest writers to contribute to my blog. The idea would be to widen the appeal, provide a forum for more voices as well as a platform for people who might not want to create a blog-site for themselves.

What better way to start than to have my son be the first contributor! 

Do we walk these roads liberally?

Do we ever run the streets free?

Are we ever doing what we want?

Or are we doing only what we need

Different hair, Different eyes

We are unique, none are the same

Diverse feelings, diverse lives

But all playing the same game

The vapid entities we once relied on

Dissipated in the air when we needed a hand

And we dug ourselves into the ground,

Because we were given no room to stand

Our decisions directed by others

Our paths set in stone

We feel solitary on this planet

Despite knowing we’re not alone

There are those out to vilify us

With no achievements of their own

And others who stand by us

Only if we’re sitting on a throne

We live our vacuous lives

Day after day

Until a sudden bright light appears

And illuminates the grey

It is then, that we open our eyes to the beauty that exists

And clear up the mist, to see what our eyes missed

A spontaneous zeal for life

The world seems so much brighter

And we rise into the atmosphere

After living within the fire

By Tushar Shroff

31st July 2012

Subway Attack

If you have ever eaten at an American restaurant, you will know what I mean when I say that the portion sizes are humongous. If you have not - then you are definitely missing out. I do not mean McDonalds, but other American fare. If you go to say, Chili’s or TGIF, you will know what I mean. Last week we were at Pizza Uno with friends (who were sampling that pizza for the first time). On seeing the size of the pizzas, the talk obviously turned to American portion sizes. And like fishermen comparing the size of the largest fish they had ever caught, we started exchanging notes on the largest meals we had tucked into (probably with a bit of embellishment).

That got me to thinking about a gastronomic mishap I experienced recently, and my feelings of angst, frustration and anger at the sheer size of modern day sandwiches.



This was about a month before we went on vacation. That particular day I was scheduled for a meeting at one of our more distant facilities which has a good canteen. Hence that day, I did not carry my customary lunch. As it turned out, the meeting was adjourned early, and I drove back all the way to my office before I realised that I had no lunch. On most days my lunch sits behind my desk with me having scant urge to eat it, and quite often I struggle to finish it. But that day, just the fact that I did not have that option made me ravenous!



I asked one of our Staff for some options, and she gave me a Subway (never been my favorite) menu. Beggars can’t be choosers, and since I was "dying" of starvation I asked her to order the largest size, with everything thrown in. My inexperience with this sort of lunch and my cavalier statement was not obvious to me, as you will soon realise. My lunch was delivered to me a while later, and as the sugar levels in my body were rapidly dropping, I decided to wade into it while it was still hot.



I closed my office door and opened up the wrapper to start eating. As soon as I unwrapped it, I knew that I could have a potential disaster in (and on) my hands. It was huge, and loaded with every meat, sauce and vegetable known to mankind. Even before I could take my first bite, it had started to ooze, and the smell of hot chilies, onions and mustard started permeating my room. I am not the most coordinated diner, and quite often make a mess of eating even a small burger. This was Godzilla in comparison! Before the second bite was inching into my esophagus, my fingers were already stained red and yellow, and then to my utter horror, pieces of salad started to fly of their own volition, shaking out small droplets of the various sauces all around my desk.



It was as if the sandwich had turned into a writhing snake in my hand. I had no control over it and, hence by extension, my environment. Now ,in my office a closed door does not indicate to anyone that the occupant seeks privacy. Staff and colleagues very often, casually open the door and stand around while I eat, much to my chagrin. That day I was petrified of anyone coming in. I was surrounded by multihued chaos, and my desk looked like a visually challenged, paint-mad child had just had a field day on it.


In my nervousness, I was attempting to eat faster, trying to cut down the window of opportunity for someone to barge-in on this repast from hell. Every time I heard approaching footsteps, my heart sank and my bladder contracted. This was Murphy's Law, and someone was bound to walk in. I could only imagine the sight that the intruder would be confronted with - a senior company executive hunched over his desk, eating like a hunted animal. My face smeared with ketchup, crumpled tissues all around, wrist-deep in a mutilated sandwich!



What was uppermost on my mind however, was my shirt. It was (obviously) a pristine white shirt, and I was worried that I might drop something indelible on it. I kept looking down, but thankfully had been spared that particular misery. Halfway through my sandwich, I reached out to grab another tissue as the sauces were threatening to invade my shirt cuffs - when it happened! Two pieces of pickle, camouflaged in the dappled colors of Mustard and Thousand Island sauce, leapt off the sides and landed like two ninjas on to my shirt front. I "literally" saw this in slow motion, in 'bullet-time' like in the Matrix movies, and with both hands being occupied with holding my food, I was transfixed. They landed as softly as mosquitoes, but the devastation to follow could have been caused by a Nitrogen Bomb. One of my favorite shirts was being pillaged in front of my eyes, and all I could do was look down in horror, while my mouth robotically kept munching away.



NOW, all I could think about was the meeting later that afternoon, and wonder as to how I could attend with the mess I had on my shirt. Having always tried to project an elegant and well groomed figure, I knew my reputation would be in tatters as soon as I left the confines of my office. By this time I was weeping with frustration and anger, and the sandwich was only half eaten. My brain was telling me to throw the sandwich away, my stomach was telling me that it was quite full - but by this time all reason had vanished! I was clamping down hard on each bite, masticating and grinding each morsel, to take vengeance on this “thing” in my hand. I imagined myself to be a carnivore gloriously and sadistically killing its prey - whereas the stark reality was an imbecile compounding a mess of his own creation.



My shirt was ruined as I knew that no amount of washing or bleaching could possibly clear the remnants of this battle. In my fevered state, I was cursing every American fast food outlet, and their lack of cuisine which makes them compensate (that lack) with size. I was wishing high cholesterol and clogged arteries on huge swathes of absolutely innocent populations who frequent such establishments. I looked around my office as I swallowed the last bite and realised that quite a bit of my lunch was spread on and around my desk and floor. Tissues were strewn around like dead soldiers, having fought and lost a valiant battle against a superior foe.



And as I quietly slunk out of my office to the washroom, I knew that I had been well and truly beaten by this sub. I had never taken a fancy to this particular franchise, but that day I had an almost pathological hatred for it.

However two questions still remained to be answered!

The first was whether to get one of the office boys to scrub my office with some industrial cleaning equipment, (with the distinct possibility of becoming a subject of embarrassing gossip), or to do the job myself?

And the second was whether to courageously (or foolishly) attend the meeting wearing a mottled shirt, or to make an excuse and exit the office from the backdoor?