Ten Pins

Recently I was in Mumbai for a few days to spend some time with my Dad. He is getting on in years and hence time with him has become precious. We normally land up talking about all the people we knew (or had known), quite a few of whom are no longer walking this Earth. He always had some funny or poignant stories to tell and his memory is still extremely sharp. 

As I was coming back from Mumbai, I pondered on the fact that almost every time we spoke, I was informed of someone who was either ailing, been hospitalized or had passed away.

To give some perspective, we come from a small community in South Mumbai and grew up in what we called a 'Colony'. The modern term would be a gated community - but being in Mumbai, think apartments rather than houses. It was and still is like a small village and hence one grew up knowing (even if fleetingly or through association i.e. that one's mother, or this one's child /cousin) most of the people. Before the advent of Cable TV and PC's, forget Mobile Phones, life in the colony revolved around friends, sport and gossip. Hours were spent in bonding, talking and just hanging around with other people. At the Colony Gate, the Pavilion (or Clubhouse), Three Stones, or the Fire Temple steps, friends would cluster after the day's activities to meet and catch up. Each group had their own territory and other groups respected that turf. At these spots, happenings of the day or week and experiences were shared. The same (if worth remembering) were then told and retold; and with every iteration got embellished into legend.

As children, many a good hour was spent by my sister and I, listening to our Dad talk about the exploits of various people, when HE was growing up. These served as a link between my generation and the earlier ones. Adventures and altercations of his friends in their youth; the feats and achievements of generations prior to his, all tied us into a common narrative. The stories bred a level of familiarity with the characters and tied us to the common history from which we sprung. Through these tales we got to know those protagonists as well as any close friend. Each story either had us rolling around with laughter or listening wide eyed, depending on the tone of the narrative. We would clamor for more and as we drifted off to sleep, in our dreams we transposed ourselves into those adventures. This was replicated (I am sure) in many households in this little colony.

The Towers of Silence where we dispose of our dead are located in a place called Kemps Corner, about a thirty minute drive from where we live. One of my Dad's friend (who passed away a while ago) used to look at old people hobbling around in the Colony in the 1970's and remark that they already had one leg in Kemps Corner.

Now another entire generation are tottering on their last legs. Every time I go back home, I see more and more people getting slower and more bent, as the ravages of the years take their toll. As I walk around the colony and look around at the various apartments, faces from my childhood memories flash by. There were people whose faces I can still recall but did not know very well, and I wonder what happened to them. Not seeing them around I wonder whether they are still alive - or did they pass away? Since I do not remember their names and quite often even exactly where they lived, I cannot even ask any of my friends, who might know through dint of having lived there all their lives.

Sometimes I feel like the grim reaper walks around in our colony, swiping his scythe and cutting down people like a farmer would wheat. As this generation ages and the frailties that mark their advancing years gains traction, I feel like my living history is being ripped away and all that will remain will be the brief flashes from my own faulty memory to keep those people alive in my mind.  

Like ten pins in a bowling alley after each throw of the ball, (or in my case each visit after a period of time) a few pins are left standing. It is only a matter of time before all ten pins are knocked down and the alley resets itself. 

Is the child truly the father of the man?

Life has a way of passing you by. A few years ago when my son was leaving for University, we felt the approach of that day like a storm cloud on the horizon. There was a mixture of fear and fascination, dread and excitement, sadness and serendipity!

My rampant emotions at the time and my sorry attempts at sage advice, are posted on my creatively titled blog - "To my son on leaving for University"

However, after that point, in the spate of a year or so, my wife and my daughter, both decided to pursue interests away from home in Dubai. Granted that neither left it permanently and did come back frequently. But for long periods of time the house was empty and my life had been upended without my even realizing it. I had become a typical Gulf summer bachelor - only thing was that it was not summer!

Children

Going to University is a natural transition in life and one grows into anticipating it. 

But my daughters move to Boarding school was completely unexpected. It came as swiftly as a Tsunami, and left behind an emotional detritus on a similar scale. It seemed to me, that one day we were talking about life in her school in Dubai and in the next instant, through some magic of teleportation and time travel we were talking about her life in Ooty. When did this happen? How did this happen?

When did this sprite of a girl, with a gap toothed smile and hugs that would melt my heart, grow up and take a decision to move? When did she grow from not being able to make up her mind on which candy to buy at Candelicious to being certain about moving countries to change school? How does one transition this process so easily and quickly? Maybe it is youth which provides one with such resilience and flexibility or maybe it is just innate in the individual.

I am not talking about acceptance when the choice is stripped away from you, which I think is a trait and strength that all humans have. When your decision fork is not a fork at all and is in fact a fait accompli, then it is easier! You make the decision - take the consequences on the chin and move on.

But here I am talking about making choices that have more or less have an equal gain or loss on each side! To take the call under such situations and then move on blithely, requires strength of purpose and character.

Both children have been extremely decisive about the big steps they have taken and then moved ahead with fortitude. 

Not all decisions turn out the way we anticipate nor is life always going to be very forgiving with our missteps - but that should not deter one from making decisions - or that is at least what I have always propounded.  

And to be honest, have found extremely difficult to follow!

Spouse

But if I blame the ignorance (or exuberance) of youth on my children, what about my wife? She left a safe and steady job (which she loved) to start a new life, just on a belief that her life was worth more than working behind a desk - no matter how comfortable that environment was. And she did it at an age when ones ambitions have been incinerated by the petty, but unending fires, of daily travails and well meaning but negative advice.

She bore the brunt of separation from her family and her home and moved to a City where she had no history. And all of this on a dream and a prayer. That decision for sure left me scratching my head.

Myself

I do not have a lot of clarity in my desires and hence decision making is not my cup of tea! I tend to dither and vacillate between decisions and can go to sleep thinking North and wake up the next morning wanting South. I somehow presumed that everyone is like that to some extent and so get surprised when others exhibit clarity of thought.

The problem has been that I have always compared myself to my children - in terms of values, emotional and mental maturity, desires and life plans. Unfortunately I have always under-estimated them. I have compared them to myself at a similar point in life - and have always cut them short.

In reality there is no comparison!  

Family Ties

What do we owe our parents? And how does that compare with our responsibility and obligations to our children?

This is something I have been mulling over since a recent conversation where it was inferred that parents (should) have an unlimited and open-ended obligation. As a parent, even though I tend to agree with the overall sentiment, some caveats somehow jump up in my mind. Can a parents responsibility ever cease? The answer is obviously no! But what constitutes responsibility and how far, and in what circumstances can those responsibilities be invoked - is a question. At what point should one cut the umbilical cord to let children stand on their own feet and learn to take responsibility for their decisions? How far should parents go and for how long - financially, emotionally, physically - before it becomes counter-productive? How long is it decent for children to depend on their parents, before it becomes improper?

I am sure that there are different answers to these questions for different people.

Let me take a step back and provide a brief background as to how these questions arose in the first place.

We were talking about mutual acquaintances - a couple who are  currently facing hard times. The man lost his job recently and then managed to secure work far below his qualifications. This obviously resulted in a lower pay packet and the consequential struggle to make ends meet. The wife does not work as she has growing children to take care of. They live near, but separately from their parents. I asked as to why they did not move in with the parents, as a separate residence puts an additional strain on their already limited resources. Rent, maintenance, utilities, etc. for their house could easily be saved if they lived with the parents.

In response I was told that the couple felt that the parents were leading an independent retired life and would probably not appreciate getting burdened with the responsibility. When I commented that children moving in, hardly constitutes a burden, it was clarified that the couple wanted the parents to look after the grandchildren, so that the wife could also look for work. But that suggestion was not encouraged by the parents who were leading a busy social life themselves. I got a distinct sense that this was seen as utterly selfish behavior on the parents part and hence unacceptable.

Putting the particulars of any individual case aside - I missed the part where anyone got the inference, that by dint of the couple moving in, the parents would be lumped with the responsibility for the grand-children. I would have thought that the move-in would be a temporary measure to reduce the financial burden on the couple, till such time that they get back on their feet. Where does that state - that by the fact of their moving in the parents become responsible for the supervision and baby sitting of the grand-children?

When I opined that if that was the expectation from the couple, then the parents were not entirely wrong to not encourage the move back, I was rebuked to the effect that family is everything and one should stand by ones children at all times. Of course one cannot argue rationally with an emotional sentiment like that and I was immediately on the back foot, feeling ashamed for having thought or suggested any different.

But then over the next few days as I thought more about this I started to question whether the same sentiment would be applied if the situation were reversed? As the parents start to get old and infirm and when they need the same (physical, emotional and financial) support would the children offer to host them permanently? If by chance (like us) the children have settled in a foreign land, would they then voluntarily drop everything - their jobs, their children, their lives and move back to look after them? Would the parents even expect the children to leave the lives they have made abroad and go back to be with them?

Probably not!

So if children are neither expected to nor going to drop their lives to support parents, how can children expect it the other way?

After a long and tough life, having done what they could to provide us with a start in our lives - our parents need to relax and enjoy the autumn of their lives, without being burdened with any additional expectations. Those years are for them to kick their feet up and do what they love best. If running around behind squalling infants is not their cup of tea then it should not be expected and if child-minding is what they want to do, then so be it! But I would take that as a gift from them, rather than an obligation on them!

But then as a colleague had told me a while ago - it is in our nature to love our children more than we love our parents. We all look forward - not backwards!

Would you agree?  

Life in the Slow Lane

Last Saturday we had gone to pick up our daughter's glasses from the opticians.  The attendant there takes his own sweet time to roust himself from the chair when customers walk in and quite often grudgingly. On previous occasions, both my wife and I have noticed this and laughed about it, though it does get a bit irritating when one is in a hurry (which we always are). Anyway I noticed the guy sitting behind the counter as we entered the shop, and as usual by the time he hauled himself off his perch, we had taken a couple of rounds of the shop and tried on a few frames as well. I knew that we were going to spend the better part of the morning in the shop that day, as not only did the guy have to hike it to the back room five paces away to get the glasses, but that would be followed by the long and arduous process of invoicing and paying for them as well. Knowing this however did not diminish my impatience.

And that sense of edginess reminded me of a similar irritation a while ago at a hair cutting salon that I used to frequent. This was before the incident with the nose-hair clipping that I had written about in an earlier blog. As mentioned (in that blog) I stopped frequenting that particular establishment from that time on. Anyway that Salon is tucked away in one of the by-lanes, in between roadside cafe's, IT shops, laundries and the like. I am sure that most of their clientele work seven days a week and frequent the shop in the late evening after their day's work is done. Hence mornings were generally quiet with no line or queue to wait in.

So this particular time, as I was walking in that lane to enter the shop, I saw one of the barbers talking to a man on the threshold of the shop. I did not pay much heed but as I was being readied for the cut, this same chap comes in, goes to a corner and sits down on the floor. He starts unpacking his small backpack, out of which he takes out a grinder attached to a small generator. He slowly unravels the wires and connects it to one of the electrical mains in the barber shop.

The other barbers in the meantime started putting their scissors on the floor in front of him, and with his grinder running he commenced sharpening the scissors, one at a time. All of this is happening at the slow unhurried pace of a small village - not a throbbing metropolis that is Dubai. I asked my barber about this, and it seemed that this man came around regularly to sharpen the scissors, knives etc. of all the salons, butcher shops, vegetable vendors and restaurants. The scissors needed to be sharpened once every three weeks.

As the grinder finished honing each scissor, it was minutely inspected by each of the barbers. Six scissors had been given for sharpening and at the end of this whole process, each scissor was thoroughly inspected by each of the three barbers. A few were given back for rework, with gentle protests from the grinder who tried to explain that those had outlived their useful life. After all of them had been worked on to the complete satisfaction of each man, they were counted and recounted to make sure that it was actually six scissors and not five, and then a generous discount was extracted, before money actually changed hands. The price agreed had been three dirhams per scissor, but only two dirhams per scissor was eventually paid.

Of course during this entire process, my haircut was interrupted and paused every time a scissor was finished, increasing my frustration and stress. I tried to be obvious about it by fidgeting around in the chair and repeatedly looking at my watch, but the hints were ignored, if received at all.

As I left however, I thought about the contrast in the attitude to time and money. I could not get over how each barber counted the scissors, to make sure that they were not ripped off by paying for more than they had given. The trust in the artisans character, as well as his skill, were - well noticeably absent.

Every Dirham was valued, but even more important was their attitude to time! For them, time was elastic - it seemed to stretch out - an endless river serenely flowing by various spots to pause and to contemplate. Life was lived at a slower rhythm, where even mundane people and events were given the time required.

On the other hand I am always in a hurry - but to go where? To do what? I rush from one place to the other, from one task to the next - but why? 

 

That day I finished all my tasks in a blur of movement, prioritising, organising and aligning to ensure that minimum time was wasted. But why? After this hustle and bustle of my morning errands was finished and I drove back at the speed limit - I reached home and hit a wall. I hurried back home - to do what? Saving the five minutes here and the ten minutes there, getting stressed about the traffic and the slow pace of work, landed up with me having more time to sit and do nothing.

I have been brainwashed into thinking that time is money, time is short - but is it really? Maybe for the Steve Jobs and the Einsteins, but is it the same for people like you and me? Is it mandatory that every day has to be started by jumping out of bed and then measuring how successful it has been by thinking about all that was achieved. Minutes and hours of every day have to march by like soldiers going off to war - each with meaning and purpose as they pass by to their inevitable demise.

Multitasking is the norm - we listen to music while excercising, TV while eating. We catch up with family and friends while driving, and even when we are with family and friends we catch up on emails and work on our smart phones.

What if we changed that paradigm to - life is currency? It is earned by savouring every moment - appreciating the now, rather than stressing about the next moment. That wealth is measured by moments of joy one takes in just being; by the happiness of savouring your favorite food or the time spent with your loved ones; by standing and looking at a busy road or an artisan at work. Literally by pausing to smell the flowers, savouring the sunshine on your skin or letting the smell of a bakery lure one into an unplanned breakfast - what then?

It all sounds so great and good, but does not last. The lure of real money is like a sirens song - too seductive

But what if life does not have to be a raging storm driven river? What if it is a languid stream that one floats on, as it takes us serendipitously to unexpected places? Would it be so bad?

Death takes us all ...

The first email I saw on that first day of my working week - was a link to a Facebook post. The post reminded us of a deceased friend's 50th birthday, and it was on a FB group created by his loving (and grieving) wife. That prompted me to click on the link and then one thing led to another and I was soon browsing the photos and videos that she had so painstakingly archived on the site. As I scanned through their memories, a deep sense of melancholy took root. My stomach felt like I had just finished a huge and unwelcome breakfast - heavy and acidic.

I was going through the photographic memories of a friend, who at the time was extremely close to me - akin to a brother! Through the three years of our internship in AFF we shadowed each other constantly. He moved to Dubai before me and then left Dubai to return to India. From that day on the siblings of time, geography and careers wedged their insidious presence between us, and we drifted away from each other. Browsing through the photos dredged up memories of days past, of smiling faces of our younger selves, of friends who had walked in and out of ones life - and the sense of despondency grew.

What happened to us? What happened to our friendships and our bonds? To our dreams and aspirations? How much of where we are, was a result of choice and how much just chance? As I saw my friends beaming smiling face, I wondered as to the emotions that would have been roiling beneath. I could still recall the tone of his voice in my mind and even after a gap of a quarter century recall quite a few of our conversations. I remembered his brimming confidence and his gentle ribbing at my reticence to recognize my own merits. The silly bets we used to place, the good and torrid times we went through and the perspective that he provided me at a time when one was sorely needed. We often pitched ourselves against each other, without ever being competitive. We gloried in each other's successes and felt in equal measure the pain of the others missteps.

And as tears started to well up - I took a deep breath and steeled my mind, to turn to the refuge of the mundane tasks that lay before me. As I started my working day by going through my list of action items, the grip of my friends spectral hands on my brain eased. And as those memories started to submerge into my unconscious mind, I began to feel normal again.

But then in a twist that only our subconscious can provide, I suddenly recollected a conversation just a few days earlier, with my father's friend. He was visiting his son in Dubai and we had this conversation at his son's house where he was hosting a dinner. He and my father have known each other all their lives, which translates to a period stretching over eight decades. He was in a retrospective mood, probably looking at his children and grandchildren all grown up. At that age, most material desires had been wrung out of us - eked out by the inexorable force of the piled up years, compounded by the slow erosion of our reducing physicality.

And as we talked our conversation somehow drifted to all the deceased people we both knew(including my mother). He started to recall their names, which he reeled off like a prayer. It was a much practiced litany of names that if interrupted, needed to be restarted from the beginning. As he evoked each name in rapid succession, their faces flashed by in front of my eyes like a photo montage, some in black and white and some in color, depending on how long it had been since they had passed on. It was forlorn and fascinating at the same time.

Most of those faces that flashed by, in my mind's eye, were remembered only through the lens of my childhood memories. Grainy images of impossibly tall men and stern faced women, seen from a child's diminutive perspective - of authority figures who used to scold or rebuke us as children, when we created a nuisance. Those memories were of days past, when adults showed displeasure in abundance and were spartan with their praise! But I realized that those images were monochromatic and one-dimensional, almost like cardboard cut out figures. All of them had lived their lives much as we do - they loved, laughed and cried, had the same pressures and stresses and derived happiness from the similar stimuli. 

 

I felt the same sense of melancholy at the time, a sense of imminent mortality and the futility of our brief span here. Despair at the fragility of our earthly bonds. Death takes us all eventually - it is truly the great equalizer. It dictates what we take with us when we go (nothing), but does not dictate what we leave behind - the memories that outlive us in the minds of those we touched. 

Pimp Up Your Ride

I do apologize at the outset of this post that it 'will' come across as excessively preachy. But anyway here goes .....

 

In an earlier post, a letter to my son, a piece of advice I gave him, was on the importance of staying healthy. To paraphrase it, I wrote "Take care of your body. It is the only vehicle that truly matters - all others can be bought, discarded and upgraded"

Of course at the time of writing that, it was just one of the many thoughts whizzing through my mind. It was a period when the conflict between sagacity and emotion were raging in my head, and I was being torn between being a parent and a sage. But this particular line somehow resonated with me, especially when I relate it to the behavior of so many people.

Recently I read an irony (relating to India of course) that 'Indians are obsessed with screen guards on their smartphones even though most come with Gorilla glass that is scratch proof, but never bother wearing a helmet while riding their bikes'. Don't you think the same sentiment holds true for so many who take assiduous care of their vehicles, but not for their own physical well-being?

It has often struck me as amazing that anyone would buy a machine or a physical object and then persevere to maintain it in perfect condition for the rest of its useful life - whereas the same person would completely ignore the one thing that they should not - their own health! We all know of people who will strip an engine down periodically and reassemble it after cleaning and oiling every part. They will spend countless hours in polishing, burnishing and shining their cars. They will take pride in the spotless gleam of the chrome bumpers, and the hermetic cleanliness of its interiors - but will be absolutely callous with their own health. The time, money and resources some have spent on getting their motorbikes souped and primped up, in my opinion could have been better spent on a gym or sports club membership.

On the other hand they ignore the most important vehicle in their life - their own body! They abuse it by eating junk, smoking, drinking and depriving it of sleep. And I really wonder as to how they justify these two such seemingly contradictory practices?

I mean how can one be so particular of one and not the other? AND if there is in fact a choice to be made - would it not make more sense to take care of ones body first?

Is it that this self-evident truth is not obvious to them or is it that it is just too difficult to do? Maybe it is similar to a smokers mindset - one that recognizes the detrimental impact of cigarettes in general, but does not believe that it applies to them.

Even if one looks at it from an economic consequence - no matter how expensive a car you have, whether it is a Rolls Royce or a Ferrari - at the end of it you can only lose the value you paid for that car, and that too if you are not insured. At the time of taking out insurance you are required to declare the cars value. How much would you value your body for? And what value would one place on the consequences of its failure?

How can one take pride in owning a powerful German car or a beautiful Italian machine, when they themselves look like a wreck?  I cannot pretend to understand the mental psyche of an overweight person, preening and posturing proudly as they step out of a sleek automobile.

I have tried to use our cars as a juxtapose to our bodies, because in some shape or form they are both vehicles, but in reality this can be applied to almost any physical construct that one gets obsessive about. Whether it is ones house, stereo system or wardrobe - they are all replaceable.

Now please understand that in no way am I suggesting that one should trash ones vehicles or misuse their possessions into a bad condition. I take pride in the cleanliness and maintenance of my cars, just as I do for all my belongings. I think it is a privilege that I have what I have and I try and use all those objects accordingly. But I truly believe that my body is more important by orders of magnitude, than any of these other material possessions!

Some people may be equally callous with both their assets and their physiques. They could read this and justify to themselves that they are egalitarian in their approach to all things - which in some way provides them with a warped rationale to indulge and trash their bodies. That is being quite foolish. I think we have a greater responsibility to our bodies and have to learn to live up to that.

So I say to you - Dude - you better pimp up the one (actually the only) ride that truly matters!  

Insects - those creepy crawlies

I recently heard a Radio Jockey recount his experience about creatures travelling from foreign lands. This particular RJ was returning from a trip to Sri Lanka and as he was waiting to check in, he saw this absolutely ginormous cockroach get into the bag of a passenger ahead of him. Now he was faced with a quandary as to whether to warn the passenger or to keep mum. He chose the latter (probably out of discretion) and was then voicing, the imagined shock that man would get when he opened his bag on reaching his destination. His objective was to ask us, his listeners, as to whether we had had a similar experience and what we would do in his situation.

As he was talking I realized that in Dubai we do not come much into contact with insects. Life here is much more antiseptic, as most houses are sealed from the elements for a large part of the year. We did have a recent incident with a lizard in the house, but that I will leave for another time.

Growing up however, we were surrounded by flies, bugs, roaches, grasshoppers, dragon flies, you name it, as we had a lot of greenery around. Our houses were open all through the day and night and hence would have to be deloused on regular intervals to get rid of pests. It was not uncommon to move a kitchen cabinet to find roaches skittering for cover. And hence with this proximity also came a certain familiarity, though never a sense of acceptance.

Anyway talking about insects reminded me of two seminal incidents in my life.

First Incident

The first incident was a long time ago during my Chartered Accountancy (CA) Final Examinations. These are high pressure professional exams for which one studied and trained for months and years with a very low pass percentage. I was in the midst of these exams and on exam days I would go to bed early (as always) but get up pre-dawn to revise for that days paper. Since it would still be dark and so as not to disturb the rest of my family, I used to study on the dining table in the living room. I would get up at 04.30 am, make myself a cup of tea and then settle down with my books. This was crucial study time, as I was rested from a good nights sleep and my brain was fresh.

We had a lamp on the dining table, by the light of which I would study. The lamp's base was a statue of a lady with the bulb being held up in her hand - something like the Statue of Liberty, with a rotating on/off switch at the base of the bulb holder. That day I turned the lamp on, opened my books and sat down to read. As I was turning the pages, I thought I saw the light flicker and looked up. There were two absolutely huge grasshoppers, sitting on the lamp not six inches from my face. They were balefully looking at me, with their long antennae twitching. And as they moved their limbs slowly to change position their bodies cast flickering shadows which had drawn my attention. For what seemed like eternity I was absolutely transfixed, as my conscious mind tried to come to terms with the size and position of the hoppers.

As I recovered from the early morning shock, I slowly eased the chair back, got up and went back to bed. In that moment I realized that no more studying was possible that morning and the examination paper to follow that day be damned. These were critical exams but I would much rather test my retention skills than my ability to shoo these massive insects off that lamp. And of course there was absolutely no chance of me continuing to study there, with the two of them looking at me as if I were a stalk of grass!!

Since that day I never turned that lamp on in the dark without first ensuring that no insect was lurking on or near it.

Second Incident

The thing about insects is that even when one sees them at a distance, we somehow picture them on our skin and our mind reacts accordingly. The second incident happened on a holiday with friends some years ago. We were in the Florida Everglades which has quite a population of insects and on the first evening were half bitten to death by biting flies that come out during sunset. They came out so rapidly and in such clouds that we had no recourse but to quickly get back in our cars. The Everglades are also well known for the size and distinctive coloration of its lubber grasshoppers.

Next day we were walking along a boardwalk in the Everglades when a friend spied one of these huge multihued grasshoppers attached to two long thrushes, below the rail of the walkway. As is common with juvenile males, he decided to see how far he could pull those twigs apart before the hopper bailed out. So he took the two twigs and slowly started pulling them apart. All of us were leaning over the rails, completely intent on seeing what the hopper would do. As it kept adjusting its position, I am sure we were all thinking about how it would feel if it just suddenly jumped onto us. Unbeknownst to us one other friend had crept away and returned silently with a long twig. He bent down behind his rapt wife and stroked her open ankle with it. You can imagine what must have gone through her mind as she let out a huge scream, which very rapidly emptied the Everglades of all life. The friend who was leaning over to play with the hopper nearly fell over himself. Out initial catatonia was replaced with bellyaching laughter as we saw the grinning countenance and realized what had happened.

Insects bring out such deep rooted fears among most of us - as they are the most alien of life forms that we normally encounter. Their variety itself is mindboggling, leave alone their capacity to survive and reproduce. Even a small insect can make a huge man jump back in alarm. Depending on the size of the insect confronting us we will either skirt around it or squash it. Our instincts are to try and kill them (actually exterminate is the word most often used), but...  

"If all insects on Earth disappeared, within 50 years all life on earth would end. If all human beings disappeared from the Earth, within 50 years all forms of life would flourish." Jonas Salk (Biologist). 

Goodbye 2014

It has been difficult to start writing after such a long hiatus, but this last blog of the year has now become like a diary to reflect on the year just passed.

 

I did not want to disrupt that routine and 'maybe' regret it a few years later. So if you do read the following list of highlights in my year - please excuse the lack of flow as well as the resultant rustiness (in my writing) that will be apparent.

Career Change

The biggest change was that after 20 years my wife turned her back on Corporate life, (something that, to start with, she had never been enamored by) - to venture out on her own. It was a big decision and an extremely brave one too, as after quite a succession of rather bad experiences in various other organizations, she had settled well in Shell and loved the organization, the culture and the people she worked with. But a desk job was not her calling - had never been - and it was a now or never call that we had to make.

She qualified as a professional Image Consultant as well as a qualified Make-Up Artist. This meant a lot of travel, to learn and also to intern with prominent Make-Up artists, to pick up some actual work experience. That has of course meant sacrifices for the family, mostly in terms of time spent apart. For her, this has been compounded by feelings of guilt - guilt to leave family for extended periods of time, and also guilt of not feeling like she is working and contributing every day. We expect that this situation will continue into 2015 as well.

In our society it is still a little hard for people to understand and accept that women can step out on their own. It is difficult, in this era of helicopter parenting, to take such decisions that mean time spent away from loved ones, especially children. If a man does it to further his career, it is understandable as he is doing it, to well further his career!

Anyway in the last few months she has experienced a tremendous amount, met amazing people and had some incredible experiences. Her passion, energy and enthusiasm for what she does, and the miles she is willing to walk (literally sometimes) to do it, are a huge contrast to her reticence and unwillingness in the past, to do any more than was expected in her "job".

All the best sweetheart for 2015 and beyond!!

Bachelor life

Of course these prolonged absences resulted in me spending quite a bit of time on my own. The Gulf is known for its "summer bachelors", men who spend the three months of summer holidays working, while families are back home. I got to experience it for the first time.

 

I used that time to get some physical and dietary discipline back into my life. I had become lazy and had started to put an inordinate importance on food, resulting in putting on quite a bit of weight. Since August, having started a more intensive exercise regime and also (literally) counting calories that I ingest daily, I have managed to shed almost 5 kilos. The target was 6 kilos by the end of the year, which will now be increased to 10 kilos, by Quarter 1 of 2015.  Having done this a few times in my life before, I hope that this marks a watershed moment in my life and results in a lifestyle change, rather than just a short term project.

This holiday season just passed was a litmus test of my resolve and I must say that I passed it (just about). I have put a kilo back on. But I am optimistic of shedding it (and more) in the months to come.

Phuket trip

Another high during the year was a Boys-only trip with my childhood buddies, to celebrate all (well most) of us reaching a half century. We were 10 guys who grew up in a small colony in South Mumbai. Since we were all from the same community, ethnic group, religion and culture, bonds were easily made and then maintained, despite the span of time and distance.

This was the first trip of its kind since I remember and definitely the only one in over 25 years.

 

And the trip turned out to be everything that I would have wanted it to be. Over the years I had forgotten what it is like to be on a boys-only holiday. There were very few demands on ones time, and space was given to each to do what one felt comfortable with. There was no one to put fears into you, nor hold you back, which meant that without exception we indulged in a few high thrill activities, to try and recreate some of the thrills of boyhood. Some of us even forgot that our bodies had aged more than our minds - in our unsuccessful attempts to replicate the physical dexterity of our youths.

 

Each meal was an occasion to dredge back memories or indulge in banter that only childhood friends can revel in. Every meeting was an excuse to laugh, to poke fun and bask in the comfort of kindred spirits.  

 

There was no one who felt the need to think for you, nor did anyone try and cajole you into doing something that you did not want to. There was just the pleasure of being in each others company and for picking up the threads of childhood friendships.

I sincerely hope this will be not be the last such trip!

 

Touching 50 and self questioning

Another big milestone this year was my having touched 50 in the last few weeks of December. A half century on this Earth is an excellent reason for some more introspection! Honestly I do not feel any older, but do question life's purpose and meaning. I truly wish I was more spiritual, as that could provide some illusion of understanding - but my mind is rooted in logic, reason and rationality, which means that some metaphysical dimensions just do not resonate.

Passion has been sorely lacking in my life - a passion that drives you out of bed every morning and makes you look forward to the day ahead with bated breath. I cannot reconcile myself to the fact that each day's meaning is garnered from what I eat, how I exercise and my work schedule. Weeks and weekends have blurred into a meaningless opacity, with nothing to differentiate one from the other, other than the inexorable passage of time. I do not quite know 'when' my life became a turgid river, flowing through an endless vista of unchanging scrubland, but I do realize that I need to change its course towards a more varied landscape.

Maybe 2015 will provide me with some ideas or gently nudge me in a new direction that will reveal a bit more of what I am truly meant to do. I honestly do not have too much optimism about this - but we all live in hope.

So Happy New Year to you - Dear Reader - and I do hope that 2015 holds (at least some of) the answers that you might be seeking in your own life.  

A Fool and his Money ...

I was told recently that more than 65% of people will be financially dependent on their children by the time they are into their late sixties. That means that statistically two out of every three people you know will fall into that category. A lack of financial planning and discipline being the chief cause of this outcome! I find this fact hard to believe, especially considering that almost all the people I know are either financially savvy or extremely conservative in their money management practices. But then maybe that is not a representative sample of the entire population.

And then I connected the above fact to an advert that is being frequently aired on the radio recently, and feel a little less sure. The first couple of times I heard it, I shook my head and wondered who could ever believe that advertisement. It is by (obviously) a Bank and in the ad a son calls his mother up and tells her in an excited breathless voice that he has got a huge bonus. His mother asks him whether it is from his employer and how many months of salary it equates to - to which he replies that it is 20 months of salary and it is not from his employer, but from his Bank.

This begs the question as to whether this reputed financial institution actually expects any one to believe this advert? And if not, then why run such an obviously spurious ad campaign? Putting two and two together I realize that there must be a huge number of people who fall prey to this sort of manipulation of the truth. I could imagine a long snaking queue of people lining up to get their free money, signing a multitude of forms without understanding what they are committing to and then living a life in debt. I am sure that there must be people who are suckered into these deals, just as there are others who get convinced to subscribe to every credit card offered to them.

And that brings me then, to the number of highly educated and sensible people around who have no financial wisdom and even worse, discipline. They are experts in their various fields and can be quite expressive and knowledgeable about politics, technology and a wide array of  other disciplines. But when it comes to basic financial management, it seems common sense is not as common as is made out to be. It could also be that for a lot of people - money and money talk can be quite embarrassing.

Investments, financial planning, insurance - try and bring these up in a social context and people’s eyes glaze over. Their discomfort is apparent, as they fidget from foot to foot, trying hard to extricate their way out of that conversation. Money and money matters are often taboo topics even amongst couples and families. Money itself is an extremely fractious element, with most people having been brainwashed from very early on, into a "money is bad" mindset. And money talk can be perceived as quite distasteful – with two common approaches used. Some people can make one feel quite cheap and shallow to talk about money, and then there are others who adopt a more spiritual approach - implicitly indicating that money is rather base and hence not important in the grand scheme of life. They will spout homilies and hogwash like - 'money cannot buy you happiness' and 'money is the root of all evil'.

Of course the same people will have no compunctions in using this vile and dirty element for their existence and consumption.

 

This dichotomy between the external projection of disdain for money and the internal desire for its value, creates a divide that is then exploited by Financial Institutions. How many times have you (in a social setting) heard passionate arguments on the merits (or lack of) of a movie, an artist or a cuisine and how many on the virtues or pitfalls of financial planning? 

 

All I ask is the chance to prove that money can't make me happy - Spike Milligan 

Ships passing by

I was driving home one evening last week in a bit of a temper. It had been one of those days which had started poorly and had gone downhill from then on. Nothing major, just a succession of minor incidents and irritants that start to stack up.

 

As I was cruising along I happened to see next to me a bus full of laborers - taking them back to their camp at the end of a long day, presumably. Nothing unusual about this as it is quite a common sight on Dubai roads! Each window seat in the bus had a man either looking out or resting his head against the center pillar. I could see a few who were slouched and fast asleep. But what caught my eye was that in two consecutive rows I saw men who looked as if they were in their late fifties. White hair, stubbled cheeks, exhausted at the end of a hard day, looking around them at cars they would never sit in and houses that they probably will never experience.

I was struck at how old these two looked! I know that I am being naïve and stupid but I have somehow never thought of an 'old' laborer. Whenever I picture one - it is normally someone of South Asian decent, in their twenties or at most thirties. The thought of someone doing hard physical labor into their late fifties never occurred to me. Stupid I know - but it just did not seem right and hence was not in my frame of reference.

And that got me to thinking about how hard a life it would be for someone of that age to do hard labor. I find it difficult to bend down or to crouch and get to something on the floor, leave alone lift anything. My body already feels stiff and aged, and I am glad that the only physical demands of my job are on my fingers as they type. If there is a light switch that is a bit low on the wall, or I have dropped something on the floor - I ask the kids to get to those. Squatting, crouching, bending low are all activities that I assiduously avoid.

I know that what you are probably thinking is that your body gets used to certain physical movements and that these guys have been doing it all their life and hence know no different. You may be right, but I was thinking also of their mental state. How would one cope with the knowledge that your entire life has been and will continue to be an endless succession of mindless labor? While one is in their twenties and their thirties - there is still hope of redemption. One can still dream or work on changing their situation. There is still a slender chance that one can save money for a small paddy field, or a coconut grove back home. There is still hope that some stroke of destiny will afford them maybe a change of job - something plush like a driver or an office boy.

But what does one dream of in their fifties at the bottom rung of the ladder? How does one cope with the thought that ones physical and hence financial means are diminishing day by day? And there are still long years ahead. The years of physical labor having taken a toll, will mean that the body already ravaged, will demand more rest, more attention and hence more care. And what about their children? How do they see and cope with the fact that their father has to sweat every day of his life to support them? How would I feel in a similar situation?

It is only natural that we consider the tribulations of people who are in our sphere of interest, like the helpers, the office boys, the junior staff and house help. But even on their worst day they work in better conditions than these men who work in the most demanding of places for a pittance. Who toil in near boiling temperatures with heavy safety gear, to provide us the luxuries that we take for granted. On our worst day - we can think of retirement or a day in the future when we will not have to take $#*it from anyone.

And then I thought back to the petty irritants that day, that had fouled my mood - the small ripples in my scheme of things that had upset me - and I felt like a petulant child. A spoiled brat - throwing tantrums for the smallest of things. In comparison to what those men in the bus endure, how trivial is the stuff that makes us irritable! Our egos demand the gratification of every impulse, getting affronted at the most insignificant of occurrences. And then I asked myself - would the things that upset me that day have upset me if I had walked a mile in their shoes?

 

Even though I had passed that bus by the time this train of thought had finished, in my mind's eye I envisaged them seeing me drive my car past their bus. If they did happen to notice me, as I noticed them - what would they think? How would they picture my life? The answer was obvious to me! And so driving in cocooned air-conditioned comfort that I have so taken for granted, my mood suddenly lifted. 

I felt blessed, but somehow smaller at the same time.     

Breaking Bad

We have just finished watching Breaking Bad (an American TV series) and are still reeling from its conclusion. Despite reading and hearing rave reviews about this series, I somehow did not feel that the plot would appeal to me and hence had refrained from starting it earlier. 

The series 'is' eminently watchable - but this blog is not about how great the series was. It is more about a side of story-telling that had been lost (on me) for a while. Each episode in this series dwells on the quotidian routines of a family that is struggling to keep up normalcy in quite abnormal times.

Having invested well over 50 hours into the Series, what struck me the most as I watched this drama unfold, was its pace! Unlike other Movies and TV Series, that over the years we have become used to - this one did not take off like a booster rocket, nor did every episode feel like it was on a testosterone high. Each episode, and the entire story itself, had a stillness - a quiet - that I did not realize was missing in modern day entertainment, until I rediscovered it in this series. The episodes were littered with scenes where the characters were caught deep in thought, or reflecting on what has just transpired.

 

The series was replete with facial close-ups capturing micro-expressions. At each and every turn in the main characters’ fate, we could literally sense the intense thought process going on, as he tried to fit another piece of the puzzle and in so doing extricate himself from that situation. Sometimes it felt like the cameraman had taken a coffee break behind the lens - so intent and fixed was the focus on the actors face and expressions. So still was the camera that we could see the entire gamut of emotions, revealing the turbulence of passions and conflicting desires as they flitted across his face. The nuances of expression were caught so stunningly, that one was almost led to believe that one could read the characters thoughts.

The entire experience harked back to the times when we had the patience to let a good story develop! To a time when giving up the first 20 minutes of a movie (to let it build momentum), or the first hundred pages of a good book (to develop its plot and characters), was not seen as a waste of time. The Director or the Writer did not feel compelled to immerse the audience into the deep end within a minute of the tale starting, or risk losing the audience altogether.

If one had told me all of this before I started the series, I would have never started it at all. I would never have thought I would have the patience to sit through the quiet moments. But having started, we were completely caught up in it and felt an almost voyeuristic pleasure, as the plot twisted the characters' lives. This show has been a paradigm shifter for me, in the sense that I always thought that the best fiction was the one with the big bangs, rather than the slow paced unraveling of a person’s life as they fight the unintended consequences of their decisions.

I think I now have a better understanding of the allure and addiction of people who are glued to Big Brother and other such Reality Shows. There is such endless fascination in the lives of others! And even though this series was not a reality show by any stretch of imagination, its pace could well have been.

When it comes to Reality Shows - I guess knowing that it is largely unscripted, adds spice that could blister even the most hardened tongue.

Hello 2014

It is a little late in the day to be welcoming 2014 but anyway I started a tradition last year and I need to keep at it....

 

I have never been one to make a lot of New Year resolutions, though last year I did try and make one! And no - I did not achieve what I wanted to and hence this year I have decided to revert to norm.

Actually, it is quite illuminating to read the resolutions that people make at the start of the year - every celebrity expounds on how they will try and change their life and the world for better during the coming year. I feel that all such annual resolutions are doomed to fail.

 

A resolution does not require that it be made at the start of a calendar year - it is a resolution after all and should be made whenever one desires to change an aspect of one's life. It is a 'bit' like celebrating Mothers Day and Fathers Day. What the heck is that? One remembers, loves, respects and celebrates their parents every day - for life!

So you can gather from the above that I have made no resolutions for this year. I know that it will be one more year of change, one more year of learning and I just hope that it is a smooth one. Sometimes the years that pass us by with nothing major to remember them by, are probably the best! I have had a few such years in the past, which dissipated with hardly a trace and just a few wispy memories to get nostalgic over. And all that they left me with, was a year older - and very often not much wiser.

I am sure a lot of people are picking up the pieces of their life having resolved to lose weight or gain a new skill or get a job or leave a bad relationship or whatever. I wish them success and the very best of luck. I am equally sure that by now most of the same resolutions made at the end of 2013, in a burst of beverage induced bravado, are already dissipating like the short winters in the Middle East.   

Just as the end of a year often brings on a reflective mood to look back, a new year is a great time to get hopeful of the future - to look forward and ahead, to better times. I just hope to live in good health, without fear - to take a few chances without inundating myself with negativity.

 

It is already looking like a year of travel - but that is now common enough to not warrant a mention. The world 'has' become a smaller place, which means that staying connected with close ones is easier.

 

I also sincerely hope that I can with my writings maintain the interest of all who venture here, as well as provide them with avenues for introspection and reflection.    

 

Constant Connectivity - Is it a blessing or a Curse?

Sunday the 14th of July 2013 was the last day that one could send a telegram in India. After over 150 years the service was terminated. So what - you may well ask? How many of us have actually ever sent one? I have maybe sent a couple of telegrams in my entire life! But it is one more invention that changed the world around us - that is no longer "relevant".

How long does one expect the postal service to keep going? Does anyone still send faxes or use pagers? What about landlines - how long before they are redundant, if not already so? Along with the cyclostyle, Xerox paper, Vinyl Records, VHS cassettes and the dodo (Dodo??) what other ubiquitous technology will become extinct in the next 5 years? How long do you think CD's and DVD's will last? They are already on their last legs as sales drop with music and movies being streamed via the internet "free". In fact quite a few movies are now available on-demand through iTunes and Amazon, even before they are released in cinemas.

I was just reading a survey that said that travelers in USA now prefer Hotels with no in-room entertainment - a strong WIFI is all that is needed! With lap-tops and iPads connected to their favorite sites like Hulu and Megashare, they can see what they want when they want.  How long before set-top boxes also become extinct?

I now seek constant connectivity every where I go. I hate to step outside the bubble of a Wi-Fi zone, considering that every source of input, information and entertainment requires me to be plugged in now. If that is the way 'I' feel how can I cast a stone at the youngsters who grew up with this and have never known a life without? Even when booking a hotel room while traveling on holiday, the most important facility for us (barring clean toilets) is free Wi-Fi. In fact we were extremely aggrieved when we stayed in a five star hotel in Atlanta last year which did not provide free in-room Wi-Fi.

But all of this connectivity comes at a high price.

It has diminished my window of privacy, increased the stress of keeping in touch and the associated guilt of never being able to satisfy every stakeholder in my life.

Most of us in the Corporate World have known what it is to experience death by email. The flood of messages is so severe that one cannot hope to stem it. Unread and un-responded emails abound and just as I think I have got them in control, a fresh deluge makes me envy Sisyphus.

But now we also have personal Emails, FB, LinkedIn, Twitter, SMS, WhatsApp, etc. Some of us have gone the extra mile and got ourselves multiple personal email ID's (as if one was not enough). I know that they are for different purposes (and not what you think). And to access all of these apps and emails we have Laptops, BB's, Smartphones and Tablets providing almost constant connectivity.

However every time I unlock my iPhone or my iPad screen, I see these small red Badges, reminding me of unseen messages, reminders and updates. These badges also inform me of the number of these unread and un-responded messages, making my blood pressure rise by a few mmHg every time I look at the screen.  

I feel like I am standing at the bottom of a huge information dam which is creaking and groaning with the mounting pressure of that information bearing down on it. I expect at any moment to be absolutely submerged by the deluge of data with nowhere to run.

 

And this is just the tip of the iceberg! As more and more of our everyday stuff of life is introduced into the digital universe it can only get worse. A huge proportion of our time and our brainpower is being utilized in this wanton act of being connected. We are forced to react, respond and engage, as the social pressure of not being on any digital platform increases. I have so far refrained from completely diving into this madness. Wetting my toes and putting my head in, once in a while, is all I have done.  

But the question keeps haunting me - should I continue to abstain or not? If I do enter - should it be as a digital stalker? As someone who reads about what is happening to others while keeping myself private - almost like a virtual voyeur?  Or should I add my timeline into this universe?

And if I do - if I commit to this domain, the question is - will I be able to keep up? Will I be able to, on a constant basis, wish and greet people with whom I have the most tenuous of links, on their Birthdays, anniversaries and other occasions? Will I be able to live with the constant guilt of not being able to reciprocate? Of not being able to engage in the banal chatter and banter that represents immersion in the FB and WhatsApp universe?  

While I mull this problem on an intellectual level, my gut and my heart are drumming a different tune. They are telling me to push back, to actually unplug completely and retain control over my time and my energy. All around me I see swathes of people who have succumbed and have turned into digital junkies. I need to set an example and resist this siren call of an addictive technology. 

And like the fabled Sirens whose songs continually called on Persephone, the appeal of this universe is hard to resist, but if heeded can only lead to a terrible conclusion. 

I guess the answer (as always) lies somewhere in between - in moderation.