Are you going to work?

The temperature was 95 degrees Fahrenheit. My feet were almost melting in socks further enclosed by a pair of leather shoes. Walking on 8^th street, I noticed the feet of a woman in a sky blue foot wear that was letting every pore on her feet to breathe. I wondered how comfortable this woman must be feeling. I was quite happy for her because she could chose to wear what is comfortable for her. I was proud of her as well for making a choice for herself. As we got into the building and walked into elevator, she pulled out from her purse another pair of footwear, which was fancier and apparently more office-like.  All the stock points she gained in my head in last 120 seconds, she lost in no time now. Rate at which stock price of the woman-with-sky-blue-footwear fell, was exponential. I could not ask her why.

Another hot morning to work. Just when I was about to get off the Q train, I saw a gentleman in a nice grey suit. What caught my attention though were his feet, which were interestingly not covered in shoes or any other close footwear. He was casually and comfortably walking out of the subway station. But this time I asked him, “Are you going to work?”

“Yes, why?”

“I am quite amused by what you are wearing on your feet, which is in stark contrast with the rest of the paraphernalia that is covering your body. I wish I could wear slippers like that. But I have logistic dilemma – is that appropriate to wear to work?”

“No, not really. I change into formal dress shoes when I reach work.”

“Where do you change?”

“In my office, I have a big office room.”

“Oh, alright, great. Have a great day!”

I started wondering about my options. I don’t carry a purse to place an extra pair of shoes. I don’t have a big office room either. Should I continue to burn my feet? But more importantly, why the woman and gentleman above had to change their footwear? Would the seriousness of their actions at work   be doubted if they continue to wear something they are comfortable with and something that is not conventionally counted in formal office wear? Are human feet so ugly they need to be covered all the time to do any kind of business?

Few days later, I decided to wear flip flops. I really did. I had to attend a workshop that day. A woman asked me, “What is it that you are wearing there?” I looked at her feet, and I noted that bottom of her feet were covered by a flat black sole and top of her feet were covered by a pair of black slings. Essentially, the only difference between hers and my foot wear were that mine were made of rubber and hers were made of leather, and mine were white and hers were black. So I was quick to reply as I pointed to her feet, “What, you can, and I can’t?” 

What would it take a Zimmerman to see a Martin as one of him?

A famous Bollywood movie called Fashion featured the downfall of a fashion model played by an even more famous actress Priyanka Chopra. The nadir of her career and life is shown when she meets a Black man in a club and discovers later in the morning that she slept with him. She walks out of the room filled with extreme guilt. The scene of the film became viral. UTV Motion Pictures (owned by Disney) itself posted the video on YouTube in its channel. It still exists with the name “Priyanka Chopra Sleeps With a Black Man - Fashion”.

Coming to America from New Delhi only two years ago, I had almost zero understanding or experience of America high school education system and diversity matters until I came to Teach For America, a month ago. When Matt Kramer mentioned the word ‘other’ in the first reflection, it made me question every experience I had in India with Africans and African Americans. When I watched that film five years ago, I was flowing with emotions sitting in the theater like all other audience. The absurdness of the scene did not at all occur to me. But now I ask why could they not use any Indian person for that character? A black man was sufficiently different from ‘us’ so that he could be used as an ‘other’.

My parents would probably never allow me to marry a Muslim woman. Because Muslims are ‘others’ for them.

When I worked in Himalayas, and co-interned with a colleague of Uganda, kids in the village will giggle every time this colleague would pass by. He was an ‘other’ for them.

What would it take a Zimmerman to see a Martin as one of him?

I grew up with some Muslim classmates in kindergarten and grade school. As a child, I shared lunch box with them. I would trade my rice-lentils with their biryani.  Many years later, when I went to college, two of my closest friends happened to by Muslims. This was only possible because I was able to bridge the distance to the ‘other’ when I was too young to have any meaning of the ‘other’.

This was how I made the ‘other’ as one of me. How would you do?

PS: My mother just returned from her pilgrimage to an Islamic Shrine Pushkar where she prayed for a nice Hindu girl to enter my life soon.

People of Color

In India, there is a broad spectrum of skin color. When I was growing up, I saw children, men and women of colors ranging from very black (which is often offensively referred to as the back of a frying pan in some regions in India), to varying shades of brown (which is objectively called wheatish in the notifications of matrimony or lost person reports) to fair complexion ( pale white  or yellow, or pink). I, like most other people I knew, thought each of these shades as colors. A very fair person fair has a skin color and so has a person who is dark complexioned. Thus, because every person was a person of color, there was no concept of person of color.

Living in New York City, I hear the phrase ‘people of color’ quite often. In the discussions about economic and social equality, researchers and policy makers often use this phrase. We understand that, African American and Hispanic communities have suffered oppression and inequality historically, and that’s why there is vital need to work for empowerment of people of colors if those are the races we refer to by ‘people of color’. But what surprised me was an Indian woman referred to her as ‘people of color’. She came to America two years ago and she is asserting her right to be given more opportunities. As I observed further in various situations, including in employment forms, anyone not white Caucasian is a person of color.  All of my life, I didn’t consider myself or my family any special because everyone was born with some color. So seeing this identity given to me - ‘person of color’ confused me. Indians, who come to America, for most part, are smart and bright people with reasonably decent socio-economic background. By the time they reach the American shores, they have had enough opportunities to get over any opportunity gap they might have suffered in life so far. They come here on fellowships and scholarships and pursue excellent careers. They don’t need special treatment from the perspective of ‘opportunity gap’. Putting them in the category of ‘people of color’ seems grossly inaccurate. This phrase has meanings beyond the literal meaning about colors.

And speaking of colors, it is not still not clear that why is white not a color? And you know who is white? - People having Albinism. Everyone else is actually not white if we are discussing literally. By calling every non-white-Caucasian as a person of color, are we not exercising a latent form of racism? Are we not referring to one voice as a main stream voice, and everything else as streams of voices that need to be heard?

  

As I graduate today ..

One of the many reasons I wanted to MBA was to find out what the fuss was about. Well others, more important ones included learning to make more rational decisions and not feeling handicapped when someone threw the words like NPV or marketing mix!

To some extent, I did figure out what the fuss was about. The fuss is different for different people. For some, it was an opportunity to be a kid again and party in a university town, for some others, it was the time to invest in one self. For me, it was to afford a luxury of choice -making an informed choice after seeing a world of possibilities.

As I started the program, many career paths – industries and functions – looked attractive to me. Whole world was my oyster and that world of possibilities was overwhelming to say the least, when not knowing which one to pick.  That’s when my aunt Mary came to my rescue, “I know what you want to do – you want to sell stories. You talk about movies and TV and stories all the time.” That was indeed an epiphany moment. Boeing Engines or hedge funds did not excite me as much as the drama and stories did.

It was easier said than done though. Hollywood was a big world and I did not know where to start. I started the art of networking using my most important asset – telling and selling stories. One thing led to another and I ended up in the heart of Hollywood – NBC Universal – it was indeed one in a million success story  -  from a small part of New Delhi to the entertainment capital of world. Doing market research for the primetime shows was very engaging and learning experience. In fact, to make up for my lack of experience in the industry, I did two unpaid internships – the only MBA student from my class to do that. And serendipities kept happening and upon the end of summer, Matt Farber, the founder of MTV Logo wrote to me, “I am looking for a business development intern for my new venture GWIST TV. Can you suggest someone?”. My reply was, “Look no further!”.   This school year internship gave me ample opportunities to learn and contribute heavily. I effectively used my computer science back ground, my data analytics skills, my passion for technology and my love for content to increase the audience engagement.

As I stand today at the cross roads of past and future, I can’t feel more excited to launch a career at the intersection of technology and content, which is where I believe the growth is. Even if I have some more miles to walk before finding the right job, my business degree has given me the confidence to make the choice of waiting. Till then, I will stay hungry and stay foolish. Cheers class of 2013.

Food, the new sex?

A famous consumer food company conducted a taste test in which subjects were asked to identify the taste of a jelly with their eyes closed. In this test, one more sense was eliminated. Smell.  Subjects’ noses were blocked. No one could get the taste right. In the next round, noses were unblocked and almost everyone could tell if the jelly was sour or sweet or salty.

Eating food is supposed to be a wholesome experience. Like sex. Why do we call someone sensual? Why do we enjoy sex so much? Why does sex make us complete and happy? Because it uses all the five senses. During your most fulfilling sex, you would not be watching Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon or be reading the New York Times while making love.

In this day and age, the twenty some-things are very ambitious. They try to pack in too many activities in twenty four hours because they can’t invent time yet. But it is practically not possible to achieve all that in a day, so they begin multi-tasking, even with food. I, like so many other twenty some-things, eat my Nature Path sunrise crunchy maple and read the IDS campus newspaper together. For different people, everything after the ‘and’ can be replaced by thousands of options including skimming Wall Street Journal or watching The Today Show. For most single twenty some-things, including me, dinners are accompanied with Workaholics or The Office or something to that effect. So often, the meal becomes a secondary activity and the actual accompanying activity becomes the primary one. It almost becomes background music. Your eyes are so fixated on the screen of the device that you don’t admire the colors of food. Your brain is so occupied in the content that you don’t attempt to feel the texture of your toast. Your ears are so busy hearing the voices in the show that you can’t appreciate the subtle sounds that echo when butter melts in your mouth, than only you can hear. In this new lifestyle, how can eating food make you happy?

Why should then food not be the new sex? Why should it not be given the same respect, time and devotion that we give to sex? There are not many activities left that human beings can do every day without feeling sick of it. Since food is one of those things, it should be consumed with complete sensuality to experience a holistic healthy life. Most joys are ephemeral and require lot of efforts. Food, like sex, can give you blissful pleasure everyday.  

Why do we need grades? Or not?

When I was 3 and went to kindergarten, I don’t remember why I studied. When I went to first standard in primary school, I distinctly remember why I studied. To not fail. This continued till I reached standard 6th and without any planning, got rank 1. Well, the boy who used to take that place had left the school. But I was nowhere even in top ten earlier. That was surprising. Like a snake, I had tasted the blood of attention. From no one, I became number one.

Was that a curse? I had pressure to maintain that rank. And who gave me that pressure? I myself. To myself. I continued to finish every grade with rank one until this fish was taken out of the pond and thrown in a sea of bigger school. Where I sucked to begin with. Why do I call that bad? Because psychologically, I formed in my head that not being ranked-one is not cool. What next, I went to a kick ass college and sucked again real bad. Why? I did not get as good grade as my peers got.

What if there was no concept of grades and ranks? Imagine an exam with 10 questions with no points assigned to any question. Should the desire to do all questions right not be enough motivation? Can the discovery of where I made mistakes not be enough feedback? Or for me to study,  reason should be to get grades better than my peer? Should my feedback be the result that I got rank two and not rank one?

Counter theory. We may have academic institutions without grading and comparison system. But how real is that? Once you get out of that school and enter workforce, your performance will be compared with those of your colleagues. That comparison will decide your appraisal. Moreover, in the ‘real’ world, there points and ranks for everything. Every company desires to be the leader or ranked one in the business it operates. So how will not having grades mimic the real world?

Even in the absence of any grade or ranks or marks, considering that example of 10-question exam, we unintentionally create bench mark for comparisons. “I got 3 of them right, how many did you get right?”. Someone hiking Himalayas alone, without the presence of any other human being around will also have a comparative goal in his mind – to hike at least more than what another hiker did who was here before him. Is that the human nature then? His physical presence does not even need to be there for him to create benchmarks of comparisons for others?

If that is the case, how do Montessoris and Waldorfs and Rishi Valleys and Aurovilles of the world succeed in nurturing human beings who are ready to face the real world in spite of having different foundation? A foundation  of grade-less-ness.

Diversity - In Action ?

Diversity in the modern context is often seen as simplistic as having certain number of people at one place from different backgrounds – race, color, culture, gender, sexual orientation. Many work places claim to be diverse because their employee composition represents a reasonable mix of people. Same goes for many organizations around the world. At my school, I noted that we have significant number of international students. So if diversity is to be measured in terms of pie chart and excel tables, we stand pretty high. Yet, I noticed an interesting trend, beginning with class room. White Americans sit with white Americans. Black Americans sit with black Americans. Asians sit with Asians. So goes with Indians. I avoided the risk of committing the fallacy of hasty generalization. So I started observing in social settings – in bars and social events. I could still notice it in varying degrees. Picture decorated Facebook walls are a testimony of this. No amount of forced diversity could fix it. People started appearing as tiny magnets who you can keep separately but as soon as external forces are taken away, pieces get down to their original tendencies and form sub-network. 

I thought hard to explain this trend. One possible line of reasoning was that our average age could be 27. At this age, we are more or less frozen in our preferences, tastes and the kind of company we enjoy. (Although my aunt who is in her 80’s refuses to agree and she maintains that it will be so unfortunate if human beings shut themselves so early in life and that she continues to learn to enjoy the companies of new people every day). With those frozen preferences comes the impatience with dissimilar persons. Is that what we can call the exact opposite of natural affinity or comfort zone? Language would definitely play a role. Many international students might be having lesser proficiency in verbal English. Those who are proficient might not be patient enough to listen slowly and speak slowly with non-native English speakers. There kicks in the ‘matured’ age of 27.

To validate this explanation, I turned my attention to undergraduate students. They range from 18-22. That’s a very malleable age. One would expect that that would be more interactions there. I started by observing just the kids walking around the campus. Interestingly, the degree of association with similar people was less yet observable. I do not have any numbers though to back up any of the observations as none of this has been a controlled experiment. I do however give a solid credit to the power of observation. Whole Buddhism is based on this power. Today, with the power of big data from social media we are coming to the conclusion that happy people attract happy people and depressed people would make associations with other sad people. Eastern philosophies found that back in the day and so did Quantum physics that all matter emits waves and good or bad interactions amongst matter depends on constructive or destructive interference of those waves. Replace matter in that statement by people, and there you go!

Coming back to the validation of the observation in younger demography, I started asking undergrads I would meet in different classes, lectures, talks, bars, streets, bus stations. Question would not be, “Who do you hang out with?”. Question would be, “Since you came to college, amongst the new close buddies you found, how many of them are not from your native culture?”. Answer will be mostly zero.

I do not subscribe to the idea of diversity whose foundation is based on filling in the quotas. And then creating layers of diversity around the buckets through events or forced interactions. This numerically driven diversity often masks the underlying lack of diversity in action – which is attained by gradual annihilation of boundaries of culture and geography. When people manage to make as close human connections with people of different backgrounds as they succeed in making with people of their own back ground, that’s when you get the true foundation of diversity. And then, there will not be humongous need to create affinity clubs and organize events to validate the diversity quotient of the organization at the top level. The decentralized diversity at the level of people to people understanding will itself be the natural catalyst for voluntary celebrations and events.

Question now is how to lift that decentralized number from zero or minimal to a respectable figure. Is it even possible to fight the original forces of natural affinity and comfort zone to create new comfort zones and new affinities ? In my quest for a solution, I ran into this concept of Homophily – tendency of individuals to associate and bond with similar others. Apparently, its presence has been found in a vast array of network studies. But can we not find similarity in values? Does similarity has to be always in what music you like, what sports your play or watch and what food you eat?

My knowledge in cricket, or in most sports or in any music outside Indian classical or Bollywood is minimal. I do not share my interest in cooking, in movies, and in fashion and in few others with a whole lot of people. Yet I can say that my closest friends admire similar things in people as I do. Human values are much above any traditional ‘hobbies’ and ‘interests’. They possibly could be key drives for creating decentralized diversity at a mass level. 

Happy Birth Day - Measure of Happiness

Pattern recognition is my favorite pastime. I am not sure if it is really a pastime, because I do it all the time - consciously or unconsciously. Observing a certain trend in my writings in past few years, I realized that most of them are satire on  society or concerns for unacceptable behavior in society. Today, as I celebrate (really?) or observe another birthday, I felt the need to write something positive. Life does not always offer lemons, I just forget to cherish the taste of honey it brings every now and then in life.

“What makes you happy?”

“What drives you?”

“What has been your biggest accomplishment of MBA program?”

                                                “What has been your significant achievement since your arrival in America?”

These are the questions I face quite frequently. Sometimes interviewers ask. Sometimes friends ask. I live such a packed life that there’s no time to stop and reflect. For questions like, “Hey How’s it going?” , I literally have no answer because there’s no time to actually feel and know how is it actually going. There are times, I would much rather prefer inert greetings like, “shirt is blue” or “Hey, door is big”. But a life without examination is not worth living in long run.  It’s time to jot down.

Observing the pattern in times when I felt happy since the last fall when I arrived, I must say that people make me happy. My eyes just twinkle with excitement when I am able to strike a humorous and engaging conversation with someone. There are couple of reasons for this happiness. I feel that when people find value in what I say and feel entertained, then   I feel  engaged and encouraged to share more.  I get to learn from these people – learning is a big factor for my happiness. When these conversations involve aha moments, I feel so fortunate to have met that person and learned a piece of new knowledge through him. A sense of security comes when I find people who are in many ways similar to me. A sense of accomplishment comes when I manage to find a common ground with someone who is very different from me. My happiness knows no bounds when these people are different from rest of the world and fall in the category of what I call thinkers. I tend to look at these personalities with lot of awe and respect and put them on a pedestal. So the more my bucket of thinkers grow, the more I feel assured about the world and about myself.

People make me happy in other situations too, when I am able to drop my prejudice and manage to go beyond  their first uncomfortable layer and get pleasantly surprised by the person behind the first layer, that’s a very satisfying experience. I not just overcome a challenge but also get to know another thinker! Spending a quality time with person from another country and getting over the initial laziness takes efforts but with that comes the incentive of discovering another country and culture which I may not be able to see in real any time soon.

Is this to say that my happiness depends on others and I tend to give away my locus of happiness to others? Possibly. Let me explore what other things make me happy if I am not with people around.

Use of systems and technology. As mentioned earlier, learning and gaining knowledge is critical to my positive mood. When I travel to a new city like San Francisco and I manage to find ways around, I feel very proud. Figuring out how to use public transport, how to buy tickets from automated machines, how to reach different places, finding  what I want to eat from  a complicated menu, finding out places to go to and things to do that were worth doing or going to – they all make me happy. I must admit, I am not an early adopter of technology many times. Thus breaking away from that initial inertia is quite an achievement for me. I consider myself not excellent with directions. Therefore, getting familiar with locations, remembering the names of streets and doing it all without anyone’s help make me feel happy.

Cooking. Again, learning component drives the joy here too. I did not cook before coming to grad school. Now learning to cook not just complex Indian cooking, but successful experimentation with cuisines of other cultures gives me a sense of attainment. Recently, I started baking and learned how to use an oven. I never imagined that I would be able to cook fish and bake fresh vegetables and consume them in a healthy way instead of deep frying way. Experiences of shopping at Blooming Food, understanding complex pricing structure, going to farmers market are all very exciting. By opening myself to new vegetables like broccoli and basil I feel good about myself. Feeding my guests with  warm food that sends out  aroma and steam is also very satisfying. I can’t wait to go home and show my family these skills and vegetables.

Movies. Zoning out into another world. Experiencing the experiences that I might not be able to see otherwise is a huge joy. It gives me further confidence about my ability to write that dream project I envision. They make me aware of the immense possibilities.

Music. Oh well. Good music becomes  my companion for a long time. Whenever I get exposed to an interesting piece through accident – someone shared that Facebook, or I heard it at someone’s house or party, I get impatient unless I get to hear the full song  alone and then if it passes that litmus test, it becomes my hum tune and enters my running playlist for weeks. It’s not very frequent to find such pieces though.

TV shows. I form a very strong and personal relationship with the characters. They sometimes become more common reference in my real conversations than real people in my life. That’s the extent to which they at times end up impressing me. These shows are not one time transaction like a movie (even a movie also stays with me for good time). The evolution of characters season after season, development of relationships and stories around them and special insights into the lives of real people who play these characters are all not just entertaining, but engaging and educating as well.

Buying. Well, smart and inexpensive buying. Because of constant pattern observation, I easily get bored with same clothes or dressing styles. But as an international grad student, I don’t have lot of money at my disposal to buy stylish clothes frequently. Thankfully, Salvation Army store and others come to my rescue. One big drive of positive mood is discovery of really high end and fashionably diverse clothes at dirt cheap prices. The warm smile and welcoming nature of cashier and attendants in these stores are further bonus. These stores are not humongous and overwhelming so I take my time to find things and finally make good deals.

Discovery. Finding more about the campus, its history and its culture beyond my own grad school gives me more belongingness to the university. Spreading the wings and meeting people from other departments, meeting totally random strangers on bus station or university cinema and striking chords of friendship are quite joyful.

Here’s to another year of discovery, friendships, learning and journey.

Happy Birth Day!

Rules of Communication – redefined?

Last Sunday afternoon, as I finished up my lunch and jumped on Facebook to see if there was any notification from the week I needed to attend before I ended the week, I noticed a friend request on Facebook. Thankfully, Facebook shows the number of common friends you have with the person sending you the friend request. Now, I had never met this gentleman, never had any form of communication so far. Our only connection was that we had common friends. There was no accompanying message as to who he was.

In the past few months, I have been noticing this kind of initiation of communication over many e-channels including LinkedIn, dating apps and website. Emergence  of these new patterns of communication fascinates me, surprises me, irritates me , sometimes cracks me up, and in rare moments, makes me consolidate the thoughts in this form! Let’s dissect them one at a time.

Facebook

We often see that red alert on those blue heads on Facebook from people different spheres of our lives, and sometimes from no sphere of our lives – total stranger. There are times I get request from a first year undergrad student from my Alma mater and our only connection is the common college. There can be an argument - what will someone possibly write in that introductory note that you can’t figure out from his or her Facebook page anyway? But by expecting the receiver to find the information, we are shifting the obligation to seek information on to the receiver. It’s not a power game, it’s not to say that, “Hey you gotta talk to me? You better have a reason” .. no!  but it’s a matter of courtesy. In a conference, where everyone is wearing a name tag, people still go up and say their names while saying Hi (equivalent to Hit “Add Friend” or “Connect”). During our orientation at grad school, one professor told us that one should make such connection requests only after having some exchange, preferably in-person. That line of thought appeared very logical to me. I will be honest here. In the past, I too added people without meeting them, and now looking back, I am not proud of that. But in each of those add requests, I ensured to write something. I often question myself if I got this habit of  expecting introductory note after coming to America, because I do not add people any more without meeting them. Probably the lesson from that professor stuck too hard in my head. But then even while I was in India, prior to this present immersion in American culture, if I would send request to Indians in different cities or non-Indians in different countries, I would send a note along – unless the person of interest is some celebrity, who I would definitely treat differently! Interestingly, I  came across another possible explanation of sudden rise of these unaided friend requests in the recent times – the absence of message box upon clicking “Add Friend”. Earlier, a message box would popup, writing message would be optional though. But since it was right there in front of you, you would not hesitate to write something. But now there’s an extra step. One needs to separately hit on message and send a message after having sent friend request.

LinkedIn

This is a professional networking, a different party from a social networking.  From how I understand LinkedIn, people play in this field to make business contacts, to move ahead in career or business. Thus sending a request with a defined purpose for connection is all the more reasonable. Even here, it’s not rare to see connection requests with default message. At times I see blind connections, from someone with just no immediate or obvious connection. That surprises me. At times I get default requests from people in very senior positions in the companies. That surprises me.

Dating apps and websites

This seems to be a jungle. Anonymity is probably the only rule here. Interestingly, the communication violation here is not as much about creating new relations, as it is about not creating new relations! Such websites do not necessarily have add-friend button. You can favorite others. I do get messages with contents like “Hi”. Or “How are you?”.  Since most people have handle on such apps or messengers or websites, so you don’t necessarily get to know even the name of the other person through these ultra-brief introductory messages.

But the bigger pet peeve comes when I make efforts to go through the potential candidate’s profile and write a message that contains brief information about who I am and some curiosity to know the other person more than what the profile says, and all I get in return is NO REPLY. I was not expecting an I DO from the other side. But the least I would expect is “Thanks for your message, but sorry I am not interested or we are not compatible” . Here I am, waiting for something and after  few days, I figure out the candidate has read the message, visited the profile and chose to observe silence as a reply.  Now, ‘dating experts’ give many plausible explanations for this. One is that people get many messages and it’s a lot of effort to reply to all those messages from the non-matching dating candidates. Well, unless you are a Jessica Alba or Tom Cruise, entire world would not be bombarding you with messages. Another is that people find it hard to write a rejection message because of the fear that it may annoy the other person. Well, ignorance is biggest disdain, bigger than an honest NO. I think they teach in high school or elementary school, to say hello back when someone says hello. I am told that I should not take it personally, because they are dishing out that ignoring response to all anyway. It’s not the rejection that bothers me, it’s the unresponsiveness that irritates me because that is to do with things beyond dating.  

When I think deeply,  I have few questions to ask – have the communication standards gone so low these days? Are introductions considered formalities and no introductions or lack of communication considered casual or the norm?  

My further discussion with few  psychologist friends of mine resulted in realization that I have very exacting standards with myself. If I show up late at an event, I feel as horrible as I would if I had committed some felony. That gets mirrored in my expectations. Probably I need to let myself lose. Wouldn't it be so much easier to simply click “Confirm Friend” on Facebook or “Accept Connection” on LinkedIn or hit the big RED block button on the apps and dating websites upon no response after a week than spending time on thinking why communication in this day and age taking this form of shape that I am unable to fathom? 

Health Passport - Can it check STDs and STIs ?

While boarding my flight to Chicago, I was asked to show my passport. Your credentials are checked before you enter a new country. Your credentials are checked before entering so many places – bars, discotheques, private parties, conferences, airplanes, concerts. But has anyone asked you for your credential when you enter the most private party – the bed?

Hookups, one night stands, flings – call them what you please. Before getting into them, how often do we make sure that other person is healthy and fit for entering into this party? By making sure, I do not mean asking, “Hey, you are –ve, right?” or “You get tested regularly, do you?” and then believing her or him. By making sure, I mean literally verifying some kind of document that certifies that other person is fit for having physical person relationship  with another healthy person and if not, what precautions need to be observed while getting into physical union.

This brought me to think of a health card or health passport, that mentions my HIV and other STI/ STD status. A card that needs to be renewed every six months. A small passport that fits into wallet or purse. A card that is issued by government health agencies free of cost. A card that would be private property of  a person and no agency – private or public - could ask for it. All information would be strictly confidential with that person, unless she or he voluntarily shares.

Questions about plausibility of this idea.  Can it be an effective solution to check STDs and STIs ? When you meet someone in a bar and after many drinks, if you get cozy with someone, would you stop and check her/his health passport? When such a program is launched, folks won’t sign up for it overnight and people won’t get tested and certified in no time. So will men and women have patience? Is such a card relevant to people of all sexual orientation? Will it also be relevant to the physical reunions that  place after few dates and days of platonic interactions and not on first meeting or through a sex website or mobile app. You already know quite a lot about the other person – his/her family, education back grounds, likes and dislikes. So would it be appropriate to ask for her/his health passport before moving  the transactions from platonic to carnal?

Comments invited!

OTT - One Time Transaction

“Umm Hi, does the train to North Hollywood come on this platform?”, I asked after scanning the woman for two minutes and felt that she might be worth beginning a friendship with.

“Yes, the next train goes there.”, she said without knowing that I had been taking that train every day for a month now. But then I did not find any hook in her to hook on to. There was nothing special in what she was wearing that I could begin talking about. She wasn’t reading any book I could begin conversation about. So I had to begin with the lamest one. I use different ways to open the channel. In some languages these are called ‘pick up lines’. But romantic inclinations are not the only ones I have when I do this. When I can’t think of any, I use the simplest one – “Hi, My name is Rajeev.” Many people in many bars in many cities might have met me saying that. Some people are willing to talk further, some aren’t.

We started talking. I liked the fact that she was doing web analytics and her undergrad major was Mathematics. She needed to get down on the next station.

“How do I get in touch with you again? You got some email id or something”, I asked frantically as the train screeched into the station. Always better to ask email id than mobile number. You enter way too much into the life of someone by accessing mobile number, especially in the big modern cities, where people are highly conscious about their personal lives. Email id is far less innocuous and you are seen much less aggressive. But now, there was not much time left even for the exchange of email id.

“I am sorry, I need to change my train at this station. Can you step out quickly and note my email?”
I was torn. If I exit this train, the next train does not come for another 10 minutes. If I don’t, I may never see her again. It was Sophie’s choice! Trains come and go. But good friends in a new city are hard to find.

“Sure!”

I noted her email id and saw the woman and the train moving in opposite directions leaving me alone on the station. I did not wait to reach my work to email her. As soon as I got out of the metro station, I started receiving signal reception on phone and I wrote a quick email to her. We met the same evening after the work. I really enjoyed her company. She wasn’t bimbo, she was a thinker.

A WEEK EARLIER, SAME STATION, ALMOST SAME TIME

A young man wearing skinny jeans (like most guys in LA), was holding sneakers in the hands, while he waited for the train. I got my hook –curiosity about why he was not wearing those sneakers.
“Are you going to work with those sneakers in your hands?”

“How can I go to work like this, even my hair is not done! I am going to gym.”

“But why don’t you wear those sneakers instead of keeping them in your hands? ”

“Oh I am just returning from work, I had a night shift. So I will go to gym and change into running clothes”

We broke into conversation. This person also needed to change trains at next station, so we quickly exchanged emails. I met him two days later. He was little aloof but had interesting world view.

OTT - Defined

I met many men and women in this city - at train stations, inside the metro’s, in coffee houses at restaurants. Invariably, I would be the one to make first attempt to go up to them and say Hello. I would exchange contact information because first interaction would be quite impressive and I would be curious to know more about them. Afterwards, I would be the first one to touch base via email or text. When we would meet for first proper meeting, I would really enjoy their company and they would too, no wonder they would offer their email or phone number in the first place and would actually meet for an hour or more afterwards. But I hardly get to see them again. In spite of the fact that we have great time exchanging thoughts, the meeting became ONE TIME TRANSACTION. They all told that they looked forward to see me again. I am very sure they meant that. They were all well-meaning people. But after first coffee or dinner or walk, they would not be the ones to text or email or call another time to say, “Hey you wanna hang out again?”. Again, I would be the one to first do that and would get warm declining replies of types -

"Just got home from work. Lounging for a bit, then hangin with my cousin. Wish you had texted me earlier! I totally would have come by after work."

                                                                  "Yeah on phone with my brother"

                            "Walking home, looking to purchase drinking water."

"Just leaving work. I'm having people over for drinks this evening then going to a gallery where I have some art showing, if you want to join."
              
                              "Yo Rajeev, I'm going to the Cumbia thing at music center plaza in a little bit. Come check it out. :) might go to a party later. Might just chill. What are you up to? "

"Hey. I'm gonna meet with my cousin and nephews. They came from Mexico"

                        "Here working and you?"

                                                      "Sorry my friend I won't be home this evening. Monday?"

"Cleaning my house, what about you?"

All of the above are the replies of friends I reached out on the past Friday evening - a social experiment I often do on Friday evenings. I spent an hour texting all people I could think of in downtown LA. I understand that all of the above were real genuine reasons for us not being able to meet that evening. Moreover, with busy and conflicting schedules, prior appointments in Outlook Calendars are perhaps more practical.

As I reflect on the past month I spent in LA or the past year I spent in USA, I am filled with questions. Why in the past one year, very rarely or probably never someone came up to me and said HI? Could it be my appearances or my Indian color? But then, after the first effort from my side, things would go very smoothly. So it should be safe to assume that they liked me. Still I feel exhausted of chasing people in 360 degrees. I don’t even know what it feels like to be chased. As I dig deep, I realize that I am new – to the city and to the country. And I am the one who is alone. These wonderful people already had families, friends, career and jobs before they crossed my path. So in the universe of each of them, I am nothing but an asteroid. But in my solar system, if I am the sun, these people are important planets of mine. It is my issue that I they occupy a big share of my mind and I don’t in their minds.

Another explanation, at least for Los Angeles, is that this city is full of struggling artists. So most people who I meet are working many jobs to pay their bills and fees for their head shots or acting classes or other recipes for the success with their art. But then I am doing two internships. Back in Indiana, I go through a very demanding academic program so I am not any less busy. Yet, when it comes to different obligations competing for my priority, meeting people seems to cut the line and show up at the front of the queue. Should that mean I am less focused on career? I don’t know. May be. In that case these other one time friends might be considered much more ambitious and career driven?

How people make new friends or get new dates and continue to hold on to them is still a mystery to me. I live on a very hip Street of Downtown LA. The Spring street. Every time I look out of the window of my 8th floor apartment, I see people – in pairs and in groups walking on streets, sharing jokes, holding hands, kicking each other. When I walk around in the neighborhood, I see people smoking, drinking and eating on the patios of bars and restaurants. These people-watch experiences raise the same questions in my mind – how these people might have met and how they hang out together time and again. But who knows, they are also having their OTTs – One Time Transactions.
So many onlookers might have felt the same when I had my OTT with people.

Often people say that their favorite past time is ‘hanging out with friends’. Or people ask, ‘who do you hang out with?’. I think the new mantra is, “Oh with myself!” . Hanging out with oneself lowers expectations. One becomes fan of his own company. If today I had not decided to enjoy my own company, I possibly could not have written out this post. As I sign off, I accept the new reality that people are super mobile and busy. In the modern times, texting is much more preferred that vocal communication between humans. As a first step to this acceptance after waiting for another hour of that social experiment and finding no positive reply, I decide to run – my favorite hanging out activity. When I run, I feel the entire city is with me.

PS: It was a co-incidence that someone shared this article around the same time when I was writing this piece     -        http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/15/fashion/the-challenge-of-making-friends-as-an-adult.html?pagewanted=2&_r=2

LA DIARIES - Prologue

The need to share, a very basic need. The first inventor of social media probably foresaw this need very earlier. When an incident happens in my life, that is amusing, or that makes me stop and think or that throws a big surprise for me, I get an intense desire to share. Generally through one-one communication. Individually with few people, even if the content of communication is broadly the same. At other times, I would email, suitably customizing the content for each individual audience. Off late, I realized that the process is quite exhausting. Moreover, phone communication with people takes out the exuberance exponentially with every new call if the conversation is about the same subject – like how I like my new work or how lovely is my new apartment. And I am a man of words, so sharing with sea of humanity in few words is generally not my thing, forget about 140 characters of twitter!

Since I started this journey into this City of Angels – LA, I wrote to couple of people, spoke with another bunch of friends about the surprisingly wonderful apartment I secured in the heart of city, city events I attended. But I found myself not enjoying those conversation after a while. For each audience, it was new, but for me, it was repetition, nth time. So I decided to hang out with myself. Spend time with myself and let those ideas come out and document them for myself, without customization. Having that those thought pieces stitched together and sharing them to a broad audience, will release me from my self-imposed obligation to do individual communication. After that, I can read the responses, if any, at my own convenience. With this alternate arrangement, while I offload my stress, I also loose the spark of live individual responses on phone or customized responses on email. That’s a tradeoff I chose. For some time now.

PS:

I call myself a blogger. Last blog I posted was ages back. I call myself a writer. I haven’t been able to outline the three acts of my film yet, and have been thinking of this script ever since I started falling in love in Bloomington. With lot of introspection and with my brain’s favorite pastime of pattern recognition, I have figured out the reasons for this gap in my writing. First, I think of multiple tings when I am trying to write. For instance, while writing about problem about writing, when I typed the word “First” above, I started thinking about why have I started writing in this structure form of “First, .. Second,… Finally..” as if I am writing a response to a GMAT essay question. No wonder in the first two paragraphs of a blog I had set out to write as LA Diaries, not even a word was about Los Angeles. I started getting caught up by so many other distracting thoughts with every word I hammered out of my key board. A co-writer yesterday refered to this as the devil editor in a writer's brain. Second, I think of the audience. I place even myself in the audience and begin criticizing the half-baked sentences most mercilessly and all my energy starts eroding. I myself don’t find them interesting and I wonder why anyone would want to know how I think about a Mexican woman selling pancakes on 5th and Broadway. Then I stop writing about that Mexican woman. But next day when I see that Mexican woman again, I still feel the rush of propensity to write about her. It’s like sex - after doing it, I feel guilty and decide not to do it again. But then few hours later, when I walks down the street for a coffee, I can’t help notice the attractive people on streets.

Confessions of a random stranger

Unpublished stories are the most original and honest ones

Friday Failures

Last night when I went out, I did not have quantity time, as I started pretty late, but spent quality time with interesting folks. Consequently, I slept at reasonable hour of 1:30 hoping I will get up on time this morning to attend my GA work. Day started with crap.

Alarm I had set was for pm and not am. For a 9AM meeting with GA supervisor, I got up at 8:45. First thing I did, shot an email to supervisor that I will be in by 9:30. With tooth brush in mouth, I frantically shoved things in microwave. Gathered stuff in my swimming bag hoping that after day ends with Finance lecture, I would conclude the day with nice swim. With water still dripping out my hair after super-fast shower, I gathered suits to drop at drycleaner’s for Monday morning interview.

The guy at Dry Cleaner’s told me that he won’t be able to deliver before Monday evening as they did not work on weekends. (I think I should show him my EMA assignments - 4 pages, single spaced, 2 points will be deducted per day WEEKENDS INCLUDED ) He told this with frozen face (that I felt like punching at that moment) – no words of apology. Of course, it wasn’t his fault so why should he be sorry for. But I was already in a mess, running late for meeting, and then I heard No’s, so little sensitiveness was expected here. There was nothing he could do now, except that I told him to just iron if not dry-clean and he charged me the same amount.

After I finish my GA work, only reason for me to hang around was that finance lecture on effect of European crisis on US markets. I marked this in calendar to educate myself better, but it turned out to be so intense that I struggled to keep myself awake even for 5 minutes. I ran away from there during Q n A to hit swimming pool.
While the pretty undergrads at sports center scanned my card, I asked them if the pool was open. Hearing yes, I moved to locker room. I didn’t know what was wrong today, all lockers were full and only today I had humongous belongings and struggled to find THREE lockers to fit the shit in. Getting down to just undergarments, starting from layers of clothes on this cold day was quite an effort. As I immersed myself now in pool to let my miseries of the day drown in chlorine water and had barely swum 7 feet when I heard, “Excuse me sir”. A woman told me that pool was not open for common students for another hour. Really? You telling me now after I am wet in damn chlorine from head to toe?

That was all swimming – 30 seconds in pool. Took the pain to put the layers on again and boarded the bus to come home finally. On the door I see the notice that the two bags I had lost in transit from New Delhi to Bloomington have been found and delivered to society office. Earlier in the day, my close buddy had asked for the presents I was supposed to bring for him and I was excited to open the bags and get him his present. So I run to society office - very excited – to see the bags. Society office was closed – “Woodbridge office is closed today for special staff training”. Bite me.

Oh it did not end here. I thought it was that's why I hit the button PUBLISH POST. Later in the night I was very alone, my room mate also had gone to New York. So I decided to go out by myself. After taking shower and dressing up, when I stepped out of apartment, I slipped and fell on my butt. My first reaction was to look around. There were people standing and I was on the slippery ground flat. No one bothered to say or do anything. I was shocked. I pulled my self up went back to apartment, turned of the lights and called it a day.
PS:
I wish I were a dog

For a life that was born not conformist

He has a heart that feels

He has a brain that thinks

There is blood that flows in his veins

There is life in him, and he breathes

How can you ridicule him for

Things he never asked for.

Things he was born with.

Things he can’t change.

How can dating translate into love?

Love at first sight? Second sight? Third sight? How these loves happen is beyond me. You have hardly known that person, and you say that you have fell in love with that person?

Similarly, the whole concept of dating culminating into love is something very incomprehensible to me. When you date someone, from the beginning, you have a fixed agenda of sex or date or finding a girl friend or boyfriend in the other person. There is no room for friendship.

Now let’s consider friendship. Imagine a relationship that starts as friendship. You meet this person because you happen to be in same place at same time. No body planned this first meeting. No one set you up with this person. Neither of you two fixed this first meeting. You become friends because circumstance forced you to be together for a common project or team work because you worked in same team at work or because you study in same class at school. Since you two tend to spend lot of time together, you get to know each other very well. You become familiar with every small thing of that person. After this close friendship, what else is left? LOVE? This love happens very unconsciously. You don’t even realize when this one happens. You begin to feel this when she is out of your life for some time. Because you had become addicted to her company and her presence in your life.

Now where in dating or love at different sights you would find this form of love? The love evolved from close friendship is rather purer – it does not even involve looks – good or bad. Who makes friends because of looks? In the dates on the other hand, you tend to pick up only a hot date. You also try to dress real nice and take shower and comb your hair at least that day.

Can business school make you less romantic?

All kinds of people would ask you why you came to business school? First, admission officers. When you make it to school, your classmates. Few months later, your career coaches. At a later time, your recruiters. And of course all through your journey, your friends and acquaintances. I too have been asked the same question. And I dislike monotony. I find it tiring to say the same story. There have been times when I would say, “Every one else has been going to b-school, I just wanted to know what the fuss was about?”. That’s an influence of over dose of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Phoebe once kissed Rachel to know what the fuss was about!

Of the many reasons, I had a strong and genuine one too, to come to school. In the films and popular culture, I had seen business folks are more capitalist, less emotional, not very romantic, more problem solving. Didn’t that businessman called Ambani marry his wife for securing capital to expand and establish his business? Didn’t many rulers marry the princess of other kingdoms to expand their empire? A wall street invest banker busting his ass for 11 hours a day – where will he find time to write poetry or think about his love? I wanted to be a business czar. Running an empire. Like God Father’s Michael Corleone. I really expected my heart to turn into stone by studying finance and private equity. So that 10 years later, when I am blowing a cigar and enjoying my scotch in Calvisius Caviar Lounge in Four Seasons, some hot woman would come , sit next to me, run her deep-red-nail-painted finger down my face and say, “You can’t be so cold, you must have a lot hidden in you”. That could have been perfect way to fast forward 10 years without any emotional baggage or romantic hassles in between.

Damn! That did not happen. Why do I just nod along with a class mate when he talks of sales he increased in his job at Toyota Motors before coming to business school, but my eyes brighten up and moist up out of excitement when he narrates me the time during his high school when he killed a summer in Panama or when he made money while polishing boots and landscaping gardens of neighbors? Why I imagine my classmate attending his hens in a pristine farm instead of understanding the strategy he employs in his poultry business? While attending accounting class, I still marvel at the terrific sense of humor of the professor instead of focusing on accounting ratios. Listening to Turkish professor in Finance class, I am teleported to Istanbul and I lose myself in imagining her journey from Istanbul to New York and in filming that professor in my version of Serendipity, instead of estimating the NPV of money I could make after business school, if only I had kept my senses inside the class. Why would I think of Miranda Priestly in marketing class instead of estimating net market share? So what if professor reminds me of her. Many people in the world have similarities. But so what? Why I have to extend those thoughts?

Why did have to fall in inaccessible love…… Again? Why is it so hard to fall in love with money and career and power? Or with objects like Chair or truck, that you can go ahead and buy and keep with you, till you fall out of love. Why am I writing this instead of making CAR statements and getting my suit ready for blowing away the mind of first recruiter tomorrow? Instead of using my once-upon-a-time genius brain to make it big in this land of opportunity called USA, am I turning into Nikolai Gogol, who could not be understood by anyone, and least of all – by himself? Why am I writing like Sarah Jessica Parker, with answer-less questions?

I saw this country, its people, its culture only in cinema. And in books. Now I see those characters live – all around me. Imagine someone who watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S all his life, is suddenly air-dropped in the Central Perk amidst Joe and Monica and others . Why would he not be overwhelmed! But I did not see this ever coming.. I was on my way to become Godfather, while deciding to attend business school.

I should have rather joined defense forces instead of business school to cure the broken heart and wandering mind!

Temporary liberation through unplugging

This winter break was rather a very short one. Probably little over two weeks. But like my buddy’s time at home on thanksgiving, my time was non-stop. I was always onto something – meet family X, call person Y and catch up with friend Z, purchase B, get done the task C. If not anything, spend time on Facebook and emails and watching movies. Not that I disliked any of these (well … some of them), I wouldn’t have done these in that case. But I never got time to think. I never got time to spend with myself. Even though I love being with people I love and I keep on saying that I am not a big fan of my own company, but now I realize how much I can be happy and creative and productive, when I am left alone! Alone also means no internet either – just me and my solitude.

What do I do when I need that time and space to think? Head to mountains! I didn’t have the luxury of time to go to Himalayas. Plus that would have taken long travel time and my own company would have haunted me then. I decided to visit my uncle ji in Dehradun – not Himalayas , but their foot hills! 12 hours of comfortable to-and-fro train journey and 4 hours of company of a wonderful friend Fakru and my uncle ji.

Considering the non-stop days of break so far, I felt liberated in this journey. In fact I am in the process of liberation right now, as I write this aboard Delhi-Dehradun Shatabdi. 5 months of stay in US has given me some identity crisis which I had felt strongly many times in last two weeks in Delhi. Listening to Swades song and jogging, I would hardly feel that dramatic overwhelming sensation. I never was anyway big fan of Indian cities.

Now, sitting by the huge window of train, sipping the lovely scenery outside, I am feeling connected back to my interpretation of India. Passengers of non-Shatabdi train moving parallel to us, marveling at me and my train. I used to be them few years back. The multi-lingual boards of stations reading Deoband in Urdu, English and Hindi. The bundled up people on unsheltered platform.. slowly waking up to the morning after their last night’s slumber under cold winter sky. The raw unaltered natural beauty of Indian greens. I am writing, scripting, directing and producing my own film. And watching it too. And all this Just in Time! I can chose not to write whatever is not adding to the aesthetics of this lovely journey. I am changing the script the way I want. Soundtrack is of my choice. Well I am only listening to Discovery of India for last 2 hours. Through this song, a woman called India, is waking up from sleep and giving out a call to return to Country. And the film non-cyclical. Every scene , every station , every crop field is new. I am sipping the fog covered forests and rivers and fields. Actually, that crazy song peelun peelun, might actually fit more here. I am enjoying every sip of this experience. I noticed that I was smiling all this while. Non-stop!

Fog is not ready to disappear. No matter how much I get away from Delhi, fog is walking with me. Like I did not see sunrise when I was going to Chicago from Delhi for the first time. Every time I opened the window, I would see darkness flying with me.


There were some new and interesting things inside the train too! Train is much more spacious and cleaner. There were sliding doors. There was toilet paper in restroom! When I took my seat, I was thirsty. I wish I could ring a bell like in flight and request for water. What’s the harm in having an airhostess or air-host in a train! There were transparent overhead cabins for placing luggage. You can always look up and reassure yourself that your bag is there. I didn’t use that though , because I needed to dig my bag often and didn’t want bug my co-passenger. But this looked fancy, probably planes may also consider having them. I never saw waiter in train asking for tip. Tip in Shatabdi—holy shit! It’s like a moving restaurant!!! Am I friggin travelin in Palace on Wheels!! And I actually ended up tossin a 10! Well I was pleased with his service too. Plus I wanted to know what it would feel like if I do that in a train!

Now folks inside train. I was intrigued by my ability to establish an unspoken and unexpressed relationship with co-passengers. I just met them.. well not even met them, hardly spoke a word with them, except when I needed to get out and pee and I would request co-passenger in hardly audible words, but mostly through gestures to move and let me out. In spite of this absence of any dialogue or sharing of anything, I felt my decisions and actions and thoughts were influenced by them - when I would make choice of vegetarian or non-vegetarian food, when I would make choice of newspaper and when I am writing all this. Not that influence was very heavy and factor in them before making any choice or doing some action, but they do enter in my head, albeit briefly. I try to assess their background, occupation. Which I don’t want to. But probably one does tend to think. Even when one sees a leaf or an apple. At the same time, there is lot of indifference too. I can write my journal entries without feeling conscious or concerns about privacy intrusion. And would otherwise keep my personal diaries deeply and strictly guarded.

And did I mention the computerized-digital-waitlist-reservation-display on the platform?

Economics of Emotions at London Heathrow

Will India produce something as original, as proud and as ever-relevant as Kamasutra again?

Today Economic Times released the list of best business schools in India and they called the list “India’s Ivy League”. Media refers to even an ancient Indian ruler as India’s Alexander. When a film on homosexuality is made here, they call it India’s answer to Broke-back Mountain. We make North Eye in Noida to present to the world India’s London Eye! Today, while writing about IIM Ahmadabad, they mentioned in the pros of the 50 year old school that its curriculum is modeled on Harvard Business School.

After 50 years, IIMA’s syllabus is still based on HBS, and we are proud of that? And we are counting that as a reason for placing IIMA on the top of ‘India’s Ivy League’? And why can they just not be India’s premier schools, why Ivy League? After so many years, can English literature grads serving as editors and journalists think of nothing but Ivy Leagues to convey the meaning of elitist schools? Are their creativity and vocabulary so limited? Even after 60 years of independence, do media and India’s crappy journalists want us to continue giving answers to the West’s people, buildings, institutes etc.?

When we talk of India’s glory, we often talk of ZERO that Aryabhatt discovered. But what after that? No, we are better off sitting on our historical achievements.
When exactly shall we make original things again and call them original too instead of India’s answer to America or Japan or France?

I strongly believe that one thing that was discovered in the past and is still relevant is Kamasutra. Countries around the world try and answer us. Hungarian Kamasutra. Japan’s answer to Kamasutra. Swedish Kamasutra.

When will make another such relevant achievement so that news papers get something better to write?

Well till then, Hail Kamasutra.

English - necessity? convenience? lifestyle?

Ever since I returned from villages, I am trying to get out of a cultural shock. One of them is finding everyone speaking in English wherever I go. Last weekend when I went to Kamani Auditorium for this concert of Raja Radha Reddy, there too I noted that almost everyone spoke English only. This reminded me that last time when I was at Kamani to attend Kucchipudi concert organized by Indian Government. The compere spoke in English, all the guests and ministers addressed the people in English. Question is WHY ENGLISH? I am not one of those self-appointed preservers of Indian culture who propose that anything ‘non-Indian’ including English language should be done away with. But I do question the use of this language to communicate when there’s no absolute need. For example, at Kamani, consider any two girls or for that matter, any two people. You will find them chattering in English. Did they not know Hindi? I doubt. Did they find that more convenient? This could be a possible reason for them to speak, because other possible reason could be pretense or attempts to impress. But these other reasons can’t explain this behavior of so many people. Only a few could be pretentious or were in the process of impressing someone. That brings us to the first possibility. What made it inconvenient for people to speak the language that so many people around them spoke while they grew up? If some Indian grew up outside India, it is understandable. Again, not all those people who come to Kamani grow up in Singapore or US or UK. Is it the upbringing itself? I see a clue here. In many families residing in India, English is the common medium of communication even at home. Kids are talked to by teachers and parents in English. Siblings speak with each other in English. Kids talk to each other in school and outside in English. That can certainly make it inconvenient for such children to speak a language other than English when they grow up.

While discussing the dilemma with this female from UNHCR, she narrated the incident of a 5 year old kid asking her to open a tap in a restaurant because, "I can't reach the tap you see I am small". In fact I also had mentioned in a very old post that I had observed few years back in Bangalore, kids learning Hindustani classical music with सा as Sa and रे as Re!

Further questions can be raised now. What is the need to create this atmosphere of English language around a growing child? If this continues, this will have a ripple effect or chain effect, the new set of parents that will take birth in few years, will find it completely natural to see English being spoken everywhere. It will no more be need based. In fact I guess, already there must be many families, that have this cultural setup at home and outside homes with natural ease. Result ? The Indian languages will be phased out from chains of such families. Of course that will never lead to dying of Indian languages, particularly the popular ones, because such families constitute very small percentage of humanity. 70% Indian residents still reside in villages and speak the different variants of those popular languages. Even in cities and towns majority of people speaks Indian languages.


In that case, this growing proliferation of English, spacing out Hindi and other languages from those families should not be a concern, RIGHT? I have one concern though. Many people in our country who matter, who decide the policies for the rest of the country perhaps belong to such families?

By the way, Shree mentioned that Madhuri Dixit was the last Indian actress to speak Hindi with correct diction and grammar. Should it matter if most popular cinema doesn’t use the most commonly spoken language correctly? Well no. Because most common people anyway do not relate to such ‘popular cinema’. Or do they?

Meet the parents!

When ‘they’ came!

I was told the previous night that someone was coming to ‘see’ me. That’s what we call it in India when we are arranging a meeting for fixing up a marital alliance. Everybody knew that it’s too early for me to even think of it, and that I had no plans for marriage right now. So, I asked my parents why were my ‘prospective in-laws’ visiting us in the first place when it wasn’t gonna lead to anything. I was then promised that it would be nothing but a Sunday brunch with random relatives.

Next morning, when they arrived, I was taking shower. As I came out of shower, I heard my parents singing out eulogies for me. Holy crap! My feet were too frozen to go downstairs and enter the room amidst the eulogy session and do a ‘meet the parents’ there! I called up a friend to tell him I was feeling shy and scared by the heavy weight of the sights of everyone around me in next few minutes. He told me to relax and better concentrate on recipe of Samosa, so that I can narrate it when people do not believe that I prepared them, which of course I hadn’t.

For the ease of writing, the prospective in-laws will be called Mr and Mrs. Mr asked me the break up of my salary. I literally had no clue. Every month when salary arrives in my salary account, I silently transfer a fixed amount in my dad’s account, pay my credit card, mobile and other bills and have a look at the amount left, to decide how I am gonna live in the coming month! So I could not divulge details on this question of Mr, which seemed to have left him in some doubts. Mrs asked me if I wanted the girl to work after marriage or stay at home. What the hell was I gonna say to that.. I simply told them that I had’t even thought of any of this, there was nothing I could comment. But my SBMA blood was boiling now after being a part of gender activities in garhwal! so I did probe them why they want me to decide what she wanted to do after marriage. They were so typical. They repeated the exact same thing what my parents had said to the other party in such meetings when we were looking for alliance for my sister, ‘हमने तो कह दिया है बेटी से , अभी घर में रह, बाद में ससुराल में जाके कर लेना जो करना है , as if in sasural, she will have her will!

In fact at this point, this struck me for the first time that if I end up marrying into such a family, I will be having two set of similar parents, & families both of which will be of thinking wavelength different from mine. Handling one itself is taxing, what I am gonna do against the power of two! I am sure that any alliance through my parents will present this power of two. So I gotta find someone before I get overpowered by the power of two.

I forgot to mention the eulogy that was harped in my presence. “Our son has no bad qualities - doesn’t drink , doesn’t smoke, doesn’t eat non-veg.” None of which was true! I noticed that this has been happening ever since I could remember. Is it that my parents did not know that I do all these, or that it’s a formal ritual to make this statement in such meetings? I remember hearing about a guy in Kumaon who could not get married after 35 because of his honesty which made him mention in every meeting that he drank.

What are these arrange marriages, if they begin with hiding things? How come a sea of humanity believes and respects this kind of institution when majority of these marriages begin like this? It seems to be a done thing, an unwritten rule. I discussed with some married couples and they told that of course no one affirms when asked such questions as ‘do you drink’, ‘do you dope’, this is how it works always.

Towards the end, the most embarrassing thing happened. I thought I would not need to blush or anything. But how could this be complete without that. My parents asked me in front Mr and Mrs when we should go to see the girl. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I thought it was just a brunch, I could digest the questions of marital enquiries, but ‘meet the girl’? I gave the best blush possible. Mr and Mrs told me not feel shy, and that I could visit them anytime, and that I could meet her in Maaaaalll also. I had blushed enough now, did not know what to do next because don’t-feel-shy commandments were being issued from all directions now!

At this critical point, I was saved by a phone call, which we all knew must be from didi. I ran before my dad could pick the receiver and thanked her for calling, which I never do otherwise! I spent as much time on call as I could as against usually telling her in 5 mins that I was hanging up. As I finished with the call hoping that festival downstairs must be over by now, my parents and other parents came upstairs in my room to see the rest of the house. Anyways, they left soon expecting that we would visit them in the evening to see the girl, which my parents were eagerly looking forward to.

It’s intereting for me to now that for the first time, I kinda felt empowered. I kinda feel that I am now in a position when people will wait for my decision, although everyone comes into this position at least once, so it’s not really a big deal. But it was my first time. Was it because I am an Indian male or that now I am of marriageable age?

After they left, mummy asked me ‘क्या करना है ’?
‘what do you mean क्या करना है , it was only for formality, we were all clear that nothing will happen out of it’
My dad added, ‘क्या पता पसंद आ जाए तो कर भी लें’.

By now a filter was already plugged in my head to ignore the talks around and enjoy my soap ‘how I met your mother’

Why should New Delhi mean just NDMC supervised area?

My mom came to Delhi as a young bride from a small village in Haryana about 40 years ago. After all these years later, now she hears about Common Wealth Games being hosted by Delhi in 2010. Yesterday evening, she reflected, "यह खेल कनाट प्लेस में हो रहे होंगे ". (I think that these games will be held in Connaught place)

WHY? This woman spent over 40 years of her life in this city, voted for different governments, paid taxes for everything she consumed. Yet the places she lived in are never considered to be 'Delhi'?

I hear about Bed and Breakfast scheme of Delhi Tourism. I hear about 'Shera', the mascot of the games touring Delhi. I hear of baton of Common Wealth Games doing rounds in different parts of Delhi. I hear and see these things only through news papers and televisions. Why can't I see them with my eyes in real, without going at least 15 kilometres to see the celebration?

When will the places like Uttam Nagar, Sagar Pur, Raghu Nagar, or for that matter, all places on the left side of the wide sewage drain that separates Janak Puri area from the 'others' be counted in DELHI?

Or will Delhi always mean CP, 'DefCol', GK, Rohini, DU etc?

Rajneeti

Rajniti

My first film after I returned to ‘world’. Actually this is the first film I watched in theatre after more than a year. So my negative feedback could have been more had I been regular to theatre. But I was in cinema after like ages, so I was enjoying the sounds and big screen. In fact , I was imagining how my first film will look like on this screen. I wish I could screen my Swades Ki Khoj in that auditorium. I was just wondering how different scenes and different sounds in the film will appear.

So here it is. Photography, no doubt, is awesome. The blast scene in which Prithvi & Sara die is shot with awesome seriousness which the scene deserved. There is one thing that I carry back with me on my way to home from theatre. In this case, it was the song, ‘more piya’. I am sure I am gonna hum it for quite some time now. Another awesome thing is Katrina Kaif. I loved her with that deep red bindi. How beautiful can a woman with no make up and just one bindi! In all the ethnic wear, she showed a side of her beauty which I was unfamiliar with for so long.

BUT. Yes there’s BUT. The film had way too much violence. It brought so much of hopelessness. Agreed, all those dirty games take place in politics, but not in a span of 2.5 hours. Indira Gandhi & Rajeev Gandhi and many other Gandhis did not die in hours of each other’s assassination. So at one point, it all looked unconvincing. I felt like now any one could kill anyone at any point. I was expecting every single character in the film to die in the next shot! How could Sara or Katrina not be kidnapped & raped in the revenge game. How could Bharti & Sara move around openly in the New market in a time, which to me appeared, no less than a curfew. The scene with Bharti & Ajay in the end sounded so much artificial & farce because of the Mahabharat analogy they were trying to bring. The resemblance was uncanny.
Worst part, after playing in so much of dirt, Samar or Ranbeer Kapoor did not show a sign of remorse or guilt in the last scenes.

Anyways.

Badrinath

Finally I made this journey. Actually, ‘finally’ is not an appropriate word to use here. It wasn’t something I was looking so much forward to. After staying in hills for almost a year and travelling by road under the sedative effect of mountain sickness tablets, I do not feel keen for any road trip unless it is bike or the destination promises some wonder of the world.

My parents came here with the expectation that I am one of those good sons (read श्रवण कुमार) who considers it his most important duty of life to take his parents to the pilgrimage spots of the world. So they came here to see चार धाम of Uttarakhand in a span of 10 days. They forgot their age and weight and the fact that the roads to these 4 places are not straight but serpentine ones, and most importantly the fact that I am not one of those good sons! I felt bad to disappoint them. But I took them to Badrinath – one of the 4 sacred places for Hindus.

In the temple, we had do the दर्शन which I wasn’t so much interested in, but my mom was, in fact most interested in! My parents wanted a quick peek at the God’s statues. I never wanted to be part of that dirty game of shortcut to god, but looking at their old weak legs and their insistence I had to pull some strings. I detested every single second of that time from the moment I started making arrangements for back door entry to main temple to the time we were out. The main queue outside the temple consisted of the common people, who either had no extra money or power for back door entry or no intention to catch a glimpse of god through these ways.

I entered through the other door. Here I saw a secondary queue. It was quite visible that these people knew the power of money. I felt a storm of questions in my head to justify or reject my presence in that area. The people here were a mixed lot – south Indians-north Indians, east Indians-west Indians, white Indians-black Indians, young Indians-old Indians – in short all Indians. They all had many similarities. They made every possible attempt to gain a spot inside the temple that can offer the closest and most direct view of the deity. My mom was shouting to inform me that she had obtained one such spot and that I should come to her to seek ‘direct’ blessings of the god. Now I shouted back through eyes and signals to tell her to close her eyes and fold her hands and try to see Lord Badri inside her heart if she could. In fact, people did not mind trampling others in the process. Every body was trying to ensure that his/her family should get those direct blessings, let the rest of the world die! I felt quite surprised to see this at the most revered place in the world for Hindus. I could not understand that now, that they are so close to that thing which they call ‘God’, why don’t they close their eyes while standing at any place in the premises of temple, and try to feel the God’s presence. Forget Hindus, forget Indians, forget family etc. Does not a man’s worshiping god mean to achieve God, to establish a dialogue with God, to be one with God? I did not see this in even one person. Priests were giving the blessing – ‘your business should flourish’, ‘your family should stay happy’, ‘you should have joy and prosperity’, ‘you will get money’, ‘you should get good health’. I did not hear any one saying – ‘may your heart fills with kindness and love and forgiveness for all beings’, ‘may you feel oneness with the world and the God’, ‘May you get rid of all such things as greed or anger or laziness’. People’s desires and priests’ blessings were all so narrow and focused to the family of person, that even at Badrinath, there’s no one to guide people the way Kabir, or Meera, or Mother Teresa did through their lives. What sort of भक्ति is this that is devoid of ममता, प्रेम, and स्नेह? Various Hindi news papers call these people श्रध्हालू and तीर्थ यात्री and describe all this as if this is some journey to heaven. But when people are pushing each other, shouting at each other, there’s no love or kindness and without these, can there be a prayer?


The only people who I thought were doing real worship here, were a couple of young men who were distributing free coffee and sweets in the cold night to any one who would pass by. Off late, I find no better way of praying than serving. And now all those ‘pilgrims’ who were enjoying this free coffee were littering around with the coffee cups. All the way on National Highway to Badrinath, I found every one throwing plastic and trash so mercilessly on road that I was wondering what पुण्य are these people going to earn at Badrinath when they spoil the mother earth this way. Every throw of plastic would give a severe blow to heart and somehow I managed to control myself. What right these people from rest of India have to come to hills and spoil the place and begin the process of converting the place into a trash bag that are coming from? All these rich and powerful people wearing Armani shades, are they not cultured enough to have the least civil sense?

I have this curiosity now that why temples have a deity in a closed and badly spaced room. I suggest that we erect a single huge statue of god placed at a height or in a large space and statue be placed in an open space protected by barricades. No one should be allowed to come close anywhere in the 5 kms radius of the statue. Statue should be so huge that it is visible from distance. This way, there will be no secondary queues for close glimpse of God. Anyone will be able to see it. Then give the challenge to people to now feel God from wherever they are standing and viewing the God.


Having said all this, I am glad that I could do one thing that did not displease my parents but made them immensely happy. When my mom told that she forgot all her tiredness or cold or hunger when she finally saw the statues with closest proximity and when the priest placed his hand on her head while blessing, I said to myself, ‘fine yaar, you got your god, I am yet to find mine, I hope I do this sometime’

"Child Labor"

I was going to Maddi Lala’s shop for some toiletries. On the way, first I saw the family with 3 little sons. Two of them playing, and the eldest one – 8 year old, breaking stones. First comment in head was of course the clichéd child labor pity – poor kid, he should be playing, he is breaking stones with hammers. I did not click his picture. I guess we have seen enough of pictures/videos/stories on this, and there’s no need to expose the plight of these children any more to establish that child labor is pretty much prevalent in India. In a while, his dad arrived. I did not act like an NGO guy, by telling that what the hell was he doing, his son was not supposed to do the labor etc etc. Rather, I casually and curiously enquired, “school ni jaainch” (Did the children not go to school today?).

He replied, “nai saab jaate hai school, ab pahunche thodi der pehle”. I was wondering what else the child could do now in the village in this period after school. This is one of the poorest families I have ever seen. Asking the children to read something after school would have been too much of a demand. Parents have do not have education or enthusiasm to sit with their kids with books. The children can’t really play all the time after school. It was tough to conclude if it was really child labor. His dad would earn some money by selling those stones. Who knows how much of that money will be used in alcohol and how much in buying even a candy (forget clothes etc.) for the kid? Of course this scene was running totally counter to the Child Protection that our NGO focuses on. On one hand, child could hit his hand anytime with hammer and stones. On the other hand, the child might be experienced enough by now to carry this task seamlessly without any danger.
With these thoughts I reached Maddi Lala’s shop some 10 metres away. There a very young boy was sipping tea and having a cream roll. He was taking lunch-break from his tasks of walking all day selling saree and rugs. The conversation went like this:

“Kahan rehte ho tum”
“Mehelchori”
“subha khane ka kya karte ho”
“subha kaun banaaye.. subha kuch nahi karte”
“subha khaana khaate hi nahi ho”
“na”
“aise hi nikal padte ho..? fir saare din kya karte ho?”
“aise hi samaan bechte hain ghar ghar mein”
“paidal chalte ho saare din?”
“haan”
“fir yahan kisi dukaan pe chaay pee lete ho, hain? Raat ko khaate ho?”
“haan haan”
“hotel main?”
“na na, raat ko pakate hain to, kamre pe”
“umr kitn hai tumhari?”
“16 saal”
“kab se kar rahe ho yeh?”
“ho gaye 3-4 saal”
“gaon kahan hai tumhara?”
“muzaffar nagar”
“ghar mein aur bhai behen bhi hain”
“haan haan, sab hai to, sab mazdoori dhyadi karte hain”
“school… kahan tak padhe?”
Laughs, “ZERO”
“hain?”
“school mein padha hi nahi kabhi.. ghar mein khoob koshish ki padhaane ki, main school se bhaag jata tha.. man nahi lagta tha school.. padhai mein”

Now I was speechless for sometime. I understand that this boy started the work at the age of around 13. He has never been to school and had no interest either. Who is responsible for this ‘child labor’? Is it the boring school that could not entice him to education? But then many other would have studied in the same school. Is it the parents, who could not engage him in something else at home, where he could have at least gotten two times meal? What could parents possibly do in family of 7 children, who are currently pooling in money at home, may be for sisters’ wedding or household expenses. Parents do not work, this boy told me. I can’t figure out what sustainable help can be extended to make this boy’s life better. Does he himself feel that his life needs to be bettered? In the small conversation I had with him, he never sounded complaining. If this labor is taken away from away from him, what will he do? I guess if there’s something that one can do for him, then it would be making him have breakfast somehow. Either he himself prepares or buys. He carries that heavy sack of rug on his back all day walking up and down hill. He might end up becoming anemic. Now I might be accused of underestimating the boy. And on the top of that, if he gets into alcohol/smoking (in case he hasn’t already), then that will complete the damage.